Trials (3 page)

“Pleased to meet you, little one,” he said, and stared closely at her green skin.

“Me, Usik,” she said in response to his scrutiny.

“Let her be, Hartz…” scolded Kayti.

“But she has green skin! I’ve never seen anything like it… Don’t tell me it’s not incredible!”

“You’re the one who’s incredible!” she retorted. “Don’t be a brute and let her be. She’s already told you she’s a Usik, and the people of the great forests have skin the color of jade.”

“I didn’t know that… I’d never seen someone so… so…”

“Different,” Komir finished the sentence with a smile at Asti. “I apologize on behalf of my friend. He’s quite direct, even rude but honest.”

“And lacking good manners,” added Kayti.

“Good, direct good,” Asti said.

“I don’t want to think what this brute will say when we come across a red-skinned Masig…”

“Red-skinned? You’re teasing, right? There are no red-skinned people, are there?”

Hartz looked at Kayti, but when he saw the fury in her eyes he was convinced.

“But if you say so, it must be true…”

Komir smiled and noticed how the Usik relaxed.

“Tell me Asti, who is the wounded man? Was he traveling with you?”

“Yes, Kendas friend. Kendas soldier. Good man.”

“Soldier? Rogdonian?” Kayti asked.

“Kendas Lancer.”

“He’s a Rogdonian Lancer. That eases my mind,” Kayti admitted.

“So… we have a Healer, a Usik and a Lancer… shouldn’t be a problem, though they make a rather strange company…” Hartz said.

“We can find out about their doings tomorrow,” said Komir. “It’s late now. Let’s rest and get our strength back.”

“Kayti, you’ll take the first watch, then Hartz and then me,” he ordered.

Kayti smiled and shrugged, “I still think you don’t need to give me the first watch every time… that sort of chivalry isn’t necessary… but if you insist…”

Hartz smiled and winked at her. And that upset Komir.

“You’re right. I’ll take the first watch today and you’ll have the last,” he said. Komir could not forgive her for lying to them. He would remind her at every opportunity.

Kayti accepted with a nod. Her intense, steady gaze made Komir realize that she had caught the drift of the not-so-subtle accusation.

Hartz looked at them and shook his head. His big eyes clearly showed the bitter sadness his heart felt.

Komir grabbed his bear-skin and wrapped himself in it. He watched the Usik tend to Aliana and then make sure Kendas was resting without pain. Komir’s spirit, more restless than usual, began to relax. The night chill tried to get under his Norriel bear-skin, but was unable to. His head would not stop spinning with so many unanswered questions swirling round, tormenting him. He had found the bearer of the glittering brown medallion. He knew he was on the right path, the one which led to his destiny. That encounter, chanced or foretold (he did not know which of the two) corroborated the fact. Aliana and he were doomed to meet. So Amtoko had felt, so the medallions had shown, and so it had occurred.
But why? And now what? Which is the path to follow? Which is the next move? What has treacherous fate in store for us?

Komir had no answers for these questions, nor did he have any intuition as to what course he should follow. But for some unknown reason, he was certain he was going in the right direction.
Too many unanswered questions… I don’t like this at all… makes me very nervous…
He looked at the camp, where they all slept in the shelter of the cave and the warmth of the fire. That night would bring no answers: he would have to wait till morning before he could begin to unravel the next steps towards his destiny, whatever it might be.

The night passed uneventfully, and with the new dawn the adventurers began to stir. Hartz set out to hunt full of energy, confident of catching something good to feed the company. Kayti offered to continue her watch and protect the two convalescents, who were still asleep. Asti went in search of wood for the fire, while Komir decided to explore the surrounding area and see if he could find a stream to replenish their water reserve.

At mid-morning a cool breeze caressed Aliana’s face, prompting her to wake up and enjoy the sight of blue sky above them. The Healer opened her eyes at last and looked around worriedly.

“What’s happened?” she said anxiously. “Kendas?”

Asti, who was tending to the Lancer, hurried to her side.

“Kendas good. You healed.”

Aliana calmed down at the sight of Asti’s face and the sound of her voice. Her heart was still pounding from a horrible nightmare in which a green-eyed demon had betrayed her in order to steal her Ilenian medallion. She was soaked in sweat, her body ached all over and she was quite disoriented, but gradually she became focused. Those were the consequences of a healing carried too far, but she had had to do it to save Kendas. The wounds were so severe she had feared she was losing him. Luckily, Kendas was a healthy young man with a strong body.

Still, towards the end of the healing she had nearly lost her own life in her struggle against death. She had spent all her healing energy, and as a last resource, desperate to save the Lancer, she had done something forbidden among the Healers: she had used her own vital strength. Aliana never thought twice: she was not going to let her friend die, even at the risk of her own life. They had both survived, but Aliana could feel she had gone too far. That path led inexorably to death, and she must avoid it. The next time she would have to hold back. She could almost see Mother Healer Sorundi’s disapproval
. Oh, how I miss her! How I wish I were beside her at the Temple of the Order of Tirsar! Walking along my beloved cliffs looking for healing herbs, using bow and arrows with the Protectress Sisters… Oh, so many good memories…

She came back to the present, got to her feet and went to see Kendas.

Asti looked up, “I take good care,” she said with a nod.

Aliana smiled at her. The Usik had looked after him well, and the Lancer was recovering favorably. Even so, he would still need a few days of rest to finish healing, as Sorundi used to tell all the healers of the Order: “Nature always demands time to heal the human body. The Gift has its limitations and does not perform miracles.”

“He’ll recover, he’s strong,” she assured Asti with a smile.

The Usik nodded and smiled, and her shy face shone bright for a moment.

Suddenly, out of nowhere, a pair of intense emerald-green eyes came to Aliana’s memory and made her start.

“The warrior, Komir… the others. Where are they?” she asked. She looked uneasily around, aware that they were not there.

Asti nodded towards the outside of the cave.

“Woman with hair like fire watch outside,” she said. Then she turned her gaze to the nearby woods towards the east. “Big warrior like bear, he hunt. Warrior like a panther look for water.” Aliana nodded and looked out until she saw the woman in white armor beside the horses.

“I must look for some healing herbs to brew a restoring tea for Kendas. Look after him, I’ll be back soon.”

“I look after,” replied Asti, and she retreated behind her mask of shyness.

That girl was a mystery. Aliana was aware that behind that frailty and withdrawal there was a story she had to discover. Guessing it had to be a deeply sad one, she felt sympathy for the young Usik and wished to know her better, help her if she could. But this was not the right time to look into Asti’s past. There were more pressing things to do. She looked around for Kendas’ bow and arrows and saw them leaning against the wall of the cave. Taking them, she slung the bow across her back with the same skill a Protectress Sister would have shown. She stepped outside and headed for the woods on light feet.

A woman’s voice stopped her.

“Where are you going, Healer?”

Aliana turned and saw the redhead in her white armor.

“Aliana, my name is Aliana,” she said with a smile, “and yes, I am a Healer of the Temple of Tirsar.”

“A pleasure, Aliana,” said the other with a small bow. “My name is Kayti, Knight of the Custodian Brotherhood.”

“The pleasure is mine,” replied the Healer in a friendly manner.

“Are you heading to the woods?” Kayti asked, still a little curtly.

“I am. I need to gather some healing herbs for Kendas.”

“I see… I wonder whether you know how to use that bow at your back.”

“I do, and quite deftly, I should say.” Said Aliana, a little upset by the other’s tone.

“I’m glad to hear that. Although I must admit I find it strange that a Healer should know how to use a weapon.”

“I assure you I can.” Aliana said.

“Oh, I believe you. But I’ve been charged with your protection, so please allow me to escort you.”

“As you wish,” said Aliana, not wishing to generate more tension.

They walked together, eyeing each other as they went, until they reached the first fir trees.

Kayti pointed towards the east inside the woods.

“A little further in there’s a stream and a small pond. Be careful, and if you find yourself in danger, shout. I’ll come at once. Hartz is hunting to the west and Komir can’t be far away.”

“Thank you Kayti, that’s what I’ll do.”

Aliana went into the fir woods and felt herself cloaked in a feeling of peace, quiet and gentle wellbeing. The wood smelt green, and there was a scent of moist soil in the air. She was surrounded by live nature, nourished by its calm. Ferns brushed against her legs as she walked, squirrels ran, sparrows and goldfinches flew about her head. The wood was exuberantly alive, and that filled her soul with joy. She reached the zigzagging stream and followed it to the small pond. A pair of rainbow trout shone silvery bright under the surface, and she smiled at their size. They were beautiful with their intense red, green and silver scales which honored their name. She looked carefully around, but although there was rich wild vegetation, she did not see the herbs she needed. She went on following the edge of the pond, immersed in the sweet singing of the many birds. To her ears it was like celestial music.

She reached some high bushes and at last saw among them what she was searching for. She knelt in the thicket and deftly dug out the desired plant. She put it in a small leather bag she had at her waist, and her spirit soared; Kendas would get well: wise Mother Nature had put the means for it at her disposal. She stood up and looked beyond the high leafy branches which reached the level of her eyes at the silvery waters, surrounded by tall undergrowth and great fir trees. The morning light filtered through the sleepy trees onto the surface of the pond, smooth and clear like a forgotten mirror left by some deity in the midst of that fair wood of robust browns and piercing greens.

Suddenly the idyllic image was shattered as a male figure broke the surface. Aliana watched with surprise as a young man, who must have been swimming underwater, came out of the pond. The water fell from his long brown hair onto his broad shoulders and firm torso. The muscles of his stomach might have been chiseled from a stone. Aliana felt herself blushing at the thought of something more interesting coming up below the waist, but instead she saw a pair of worn-out leather leggings. She felt confused by sudden feelings which she tried to subdue, but which were stronger than her will. That handsome young man whose face she could not see beneath the wet hair had a strong body and moved with nimble assurance, like a great cat in its natural environment. She saw the scars of cuts on his arms and assumed he must be a warrior. She felt sudden desire: the young man had left her breathless.

The stranger bent over, then straightened in a swift movement, and threw his head back. His hair flew from his face, and Aliana found herself face to face with those mysterious emerald-green eyes.

It was Komir!

Still trying to recover from the shock and confusion of her thoughts, she heard the voice of the young Norriel:

“Aliana, hello. Have you been there for long?”

Gerart and the Rogdonian defenders waited anxiously while the Norghanians climbed the wall of the besieged Fortress of the Half Moon. And then the first Norghanians reached the battered parapets. Gerart saw a winged helmet appear atop a ladder. Taking a step forward he kicked the man in the face. The soldier was hurled back and fell on to the advancing thunderous human tide of red and white. The Prince took two more steps, then with a powerful stroke cut the thick rope which a soldier was climbing.

“Better to use an axe,” said Count Longor, as he ran a robust enemy through.

Gerart picked up an axe. Surrounded by his escort of Royal Swords, he dealt death among the enemies who had managed to climb the wall. Any hook or rope he found in his way he cut with the axe, oblivious to the screams of the men as they fell, crushing others on their way to the ground. The ladders were more difficult. A ladder with fifteen Norghanians on it was practically impossible to move. With the help of his Royal Swords he managed to topple several of them, but the enemy was managing to reach the top of the wall, and when they did so they showed themselves to be hardy fighters. The defenders fell, decimated by the war axes in the hands of those brutal men.

The fight turned fierce on the battlements and the shouting of those fighting for their lives was now deafening. The Norghanians had climbed onto several points and had secured them, helping their comrades on their way to back them up. Gerart saw one of these spots behind him about twenty paces away and called on his Royal Swords to follow. An enormous enemy soldier with a patch on one eye was opening a way through for himself with Rogdonian soldiers flying around him like rag dolls under the blows of his axe and shield.

Gerart reached him, flanked by two Royal Swords. Two countrymen of the snows accompanied the Norghanian.

“Look! What do we have here? A nobleman in his pretty dress armor and his nannies,” he sneered in a voice as hoarse as it was ugly.

“This nobleman is going to gut you, Norghanian scum.”

“Ha ha ha!” the imposing soldier laughed. “Do you know who you’re fighting today? The Thunder Army,” he said, beating his hauberk, which was bright red with white diagonal stripes. “We’re the ones who open up a way, the ones who bring down walls, the ones who take fortresses, and today this one’s going to fall before our power.”

“You’re wrong there, one-eye. Today we’re going to slaughter the whole Thunder Army, and none of your ugly friends will ever get back to the snowy mountains alive.”

“Hah! And do you think that’ll change things? After we’ve opened up the way the Snow Army will come, and do you plan on defeating them as well, poor little nobleman?”

“Yes, just as calmly as we’re defeating you, without a single drop of sweat.”

“Ho ho ho, I like you, pretty little nobleman, you’ve got guts. For that I’ll kill you quickly and you’ll barely suffer. But before you die, understand that afterwards the Invincible Men of the Ice are coming, and there aren’t enough men to stop them in all Rogdon. I want you to die knowing your fortress will fall, that your land will be ours.”

The enormous warrior attacked with his axe, covering himself at the same time with his shield.

Gerart crouched, letting the axe pass over his head, then struck at the one-eyed man’s face as the man raised his shield to protect himself. At that moment Gerart buried the axe he carried in his left hand in the man’s unprotected side, piercing his armor. The Norghanian folded over towards his wounded side, and Gerart stabbed his neck with a well-aimed stroke.

As he stepped over the dying warrior, he looked into his still-blinking eye and said:

“You shall not pass.”

The two Royal Swords dispatched their opponents with ease and walked on with the Prince. Now they had to stop the broken dam which was letting through the enemy tide.

Above the Queen’s Gate, in the center of the fierce battle, under the screams and howls of the Thunder Army, Lomar did not take his eyes off the gigantic siege towers and the covered battering rams. Those infernal machines were advancing and would soon be in position. Beside Lomar were a hundred archers, the best in the fortress, and a fire with a huge boiling cauldron held in a reinforced swinging framework of metal. The soldiers were fighting fiercely, cutting off any enemy who came for the cauldron. Lomar’s archers dealt death among the climbers, arrow after arrow.

There were countless victims on both sides by now. Lomar, in the midst of that chaos of blood, cries and death, could see that Count Helmar was in serious trouble. He was trying to defend the eastern part of the wall, but despite his efforts, it was falling into enemy hands. If it fell, they would be lost. The tide would overwhelm the wall through it and the enemy would be inside the fortress. Lomar went up to two of his archers and said:

“We aren’t going to let those filthy Norghanians take the eastern wall, are we?”

“Over my dead body, sir!” one of the soldiers said.

“In that case, follow me! Charge!”

Lomar picked up a tear-shaped Rogdonian shield, then with a dozen brave soldiers charged against the enemy, who had almost completely taken over that section of the wall.

They fought frantically against their brutal adversaries. Lomar hacked and stabbed everywhere, protected by the shield from enemy axes and swords. They managed to advance, clearing a good part of the section through valor and pure rage, but Lomar had to stop when he realized to his chagrin that he only had four men left. He turned his head for a moment and saw to his relief that reinforcements were arriving on the parapets. The stairs were clear. Suddenly a brutal axe-stroke on his shield threw him on the ground. A Norghanian stood over him, ugly as a toad

“Well, well, well, look what we’ve got here, a Lancer! Today’s my lucky day. I thought I wouldn’t get as far as killing ten, and what do you know, the tenth is a Lancer without a horse. Today the Ice Gods are smiling on this Soldier of the Thunder.”

He raised his axe to finish Lomar off.

One of Lomar’s brothers in arms tried to help him with a stroke to his enemy’s stomach. The Norghanian saw it coming and thrust it aside, then delivered a mighty kick which hurled the poor soldier off the wall. His desperate scream echoed as he fell.

Lomar watched from the ground as another comrade fell wounded, struck by a short axe thrown with brutal strength.

He crawled backwards and saw the last of his group facing another adversary. The brave man tumbled off the wall, caught by a powerful sweep of the enormous enemy’s shield.

Lomar managed to get back on his feet.

The three Norghanians looked at him and burst out laughing uproariously.

“These Rogdonians are as light as a leaf in the breeze,” said the one on the right.

“The Lancer is mine,” said the ugly one in the center.

Lomar felt fear for the first time in his life. The fear of someone who knows he is not going to survive. A paralyzing fear. Until that moment he had always known how to get out of situations; he had never doubted he would win and defeat his enemy. But now he felt lost, he could never fight those three at the same time, it was impossible. He thought about turning and running away from them, but they would surely catch him in the back with a short axe. With a knot in his stomach, trying as best he could to control the terror he felt in this impossible situation, he raised his shield and cried:

“Come and get me, you Norghanian swine!”

The impact of the axe on his shield was so brutal that Lomar had to take a couple of steps back. The three men moved forward, and the one in the middle attacked again. This time Lomar saw it coming and deflected the axe-blow with his shield. Then he thrust with his sword and caught the brute in the armpit. The wound was deadly, there was no way he could stop himself bleeding to death. But the Norghanian, without even flinching, attacked once again, delivering blows right and left with his war axe. Lomar protected himself as best he could with his battered shield.

At last the warrior’s energy was spent. He raised his axe for a final time, breathless. Lomar covered himself. But the Norghanian missed his step and fell sideways into the courtyard of the fortress.

“Pity,” said the warrior on the right. “He owed me money, that son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, pity,” said the other. “I kinda liked old toad-face. A good fighter, but a terrible singer when he’d had too much to drink.”

Lomar dropped his broken shield and picked up a dagger from the ground. His arm and his whole left side were numb from the devastating blows, but the pain did not matter, his hour had come.

A voice sounded at his back.

“Although I believe Lomar could very well deal with two skunks of the snow as evil-smelling as you two, I think I’ll help him, just for fun,” said Count Longor, coming to stand beside the Royal Lancer.

Lomar looked at him and smiled. A feeling of joy and hope flooded him. Perhaps he would not die after all. Courage and strength returned to his spirit as if he had been reborn from his own ashes.

“The Thunder Army has taken this section of the wall,” said one of the soldiers. “Run and tell that weakling of a prince of yours.”

“In fact he’s the one who’s sent me to clear it.”

“In that case, we’ll gladly send you to the White Demons of Mahuro.”

Before the Norghanian could even blink, Count Longor stepped forward, stood up very straight, stretched out his long arm and the tip of the beautiful jeweled sword he wielded buried itself in the Nordic warrior’s neck. The fluid movement was so extraordinarily swift that Lomar almost missed it.

The other Norghanian reacted, launching a stroke which the Count deflected with sublime ease. In the same movement he delivered a backhand stroke which cleared the soldier’s shield by a finger and slit the man’s throat.

Both men fell dead in the blink of an eye.

“I see that your fame with the sword is well earned, Count.”

“It’s one of the advantages of being rich and well-born,” he said, smiling. “It leaves you plenty of time for hobbies. Mine happens to be the sword.”

A dozen reinforcements joined them, while other units reclaimed and secured that section of the wall.

They made their way on, opening up gaps between the enemy on the battlements. The Count was unstoppable; he fought the brutality and physical strength of the Norghanians with infallible grace and skill. Lomar had found a lance in the body of a soldier. He had grabbed it in a fury, and with it and the shield he began to bring death to those brutes from the snowy mountains. By the time they had cleared the battlement completely, only he and the Count were left standing. Lomar turned and saw the reinforcements arriving at a run, cutting ropes and pushing down ladders.

They had managed to reclaim the eastern section of the wall.

Lomar was so happy at still being alive that he wanted to shout. For a dreadful moment he had felt totally lost. But he was still alive, and one way or another he would get out of that fortress and ride again. That was what he really loved, riding over fields and valleys. Yes, he would live!

This was not the case with Count Helmar.

Longor knelt beside his dying friend.

“I’m sorry, old friend, I was too late…”

“Don’t… don’t worry… I don’t feel pain anymore.”

Helmar had a battle axe driven into his chest.

“You fought well, with honor, like a nobleman of Rogdon.”

“Thank you… my friend. Did my… section fall?”

“Indeed not. The section is yours.”

“My men… they fought well… for Rogdon!”

Helmar sighed, and his last breath left his body.

Longor closed his friend’s eyes and said a prayer to the Light.

Then he turned to Lomar, who had joined him in the silent homage, and said:

“The Prince is clearing away the western section. I’ll take charge of this one. Go back to your post, Lomar, the battering rams are at the gate.”

The Lancer looked over the battlements toward the Great Gate and saw with a faint heart that the first battering ram was about to reach it. He looked up ahead. A giant siege tower was approaching the wall, slowly, right where they were standing.

“I’ll deal with the tower, don’t worry, Lomar!” Longor said.

“I’m going back to my post, then. The gate must not fall!” Lomar said urgently.

Count Longor offered him his hand. Lomar shook it, wished him luck and ran toward the center of the wall.

As he ran he was able to observe the fierce fighting between the brave defenders and the Norghanian Thunder Army, which continued climbing the walls without pause, as if they knew this to be a victory guaranteed by the Ice Gods. When he reached the great gate, the defenders made way so that he could reach the great cauldron. Lomar walked to the edge of the battlement and looked down: a huge battering ram covered by a reinforced wooden roof had reached the gate, pushed by a swarm of warriors. Two arrows from the soldiers covering the ram flew past his face. He turned and looked at his archers.

“Kill the men at the ram!” he ordered them, pointing with his sword.