Trials (7 page)

“I don’t think supporting Rogdon is a good alternative,” Althor concluded. “We can hold out here and let the three great empires fight and destroy each other. As long as war doesn’t reach us here…”

Auburu stood up and walked across the soft grass, looking up at the sky, weighing up the possibilities, risks and benefits for her beloved people. With a frown and a faraway look, she pondered. Amtoko watched her in silence. A lot depended on the decision of this woman. Kingdoms might fall or survive according to what she decided there today. Amtoko had seen her with her power, she was very aware of how critical that moment was, how critical the final decision of that sensible young woman. Thousands of lives were at stake, the fate of a whole continent. Everything weighed on the slender shoulders of the wise leader of the Bikia. She did not know, nor would she ever understand the importance of her decision. How could she? Even if Amtoko tried to explain it to her, it would be impossible for the young Matriarch to take in. The weight of the decision would be so overwhelming it would drown her. No, Auburu had enough to think about as it was. She would not burden her by loading the fate of the wretched peoples of half the continent on her shoulders.

“I must make a decision,” Auburu said. “The thirty tribes gather in three days under the great centenary oak to decide on King Solin’s proposal. We’re not obliged to accept, our peace treaty is only that, a peace treaty not an alliance. On the other hand, I don’t know what the leaders of the other tribes will have to say, but I must go to the meeting with a firm, binding decision for the Bikia.”

“Your decision will be one of the most important, my child,” the Witch said. “It will swing the result of the vote, and the Norriel will respond as one.”

“If you know that, if you’ve been able to see it with your magic, then you already know my decision,” said the young leader.

“How could I? The decision hasn’t even formed in your mind yet,” the Witch said with a mischievous grin. “My power allows me to see the immediate now and the invisible threads of events close at hand: not the future, unfortunately. I don’t know what your decision will be…”

“Help me, Amtoko, I need to make the right decision. There’s too much at stake, not only the end of Rogdon and the war on the continent, but also the lives of our men and women, of our people! I beg you, help me.”

“All right, little one, if you want my help I’ll help you, but the final decision is yours. This old Witch is here to serve her people, the Norriel. I’ve witnessed the fight which is under way. Far away, to the south, the city of Silanda is in serious trouble, I very much doubt if it can be saved, even with the intervention of Mirkos the Erudite, that most powerful Rogdonian Mage. The Nocean Sorcerers and their Blood and Curse Magic will end up victorious.

“At the other end of the Kingdom, in the Fortress of the Half Moon, Prince Gerart is fighting desperately to contain the Norghanians. He’s doing it well, but the threads of destiny have a freezing, treacherous surprise in store for him. He’ll be defeated too, almost certainly, although there’s some movement I can’t make out which might change the result of the siege and sway it to his side.”

“So they’ll fall, just as we’re expecting,” Auburu said.

“Very probably.”

“In that case they’ll reach Rilentor first and King Solin. Once the city falls and Rogdon is theirs they’ll look towards our lands, the highlands. What do you advise me to do, then? Nothing? Simply fall back and wait for the invaders?”

“On the contrary, my dear child, on the contrary, my advice is that you fight against the invaders.”

“Why, Amtoko? Do they pose such a threat? We don’t know for sure that they’ll come to our lands.”

“It’s not only them I’m worried about, my child…”

“What do you mean? If not them, who else should we be worrying about?”

“The shadow which is moving the pieces of this game from the darkness, hiding its form and its intentions, but present in each vital event in the development of this confrontation.”

“A fourth kingdom? Which? Who?”

“That, my dear friend, is a very good question, in fact that really
is
the question. Unfortunately, I don’t have the answer.”

“But do you know of anybody else who might be manipulating the conflict?” Althor asked. He stood up in surprise, glaring at the Witch with narrowed eyes.

“I can’t see it, it’s hidden, far away, and I can’t reach that far, but certainly there is someone. For some time now I’ve been sensing events, movements of the threads of destiny which spin around our people, the Norriel. A great spider’s-web is being woven around us, ever darker, thicker and more ill-omened. I see this more and more clearly: a great evil of dimensions we’ve never known before is approaching our people. Three nights ago I carried out an ancient ritual to obtain greater clairvoyance of our destiny, to heighten my powers and thus grasp more clearly what’s about to happen. Death, pain and chaos are approaching with giant strides and a dense fog of horror is forming, one which sooner or later will reach us, bringing unimaginable suffering with it…”

Gudin grasped the pommels of his two short swords and glanced at his leader Auburu, then at Amtoko. He frowned.

“War always brings pain and suffering. Men die, women and children suffer, old people perish. Such is the essence and evil of war. That is why we can’t throw ourselves into one without being absolutely sure.”

Althor took two steps toward the cave and turned round,

“This dark evil that’s coming, it’s not part of the current war, is it? It’s something else.”

“Oh, you’re always so perceptive, my dear friend, that’s how you’ve lived so long,” said the Witch, smiling at him. “Exactly. This evil, this holocaust that’s on its way, is not a direct product of this war but arises from it after the event. This war is only the prelude to a colossal evil which is yet to come, such an evil that the whole continent will sink amid the most ghastly suffering.”

In the face of these words of condemnation and slaughter the three visitors remained silent, deep in thought. It saddened Amtoko to be the bearer of such ill-omened news, but she had to make sure they understood the horror which was about to emerge and which would inexorably reach the Norriel. The threads of destiny made this plain.

Auburu, hands clasped behind her back and with an air of gravity asked:

“Are you absolutely sure, dear Witch? Couldn’t you have read the auguries wrong?”

“Unfortunately I’m sure, child.”

“Couldn’t you be confusing this war with something else? Isn’t this war bloody and destructive enough already?” Gudin asked, distraught at this bad news.

“No, I’m not mistaken. The threads linked to this war that I see and which concern the Norriel are few and very clear. The stench of evil doesn’t come from here.”

“If that’s so, then how can you perceive it, old friend?” Althor said, gesturing vigorously. “I thought you could only sense what’s connected to our own people…”

“Because all this evil is intrinsically connected to a Norriel. And because it’s connected to one of our people, I can perceive it.”

Auburu lifted her head, roused from her introspective trance. “And which of our own people is all this bottomless evil connected with?”

“With Komir…”

They all looked at the Silver Witch in surprise. This had caught them completely unprepared, Amtoko could see. She studied their faces: Auburu’s showed deep worry, Althor’s genuine intrigue and Gudin’s restlessness. Amtoko found the different reactions of the three Norriel to the same news interesting.

“We have no news of Komir since he left the village,” Auburu said.

“That’s not entirely true. I’ve been following him from a distance, helping him when I could. He’s in Ocorum, following his destiny, coming inexorably closer to this evil which is beginning to surround him with the intention of swallowing him up.”

“What has he got to do with this evil?” Gudin asked. “I know the boy, and I doubt very much there’s any evil in him, no matter what the gossips of the village might have wanted us to believe.”

“Exactly, Master Warrior. There’s no evil in him, but there’s caprice in the turning of the wheel of fate, and he’s been chosen to play a role of great significance. Every day I see more clearly that his role is of capital importance for our survival and even, I believe, for the salvation of the whole continent.”

“A massive burden for such a young, tormented Norriel,” Althor said.

They were silent for a while, deep in thought, until Auburu broke that silence:

“We must fight, isn’t that so?” she asked, looking at Amtoko with eyes filled with resignation.

“I’m truly sorry, Auburu, I wish I could tell you otherwise, but I can’t. If we hide here in the highlands it may be that the Noceans and the Norghanians won’t reach us, but this darkness, this evil, will find us and reach us. Our people will suffer unbelievably. The highlands will be dyed with the blood of our men, women and children.”

“Will we be able to stop this evil, this devastating darkness you’re talking about?” Gudin asked.

“All we can do is try, with all our might,” Amtoko replied.

Auburu turned to look at the sun, letting it bathe her body, as if savoring the few moments of peace they had left. She sighed deeply, raised her arms to the sun and said:

“I don’t know whether I’ll support an alliance with Rogdon or not. I’ll think about it. I must make this decision alone. Once I decide, one way or the other, I’ll let the rest of the tribes know. I pray the three goddesses may illuminate my judgment at this crucial moment. Whichever the case, whether we go to war or war comes to our lands, we’ll fight to defend what’s ours, we’ll defend ourselves against evil. The Norriel will never kneel before any invader. We’ll fight to the last drop of blood. Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!” she cried.

The other four, infected by their Leader’s spirit, chanted in unison:

“Norriel we are, and Norriel we shall die!”

For eight endless, exhausting, terrifying weeks the siege brought death and destruction by land and air to the Rogdonian defenders. Days of incessant bombardment of the walls by the terrifying siege machines alternated with bloody assaults on them by the red and white tides of fevered Norghanians.

The defenders were stubbornly holding a fortress which with every passing day seemed more surely doomed. The dwindling strength of the demoralized men of Rogdon would not bear the punishment much longer. The outer wall, severely damaged by the siege weapons, might fall into enemy hands at any moment; the number of defenders had fallen too drastically to let them hold that entire length.

Gerart was crouching on top of the wall beside one of the ruined towers. A colossal rock from one of the catapults impacted on the already worn battlements and destroyed a piece of the wall with a thunderous explosion of rock and stone. The Prince assessed the state of the wall and battlements. It seemed a miracle that they had not collapsed completely. He could not understand how the wall could resist the impact of the enormous rocks the catapults showered on it. There were practically no battlements left to speak of. In their place were holes in the walls and an uneven surface left by the impacts.

In the midst of that destruction his thoughts flew high, soaring into the sky in search of the beautiful face of the blue-eyed Healer. How he missed her! Would she still be alive? She must be, yes, she had to be; the idea of losing her, the mere possibility of it, was unbearable. Gerart prayed to the Light every day that he would see her alive again. She was present in his heart at all times, and he lived for the day when he could hold her, kiss her with such passion that she would not doubt his feelings for her. He still felt guilty for having left her, for not having run after her when the river swept her away. He would not make the same mistake again, no matter what was at stake. He just knew he had to have her near him, to hear her voice and feel her touch. All he wished for was to be with Aliana, to lose himself in her arms.

A familiar voice woke him from his reverie.

“What’s the day like?” Lomar greeted him. He crouched beside the Prince in the shelter of the ruined tower.

“It looks as though they’re going to use the siege weapons today.”

With a threatening whistle, a long missile flew over their heads towards the barracks in the inner courtyard, which were already totally ruined.

“Ballista,” Lomar confirmed.

“Yes, now they’re throwing us pine trees, the biggest they can find.”

“Faster and easier than hacking rock out of the walls of the pass.”

“And just as effective. Those wooden missiles go through men and buildings as if they were butter.”

Count Longor joined them with his perpetual smile and good humor. “Soon they’ll be throwing cows and pigs,” he said

“That would be good, we’re running out of provisions,” said Counselor Urien, who had arrived with the Count and was watching from the stairs.

When he saw the old Royal Counselor so close to the dangerous front, Gerart tensed.

“Urien, go back to the Great Tower. I don’t want you running any risks.”

Another enormous rock crashed against the deserted inner square behind the gate.

“I’m not in any danger, your Highness. These Norghanians are so clumsy they wouldn’t hit the sun from ten paces away.”

Gerart smiled wanly at the reply.

“Even so, I need you alive. Go back to the Great Tower right now and deal with the logistics, which is what we need now.”

“What we need more urgently are supplies and reinforcements,” the Counselor said.

“It seems they’re going to punish us from the air again today,” said Lomar.

“That type of punishment is very disheartening,” Urien commented. “The men are losing their spirit as the days go by. They don’t see how they can stop the Norghanians, they’re fighting with almost total desperation.”

“The King’s order is to hold fast, and that’s what we’re going to do,” the Prince said with such determination on his serious face he left no room for doubt. “This fortress will not fall, we’ll defend it to the last man!”

He would die before he failed his father.

“There won’t be any reinforcements?” ventured Longor.

“I very much fear not,” said Urien. “King Solin has been sending us the few available men left and the militia he’s been recruiting throughout the villages and cities of the Kingdom. Unfortunately Silanda is in deep trouble, the same as we are, or even worse, I fear. The King has been forced to divide the reinforcements, which is a desperate strategy and in my humble opinion won’t lead us to victory.”

“The situation is serious, desperate even, if Silanda is in such a delicate position,” Gerart reflected.

“The reports I’ve received from the capital confirm it,” Urien explained. “They’ve abandoned the outer wall and left it to the enemy. They’ve been forced to fall back to the second wall, the one which protects the Duke’s Palace. I don’t think they’ll be able to hold out, even with the intervention of Mirkos the Erudite.”

“Let’s trust they do, trust in the Mage’s power as well,” Gerart said. “We have no option. If Silanda falls, the Noceans will lay waste the Kingdom from the south, and they’ll reach Rilentor.”

Another huge wooden missile hit the wall, which took the impact undaunted.

“How many men do we have left?” Gerart asked. There was worry in his voice.

“Some four thousand who can still fight, just enough to defend the wall,” Longor said. “We’ve suffered great losses during these last weeks. If we lose a thousand men more we won’t be able to defend the whole length, and they’ll overrun us.”

“We should evacuate the wounded,” Urien said. “If they can’t use a weapon, they should be taken to the capital.”

“That would be the most sensible thing. Let it be done. You take charge of the logistics, Urien, and make them leave as soon as possible.”

“Very well, your Highness,” the old man replied, and went slowly down the stairs, indifferent to the devastating missiles falling around him.

Lomar raised his head to take a good look at the siege machines. Catapults and ballistae had been punishing the fortress from the first day and they had not been moved. On the walls the four guards on watch crouched behind the ruined battlements, alert, praying they were not hit by any of the gigantic missiles. The enemy army was lined up behind the machines; Lomar calculated that there were more than eighteen thousand men.

“Soon it’ll be the turn of those vain damsels, the Invincibles of the Ice,” Longor said.

“I see them,” said Gerart. “They’re unmistakable. Ten thousand men dressed all in white: winged helmet, breast-plate and cape. Even their shields are white.”

“They’re said to be invincible, never defeated in battle,” Longor joked. “The best heavy infantry of the continent, but I think they’re no more than ugly albino walruses, nothing there to fear.”

Gerart smiled. “It might be so. I’ve heard rumors of their feats too, but here the situation is different; this isn’t combat in the open field, man to man. In this case there’s a high wall to climb and take, and they still haven’t done it. I don’t doubt they’re great fighters, but first they have to get up here and then we’ll defeat them, as we’ve defeated all the tides of soldiers they’ve sent us so far.” There was a flash of self-confidence in his eyes.

“The men are scared, your Highness,” Lomar said. “They don’t trust their strength in the face of the Invincibles of the Ice. Despair and uncertainty are infecting their spirits like a contagious illness.”

“Our good soldiers worry too much,” Longor joked. “I still maintain that they’re no more than a bunch of ugly tavern wenches of dubious reputation, nothing to worry about.”

“Let no-one lose hope!” cried the Prince. “We’re still here! They haven’t defeated us yet and nor will they! We’ll defeat them for Rogdon!”

Lomar turned back to the enemy, and something caught his attention.

“Your Highness, look, the two siege towers… they’re moving, advancing…” he muttered.

“It can’t be,” Gerart said, his eyes wide with surprise. “They haven’t used them since the first day for fear of our burning oil.”

“I can see them too,” Longor said.” They’re moving.”

“The catapults and ballistae have stopped and the two towers are moving closer. What are they scheming now?” Gerart wondered.

“Nothing good,” said Lomar. “But if the siege towers are coming, the army will be behind them. We have to get ready.”

“Soldiers! Every one to their posts!” cried Gerart.

Several of the guards on the stairs ran to relay the orders to the officers of the depleted army who were sheltering under the Great Tower and the buildings beside it, out of reach of the enemy.

Soon, quickly and in good order, the wall was once again filled with soldiers of Rogdon, who watched the advance of the Norghanians from the ruined battlements with little hope. Gerart saw the two siege towers advancing towards the eastern and western sections of the wall. He sent Longor to deal with the eastern part and he made his way to the western sector, leaving Lomar in charge of the great cauldron of oil above the gate.

Lomar looked out at the advancing Army, feeling his heart sink. This time they were sending the Invincibles of the Ice. The ten thousand men in white advanced behind the two enormous towers. He sighed and looked around. He could sense the fear in the frightened eyes of the men around him, of all the men along the wall… They knew what was coming; they knew this was the final assault. They were sending the best of the Norghanian Army, their elite, together with their two most powerful assault machines. Everything would be finally decided today, and the men of Rogdon were just beginning to realize the fact.

Lomar swallowed and felt the relief in his parched throat.
Today is the day we either live or die. My heart and my courage shrink at the advance of such an impressive enemy. Somehow, in this crucial moment, after seeing so many of our men die in battle, dying in the midst of this carnage doesn’t seem such a glorious end. It’s true that I’m where I always wanted to be, seeking glory in the field of honor, for Rogdon and for the King. But after witnessing so much death and suffering on these walls I regret having wished for glory and fame in such a frivolous way. I’m proud to be here, to be fighting for my kingdom, and that’s the reason I should have followed, to save my nation, my brothers in arms, the helpless peasants, women and children, from the invading army. Those are noble ideals to pursue, not personal glory, not battle and meaningless bloodshed that serve only to attain empty glory. How wrong are the reasons which guide us in our ignorance, how much stupidity and vain glory there is in the dreams of our youth? Now I see it clearly.

As he reflected on his reasons for joining the army and the Royal Lancers, the face of his good friend Kendas came to mind. What had become of him? Where would he be now, the enterprising peasant turned Lancer? He had not the slightest doubt that his friend was still alive, and hoped he was in much more favorable circumstances than his own.

Don’t let anything stop you, Royal Lancer, ride swiftly as the wind, leave all your enemies behind. Fly on the back of your mount, Kendas, fly, and may evil never catch up with you
.

The white tide came up to within two hundred paces of the wall, and unease surfaced among the soldiers of Rogdon. For a moment Lomar thought that several of the men would give in to fear and despair and run away from the wall. While he was pondering on how devastating that would be for general morale, he heard Prince Gerart’s voice thundering:

“Soldiers of Rogdon! Today we’ll show the world the true mettle of our hearts!”

He turned his back to the enemy to address his men. “Today we’ll show the invaders that the men of Rogdon don’t know fear, that their spirits are unbreakable! Today we’ll deliver death and destruction on the invader, we won’t fall back a single step, and no enemy of Rogdon will ever set foot upon our nation. Our duty is to defend the Kingdom from invaders and that’s what we’ll do. Not one, not even one will enter this fortress unless it’s feet first! We’ll defend our land to our last breath!”

The men above the walls listened attentively to the Prince’s speech, their bodies straight, their chests swelling, their chins raised high, their spirits recovering their lost strength and eroded trust.

“Men of Rogdon, today we’ll finish off the invaders. Their blood will bathe our walls, they shall all die, to the very last of them!”

A lone “Hurrah!” was heard on the wall.

Several more followed, timidly at first, then gaining intensity.

After a few moments the whole wall burst into cheers and shouting.

The soldiers, heartened by this speech, cheered while the enemy advanced like an unstoppable force that would reduce the wall to rubble.

With the enemy a hundred paces away, Prince Gerart drew his sword and raised his arm:

“It’s time for death to fall on the enemies of our nation!”

Two thousand bows were raised among the four thousand defenders.

“Send them to hell!” cried Gerart, bringing his arm down in the signal to attack.