A Darkness at Sethanon (54 page)

Ashen-Shugar
turned and said, “Pitiful creatures, have you not observed how
power means nothing? Find another path.” But the moredhel were
already leaving, his words unheard, as they began to dream the dreams
of power. They had set foot upon the Dark Path even as they began to
follow their brothers to the west. In time their brothers would drive
them off, but for now they were as one.

Others moved
silently away, ready to destroy any who opposed them, not content to
seek out their master’s power, certain of their own ability to
take by force of arms whatever they wished. Those elves had been
twisted by the forces let loose during the Chaos Wars and were
already drawing away from their brethren. They would be called the
glamredhel, the mad elves, and as they set out for the north, they
turned suspicious eyes upon those moving westward. They would hie
themselves away, using science and sorcery plundered from alien
worlds to build giant cities in imitation of their masters, to
protect themselves from their kindred, while plotting to make war
upon them.

Disgusted by
their behaviour, Ashen-Shugar returned to his hall, to reside until
that time when he was to leave this life, preparing the way for the
other. The universe was changed, and within his hall Ashen-Shugar
felt himSelf alien to the newly-forged order. As if reality itself
rejected his nature, he fell into torpor, a coma-like sleep, where
his being grew and diffused and began to suffuse his armour, the
power being passed into artifacts, to await another who would come to
wear his mantle.

At the last he
stirred and said, “Have I erred?”

Now you know
doubt.

“This
strange quietness within, what is it?”

It is death
approaching.

Closing his
eyes, the last Valheru said, “I thought as much. So few of my
kind lived beyond battle. It was a rare thing. I am the last. Still,
I would like to fly Shuruga once more.”

He is gone.
Dead ages past.

Ashen-Shugar
struggled with vague memories. Weakly he said, “But I flew him
this morning.”

It was a
dream. As is this.

“Am I then
also mad?” The thought of what was seen in Draken-Korin’s
eyes haunted Ashen-Shugar.

You are but a
memory
, said the other.
This is but a dream
.

“Then I
will do what is planned. I accept the inevitable. Another will come
to take my place.”

So it has
happened already, for I am the one who came, and I have taken up your
sword and put upon your mantle; your cause is now mine. I stand
against those who would plunder this world,
said the other.

The one called
Tomas.

Tomas opened his
eyes and then closed them again. He shook his head, as if clearing
it. To Pug he had been silent for only a moment, but the magician
suspected that many things had passed through Tomas’s mind. At
last Tomas said, “I have the memories now. Now I understand
what is occurring.”

Macros nodded.
He said to Pug, “In all my dealings with the Ashen-Shugar-Tomas
paradox, that most difficult of all was how much knowledge to permit
Tomas. Now he is ready to deal with the greatest challenge of his
existence, and now he must know the truth. And you as well, though I
suspect you have already deduced what he has learned.”

Softly Pug
replied, “At first I was misled by the enemy’s use of
ancient Tsurani when it spoke in Rogen’s vision. But now I
realize that was simply because that was the language of humans it
knew at the time of the Escape across the golden bridge. Once I
discarded the idea that the Enemy was somehow linked to the Tsurani,
when I considered the presence of the eldar upon Kelewan, then I
understood. I know what we face, and why the truth was hidden from
Tomas. It is the worst possible nightmare come to life.”

Macros looked to
Tomas. Tomas looked long at Pug, and there was pain in his eyes.
Quietly, he said, “When I first remembered the time of
Ashen-Shugar I thought I . . . I thought my heritage had been left
against the Tsurani invasion. But that was only a small part of it.”

“Yes,”
said Macros. “There is more. You now know how a dragon thought
extinct for generations - an ancient black - could guard me.”

Tomas’s
expression was openly one of doubt and worry. With an almost resigned
note, he added, “And I now know the purpose of Murmandamus’s
masters.” He waved his hand around them. “The trap was
less to prevent Macros from reaching Midkemia than it was to bring us
here, keeping us away from the Kingdom.”

“Why?”
asked Pug.

Macros said,
“For in our own time Murmandamus commands an army and strikes
into your homeland. Even as you searched for me in the City Forever,
I wager he was overrunning the garrison at Highcastle. And I know his
purpose in invading the Kingdom. He needs to reach Sethanon.”

“Why
Sethanon?” asked Pug.

“Because
by chance that city is built over the ruins of the ancient city of
Draken-Korin,” answered Tomas. “And within that city lies
the Lifestone.”

The sorcerer
said, “We’d best continue walking while we discuss these
problems, Pug, for we’ve got to return to Midkemia and our own
era. Tomas and I can tell you of the city of Draken-Korin and the
Lifestone. That part you are ignorant of, though you know the rest;
the Enemy, that thing you learned of upon Kelewan, is not a single
being. It is the combined might and mind of the Valheru. The Dragon
Lords are returning to Midkemia, and they want their world back.”
With a humourless grin he said, “And we’ve got to keep
them from taking it.”

A
rutha
studied the canyon.

He had ridden
out before first light with Guy and Baron Highcastle to observe the
advancing elements of Murmandamus’s forces. From the spot where
he and his companions had been intercepted by Highcastle’s men,
they could see campfires in the distance.

Arutha pointed.
“Do you see, Brian? There must be a thousand fires, which
means, five, six thousand soldiers. And that is only the first
elements. By this time tomorrow there will be twice that number.
Within three days Murmandamus will be throwing thirty thousand or
more at you.”

Highcastle,
ignoring Arutha’s tone, leaned forward over his horse’s
neck, as if straining to see more clearly. “I only see fires,
Highness. You know it is a common trick to build extra fires, so the
enemy can’t gauge your strength or disposition.”

Guy swore under
his breath and turned his horse around. “I’ll not wait to
explain the obvious to idiots.”

“And I’ll
not sit and be insulted by a traitor!” Highcastle shot back.

Arutha rode
between them, saying, “Guy, you swore no oath of fealty to me,
but you’re alive this minute because I’ve accepted your
parole. Don’t let this become an issue of honour. I don’t
need duels now. I need you!”

Guy’s one
good eye narrowed and he seemed ready for more hot words, but at last
he said, “
I apologize . . . my lord
. The rigours of a
long journey. I’m sure you understand.” At the last, he
spurred his horse back toward the garrison.

Brian Highcastle
said, “The man was an insufferably arrogant swine - when he was
Duke, and it seems two years wandering about the Northlands hasn’t
changed him in the least.”

Arutha spun his
horse around and faced Lord Highcastle. His words showed he was at
the limit of his patience. “He’s also the finest general
I’ve ever known, Brian. He just watched his command overrun;
his city
utterly
destroyed. He has thousands of his people
scattered throughout the mountains and
he doesn’t know how
many survived
. I’m sure you can appreciate his shortness of
temper.” The sarcasm of the last remark revealed his own
frustration.

Lord Highcastle
was silent. He turned and regarded the camp of the enemy as the dawn
came.

Arutha tended
his horse, the one taken from the brigands in the mountains. A bay
mare, she was resting and regaining lost weight; Arutha had used one
loaned him by Baron Highcastle that morning. In another day the mare
would be fit to ride south. Arutha had expected the Baron at least to
offer him an exchange of animals, but Brian, Lord Highcastle, seemed
to be taking delight in pointing out at every opportunity that as a
vassal to Lyam he had no obligation to Arutha, save being barely
civil. Arutha was not sure if Brian would even offer to send an
escort. The man was an insufferable egotist, not terribly perceptive,
and stubborn - qualities not unexpected in a man shunted off to the
frontier to hold against small bands of badly organized goblins, but
hardly those of the commander one would wish to oppose a
battle-hardened, well-led invading army. The stable door opened and
Locklear and Jimmy walked in. They halted when they saw Arutha, then
Jimmy approached. “We were coming to check the horses.”

Arutha said, “I
cast no blame on your stewardship, Jimmy. I simply like to see to
such things for myself when I can afford the time. And it gives me a
chance to think.”

Locklear sat
down on a hay bale between Arutha’s mount and the wall. He
reached out and patted the mare’s nose. “Highness, why is
this happening?”

“You mean
why the war?”

“No, I
think I can understand someone wanting to conquer, or at least I’ve
heard enough about such wars in the histories. No, I mean the place.
Why here? Amos was showing us some Kingdom maps upstairs and . .. it
doesn’t make any sense.”

Arutha paused in
combing his mount. “You’ve just touched upon the single
biggest cause for concern I have. Guy and I have discussed it. We
just don’t know. But one thing to be sure of is, if your enemy
is doing something unexpected, it’s for a reason. And you had
best be quick in understanding what that is, Squire, for if you
don’t, it’s likely to be the means of your defeat.”
His eyes narrowed. “No, there is a reason Murmandamus is
heading this way. Given the timetable for what he is able to do
before winter, he must be making for Sethanon. But why? There is no
apparent motive for him to go there, and once there, he can only hold
until spring. Once spring comes, Lyam and I will crush him.”

Jimmy pulled an
apple from his tunic and cut it in two, giving half to the horse.
“Unless he figures to have this business over and done with
before spring.”

Arutha looked at
Jimmy. “What do you mean?”

Jimmy shrugged
and wiped his mouth. “I don’t know exactly, except what
you said. You have to guess what the enemy is up to. Given the
indefensibility of the city, he might be counting on everyone pulling
out. Like you said, come spring you can crush him. So, I guess he
knows that, too. Now, if I was making straight for some place I could
get smashed the next spring, it’d be because I didn’t
plan on being there in the spring. Or maybe there was something there
that gave me an edge - either made me so powerful that I didn’t
have to worry about being caught between two armies, or kept the
armies from coming at all. Something like that.”

Arutha rested
his chin upon his arm on the back of the horse as he thought. “But
what?”

Locklear said,
“Something magic?”

Jimmy laughed.
“We’ve had no shortage of that since this whole mess
began.”

Arutha ran his
finger along the chain holding the talisman given him by the Ishapian
monks at Sarth. “Something magic,” he muttered. “But
what?”

Quietly Jimmy
said, “It’ll be something big, I’d guess.”

Arutha fought
rising irritation. In his belly he knew Jimmy was right. And he felt
frustration close to rage in not understanding the secret behind
Murmandamus’s insane invasion.

Abruptly
trumpets sounded, and were answered almost immediately by the
pounding of boot heels upon the cobbles as soldiers rushed to their
posts. Arutha was out of the stables in an instant, the boys just
behind.

Galain pointed.
“There.”

Guy and Arutha
looked down from the highest tower of the keep, overlooking the
barbican of the fortification. Beyond, in the deep canyon called
Cutter’s Gap, the first elements of Murmandamus’s army
could be seen. “Where’s Highcastle?” asked Arutha.

“Down on
the wall with his men,” answered Amos. “He rode in a
short time ago, all bloodied and battered. Seems the Dark Brothers
were up in the hills above his advance position and swarmed down over
him. He had to cut his way out. Looks like he lost most of the
detachment out there.”

Guy swore. “The
idiot. That was where he could have bottled up Murmandamus’s
army for a few days. Here, on the walls, it’ll be a bloody
damned farce.”

The elf said,
“It was foolish to underestimate the ability of the mountain
moredhel once they get into the rocks. These are not simple goblins
he’s facing.”

Arutha said,
“I’m going to see if I can talk to him.” The Prince
hurried down through the keep and within a few minutes was standing
beside Lord Highcastle. The Baron was bloodied from a scalp wound,
received when his helm had been knocked off his head. He had not put
another on, and his hair was matted with dried blood. The man was
pale and shaky, but he still supervised his command without
hesitation. Arutha said, “Brian, can you see what I was talking
about?”

“We’ll
bottle them up here,” he answered, pointing to where the narrow
canyon came together before the wall. “There’s no room to
stage, so his men will be stopped before the wall. We’ll cut
them down like wheat before a scythe.”

“Brian,
he’s bringing an army of thirty thousand against you. What have
you here? Two? He doesn’t care about losses! He’ll pile
his soldiers against your walls, then walk over their corpses to
reach you. They’ll come and come and come again and wear you
down. You can’t hold out for more than a day or two at the
longest.”