A Darkness at Sethanon (56 page)

“Cut the
horses loose!” ordered Guy.

The soldiers cut
the horses from their traces, and led them away. Within minutes the
sacks of grain had been removed from the first wagon and passed among
the soldiers, including an extra sack for each of the merchant’s
horses. The rest of the wagons and grain were fired.

Arutha said to
the merchant, “There are thirty thousand goblins, Dark
Brothers, and trolls on the march this way, master merchant. If you
think I’ve done you an injustice, consider what you would face
trundling these wagons along the trails of the Dimwood in the midst
of such company. Now take the grain for your mounts and ride for the
south. We shall stand at Sethanon, but if you value your skin, I’d
ride past the city and make for Malac’s Cross. Now, if you want
to be paid for this grain, stay in Sethanon, and if we all manage
somehow to survive the invasion, I’ll recompense you. That’s
your risk to decide. I’ve no more time to waste on you.”

Arutha ordered
his column forward and, minutes later, was not surprised to find the
merchant and his mercenaries riding after them, staying as close to
the column as their tired mounts would allow. After a short while,
Arutha yelled to Amos, “When we halt, get them some fresh
horses from the remounts. I don’t want to leave them behind.”

Amos grinned.
“They’re just about scared enough to behave. Let’s
let them fall just a little farther behind, then when they catch up
with us tonight they’ll be bright and cooperative lads.”

Arutha shook his
head. Even in the face of this backbreaking ride, Amos appreciated
the humour of the moment.

The sounds of
fighting caused Arutha to order a halt. He motioned for Galain and a
soldier to ride toward the source of the sound. They returned minutes
later, the elf saying, “It’s over.”

They rode to the
east to find soldiers from Highcastle in a clearing. A dozen moredhel
bodies lay about. The sergeant in charge saluted when he saw Arutha
approaching. “We were resting our mounts when they hit us,
Highness. Luckily, another squad was just west of here and came
running.”

Arutha looked at
Guy and Galain. “How the hell did they get ahead of us?”

Galain said,
“They didn’t. These have been here all summer, waiting.”
He looked about. “Over there, I think.” He led Arutha to
a deadfall, which hid the entrance to a low hut, cleverly concealed
by brush. Within the hut were stores: grain, weapons, dried meats,
saddles, and other supplies.

Arutha inspected
everything quickly, then said, “This campaign has been long in
planning. We can now be certain that Sethanon has always been
Murmandamus’s objective.”

“But we
still don’t know why,” observed Guy.

“Well,
we’ll have to proceed without regard to why. Take anything here
that we can use, then destroy the rest.”

He said to the
sergeant, “Have you sighted other companies?”

“Yes,
Highness. De la Troville had a camp a mile’s ride to the
northeast last night. We encountered one of his pickets and were
ordered to continue on, so as not to concentrate too many men in one
place.”

Guy said, “Dark
Brothers?”

The sergeant
nodded. “The woods are swarming with them, Your Grace. If we
ride past, they give us little trouble. If we stop, we’ve
snipers to deal with. Luckily they don’t usually come in bands
as large as this one. Still, it might do well for us to stay on the
move.”

Arutha said,
“Take five men from my column and begin to head east. I want
word passed that everyone is to keep a watchful eye for these stores
of Murmandamus. I expect you’ll find them guarded, so look for
places where the Dark Brothers begin to object to your trespassing.
Anything that can help him is to be destroyed. Now you’d better
ride.”

Arutha then
ordered another dozen men to ride a half day to the west, then turn
south, so that word of the caches of arms could be spread. He said to
Guy, “Let’s get on the march. I can almost feel his
vanguard stepping on our heels.”

Du Bas-Tyra
nodded and said, “Still, we might be able to slow him a bit
along the way.”

Arutha looked
about. “I’ve been waiting for a place for an ambush. Or a
bridge to burn behind us. Or a narrowing in the trail where we can
fell a tree. But there hasn’t been a single likely place.”

Amos agreed.
“This is the most bloody damn accommodating forest I’ve
seen. You can march a parade through here and not one man in twenty
would miss a step for having to dodge a tree.”

Guy said, “Well,
we take what we can get. Let’s be off.”

The Dimwood was
a series of interconnecting woodlands rather than a single forest
such as the Edder or the Green Heart. After the first three days’
travel, they passed a series of meadows, then entered some truly dark
and foreboding woods. Several times they waited while Galain
mismarked moredhel trail signs. The elf thought some of the moredhel
scouts might wander a bit before discovering they were being misled.
Three more times they came across caches of Murmandamus’s
stores. Dead moredhel and soldiers showed their locations. The swords
had been tossed into fires to rob them of temper, while the arrows
and spears were burned. The saddles and bridles had been cut up and
the grain was scattered about the ground or burned. Blankets,
clothing, and even foodstuffs had gone to feed the fires.

Late in the
second week in the forest, they smelled smoke and had to flee a
forest fire. Some overzealous ravaging of one of Murmandamus’s
caches had resulted in the fire breaking loose in the woods, now dry
from the hot summer. As they rode away from the advancing blaze, Amos
shouted, “That’s what we should do. Wait until his
magnificent bastardness gets into the woods and burn it down around
him. Ha!”

Arutha had lost
six horses by the time they left the Dimwood, entering cultivated
lands, but not one man, including the merchant and his mercenaries.
They crossed twenty miles of farmland, then made camp. After sunset a
faint glow on the southern horizon appeared.

Amos pointed it
out to the boys. “Sethanon.”

They reached the
city and were halted at the gate by soldiers of the local garrison.
“We’re looking for whoever’s in command!”
shouted the sergeant in charge, his chevrons clearly shown in gold
upon the finely tailored green and white tabard of the Barony of
Sethanon.

Arutha
signalled, and the sergeant said, “We’ve had soldiers
from Highcastle drifting in for the last half day. They’re
being given compound in the marshalling yard. The Baron wants to see
whoever’s in charge of this lot.”

“Tell him
I’m on my way as soon as these men are quartered.”

“And who
should I tell him that is?”

“Arutha of
Krondor.”

The man’s
mouth opened. “But . . .”

“I know,
I’m dead. Still, tell Baron Humphry I’ll be up to his
keep within the hour. And tell him I’ve Guy du Bas-Tyra with
me. Then send a runner to the marshalling yard and find out if
Baldwin de la Troville and Anthony du Masigny are safely here. If so,
have them join me.”

The sergeant was
motionless for a moment, then saluted. “Yes, Highness!”

Arutha signalled
for his column to enter the city, and for the first time in months
saw the normal sights of the Kingdom, a city busy with the business
of citizens who thought they were safely kept from harm by a
benevolent monarch. The streets thronged with people busy with the
concerns of the market, commerce, and celebration. In every direction
Arutha could see only the commonplace, the expected, the mundane. How
soon that would change.

Arutha ordered
the gates closed. For the last week those who had chosen to take
their chances and flee southward had been allowed to leave. Now the
city was to be sealed. More messages had been sent, by pigeon and
riders, to the garrisons at Malac’s Cross, Silden, and
Darkmoor, against the possibility of the other messages not reaching
those commanders. Everything that could be done had been done, and
all they could do was wait.

The scouts who
had been positioned to the north had reported that Murmandamus’s
army was now completely in control of the Dimwood. Every farm between
the woodlands and the city had been evacuated and all the inhabitants
brought inside the walls. The Prince had instructed everyone to
follow a strict schedule. All food was brought to Sethanon, but when
time ran out, Arutha had ordered every farm put to the torch. The
fall crops not yet harvested were fired, and unpicked gardens were
dug up or poisoned and all herds too distant to be brought to the
city were ordered scattered to the south and east. Nothing was left
behind to aid the advancing host. Reports from the soldiers who had
reached Sethanon indicated that at least thirty of Murmandamus’s
caches of stores had been discovered and looted or destroyed. Arutha
harboured no illusions. At best he had stung the invaders, but no
real damage had been accomplished save inconvenience.

Arutha sat in
council with Amos, Guy, the officers from Highcastle, and Baron
Humphry. Humphry sat in his armour - uncomfortably, for it was a
gaudy contraption of fluted scrollwork, designed for show and not for
combat - his golden plumed helm held before him. He had readily
acknowledged Arutha’s preemption of his command, for given its
location, the garrison of Sethanon lacked any real battlefield
commanders. Arutha had installed Guy, Amos, de la Troville, and du
Masigny in key positions. They sat reviewing the disposition of
troops and stores. Arutha concluded reading the list and spoke. “We
could withstand an army of Murmandamus’s size up to two months,
under normal circumstances. With what we saw at Armengar and
Highcastle, I’m sure the circumstances will not be normal.
Murmandamus must be within the city by two weeks, three at longest;
otherwise he faces the possibility of an early freeze. The rainy fall
weather is beginning, which will slow his assaults, and once winter
comes, he’ll find a starving army under his command. No, he
must quickly enter Sethanon, and prevent us from using up or
destroying our stores.

“If the
very best of situations comes to pass, Martin will be now leaving the
foothills of the Calastius Mountains below Hawk’s Hollow with
the army from Yabon, upward of six thousand soldiers. But he’ll
be at least two weeks away. We might see soldiers from North warden
or from Silden about the same time, but at best we must hold for no
less than two weeks and perhaps as long as four. Any longer, and help
will be too slow in coming.”

He rose.
“Gentlemen, all we may do now is wait for the enemy to come. I
suggest we rest and pray.”

Arutha walked
out of the conference room. Guy and Amos came after. All paused, as
if considering what they had been through so far, then drifted off
their separate ways, to wait for the attackers.

T
hey
walked the Hall.

It seemed a
straight thoroughfare, a yellowish white roadway with more glowing
silver doors at about fifty-foot intervals. Macros made a sweeping
motion with his arm. “You walk in the midst of a mystery to
match the City Forever, the Hall of Worlds. Here you may walk from
world to world, if you but know the way.” He indicated a silver
rectangle. “A portal, giving passage to and from a world. Only
a select few among the multitudes may discern them. Some learn the
knack through study, others stumble upon them by chance. By altering
your perceptions, you may see them wherever they lie. Here” -
he waved at a door as they passed - “is a burned-out world
circling a forgotten sun.” Then he pointed to the door on the
other side of the Hall. “But there is a world teeming with
life, a hodgepodge of cultures and societies, but with only one
intelligent race.” He halted a moment. “At least, that is
what they will be in our own time.” He continued walking. “At
present, I expect these doors empty into swirls of hot gases only
slightly more dense than nothing.

“In the
future, a complete society exists who travel the Hall, conducting
commerce between worlds, yet there are worlds whose entire
populations have no knowledge of this place.”

Tomas said, “I
knew nothing of this place.”

“The
Valheru had other means to travel,” Macros answered, inclining
his head in Ryath’s direction. “Without the need, they
never paused to apprehend the existence of the Hall, for surely they
had the ability. Luck? I don’t know, but much destruction was
avoided by their remaining ignorant.”

“How far
does the Hall extend?” said Pug.

“Endlessly.
No one knows. The Hall appears straight, but it curves, and should I
walk a short distance, I would vanish from your sight. Distances and
time have little meaning between the worlds.”

He began leading
them down the hall.

Following
Macros’s instructions, Pug had managed to bring them forward in
time, to what Macros judged was near their own era. After having
accelerated the Dragon Lord time trap, Pug had no difficulty
following Macros’s direction. The mechanics of the spells used
were but logical extensions of what Pug had used to speed up the
trap. Pug could only guess if the proper amount of time had passed,
but Macros had reassured him that when they started to approach
Midkemia, he would know how much adjustment Pug would have to make.

They had been
walking and Pug had studied each door in passing. After a while he
discovered there was a faint difference between each door, a slight
spectral oddity in the shimmering silver light, which provided the
clue to which world the door led to. “Macros, what would occur
if one were to step off between doors?” asked Pug.

The sorcerer
said, “I suspect you’d be quickly dead if you did so
unprepared. You would float in rift-space without the benefit of
Ryath’s ability to navigate.”