Children of Enchantment (41 page)

T
wilight came, a hot, dry hour in that hot, dry season, bringing no relief, no cooling breeze. The trees drooped in the arid
air, their leaves parched and curling at the edges. Roderic leaned against the trunk of the tree and stared at the gray stone
walls of the fortress rising inexorably before him.

Tomorrow was his birthday—his and Annandale’s. They would both be twenty. In all those years, he had never thought of Minnis
as anything but a place of respite and ease. Until now. Sweat trickled down his neck in the unrelenting heat, and he stared
fixedly at the black shapes of the guards upon the walls. They kept to the shadows for the most part, though whether because
of the heat, or for some darker reason, he didn’t like to speculate.

He closed his eyes, wondering, hoping, praying that Amanander treated her kindly. He thought of the gardens of Minnis, seeing
Annandale walking the wide, even paths, her hand touching the red roses and the pale purple delvynes, her face dappled by
sunlight amid the branches of the drooping silver willows. What a fool he had been last summer, he thought, cursing himself.
What time he had wasted. He should have listened to the dictates of his body and his heart and taken her to his bed as soon
as she’d arrived. Now the thought of losing her cut through him like a white-hot blade. Who knew what that monster did to
her? Who knew what devious tortures he devised?

Tavia had told him in great length how Amanander’s guard had seen them safely to Ahga and the hapless guard had reluctantly
revealed the proof Amanander would have required that the deed was done. Roderic shuddered.

“Lord Prince, the council awaits.”

He waved a dismissal to the serving boy and turned away. Late yesterday the great army had arrived at the threshold of Minnis,
and now it was time to plan the assault. There was only one course of action, and they all knew it. He missed Brand, missed
his older brother’s counsel and advice. Brand had parted company long before they had reached Minnis, riding south through
what remained of the Forest of Koralane, which still smoked and smoldered. Alexander was still too sick, too riddled with
guilt to offer advice, and only Deirdre listened with the same look of concentration he had seen her wear in negotiations.
He realized with a start that he had come to rely on her very quickly.

Roderic walked down the low rise, where a path had been beaten down in less than twenty-four hours. A small city of tents
and wagons and hastily constructed fences lay before him, and already the engineers had begun the construction of the massive
siege towers, which would gain them access to the high walls. Others were engaged in reinforcing the defensive earthworks
before the castle. Pennants flew above the tents, barely visible through the trees, the colors of the Chiefs of the Settle
Islands, Norda Coda, and Kora-lado. His footprints raised little puffs of dust.

At the entrance of the command tent, he gave orders for food and drink to be brought to them. The group gathered around the
table looked at him as he entered. Phineas lay on his litter, near the head of the table, and ranged down the sides were Deirdre,
Alexander, and the Captains of the divisions.

The soldiers came to attention and saluted. He acknowledged them all and took his place at the head of the table. “I apologize
for being late,” he began. “Captain Ulrich, can you tell us what the scouts have discovered?”

The Captain shook his head and spread his hands. “Damn little we don’t know already, Lord Prince. It appears the Lady Tavia
was correct. Amanander doesn’t seem to have a large force behind those walls. Guards are sparse and appear to rotate seldom.
The guard duty is rotated but once every twenty-four hours—“

“Once?” Deirdre interrupted. “That’s impossible, man. Surely your spies slept—“

“Lady, my men are reliable—“

At the testy edge in the soldier’s voice, Roderic sat forward. It would never do to have emotions roused, or have his forces
pitted against each other. “There is no doubt of that, Captain. But to rotate only once every twenty-four hours—that sounds
unbelievable, you will agree?”

The Captain subsided, scowling.

Phineas leaned forward, his litter creaking as his weight shifted. “Then that tells us one thing for certain. Amanander may
not have many men, but those he has have inhuman abilities.”

Deirdre shook her head. “With all due respect to you, Lord Phineas, and to you, Captain, you don’t know how many men he has.
Lady Tavia never got an opportunity to see how many troops are there. And even if what the scouts say is true, we have no
way of knowing what the strength of Amanander’s forces are. He could be putting fewer guards on the walls to trick us.”

Roderic nodded, running his fingers through his hair as she spoke. “I know. I’ve thought of that.”

“Then have we committed, Lord Prince?” asked the other Captain, the Captain of the engineers, who sat beside the other, sweat
plastering his tunic to his burly shoulders. The smell of freshly cut wood mixed with the salty smell of sweat. “Are we committed
to storming the walls?”

“What other choice have we?” asked Roderic. “It doesn’t matter how many men Amanander has, nor how they fight. We cannot starve
them out—there is only one chance that we get over the walls, and take the castle—“

A stir outside the tent interrupted him. He looked up in annoyance, but the expression on his face changed when he saw who
it was whom the guards escorted. “Vere!” He pushed back his stool and stood up in surprise. “At last.”

Vere stood a moment, his face grave, the blue and green swirls of color on his face ghastly in the dim light. He seemed to
be taking in the occupants, and he nodded to each of them in turn.

“Gentlemen, M’Callaster, my brother, Vere.”

Phineas hissed with surprise, and Vere coughed softly. “Greetings, Captain Phineas. I understand you have been well rewarded
for your loyalty to the King.”

Deirdre pushed away from the table and leaned back, eyeing Vere speculatively. “I mean no disrespect, Lord Prince, but would
this family reunion not be better held after we have determined our course of action and have made our battle plan accordingly?”

Roderic smiled at Deirdre’s impatience. “I hope my brother brings us news which may aid our planning. Come, sit, Vere. Tell
us. Were you successful?” said Roderic eagerly.

Vere drew a deep breath as he reached for a camp stool and sat at the opposite end of the table. “I’m sorry, Roderic. I did
the best I could. The council has decided to put all resources available to them to fight Ferad. They refused to send any
help at all to you.”

“It’s Atland, isn’t it?”

Vere would not meet his eyes. “They did not say that.”

“But that’s what they meant, isn’t it?”

Roderic felt as if the air had punched from his lungs. Vere shook his head.

“I am sorry, Roderic. Believe me, I did the best I could. I tried to explain how dangerous Amanander is—how he has the empath—“

“And what did they say to that?”

“They refused to believe that he would have the ability to work much Magic, and that if he did, at least the empath would
prevent him from doing much damage.”

“What are we up against?” asked Deirdre with narrowed eyes. She flicked the end of her braid off her shoulder. “What are we
talking about?”

“I’ve told you about my brother and his interest in the Magic,” answered Roderic. “The scouts confirm that his men have some
sort of inhuman power. So what can we do now, Vere?”

Vere wet his lips. “I am sorry. They did not want me to come back—they ordered me, in fact, back to the College—but I broke
my vow to come to you. I understand what’s happening here. But the Elders are faced with problems of their own. They have
discovered that the traitors who call themselves the Brotherhood are more pervasive among them than they ever thought.”

“By the One,” Alexander swore softly. “This is my fault.”

“Fault or not, it matters nothing now,” said Phineas. “The responsibility for this doesn’t rest on you alone, Alexander. The
guilt is spread thin, believe me. But now—can you help us, Vere?”

Vere looked down at his lap. “There may be one more option.”

“What’s that?” asked Alexander, with the air of a condemned man.

“Nydia. Nydia Farhallen.”

The name settled in the room, and Roderic felt his blood run cold.

“Annandale has said that she thinks her mother might be dead.”

“Are you certain of that?” asked Vere.

“No,” Roderic shook his head, “but surely, she’d know.”

“Why do you think that?” asked Vere.

“She’s an empath.”

“That means she feels things. But she’s not telepathic—she can’t necessarily communicate with her mind. Some have that gift,
but most achieve it only after long training.”

“So you think Annandale might be wrong?”

“She may indeed feel the loss of her mother and doubtless, Nydia feels Annandale’s own absence as a loss. But you don’t know
she’s dead. And if she is alive—“

“If she’s alive, why hasn’t she come to help us?” interrupted Deirdre.

“Because of what she is,” answered Roderic. “The way she looks now.”

“She was beautiful,” said Alexander. “Why would she hesitate to come?”

“She’s not beautiful anymore,” said Roderic. “She’s ugly, inhuman. She goes about veiled—Annandale says she veiled herself
when Annandale was very young, that her mother wanted to spare her the pain of what she had become. Believe me, you don’t
want to imagine it.”

Vere’s expression was troubled, and for a moment, Roderic thought he might ask a question. But then he shook his head and
said, “We should go to her tower as quickly as we can—tomorrow at the very latest.”

Roderic hesitated. The thought of returning to Nydia’s desolate tower raised the hackles at the back of his neck. But he remembered
how his hesitation as far as Annandale was concerned had cost him so much wasted time, and his resolve strengthened. He would
not let his fear cost her another moment in Amanander’s control. He drew a deep breath to reply to Vere, when the table and
the dirt floor beneath it shuddered. Another tremor shook the poles of the tent. Roderic sprang to his feet.

“Earthshake!” cried Vere. “Guards—see to Lord Phineas.”

As the guards rushed into the tent in response to Vere’s cry, Roderic rushed outside, where he was met by a scene of complete
chaos. Men broke into a run as the land buckled and split in a long crack through the whole camp. Before Roderic’s disbelieving
eyes, the earth rose up, flinging men and equipment in all directions. The rough frames of the siege engines collapsed as
if they had been constructed of sticks.

A wide chasm opened up, and men and horses stumbled and fell into it, screaming, and Roderic fought to keep his footing as
a crack snaked its way from the chasm up the rise of the little hill he stood upon.

The ground shook once more, and Roderic grappled for purchase. The ground dissolved beneath his feet in a shower of loose
gravel and he fell, sliding into the dark chasm before him. Just in time, Vere grabbed his wrist. He clung to Vere with all
his strength as the earth shook once more and was still.

Roderic lay still for a moment, feeling the rough dirt beneath his cheek, afraid to rise lest the unnatural shaking begin
once more. Vere disentangled his hand and slowly rose to his feet, his face black with mud.

Roderic got to his feet and looked around. Minnis rose, vast and unapproachable, looking no worse for the wear. Men and animals
lay on the ground, some wounded, some deathly still, and the remains of their equipment lay in broken heaps. “It looks like
the Armageddon.”

Vere nodded grimly. A tall, slim shape appeared on the walls. Mesmerized, Roderic broke away from the gathered men. He saw
the longbow in the figure’s hands, and as he watched, the figure drew the bowstring. Across the long space, an arrow flew
an impossible distance and thudded into the ground directly at Roderic’s feet.

He looked back at Vere and the others. Some of the men were muttering prayers, others clutched iron crosses to their lips.
With steadier hands than he thought he should have bee able to muster, he reached for the arrow. Wrapped around it was a piece
of parchment. He broke the seal and unrolled the scroll. With a growing frown, he read the words.

“What’s it say?” asked Vere.

Roderic glanced up at his brother, at the men clustering close. He crumpled the scroll into a ball in his fist. “He demands
our surrender.”

The men looked at each other with sidelong glances and frightened eyes. Roderic didn’t give them the chance to voice their
opinions. “Captains, Lieutenants, order your men. I want a complete assessment of the damage, of the losses we’ve suffered.
Get a burial detail together—I want accurate numbers of the wounded, our remaining supplies. We may be here for a long time.”

B
efore the dawn broke over the trees, Roderic and Vere mounted horses and, skirting the walls of the great keep, rode north
into the dense woods.