Severed Destinies (20 page)

Rynn hoped never to see that strange man again but something in him led him to believe that it was not the last time their paths would cross.

Together, the three of them rode away into the night, eager to be away from the encounter at the temple but understanding that a greater power was gathering in the north of the kingdom.

Chapter 16

Draliak held the sword up before him, looking along its smooth blade. He recalled the Rotian who had wielded the weapon and remembered being surprised at the man’s skill. He wondered how many others he would fight who could offer such a challenge. As he heard footsteps approaching from behind, he sheathed the weapon and turned.

“
You still carry that sword, commander?” asked Balthus, a curious look on his face.

“
I will not wield it in combat but I carry it as a mark of respect for a worthy opponent.”

Balthus smiled. “It is not a trophy then of your victory?”

Draliak stared into the mocking eyes of the invoker. “What do you want, Balthus?”

“
We are close to the river fortress I understand.”

“
Yes, it lies just to the south.”

“
Has Saroth left yet?”

“
Not yet, no. He leaves us soon and we will then follow a short distance behind.”

Balthus looked past Draliak into the dark forest and then glanced south along the road to Turambar. “How can we be so sure that Saroth will succeed?” he asked Draliak.

“
If you knew Saroth, you would not need to ask that question.”

“
You must forgive my doubts, commander, but when the success of this attack hinges on one man, concerns enter my mind. Saroth is to gain entry to the fortress and yet the structure was designed so that this could not be done. How does he plan to do this?”

“
The outer wall of the fortress is not smooth and this alone will make entry relatively easy.” Saroth emerged from the darkness to join them. “If the wall was completely flat, scaling it would prove difficult but when there are small niches to aid my ascent, it makes my task that much simpler.”

“
Once inside though, what is your plan?” Balthus asked him, unphased by the assassin’s sudden appearance.

“
The gate is controlled from a single room which should prove easy enough to access. I have no doubt that Rotian soldiers will attempt to block my route but I am not concerned.”

Balthus studied his face briefly. “I wish you luck then.”

Saroth turned to Draliak. “Commander, it is time for me to leave.”

“
Very well. As agreed, we will follow shortly.”

“
The gate will be open by the time you arrive,” stated Saroth. He then turned without another word and vanished into the night.

Draliak took in a deep breath of the cold air and looked back at where his men waited patiently. The large company of soldiers stood in formation awaiting their next orders and the anticipation of the imminent battle was apparent in their faces. They numbered three hundred and the strength of the river fortress was reported to be not even one hundred Rotian soldiers. With the element of surprise working to their advantage, the Shada-Kavielians would see a swift victory.

“
Will we be taking more prisoners, commander?”

Draliak turned his gaze back onto Balthus. “Sephonis did not believe that these men would surrender easily. I do not think we will be taking many prisoners from this battle.”

“
As in Barentin and Tamriel, would you have me accompany you?”

Draliak shook his head. “The fortress design will force us into close quarters quickly. I will be leading the main attack through the gate. I want you to stay back and only enter the fortress once we have subdued their numbers. It will be safer.”

Balthus put a hand to his scar. “I will not be making the same mistake twice, commander. As you wish though, I will wait until it is safe to enter.”

Draliak and Balthus turned southwards and for a moment both stood silent in thought. Then Draliak spun and strode back to his men leaving the invoker alone in the darkness.

Gorric emerged from the mess hall into the lantern-lit courtyard of Turambar and looked up at the line of soldiers manning the walls. He saw Sarin moving amongst the men, peering out over the walls as he walked. The captain was dressed in his battle armour, which reflected a nearby lantern giving him an orange glow. Gorric glanced down once to make sure that his sword hung neatly at his side and then headed up to join Sarin.

“
You asked for me, captain?”

Sarin, who was looking out to the darkness of the north, turned his head slowly and regarded Gorric with concerned eyes. “Yes, I did. I wish you to leave Turambar at once and head for the capital with your young friends.”

Gorric’s face darkened. “I have already requested to stay here. Why do you now insist we leave?”

“
Because there is something very wrong on the north bank of the Ulmerien, Gorric.” Sarin stared out again into the darkness. “Ilkar’s report of the invaders in Boraila has unsettled all of my men and the fact that my scouts have still not returned leads me to believe that they are dead or captured. If these invaders are marching this way, then we should take every precaution and that includes getting you safely away.”

“
The corporal and his men encountered them at the temple though. We still don’t have proof that they were in Boraila and this force, if we can assume as much, was seen on the road
leading
to Boraila.”

Sarin shook his head. “We must assume that Boraila has fallen.”

“
How could a city the size of Boraila be taken though?” Gorric asked him. “The force was large enough to destroy Barentin and Tamriel but not Boraila.”

Sarin sighed. “I too have had the same thoughts but let us see what happens tonight. If nothing has happened by the time day breaks, then we will be able to send men out early. However, I still want you away from Turambar now. I cannot risk your life or the lives of your sister and friends, Gorric.”

Gorric drew in a deep breath. “I would rather stay within the fortress, captain. Send the others away but I wish to remain for now.”

“
I have made up my mind,” snapped Sarin. “Gather your belongings and meet Corporal Ilkar in the courtyard. He will lead you to the boats so that you can cross the river.”

Gorric opened his mouth as if to continue his protest but the expression on Sarin’s face made him think otherwise. With a hushed curse, he turned and made his way back down into the courtyard.

Sarin looked over his shoulder and could see Ilkar approaching along the wall, having heard his name mentioned. “The young lord has spirit, Ilkar.”

“
He is brave, sir, and the tales of his heroism in Barentin are not exaggerated. He certainly will make a fine soldier.”

Sarin saw the thoughtful expression on Ilkar’s youthful yet tired face. “Are your thoughts of the temple?”

Ilkar nodded. “Yes, sir. The invaders fought with such ferocity and they were ruthless. They offered no mercy against our men and they simply murdered the defenseless clerics. I find myself wondering how they can be so brutal. The Skardans have always been those we feared in combat but now…..” Ilkar’s voice trailed off.

“
This will be a tense night,” stated Sarin. “How are the men holding up in your opinion?”

“
As well as can be expected, sir. We all know that there is a force somewhere out there who were heading this way but, for all we know, they could have reached the junction in the road and headed north rather than south.”

“
Let us hope that is the case. Tell me, how are the acolyte and his friend doing?”

“
They are resting. It was a hard ride back here for both of them. The acolyte still does not know that his clerics were all murdered.”

Sarin glanced at him. “Best it remains that way for now. How is your leg?”

Ilkar smiled slightly. “It was not a deep cut and luckily they do not use poisoned blades as I had been expecting. I feel guilty that this is the only thing that I suffered at the temple, unlike the rest of the men.”

“
Do not blame yourself. You were caught by surprise and, from what you said, the men fought bravely.” Sarin swung his hand in the direction of the courtyard. “You heard what I said to Gorric?”

“
That I am to see them away safely at the river’s edge, sir.”

“
Yes. Once they are away, return here and rest.”

Ilkar nodded. “Understood, sir.” He looked out one more time into the darkness beyond the walls and shivered. “A cold air blows from the north tonight.”

Rynn woke with a start and sat up. He looked to his left and could make out Varayan’s sleeping form in the next bed. The rest of the beds in the barracks were empty as every soldier now manned their posts around the fortress.

Rynn tried to remember the dream that he had been having and recalled seeing his temple again surrounded by the invading soldiers. He also had seen the strange figure who had stood back from the battle between Ilkar’s men and the invaders. Something about that man terrified him and chilled him to the bone. Not wishing to return to that dark dream, Rynn left his bed and moved to peer through the nearest window.

Outside in the courtyard, he could see the Turambar soldiers making preparations against a possible attack. Even within the walls of the fortress though, Rynn did not feel safe and he imagined the dark army camped just beyond in the forest, waiting to strike. He saw Gorric stride past the barracks but the young lord’s face was set in an angry expression. They had all seen so much death and destruction since they met in Barentin that perhaps it was starting to take its toll on even the strongest of the group.

He found himself thinking about the temple again. It had been his home and now the invaders had taken it for their own. His thoughts were with Ranesch and the rest of his order. He wanted to believe that they had fled the temple before the arrival of the soldiers but something in his heart told him they had not.

Behind him, Varayan stirred in his sleep and Rynn glanced over his shoulder at the man who had become a friend to him during their short time together. At the temple, Varayan had been almost protective over Rynn, although he would not have admitted to such a thing. There was courage in Varayan’s heart, Rynn knew. It was reckless courage but it seemed to suit him somehow.

As Rynn turned to peer out of the window once more, he stopped and held his breath. He was certain that he had heard a voice call his name, but it was distant. He hoped that it was Kithia, wanting to talk further with him. He enjoyed nothing more than sitting listening to her talk about her life, her family and anything else she wanted to tell him about. Just being in her presence was intoxicating enough.

Rynn looked around the quiet barracks but could not see anyone else. Then, he heard it again. It was a faint voice; alien but yet strangely familiar to him. He waited for it to call a third time and, as it did, a wave of warmth washed over him and he staggered as the room spun. The voice sounded out clearly and echoed in his mind rather than his ears. Without realising, Rynn stumbled from the window to the footlocker at the base of his bed and opened it. As the voice began to pound in his head, he reached down and pulled out the scroll bound with the blue ribbon that he had taken from the chest beneath the temple. Something told him that the voice would stop resounding in his head if he just opened the scroll and started reading. Almost desperately, Rynn untied the ribbon and rolled the scroll open. The parchment held runic symbols which at any other moment Rynn would have been unable to read but the words of magic formed on his lips without effort. The voice stopped but Rynn could not and he mouthed the words on the scroll as if memorised.

As he read the last of the symbols, a burning pain seared through his head and the young acolyte tried to stand but his legs had no strength. As darkness engulfed him, he let out a scream of agony and slipped out of consciousness.

Chapter 17

Sephonis stood patiently in silence as his soldiers carried the bodies of the clerics into the room that had once been the temple’s dining hall. All of the furniture except one long table had been removed and on that a number of candles flickered, making the chambers’ shadows seem almost alive as they moved in the faint light.

The clerics had been laid on the cold stone floor in a line, all lying on their backs, as instructed by Sephonis.

“
There are no more bodies?” he asked one of the soldiers.

“
No, high mage.”

“
Then leave me and allow nobody entry to this room until I permit.”

The soldier bowed his head and signalled to the others, who quickly filed out. When the door was closed, Sephonis moved to it and placed his hand against the soft wood. He whispered an incantation and, as he pulled his hand away, a runic symbol quickly materialised on the door as if burnt into the very wood. With the door locked by the enchantment, the high mage turned and walked to where the bodies lay, peering down at each one as he passed. Satisfied that the bodies were positioned correctly, he moved to stand before them, then turned his back to the corpses, facing the curved wall at the end of the chamber. With a deep breath, he closed his eyes and held out his hands in the usual manner, with his palms turned upwards. The silence that so often preceded his link with the Dar’ota fell in the chamber.