The Legend of Asahiel: Book 03 - The Divine Talisman (55 page)

Southern Kuuria’s most defensible city, Allion knew, and within fair distance of the coast. Thelin would see that her walls were amply garrisoned, with the rest of the Imperial Army ready to drop their saws and hammers and reclaim their swords at a moment’s notice. It would not be enough. If they could not have withstood the enemy at Souaris, they would not survive at Stralk.

The people of Kuuria, and all those who had joined them, were doomed.

“We will hold the front for as long as necessary,” Troy assured his king’s messenger. “Though it may be wise to send another division or two our way.”

“His Majesty means to do so if you require it, Commander. In the meantime, he asks the opposite. I am to bring any who can be spared south with me, men with which to bolster the construction efforts.”

The assembly grew heated. Hrothgari grumbled in their little packs, with snarls and gestures that made Allion grateful he could not understand their words. Low-level officers in both Kuurian and Parthan colors murmured and bickered, while their generals gritted their teeth in stony contemplation. Allion looked around until he caught sight of U’uyen, lurking nearby, never far from Corathel’s side. The Powaii chieftain’s eyes were bright and inquisitive, his mouth a fierce line made fiercer by the pair of tusklike stakes that pierced his lower lip. Allion wondered how much the Powaii chieftain could possibly understand of what was happening around him. He wished there were a way for him to find out what the elf was doing here, so far from his own.

Troy shared a long look with first Corathel, and then Hreidmar, before speaking up loud enough to quell the surrounding voices. “I might suggest a trade,” he said. “I’ve men here who are too haggard and battle-weary to contribute much more in combat than they already have. A change in both task and scenery might serve them well.”

“My own have always cared more for building than warring,” Hreidmar added. “And while ships are hardly our specialty, it might not hurt to have a few more of ours spearheading the construction effort.”

“It is unfair for the Hrothgari to risk so many of their warriors here,” Corathel agreed. “While they would be sorely missed, let us send a team of them south, and ask for reserves of our own kind as needed.”

Allion wasn’t certain he liked the idea. Better, he thought, to hold ground here within the Gaperon for as long as possible. And allowing their numbers to be siphoned elsewhere did not seem the best way to go about that. On the other hand, his understanding of tactics and troop deployment was much too limited to second-guess men who had been doing it all their lives. If they felt that emphasizing escape over defense was the answer, and trusted in Thelin to send fresh troops north as needed, then he wasn’t going to argue.

“Craggenbrun,” Hreidmar said, and the unfamiliar dwarf who had spoken
earlier grunted in acknowledgment. “I grow short of battle commanders. Any chance you would be willing to lead this contingent for me?”

“I’d rather wring another neck or two, truth be told,” Craggenbrun mumbled. “But I’ll serve as needed.”

“I’ve no abundance of officers myself,” Troy admitted, looking slowly from face to face. “Allion,” he said finally.

“Sir?”

“I would send an envoy who will see that His Majesty appreciates our own predicament, and one who will ensure this Hrothgari troop is well received. I’ve no reason to believe it won’t be,” he added, his gaze catching those of Hreidmar and Craggenbrun, “but just in case…” He turned back to Allion. “You are well known, and well respected. A man of heroic standing. What say you?”

Allion very nearly refused. Limited as his battle skills might be in this kind of frenetic, ebb-and-flow-style warfare, he did not wish to be asked again to step away while others did the dying for him. Besides, his place was with Marisha, and he knew right away that she would never—

But wait. It might make sense for her to go as well, to shepherd this batch of wounded south while the battle had hit a lull. She could always return for the next wave.

All at once, he saw it as a way to force her hand, to close this new gulf between them. She had sworn to remain by his side as he had sworn to remain by hers. Separation within the same camp was one thing. But if he were to accept this charge and journey south, she would have to follow.

Wouldn’t she?

He glanced back at her pavilion. It was worth the risk, he decided. He would not ask her to come. He would let her decide on her own, and thus learn where they truly stood. Should she follow, he might be persuaded to reconcile—and, if nothing else, would stand a better chance at keeping her safe. If she chose to stay, well…

He turned to Troy and nodded. “I will go,” he said.

“Prepare a dispatch,” Troy said to one of his aides, “to be sent under royal sash.”

“You’ve a carrier before you,” the messenger reminded him. “I’ll set forth as soon as the response is formalized.”

“You will rest, Sergeant,” Troy said. “I’ll have a fresh rider to go with fresh steed.” Seeing the proud, surly glint in her eyes, he added, “I shall have further need of you before long, I promise you.”

“What of Nevik?” Allion blurted. “We should bear him word—and warning—now, while the pass is clear.” He hoped again that the baron and those he led were not dealing already with the same misfortune. “He may even be able to help in some way.”

Troy’s expression did not seem hopeful. “It will be done.”

At that, everyone seemed to have something else to do, and somewhere else to be. Allion received a nod from Corathel before the chief general was
drawn into a private conference. Most of the others ignored the hunter completely. He was about to set forth himself when Craggenbrun trundled over to him.

“Allion, eh? You the one what killed the dragon? Torin’s friend?”

“I…What do you know of Torin?”

“Met him in Yawacor. He’s the one what brought me here. He spoke proud of ya during the voyage.”

Allion had learned next to nothing about Torin’s adventures in that western land. The battle at Krynwall had come between any stories his onetime friend might have been able to tell. And by the time the battle had ended…

“Sorry to hear of his death,” Craggenbrun offered. “Lad had some fire in him.”

Allion felt his own face darken.
Torin is an Illychar
, he almost snapped.
It’s he who wields the Sword and freed Killangrathor
;
he who started all of this by unearthing the cursed talisman in the first place.

Instead, he only grunted and glanced away. When he looked back, the dwarf had moved on.

His own thoughts shifting already to other matters, Allion did not bother to follow.

F
ROM HIS PERCH HIGH UPON
the Gaperon’s eastern wall, Htomah eyed the new movements of the allied forces below, curious and somewhat concerned to see such a sizable departure of Hrothgari warriors, headed south.

“What do you make of it?” Quinlan asked him.

Htomah could only shake his head. It had been two days since his last audience with Hreidmar, two days since he and his brethren had lowered the earthshield formed of the surrounding peaks and watched the Hrothgari king lead his people down from the mountains. Their plan at the time, from what Hreidmar had shared, had been to lead their families south with but a small escort of warriors, while the rest remained to blockade the pass against the next wave of Illychar. By the looks of things, something had happened to change the latter part of that.

“This was not in their plans,” he replied solemnly.

“Little of this has been,” Quinlan remarked.

It was not a rebuke, exactly, but held the weight of one against Htomah’s sagging shoulders. After so much risk, so much struggle, his efforts were amounting to naught. He felt he should be doing more, else moving on. There was a degree of danger in remaining here, exposed. The four of them had discussed it. But they had discussed also what few options they had. They had elected to remain because it seemed clear that this was where the seminal struggle would take place. The next step in the preservation or eradication of humankind upon these shores would be taken here, at the juncture of these mountain ranges, when the rabid horde that the Illychar had become sought to force its way against those determined to repel it.

He felt it coming. He sensed its impending arrival.

But it was no longer mankind alone that he worried for. As Quinlan had indicated, he was also beholden to the Hrothgari, for having led them on a trek that had not exactly gone to plan. Instead of battling for their freedom behind the walls of Souaris and other proud cities, they were fighting only for time enough to flee this island continent like rats. Upon returning to Htomah after the alliance’s victory, Hreidmar had been ill pleased, demanding to know if his kind had been willfully used and misled. Htomah had listened patiently to the accusations before denying them all and expressing his own disappointment at the unforeseen developments. After the private council with his fellow Entients, he had gone on to assure Hreidmar that he would watch over the coming conflict, and would intervene if he must to ensure that as many Hrothgari as possible would be spared. Hreidmar had expressed a chill gratitude, yet Htomah had heard others grumbling even afterward of having been deceived.

“Do you suppose they mean to tell us what this is about?” Jedua asked.

Htomah continued to stretch his gaze, searching the camp and the movements of those within. “I imagine they would have sent someone already, had they deemed it worthy of our attention.”

“Else they may have washed their hands of us,” Quinlan observed.

“Or determined that we should be able to divine the truth on our own,” Wislome added.

Any one of which was cause for concern. Even between the four of them, they were severely limited in what they could discern at this distance. If the dwarves believed otherwise, they were mistaken. For the dwarves to think them helpless or uncaring would also be in error. Their little band might yet do much to sway the outcome—as it seemed now they must—but only if granted a better understanding of all that was happening, and why.

Htomah crouched back on one knee, and sighed. “Perhaps it is time for me to venture down there in person.”

“Consider that unwise,” came a familiar voice, from near at hand.

The words sparked a chill like lightning, which rippled down his spine. He heard his friends spinning about, one of them—Jedua—even gasping in alarm. Htomah himself hesitated, then stood and rounded slowly.

He did well to bury his dismay. The speaker, Maventhrowe, had revealed himself already. What Htomah had not anticipated, what he might never have believed prior to this very moment, was that the head of their order had brought with him seven senior members—the entire rest of the council—to this mountain crag. Under a masking shroud they had come—Barwn, Sovenson, Prather, and all the rest—their faces as stern and pale as death.

“Why?” Htomah mustered the courage to ask. “Would I be subjecting myself to greater penalty?”

Maventhrowe’s gaze was steady, impassive, even now. “Would you ask me to explain the consequences of your deeds? The additional strain this order has been called upon to bear?”

He knew well enough. But he had never meant for it to lead to this. The entire senior council, drawn from its duties. Not in memory had that hap
pened before, not since their order had migrated to these shores. The implications were staggering. And yet…

“Our purpose is a senseless one,” he claimed, “should we neglect our first and most solemn calling. To believe otherwise is an inflation of our own importance.”

Maventhrowe’s faction had formed a wall, leaving Htomah and his pinned against the open ledge of that mostly barren outcrop. The numbers were two to one against them. He could feel Jedua, Wislome, and Quinlan looking to him, to see what he might do. They were as stunned by this turn as he. Whatever additional pursuit they may have feared, none could have imagined this.

“So you have been saying for months—for longer than that, even,” Maventhrowe replied. “Yours has always been a soft heart, my friend. Too soft, perhaps.”

Htomah continued to steel himself. His face was a stony mask. Beneath his cloak, his flesh was tight, his muscles rigid. He continued to calculate the odds, the choices before him.

“All I have done,” he said, “is lead a people from hiding and protect them from almost certain slaughter.”

“And made what difference, truly?”

Htomah wavered. As always, the head Entient saw right through him, right to the core of his hopes and fears. “I am prepared and willing to accept sole responsibility for my actions,” he acceded. “Only, forgive our brothers the small part they played, which they did out of honor and respect for their elder.”

Maventhrowe let that notion twist for a moment in the swirling, midmorning wind. “You speak of pardons, my friend?” he said finally. “Those must come later. We have come to bring you to justice, yes, but not in the manner you seem to fear.”

Htomah frowned. What game was this now?

“Ranunculus tells me you have taken extreme care not to violate the exact stipulations placed upon you by the council: to forgo any direct interaction with the members of our human flock.”

Htomah answered slowly. “I have. Though I might yet do so if—”

“You might have done so much earlier, were you not set upon this other path.”

Set upon? But—

The slightest glimmer shone in Maventhrowe’s eye. Htomah’s stomach tightened, the threads starting to pull together. All those weeks of insisting upon a course of action to aid mankind against a threat he and his Entients had inadvertently helped to unleash. The council’s steadfast, nearly unanimous refusal. Maventhrowe’s sudden, almost inexplicable edict that he was to make no human contact…narrowing his focus to those who were
not
human, but who might be able to assist mankind—and themselves—in some way.

But was it true? Could Maventhrowe have been goading him into treading this path from that very moment?

“It seems to me,” Maventhrowe said, reading into Htomah’s silence, “that any true effort to rein you in should not have been led by he who was most sympathetic to your cause.”