Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) (17 page)

The man looked up sharply over his glasses, his eyes shooting from Paladin to Priest. “Father Joshua, am I to understand you have not explained the situation to this man?”

“No, Prefect. There has been no time, and…”

“Then allow me to be direct, sir,” Adrian said, straightening up and addressing Darius formally. “I am under no illusions about your chances of acquittal from these various charges, for quite aside from the compelling evidence, the Scholar and Judges selected to prosecute you are the very best the Church has to offer. They seldom lose, and never when the charge is heresy.”

“Heresy?” Darius repeated hoarsely, his throat suddenly dry.

“More, I myself am almost as skeptical of your innocence as my colleagues, for I have known paladins in the past, and not a one of them would have survived an heretical inquest of this type,” Adrian continued. “Finally, I am in complete sympathy with the concern that you represent a disruptive and divisive influence at a time when we can least afford it, and regardless of your skill as warrior, you do harm with your mere presence here.”

Darius stared at the man’s unyielding face, trying and failing to read him, and, when he offered nothing further, asked, “So am I to assume you have undertaken this task simply to hasten my conviction?”

Adrian actually blinked in response. “Certainly not! I will prepare and press your defense to the very best of my abilities.”

“But why…?”

“You have enemies other than the Church, Sir,” Adrian answered. “My overlord, Duke Argus, has named you as a threat to Corland, and that is more than adequate cause to support you. With the death of Duke Boltran, a major restraint on Argus has been removed, and we fear he is planning to expand his power. You are one of our few hopes remaining. As I said, I have known paladins before you.”

Darius frowned slightly. “Let me understand this, Prefect. You hold your duty to Corland above your duty to the Church?”

“No, Sir,” the man answered. “Against you, the Church has many defenses. Against Argus, however, it may have none at all. In this matter, my duty to Church and Country lie together.”

Darius’ eyebrows rose as he came to appreciate the various motivations that had brought this Prefect into his cell. Unspoken was the knowledge that the defender of a heretic ran the risk of being tarred with the same brush, of taking on the stench of heresy himself, and whatever hopes of advancement within the Church hierarchy Adrian might have cherished had ended once he entered this cell. Darius nodded slowly, both in understanding and appreciation, and asked, “What are the charges against me?”

“Murder in the second degree upon the person of Duke Boltran of Maganhall,” Adrian said, reading of a piece of parchment. “That of course is a civil charge, and second degree means they don’t have to bother with intent or motive. Though any conviction of murdering a ruling duke regardless of intent means death by beheading.

“Next is treason in the second degree which is the rendering of aid and comfort to the enemy,” Adrian continued, and he ignored the resulting shouts of incredulity from both men. “Again, a civil charge, but one that often requires an ecclesiastical judge be included on the panel. Take no comfort from the charge of second degree, however. Lord Boltran sent forth the Red Feather, effectively declaring a state of war, and any conviction for treason in wartime carries a mandatory sentence of hanging.”

“The third charge is heresy?” Darius asked, trying not to sound bewildered.

“Heresy in the first degree which is Corruption of the Faith,” agreed the Prefect with a nod as he finished reading the parchment. “I assume a paladin is painfully familiar with the particulars. For heresy in the first degree, there is no recanting or acts of contrition. A conviction means the stake and the purification of fire.”

Darius actually smiled at that. “And if I am convicted of all three charges, do I get to choose my manner of execution? They’ll find it difficult to hang, burn, and behead me all at the same time.”

Adrian’s lips tightened slightly at this apparent flippancy, but he never got the chance for rebuttal. There was a single hard wrap that filled the chamber, and an instant later, the door opened to admit one of the guards. He handed a folded parchment to Adrian and withdrew without a word. The Prefect glanced briefly at the seal, broke it, and unfolded the document

He read over the paper and said slowly, almost to himself, “They waste no time. The Scholar will begin his case two days hence. We are summoned to the Court Chambers at one hour past sunrise the day after tomorrow.” He looked up at them and actually smiled for the first time, his teeth surprisingly white. “Positive news, I should think.”

“And why is that?”

“As in mortal combat, it is the hasty blow that so often lays the warrior open,” he said. “So let us concentrate on preparing the counterstroke.”

* * * * *

It was night on the Plains of Alencia, though the light of neither stars nor moon could pierce the thick blanket of clouds overhead, and the only illumination came from the dozen torches that lit the battlements of Nargost Castle. The Northing guard, Geslar, walked the long wall above the main gate, trying to keep alert despite the late hour, for he knew the sub-chief would have the skin off his back if so much as a mouse scaled the walls during his watch. It was still some four hours before dawn, and the chill of the night was working its way past his fur cloak and into his bones, coaxing him to find a warm fire and a thick blanket. He tried to ignore the thought that both were waiting for him right inside the guard tower, along with nearly fifty of his tribe-mates. At the end of his walk was another guard tower, but he steered clear of that one, knowing it was infested with rock goblins.

In Geslar’s view, this campaign had started badly and only gotten worse with the main army off raiding to the south and leaving him and his tribe to rot in Nargost with those accursed lizards. Fighting beside rock goblins. It still made his skin crawl, no matter what the orders from the chieftains were. Worse, there was a fortune in booty in the strong room of the castle, wine aplenty under lock and key in the kitchens, and a score of women hostages just sitting around down in the dungeon. All the makings of a roaring good time right within the walls, and it was more than his life was worth to touch any of it. He was starting to wish himself back north of the mountains where both the pickings and the orders were fewer.

There was a noise behind him, the oddly familiar sound of steel slicing flesh, and Geslar leaped around, his spear at the ready. Just visible in the torch light was a rock goblin holding a drawn sword and standing over a limp, human body. As he watched, the thing held up the dripping sword, its long tongue seeming to lick the blood right off the blade, and even Geslar recoiled in horror at the sight.

“Murdering demon spawn!” he cried. “I’ll send you back to Hell!”

He charged forward, but the creature was too swift, melting into the shadows with the speed of a specter. In the distance, Geslar could make out the outline of the other guard, a body sprawled on the ground in the abandonment of death.

“Murder!” he roared. “Blood and murder, awake! Auleck! Moriv! Trav! The lizards are killing our folk!”

In an instant, Auleck and Trav were rushing out of the guardhouse, swords ready, with Moriv right at their backs. From behind him, several rock goblins emerged from their own tower, weapons drawn, bearing wary. With a strangled battle-cry, Geslar launched himself at the goblins, the spear impaling the first, and he whipped out his sword to deal with the rest. The others struck back, one blow wounding the Northing, but the three other humans came to his defense, and soon, there was green and red blood flowing everywhere. The cries had roused the castle, and neither Northing nor goblin needed any explanation when they emerged to see the deadly battle raging.

Off in the shadows, the rock goblin who had slain the guards watched the developing battle and smiled with thick lips.

The killing begins in earnest
, the creature’s sword said.
Let us return
.

“No, my lovely,” the creature hissed softly. “Our task here is done. You will have only two of them this night.”

The creature rolled around the corner and quickly dropped a rope over the side of the castle wall, securing it only very loosely with three loops around one of the battlements. Then after the thing glanced around once more to insure it was not observed, there was a small flash of light, and suddenly Adella stood where the rock goblin had been. The spell was almost over in any case and Adella would need all her nimbleness to navigate the walls, but she paused to look around again. This was still the point of danger, the chance when the defenders might learn both of her deception and the desperate force out in the grasses awaiting the dawn. The sound of killing assured her she had not been observed, and she wasted no more time. Grasping the rope firmly, she threw herself over the rampart. The rope immediately began to come undone, slipping off the stone support even under Adella’s light weight, but the woman was actually running down the side of the building, using the rope’s restraint to take only a portion of speed off her descent. She hit the ground just as the last loop came fully free, dropping the rope at her feet and leaving no trace she had ever been there.

She spent no time admiring her work. Rock goblins had night eyes that might still spot her and give away the game, so she moved swiftly to the north where the watch would be the weakest. But the sound of battle from overhead assured her that the attention of Nargost Castle was bent inwards this night.

CHAPTER 15

The Testings at Nargost

“I’m coming with you,” Shannon announced in the light of the carefully banked campfire as Adella was preparing for the coming fight. Just over the brink of the dry riverbed, the torches of Nargost Castle still burned brightly, and there was no sign of the dawn, but their hearts could all feel the slow approach of the sun somewhere over the horizon.

Adella frowned in response. “Don’t be stupid. You’d be caught before we went a dozen feet.”

“You said yourself that I move quick and light. With the garrison concentrating on the attack, I won’t need exceptional stealth. And your ribs will tell I’ve learned much from you over the last few days.”

Adella’s frown deepened. “I work alone, girl. I don’t need some bumbler to get in my way.”

“Suppose there’s another field of force as there was in Llan Praetor,” Shannon interjected, forestalling Adella’s departure. “Isn’t that a real possibility around…an area of such value? Won’t you feel foolish to get so far and find yourself staring like a cat at a bowl of swanfish?”

The woman stopped, struck more by the inference than the warning. Shannon took a small step closer and dropped her voice. “I’m no fool, Adella. I know you didn’t come here for the redemption of your soul. You want the treasure, and I want the hostages. There’s nothing to say we can’t both get what we want.”

Adella’s eyebrows rose now, and there was an appreciable, almost approving quality to her glance. But there were still doubts. Finally, she asked slowly, “You know we may not be able to bring out all the hostages. Do you have the strength to choose the ones who can be saved and leave the rest behind?”

Shannon hesitated, swallowed hard, then said defiantly, “Yes.”

Adella snorted, turning away. “You’re as bad a liar as you are a thief.”

“You’ll need someone to keep the hostages quiet,” Shannon said quickly, jumping in front of her. “Even if you wear your Matron’s robes, they won’t trust a rescuer who first stuffs her pockets with treasure. I might even be able to convince them to carry out some of the booty for you.”

Even a few feet from the carefully covered campfire, they were in near total darkness, but Shannon could feel the woman staring at her with eyes that were not blinded by the night. She set her jaw hard, showing her determination, and Adella reluctantly relented. “Very well, girl. You’ve won yourself a dangerous job. But you heed every word I say.” She took a step closer, her face right up against Shannon’s as she snarled gently, “I’ll decide if any must stay behind. Argue with me, and I’ll kill the straggler on the spot. Then perhaps we’ll truly find out whose ribs smart in the end. You hear me clear?”

Shannon shuttered, the woman’s hot breath like fire on her cheek, but she held her voice firm as she said, “I hear you clear.”

*

Jhan, of course, had a very different opinion of the proposed plan.

“You can’t go in there alone, and that’s straight,” he snapped. “We go together or not at all.”

“She’s not going alone,” Adella said evenly. “She’s going with me.”

“That’s worst than alone,” Jhan shot back defiantly. He turned to Shannon. “We’re a team. We watch each other’s back. We’re about to go into our first full battle, and you want to split us up? Think what you’re doing!”

“Jhan, there’s no choice,” she replied. “The mirror told us I am the one to free the hostages. You’ll never be able to follow Adella down this path. But I can and must.”

“But…”

“We’re not separating, any more than walking around either side of a tree,” she said softly. “Trust me in this.”

“But…”

“You’ve your own task to accomplish this morn, boy,” interjected Adella. “You’re the sorcerer, remember? The slayer of Trexler the Black. You’ve the plainsmen to encourage and the Northings to scare, and that will take a measure of courage you may not have.”

Jhan bristled, right on cue. “What are you talking about?”

Adella produced the thin wand of light brown wood. “I’m talking about this. There’s real magic in this wand, magic enough for even a half-grown warrior to summon, and I need you to cast it at the main gate. The Northings are expecting an attack on the breached portion of the wall that they’ve tried to patch together with bricks and spit, and we need to draw them away to defend the gate.”

“What are you talking about?” he cried, looking at the shadowy outline of the wand as if she were offering him a snake. “I can’t cast magic!”

“The wand will cast the magic,” the woman explained. “I’ll arrange so all you need do is point it and speak. The power will come, no fear there.”

“But…but…” sputtered Jhan.

“There’s no choice here, Jhan,” Adella said, her voice just a tinge softer. “The horsemen have little enough chance even with your help, and without it, their deaths won’t even get us inside the outer wall.”

The youth seemed to deflate in the darkness and Shannon reached out and touched his shoulder gently.

“Jhan, this is where you can do the most to protect us,” she urged him. “To protect all of us. If the defenders are rushing between the breach and the gate, they’ll have few eyes to spare for us.”

Jhan looked from Shannon to the wand and back again. Then, reluctantly, he reached out and took the wand.

“Good. Now mind me close, for your life now hangs on your ears,” Adella said sternly. “To use this wand, you must stand and concentrate in open sight within 500 paces of your target until the full incantation is spoken. The moment the guards see a figure casting at their gates, they’ll unleash every arrow, bolt, and stone they have, but you can take no notice of them. I can buy you a little time with a special protection, and if the fates are merciful, that will be enough. If you haven’t finished the cast by then, you never will.”

Jhan swallowed, but the look of determination never flickered on his face.

Adella nodded. “When the spell goes off, no one can tell what the effect will be. Most likely, you’ll only knock loose a stone or two, but that’s all we’ll need. The next moment, Zarif’s cavalry will be roaring past you like mountain thunder, and if you’re not quick, you’ll be naught but bloody mud clinging to their horses’ hooves.”

“But if I can’t break the gates, what good is the charge?”

Adella let out a sigh of annoyance, but held back any retort. “They’ll start for the gate to draw off the guards, then break off and make for the breach once the enemy has committed. Horses move faster than rock goblins.”

“But won’t the garrison be large enough to man both?” asked Jhan.

“That is yet to be seen,” Adella answered a little vaguely. “But whatever happens at the walls is no concern of yours. After you cast, take yourself directly away from the fight. Mark that well. Don’t try to skirt around the walls, or you’ll be a pin-cushion for goblin arrows. Directly away until you can’t tell rock goblin from Northing on the battlements, then head due east of the castle until you hit a pile of stone rubble. Those are known as the Gatestones. Either wait there for us or follow the trail you find. We’ll leave one wide enough for a blind ogre to follow.”

* * *

Taking a deep breath, Jhan climbed out of the dry river bed and walked grimly towards the dark walls of the Castle, his heart in his throat and actually cursing the watery dawn that was peering through the green overcast on the eastern horizon. He knew the rock goblin guards could see even better in the dark than most humans could see in the day, but he couldn’t repress the feeling of naked exposure as he strode openly across the ankle deep grass that surrounded the castle. He knew his best hope was the sheer audacity of what he was doing, that guards were seldom going to notice a single figure still a long distance from the walls, but he also knew that even the sleepiest of guards would glance out occasionally if only as an escape from boredom.

He had gotten to his feet some 1000 paces from the walls when the dawn was nothing but a vague smear of light on the horizon, and by the time he had passed 900 paces, the smear had grown to a luminescence that took the black out of the night and left it a deep blue. At 800 paces, the night had fled, leaving only residual shadows behind and Jhan waiting for the first whistling arrow to test the range. At 700 paces, the horizon was bright green through the canopy, and Jhan could make out the details of the castle gate and that the guards on the battlements above all appeared to be humans. At 600 paces, he simply could not believe that he had not yet been spotted, and he spent the final distance convinced the castle was holding fire just to draw him closer and closer, to the point where the first volley would be the only one required.

He reached the point where he actually had to turn his head slightly to see from one corner of the wall to the other, the point Adella had assured him was 500 paces, and he was stunned to see how steady his hand was as he lifted the wand to point at the walls. Guess I’ve already given myself up for dead, he decided. The sky brightened, the sun made its present felt, and it was full dawn.

“Eran du Braughna kay,” he said aloud, and at last there came a challenge from the walls, a question by the sound, though in some hideous unknown tongue. There was the tiniest puff of power from somewhere around him, and it seemed as if some kind of film had imposed itself between him and the castle, but he had been told to ignored it and did so.

“Dahnor du Abrox kay,” he continued, the words distinct and clear as Adella had instructed, though she had said nothing about the danger of stuttering when his heart was hammering and his breath was coming in gulps. There was a sound behind him, a sound like distant thunder, and an answering cry from the walls warned him Zarif and his horsemen had struggled out of the riverbed and were already charging the castle.

“Zema al Abrox kay,” he said, almost stumbling over the first word, and his eyes widened as a dozen slender arrows arched upwards from the walls, heading directly for him. He had to continue, had to finish the incantation, but his eyes were following those feathered shafts coming towards him with diabolical accuracy. He opened his mouth to utter the final phrase, but his eyes widened, two of the arrows headed directly…for him!

Both struck home. But the haziness in front of him was something clear and solid, something the first words of the incantation had conjured, and both arrows hung in the air, motionless, scant inches from his chest.

“Zara enoth Parm Evol!” he cried, the words released as a shout of relief, and suddenly the entire world exploded. A dozen lightning bolts seemed to descend down upon him, all of them striking the earth only inches away and scorching him with electricity. He was blind and deaf, the power taking all his senses, and he was completely unaware of the growing thunder behind him, the mad roar of a cavalry charge.

The next moment, horses were flashing by him like solid wind, and he blinked, his eyes just beginning to regain their sight. The horses were past, his hearing was coming back as well, but he shook his head in an attempt to clear it, certain something must be wrong. The horses weren’t breaking off towards the breach as they were supposed to and were still charging for the gate.

He rubbed his eyes, blinked again as he was unable to recognize what he was seeing. The lightning must have disrupted his vision. For 500 paces away, half of the massive gate of Nargost Castle had been thrown completely down and the other was barely hanging on a single hinge.

The gates of Nargost were breached.

*

Half a mile away on the opposite side of the castle, two horses were trotting across the plain, their saddles empty, perhaps having escaped from the holding pen of the attackers and no possible threat to the castle. The horses were running close to the castle, apparently bent on some goal of their own, but when they were at their closest point to the walls, two dark bundles dropped from their far side, rolled to a stop, and then bolted for the walls.

Adella got to the wall first and was already swinging a small grapple with a rope attached when Shannon arrived. With one deft throw, she sent the hook sailing upwards to disappear over the wall, and she pulled it back slowly, as if fishing. The hook caught, the rope going tight, and without a word, Adella was climbing the wall the next second. Shannon grabbed hold and began climbing as well, but young and strong as she was, she couldn’t keep up with Adella. The woman was over the top before she was even half way up.

Desperately, she dug in and dragged herself upwards until she too was over the brink. The central keep of the castle prevented her from seeing the front wall and the main gate, but the cries and shouts from a hundred throats assured her the battle had now been joined. Even though there was no one on this part of the wall, the noise set her heart to pounding fear telling her the tumult was an alarm directed entirely at her. A small hiss pulled her attention to a stairway leading down, and she hurried over to where Adella was waiting.

The woman grabbed her arm and dragged her close to whisper softly in her ear, “Jhan did better than we dared to hope. I think the main gate is breached. But if the castle is truly in danger of being lost, they’ll send men rushing to the hostages. We must be quick!”

Then she was gone, slipping down the steps like a shadow, and Shannon could only hurry after her. The sheath of her sword was strapped to her thigh to keep it from swinging, but Shannon quickly learned she had to go down the stairs almost sideways to keep the point from striking stone. She reached the main level of the castle, hesitated for only a moment, then ran across the short distance to where a door hung open, another set of stairs beyond. Inside, Adella was waiting.

“How did you…?” she began to whisper, but the woman’s hand struck backwards like an angry snake and seized her mouth, killing the words. Then she held up a single finger, beat the air with it three deliberate times, then pointed down the stairs, not waiting for any acknowledgement. Shannon obediently waited for three slow beats to pass, and then she followed down into the semi-darkness.

There was a foul taint to the air, a mixture of decay, excrement, and sour sweat that got stronger the farther down the stairs she went, but she wasted no time or effort covering her mouth or nose. She focused on the winding stair, and though she tried not to make the slightest sound, there were inevitable small bumps and noises that made her grit her teeth.