Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) (26 page)

“Your presence here tonight is the ultimate proof of this, Joshua,” Darius continued quietly. “You are a pure son of Mother Church, yet here you are seeking to release a condemned prisoner in defiance of the confirmed judgment of the entire Congregation.”

“I am in defiance of the manipulations of Argus!” he said angrily. “It is by his actions you were condemned, not yours!”

Darius stood and put a hand lightly on the young cleric’s shoulder.

“Heed me well now, my friend, for these may be the last words of wisdom I will be able to offer you,” he said, his voice now firm. “There have always been evil men in the ranks of humanity, and you cannot stop that by hacking off their heads. Always more will arise, and more after them. I have come only slowly to understand the words of my benefactor, Bilan-Ra. The Paladins are meant to be the examples for Mankind, the proof that there is a better way than the paths of darkness, the heroes that might stir means’ souls to valor. The final task set before me is admittedly the hardest of all. Not to charge an overwhelming enemy in a last glorious battle. But to walk steadily up the scaffold’s steps and heal the schism in the Church with my death.”

Joshua felt his heart turning to dust in his chest, taking hope with it. The man had made his decision, and worse, far worse, he wasn’t sure he was wrong. He made a last desperate attempt, switching tack from the philosophical to the practical.

“Let me ask you something, my lord,” began Joshua slowly. “If on the day of your execution you found yourself passing a woman drowning in a well, would you pause long enough to throw her a rope and pull her out?”

“Of course.”

“Then will you not pause long enough now to save us all before returning to face your death?”

“Fine logic,” admitted Darius. “Yet it is still wide of the mark. A moment’s pause to save one life carries no wrongs with it. Breaking free from a just sentence damages the very law on which our society is founded. I cannot balance that certain loss against lives which I may or may not be able to save at the Drift. That task now must fall to others.”

Joshua let out a hard sigh, but he kept his frustration under control.

“You are more than warrior and more than Paladin, My Lord,” he said softly. “You are also a father. Would leave your execution as the last memory to bequeath to your daughter?”

Darius stopped, mulling this over carefully. Then he began to shake his head, an answer forthcoming, but it never escaped from his mouth. Even as his lips opened to speak, there was a flash of movement from behind him, and Darius collapsed in a heap.

Joshua was left staring utterly aghast at Tallarand standing behind the crumpled giant, the sandbag that had felled Darius still swinging from the man’s fist.

“You…you hit him!” cried Joshua, hardly able to credit what he was witnessing.

“We both offered him compelling arguments,” Tallarand said casually. “Looks like he fell for mine. Now grab a shoulder. His head is almost as hard as his convictions, and I have no desire to have him coming to when we are only half way down the tunnel.”

*

Darius awakened on a changed world. His prison cell now had a canopy of stars above it and a breeze that smelled of a forest glen wafting across it. There was grass touched with morning dew beneath him, but the chill of this world carried a promise of rebirth, not the endless cold radiating from stone blocks. It also came with a shattering headache.

“Aaahhhh,” was the first sound out of his mouth as he got slowly up to a sitting position.

“Take a moment,” a voice said behind him. “A sandbag leaves a nasty headache, but it passes quicker than one left by an axe.”

Darius moved his eyes, since his head rebelled against any thought of motion. Two figures were hovering about him, and while the darkness hid details, there was something oddly familiar about the first figure’s stance and voice. A small flash of memory popped into his head, and though he couldn’t immediately connect it with this new environment, he recognized the speaker.

“Tallarand?” he asked, his voice no more than a croak.

“I am discovered,” Tallarand answered, his voice a smile. “My victims aren’t usually able to name me so easily.”

“Here, My Lord, drink this,” said the second figure with Joshua’s voice. He was gently lifting Darius’ back and proffering some kind of cup.

“What is it?” asked Darius.

“A headache draught.”

Reluctantly, he opened his mouth and drank, the potion tasting of chalk and bitterroot with a few chunks of some solid substance mixed in with the liquid. The effect, however, was simply miraculous. The headache quickly subsided to only a vague throb, and he was now able to at least lift himself into a sitting position.

“Was that a magical potion?” Darius asked, rubbing his neck in amazement at the relief..

“Just one of my grandmother’s cures,” Joshua replied. “But Tallarand added something he called seasoning.”

“Many herbs can act as a spice or a medicine, depending on their potency,” explained Tallarand.

And in their most potent form, they can become a poison, Darius added to himself. With the pain subsiding, he was able to look around and try to connect this world with the previous one. There was a huge unanswered gap between them.

“How did I get here?” he asked, answers presenting themselves even as the questions were posed. “Where is the fortress? What day is this?”

“It was to be the day of your execution,” said Joshua quietly.

“The fortress of Ringimore is barely a half-league behind us,” added Tallarand, a clear note of annoyance in his voice. “Joshua insisted on stopping to cure you, even though we are wasting the cover of the night. Even the thick-headed Maganhallers will eventually pick up our trail.”

“You broke me out of prison!”

“It seemed the only alternative.”

“You hit me and dragged me out!”

“And a tiresome long task it was, too,” Tallarand complained lightly. “We spent half the night trying to cram your wide shoulders through the dungeon’s sewers. Fortunately, we had fresh clothes with the horses.”

Darius looked down to discover he was wearing some kind of flannel nightshirt, apparently the easiest thing they could throw over him. He got fully to his feet now, pushing back what pain remained.

“I must go back,” Darius said, shaking his head. “This cannot be permitted.”

“The tunnel, I fear, has already been sealed. Though you can knock on the front gate if you’ve taken such a liking to the dungeon. Seemed a bit rank for my tastes.”

“I…I did not ask for this,” fumed Darius. “You have taken my choice from me.”

“I do apologize most sincerely, my lord, for saving your life,” Tallarand said with a delicate irony.

“That’s not the point,” Darius replied, trying not to sputter. “A sentence has been passed and accepted. The time to resist was during the trial, not afterwards.”

“I can only wonder what message your supporters will read into your escape and return,” said the man. “Apparently, that you actively approve of both the sentence and the punishment.”

Darius frowned, the point taking him by surprise. It was true, though. The path that had seemed so clear to insure the unity of the Church had now been obscured by these two unlikely allies.

“If you are already guilty of prison-breaking, there’s little harm in making a short detour before returning to the executioner’s block,” reasoned Tallarand. “Like a brief visit to help save the Drift?”

The Drift. His heart picked up a beat at the name, all the old thoughts driving back into his brain. “The Juggernaut nears?”

“By tomorrow at the latest it will be tearing down the city walls.”

Darius shook his head and tried to recapture the arguments he had offered in the dungeon. None of them now seemed to make any sense.

“You told me once that Mirna hears what is in your heart,” Joshua said softly. “Would returning to the stake be for His eyes or only for the eyes of others?”

Darius blinked, stopped by the thought. Had he become so prepared for death that he now could not accept the life being offered to him?

“I heard once about a holy man who left the world of men to find the ultimate truth in hermitage in the mountains,” Tallarand said simply. “He came upon it one cold and blustery night, but when he attempted to return down the mountains the next day, he was eaten by wolves. Was he furthering the will of Mirna, think you?”

Darius snorted, trying to fight down a laugh. “To think I should discover something about Mirna from a…” Tallarand’s eyebrows rose and Darius finished with a smile, “…a minor peddler in trinkets and diversions.”

Tallarand gave the smallest nod of his head.

“Very well, then,” said Darius. “My feet shall walk the road you have put beneath them.”

“The Prefect Adrian was able to acquire your armor for…your heirs,” Joshua said awkwardly. “But I am afraid he was unable to secure the release of your sword. We have no time now…”

“Do not fear on that score, Joshua,” Darius said. “You cannot spare me that sentence quite so easily.”

He held up his hand, and within seconds, a light began to shine about him, a light from which Tallarand and even Joshua flinched. There was a final flash, and they turned to find Darius standing with the Avenger drawn and ready.

“Come, my friends,” Darius said, sheathing the sword in the saddle scabbard. “We must be swift. I can feel Andros is already on his way to me, but even his speed might not get me to the Drift before the hammer falls.”

CHAPTER 22

The Battle of Jalan’s Drift

The city was tense with fear. Within its walls, every heart beat a little faster, every breath came a little shorter, and the tensions fed off each other, the wide eyes and dry lips contagious. The enemy was upon them despite all their efforts, an enemy that had not been stopped by any of the walls or any of the armies in its path.

Above them, a canopy of death now stretched across the entire sky and separated them from the sun, while beyond the walls, those same clouds reflected a flickering light like a wave of fire marching towards the city; the torches of the approaching Northings. But worst of all was the dull, distant thud that slightly shook the ground at regular intervals and grew imperceptibly with each occurrence, the tremor felt within the strongest buildings and even upon the thickest walls.

The approaching footsteps of the Juggernaut.

“I wish I could see what was happening,” fretted Shannon. “This waiting would not be so bad if I could see the enemy.”

They stood on the second wall of the city, the smithies and corrals of the first tier spread out before them, but they could see almost nothing beyond the towers and ramparts of the first wall. Thousands of soldiers stood guard upon that imposing bulwark, but spread across its entire length, they seemed hardly more than a handful.

“I’m not so sure,” said Jhan. “It’s bad enough feeling the approach of this thing as it walks towards us, let alone having to watch it.”

Adella leaned forward, staring at the wall as if she could see through it and said softly, “No one can see it clearly. Its skin is too close to the darkness, and even the light from the torches seems to be absorbed rather than reflected. But their hearts feel its approach, feel it clearer than the soles of their feet that tremble with its’ ever step. The goblins and the Northings are dancing about it, celebrating its power and glorying in the coming battle. Off to the left at the Highlander’s Gate, stone giants are dragging a huge battering ram forward, and others are doing the same before the Merchant’s Gate to the right while barbarian archers are preparing to give them cover. But not a single shaft will be spent to protect the titan. There is no need. It will defy the power of men to do it harm, and the only question is how long it will take for it to hammer a breach.”

Both of them stared at her in amazement, and Shannon realized she was describing not this attack but rather another from the past. That made the description all the more chilling. She suddenly noticed that the soldiers on the first wall were firing their bows, firing directly forward rather than arching their arrows, a sure sign the enemy was close at hand.

There was a heavy crash that reverberated through all the streets and alleys of the city, a thunder that could be felt as much as heard, and Shannon and Jhan both started inalarm.

“The first blow from the titan against the walls,” said Adella tightly. “It begins. Come. We must gather our brood and retire to our rat holes.”

“But there is still the Second Wall between the enemy and us,” Jhan replied, and the words sounded hopeless even in his own ears.

“Once an army starts to retreat, it’s all too likely to just keep on running,” said Adella. “They’ll be lucky to hold the Third Wall, and Brillis knows it. That’s why she made the offer to us. Now move! The first enemies will be here in an hour, possibly less.”

*

Adella sat in the near total darkness of the sewer tunnel and listen to the mayhem and the carnage ripping through the streets above her, screams and cries much more common that the sound of sword on sword. That spoke of the rout she had predicted. Barely a minute earlier, they had heard a deafening series of crashes as if whole buildings were being ripped apart, and there were still smaller crashes occurring that suggested the invaders had time to loot and plunder without fear of the defenders.

She glanced behind her to see a dozen well-armed thieves sitting tensely in the darkness, waiting for her to throw open the grate and lead them into battle while similar contingents were waiting in two score similar holes. Half of them will strike barely a single blow before running back to the sewers, she told herself grimly. Though that still might suffice to distract the enemy and make them pause. Closest to her were Shannon and Jhan, both of them looking more expectant than worried. She permitted herself a small smile in the darkness, knowing they could not see her face. It was an odd feeling. Never before had she gone into a fight confident that she had…friends…guarding her back.

She cocked her head at a small change in the noise overhead, the sounds of mayhem moving on, leaving them in its wake, and she knew the battle front had passed over them.

It was time.

She reached out and put both hands on the sewer grate, pushing the heavy iron up and out of the way. In a moment, she was on her feet with Bloodseeker drawn, and the next, she was countering a blow from a charging Northing and passing her sword through his belly. She was standing in one of the tight alleys of the bazaar, but she had to blink to understand what her eyes were telling her. Hardly 10 feet away, an entire section of the bazaar had been ripped away, leaving a path as wide as a country road, and the area was pockmarked with dead bodies and smashed wood.

“The demon take us all!” she cursed softly as other bodies emerged from the sewer and began to gather around her, their silence showing they shared her surprise. Well, enough with gawking.

“Come on!” she snarled and headed for the open area.

“Where are we going?” Jhan asked more to himself than anyone.

“We’re looking to get some attention,” she answered with a smile that made him flinch. “The best way to do that is follow whatever made this road.”

It took them only a few seconds to discover the source.

They came out of the tangle of broken wood to see the huge bulk of the Juggernaut no more than a thousand paces off, towering above the broken remnants of the bazaar as it strode its way towards the Third Wall. There were gasps and a muffled cry from the group behind her as they stared up at the terrible colossus that had left such devastation in its long wake, for a single glance backward showed the blasted holes it had left in both of the outer walls. But Adella had keener eyes and a steadier heart.

“It’s slowing down,” she announced to the group. “I think it’s losing power.”

There was no question that the terrible quake from the thing’s footfalls was coming less frequently, and its sheer nearness told them it had not traveled far since crashing through this portion of the bazaar. Watching close, it even looked a little unsteady as its feet stayed just a few seconds longer in the air, its balance teetering until it found earth again. But most incredible of all, it seemed to be melting, its humanoid shape deforming, becoming shorter and squatter.

Barely a hundred paces beyond the titan, however, was the Wizard’s Gate, the single entrance through the third wall of the city. If the thing could stumble its way that last short distance, it would shatter the gate with a single blow.

“Come on!” she shouted again, but she didn’t bother to see if any of them were bothering to follow. She broke into a full run and even left the shelter of the battered bazaar to close the distance faster. There were stragglers in the path of the monster, Northings and goblins alike intent on purposes of their own, and Adella wasted no time with them. She passed some, left others to the group behind her, and quickly dispatched the few foolish enough to get directly in her path, the sword humming with growing power and anticipation.

She was up to it now, and there were shouts and cries from a dozen sources warning of her approach, but nothing could stop her from delivering at least one devastating backstab to the thing. She hauled back and struck the back of the monster’s knee with all the power she possessed, Bloodseeker passing through the black sinews and unseen muscles.

Then came the blood.

A massive wave of crimson burst from the wound and turned the ground around her into a crimson quagmire. The smell was like a human butcher shop where hundreds of corpses had been hung to drain of their vital fluids, and Adella actually wretched from the stench and fell back a step. Then she looked down at the sword. Even though it was saturated with red, the blade was static, showing no reaction to the presence of human blood.

“What’s wrong?” cried Shannon from directly behind her.

“The blood is dead,” Adella shouted back. “It has no power for my sword.”

“Look out!” Jhan roared.

Whether from this final blow or from the countless ones it had received before, the huge mountainous bulk of the Juggernaut was dissolving right before them to collapse like a snowman caught in a summer heat wave, and Adella just had time to leap backwards out of the way. A black tentacle shot out from the formless blob, perhaps sensing the presence of living flesh, and Shannon had to fling herself wildly to the side to avoid the grasp. The man behind her was not as lucky. The tentacle wrapped around the thief directly beside Jhan, and he was dissolving into black tar even before the tentacle pulled him back into the oozing mass. The black liquid put a merciful end to his cries.

Everyone was scattering, Northings, goblins, and thieves alike, trying to escape from the slithering horror and the tentacles that lashed out in every direction to seize any living thing regardless of species or alignment. The Juggernaut itself had dissolved into a formless central mound that was no more than half the height of the original, and Adella had a fleeting impression of a huge blanket covering and protecting…something.

She had reached the safety of the broken bazaar when she glanced back to see Shannon and Jhan rushing around the dissolving Juggernaut and heading for the city’s Third Wall.

“Idiots!” she snarled to herself. Not only were the headed into almost no entrances to the sewers that close to the wall. She tarried for only an instant, arrows from the defenders on the walls falling indiscriminately on anyone below, and then she was charging around her side of the titan, trying to head them off.

She found them in a narrow lane that led straight back to the city wall, the shops on either side shut tight to form a dead-end. At least a dozen goblins had cornered them here, and the pair was slowly giving ground, though they were only now aware they had very little ground left to give. Sherman’s Lane! thought Adella as she recognized the location, and a flash of hope filled her heart. The luck of that fool Jhan hasn’t run out yet.

She charged. The goblins had no warning of her coming, and Shannon and Jhan had enough sense not to give her away with any obvious recognition. But she was not coming to fight, not yet at least. She rushed right up the side of the one shop, using a shelf here and an uneven board there to propel her to the next step, and in barely an instant, she had bounded by them all and landed in the back of the alley. Her presence made the goblins hesitate for a moment but no more, and even as they pressed forward, she found what she sought: a heavy iron sewage grate largely covered by the wood of the last stall in the lane.

Adella lashed out with her sword and smashed the wood to splinters to lay bare the entire grate, but she had neither the strength nor time to open it. There was still power in the sword, the blood from the stragglers she had cut down while charging towards the Juggernaut, and she called on that power now. She put the tip against the grate, and the next instant, the heavy iron flew off as if thrown by a giant.

“Get down! Get down now!” she yelled to her two companions and she jumped forward to give them cover. Jhan was closest, and he dove as if a man on fire into a welcoming pool of water, and Shannon was no more than a second behind him, dropping lithely down the hole. Adella covered her escape by parrying the thrust of the girl’s opponent, and it was only when Bloodseeker lobed off one of the creature’s hands that she discovered both her mistake and her peril.

The thing gave no sign of pain.

Not a single drop of blood came from the stump.

The goblins were undead.

She leapt backwards, trying to reach the open drain, but three of the things were crowding her right arm, forcing her to give ground in order to swing. One of the creatures paid for the assault with his head, but the other two were already passed her and had cut off her escape to the drain. The others were pressing from the front, and they had no hint fear, no hesitation to face the silver blade, no reluctance when they saw their comrades fall to that flying sword.

She cut down the most aggressive goblin in the front and dropped and rolled away from the others, but more of the creatures were streaming into the alley, sensing a kill. Desperately, she pivoted and brought the sword down on the locked door of the shop behind her, and while it shattered, the hinges and lock still held it in place. A scimitar sliced into her side, and she grimaced with pain, but she swung around blindly, letting Bloodseeker guide her aim, and the head of another goblin dropped to the pavement.

She dodged a spear thrust, countered another scimitar, and felt a dagger rip a flesh wound in her right arm. There was only one option now. If the sewer was denied her and the shop doors were secured, she could only leave by the way she had entered, back out into the crowd, right through the pressing mass of the undead. She readied herself, whirling backwards to give herself some distance, and she could hear cries and shouts from the battlements above her, though she had no time to make any sense of them. One of the goblins thrust and gave her the opening she needed. She dodged rather than blocked the blow, and she used the motion to launch herself again up the side of the shops, finding the same invisible handholds she had used previously. But now there were many more enemies and nothing to distract them. She parried a spear thrust, cut off a wrist that was wielding a scimitar, but a hand caught her ankle and broke her momentum. She fell. And the undead were upon her like a pack of wolves.

She scurried backwards to find the shop wall, but suddenly, something heavy seemed to fall on the entire press of goblins and knock many of them to their knees. It was not enough to save her, though. She blocked one spear, half-parried another, but then a scimitar cut across her exposed belly, the razored edge slicing right into her life.