Conflict (41 page)

He stood at his side, and they waited.

Above the great gate Lomar too was waiting with the infantry. At the far end he could see the last of General Helmar’s archers changing position, while ladders and grappling hooks filled the eastern section of the wall.

The Rogdonian soldiers waited in an uneasy calm, firm and brave.

Death was climbing their walls, and soon it would be upon them.

Sleep was beginning to take over his mind. Komir could not understand why this feeling, which he was struggling unsuccessfully against, was overwhelming him. It was as if a heavy cloak of drowsiness was coming over him. It was the middle of the afternoon and Ikzuge, the Sun Goddess, was shining in all her summer splendor. Her comforting light bathed the busy streets of the city, as if smiling on the tiny ants that ran back and forth across the cobblestones. Komir was aware that he was not tired and that the modest meal he had just enjoyed could not be the reason for this irresistible drowsiness. For a moment he thought he was turning into a black mountain bear with the hibernating season approaching.

He shook his head, trying to drive away that annoying feeling; he did not want to sleep. On the contrary, he wanted to stay awake. He had not yearned for sleep for a long time, he had no desire to be caught up in nightmares. Not since that fateful day… Sleeping meant dreaming, and his dreams were plagued by nightmares. The last thing he wanted was to fall asleep and re-live the terrifying scenes of his parents’ murder. Time was going by, but those images of pain were still like a festering wound. The nightmares were so vivid that his soul died a little every troubled night. His spirit would never be the same; those events had marked his soul for life.

No, he did not want to sleep. Every night, in vain, he fought a battle to avoid falling into those horrifying dreams, but he failed, just as on that day when he had been unable to save his parents. This would go on tormenting him till the day he died. Komir tried to turn this pain into energy that would help drive him on, help him to face any dangerous situation he met on his way to his final goal: to find those responsible for the death of his parents and make them pay for that suffering a thousand times over

Cursed sleep! Leave me alone, I don’t want to sleep
!

He tried to get up from the bed, but his body would not respond to his mind’s commands. He slumped back and his head came to rest on the cozy woolen blanket, so soft, so warm… And the sleep he wanted to avoid took him, enfolding him in darkness. A distant voice reached his ears, calling his name again and again from far away:
Komir… Komir… Komir
… The voice sounded so distant, and he was so tired. He tried to look in the direction of the voice, but all he could see was night, dark and impenetrable.
Komir… Komir… Komir…
the voice repeated tirelessly, but he could not identify it or place it. Little by little the distant voice became more audible. Now he could hear it more clearly, it was getting closer.
Komir… Komir… Komir…

His body ached. He was feeling pain, intangible but real, as if he were being assailed by hundreds of shifting cramps. He could not find the reason for that intense, penetrating pain or where it was coming from. He tried to open his eyes again, but a powerful light blinded him. When he recovered, he began to make out the shape of a huge opening in the rock where the white light was shining through. The image was beginning to take shape. Komir knew that place, those mountains… that cave…

It was Amtoko’s cave!

He looked to his left and saw the great black panther watching him out of her cat’s eyes.

A rough voice he recognized at once said:

“You’re answering my call at last, young Norriel. I’ve been trying to communicate with you for several days now, but I couldn’t get our blood bond to make contact.”

Komir turned in the direction of the voice and found himself before the old Silver Witch. She was sitting beside the fire inside the gloomy cave that was her home. She was talking to him, but he was still dazed, unable to focus. He was there but he really was not, he could not see himself, his body. But it felt as if he were really in Amtoko’s cave at that moment.

“What’s going on, Amtoko, am I really here?” he asked her in confusion, with the pain he felt still tormenting his body.

“Yes and no, my dear young man. You’re here because I’ve summoned you, but only your spirit, your being, your consciousness, so to speak. Your body is in Ocorum, sleeping peacefully.”

“I don’t understand, what’s happening?”

“I needed to talk to you urgently, and I used our blood bond to communicate with you. But I can only do so through trance. If you don’t relax and open your mind, I can’t establish a link. But there’s something in your mind which eludes me when you sleep, blocks me. I should be able to make contact, but for some reason you reject me.”

“It’s the nightmares,” muttered Komir.

“Nightmares? What nightmares?”

“I don’t like talking about them, let it be. What do you want of me, Amtoko? What have you summoned me for?”

“It’s all right, Komir, if you don’t’ wish to tell me about what’s disturbing your rest and torturing your nights, I’ll respect that. But this is going to make our meetings more difficult. I summoned you because I detected some worrying movements in the spider’s-web being woven around your person. Dangerous movements that you must be aware of and be ready to face. That is, if you want to survive, of course…”

“Excuse my rudeness, Amtoko, I didn’t really mean it. This has caught me by surprise, and I didn’t know what to think. Can you make it disappear, this pain that’s killing me?”

“Don’t worry, my young Norriel, I understand. The blood bond isn’t something easy to assimilate, and the pain is intense. But let me assure you that the more often we’re in contact, the easier it’ll become. For now I can’t assuage the pain, it’s one of the adverse effects of this bond. Hold out against it, we won’t be long, then you’ll be able to go back to your rest and the pain will vanish without leaving any trace.”

“Very well, what’s happening?” Komir asked her, suffering the stinging pain in silence.

“I’ve traveled along the threads of your destiny and I’ve been able to glimpse movements of a number of ominous players in this game of fate. I’ve sensed moves being made and positions being taken up which seek your end. Your life is in serious danger once more, my dear boy, real and imminent danger.”

“Thanks for the warning, Amtoko, but you needn’t have bothered. I know they’re trying to kill me. I’ve already dealt with it. It’s solved.”

“Ah youth! Always so sure it knows the truth and all the answers!” the Witch replied sarcastically. “I don’t think you understand how serious the situation is.”

“That could well be. Can you explain to me what I don’t understand? And be quick, the pain is killing me.”

“That’s the price to pay for using the spell, my young friend,” she said with an almost malevolent grin. “The longer the link is used, the worse the unwanted effects. But one gets used to it with time… up to a point…You’re following one of the threads of the web, but you can’t see the others. There are more threads, woven by expert players who surround you, players you have to pay attention to. I can’t see all that’s woven, but I can tell you what I’ve come to glimpse, though it’s an incomplete image of the puzzle. Dangerous enemies are approaching, seeking your death. They come from very far off, their features are strange. I have no doubt that you are their target. They’ll soon be here, stalking you, searching for you, seeking to bring about your death.”

“Who is sending them?” Komir asked resolutely.

“My power doesn’t reach that far. I can only navigate the tiniest part of the sea of threads around you. That’s why I can only see what’s close to you, what’s imminent. I can’t identify what’s far from here, the hand of the hidden player who’s weaving and moving the threads which affect you.”

“The last time you warned me of danger you were right, and it was a fateful day for me. I don’t fear for my life, if I have to die I will: Norriel I am and as such I shall die. I swear I’ll take as many with me as I can. But what I couldn’t bear is for anything to happen to my comrades, especially Hartz. I’d never forgive myself.

“Easy, young warrior,” the Witch whispered. “Don’t you deem it wiser not to die, and to finish off your enemies using your head instead of your muscles? Let me help you, and use your intelligence. The world is full of brute muscle, intellect is what is required to survive and end up as a crazy old woman like me. You need to use your brain, not your muscles, or else you won’t survive.”

“I understand what you say. I won’t let anger get the better of me. What must I do? You helped me choose this path, and it’s led me here. What do you suggest now?”

“First, you must keep on your present course of action. That thread is important to the resolution of your fate. At the same time you must remain alert, the danger I perceive is lurking, crouching in the shadows, waiting. Soon it will let you see it and it will attack. You’d better be prepared.”

“Will this path lead me to the answers I’m looking for? Will I obtain the justice I’m searching for, or will it be denied to me?”

“Justice? Is that what your heart is really after? Or is it revenge? Burning, heartless revenge. Whichever the case, it’s not my place to judge you. You must follow this thread, this part of the weave, to solve the mystery that torments you. To find answers to the questions which are consuming your soul.”

“If that brings me closer to my goal, then I’ll follow it.”

“One more thing, Komir, and this is very important: you must travel East, to the great forests beyond the endless steppes, to the land of the Usik.”

“The land of the Usik? I don’t know them. Who are they, and why must I travel there?”

“There’s a thread in play, a thread which my talent tells me is playing in your favor and not against. Or at least it seems so at first sight. This thread is of special importance in the Game of Destiny. Many lives, including yours, depend on it. Many more than your mind might imagine. It is vital that you follow this thread. It might be important for the future of this whole continent, and in determining your final destiny. You must go to the land of the Usik and find help.”

“What you say doesn’t make much sense. Are you sure, Amtoko? What would happen if I don’t go? If I decide not to follow this thread you’re talking about?”

“Then, my dear friend, thousands of people will die. A red tide of blood will flood all the continent of Tremia, and a devastating darkness will lie on the land for a hundred years. Pain and suffering, unequalled death and destruction, that’s what this cruel fate foretells. This is as much as I’ve been able to foresee. Insufferable agony will cover the earth from North to South and East to West, agony such as this land hasn’t suffered in three thousand years. That’s the terrible fate we must prevent, the fate against which you must fight relentlessly.”

“Why do you choose me as savior of this land?” Komir protested. “That’s not my destiny, that’s not what I’m after. You know my goal full well, and it has nothing to do with this.”

“Ah, my young friend! It’s not me who’s chosen you, it’s all-powerful Fate. Your future is special and of supreme importance, if you decide to follow the threads of the great game. The revenge you seek is an intrinsic part of that move. If you wish to gain your revenge, then you’ll play the great game.”

“And if I go to that faraway land, will fate change? Will I be able to avert those deaths? This suffering?”

“That, my dear, is the question. I don’t know. It can’t be known. Fate has not yet been written, it’s written with each and every tiniest act on every thread of the great spider’s-web. If you follow this thread there are no guarantees. You might succeed, you might die, you might even win but not avert the holocaust. But if you don’t go, I’m convinced that what awaits us at the end of the weave are tides of suffering the like of which no man on this continent has ever seen. Nothing will be saved, we ourselves won’t be saved. The Norriel will perish in their remote mountains. They’ll be wiped out, and that I can’t allow. That’s why I’ll do whatever is in my power to save my people from the final destruction. This is what I feel, this is what I’ve come to understand with the power of our goddesses: Iram our Mother Earth and her daughters Igrali the Moon Goddess and Ikzuge the Sun. This I’ve been allowed to see, and this is what I’m passing on to you here today. You don’t have to go, you’re free to follow your own path, to choose your own destiny, to ignore this old witch and her crazy theories and conspiracies.”

“I don’t want my people to be wiped out either, Amtoko. I’ll think about what you’ve told me.”

“I ask for nothing more, young Norriel, think about it. May Mother Iram guide you and her daughters Igrali and Ikzuge grant you wisdom and protection. The decision is yours, Komir.”

One item of bad news followed hard on the heels of another, as if one misfortune were attracting the next. The message from King Solin had arrived first, telling of the Norghanian attack on the Fortress of the Pass of the Half Moon and that in consequence war had begun with the Kingdom of Norghana. Mirkos could hardly believe it, such tragedy was hard to take in. The repercussions would be devastating and undoubtedly ill-fated for his beloved Rogdon. Prince Gerart and Urien the Royal Counselor would have their hands full defending the border fortress from the brutal men of the snow and their impressive infantry.

On the other hand there was no news of Ambassador Gelbin’s diplomatic mission, which could only mean he had not survived King Solin’s last desperate attempt to resolve the situation diplomatically. The Noceans must have killed him. But if this piece of news was horrendous, the next was even worse. Under the protection of the sinister cloak of darkness, the Noceans had advanced to a position eight hundred paces from the southern wall. That could only mean one thing: they were preparing for a siege. Panic ran through the city like a fire borne on the desert winds.

Duke Galen had ordered the immediate evacuation of the city in the face of the imminent confrontation. Columns of Lancers protected the massive exodus of refugees towards the north of the kingdom. The protests had been widespread, with the citizens refusing to leave the city, but the Duke had been adamant:

“By Ducal order, all civilians who are not serving as support to the army must leave the city at once.”

The army was clearing the streets, and not without opposition, in the face of a people who were hostile and offended by this decision which had been imposed on them. They did not want to leave their homes, they resisted leaving at such a critical moment, even with war at the gates.

Mirkos knew why the Duke was forcing the departure of the civilians: even if they did their utmost to prevent it, the Noceans would put them all to the sword if they took the city, and that possibility had to be taken into consideration. As long as the siege lasted, the refugees would have enough time to find safety. Four thousand Lancers had been mobilized to protect the endless column of citizens leaving through the great gate in the northern wall towards Rilentor and Ocorum.

Mirkos, Galen and Dolbar were on the tower, watching the darkness which loomed threateningly in the distance. It was not moving, it simply floated motionless on the horizon, hiding the great army which all predicted was getting ready to attack the city.

“They’re there, aren’t they?” Duke Galen asked his younger brother.

“It looks like it,” said Dolbar sadly. “Either that, or else it’s a deliberate distraction and they’re occupying some other position while we believe they’re right in front of us. Unfortunately the men we sent scouting haven’t returned, so at the moment we can’t be sure of anything.”

“Maintaining that magic comes at a high cost, I doubt whether it’s just a diversion. They’re there all right,” Mirkos said.

“Tell us, wise Mage, couldn’t you use your power to dissolve that darkness the way you did before, so that we can see the enemy?” the Duke asked.

“I’m sorry, I would love to, but it’s not possible. My powers can’t be used at such a distance. You must remember that all magical power is limited, finite. Spells and conjuring have a specific reach and duration, besides a high cost in inner energy. To make it clear to you, the range of my weapons is not as long as that.”

“And what would your range be, my friend?” Galen asked.

“Not farther than two hundred paces for most of my powers and skills, three hundred for a few, those being the exception. That’s why there’s no question that a Mage’s worst enemy is an archer with the eye of an eagle and a long yew bow. His reach is greater than that of our spells.”

“That’s a pity,” Dolbar said. “It would be very useful to know what they’re planning.”

“On the other hand, you have to bear in mind that the limitations of the Gift, of magic, are universal, so they would include the enemy’s Sorcerers and Mages.”

“That’s good to know. That being the case, how long do you think they’ll be able to keep up that black veil covering their movements?”

“By the coverage of the spell and its duration, they must be using several Sorcerers working in turns. Yes, I can’t think of any other explanation; such a spell would deplete the energy reserves of a powerful Sorcerer in less than a morning. But they might keep it active indefinitely if while some were casting the spell, others were resting so as to relieve them later. It would depend on how many Sorcerers they have. But of course that’s only a guess. My command of magic is very different from that of the Nocean Sorcerers. I command the magic of the four elements: the magic of Earth, Air, Water and above all Fire. On the other hand, as I’ve been able to learn throughout my long existence, and from what I know of the arcane arts of the Nocean peoples of the vast South, the Sorcerers of the Desert use mainly evil spells on their victims. Essentially they command the Magic of Curses and a few of them, very few according to what I’ve heard, the very dangerous Blood Magic.”

The Duke and his brother Dolbar remained thoughtful, assimilating the explanations of the Erudite and considering the possible repercussions.

General Drocus joined them.

“How’s the evacuation coming along?” the Duke asked him.

“Everything’s going according to plan. We met with some troublesome groups we had to put some pressure on, but by tonight the city will be empty.”

“Wonderful work, General,” the Duke said. “I know it can’t have been easy to carry out my orders.”

“It was difficult to organize it, but the eviction was carried out by our army with a good dose of common sense and minimal use of force.”

“When do you think they’ll attack, General Drocus?” Duke Galen asked.

The First General of the Rogdonian Army looked at the horizon, then at the sky. He frowned and said sadly: “Something tells me it will be at dawn, I feel it in the air.”

Under the last rays of the evening sun, the three travelers arrived at the great door on the northern wall. An endless caravan of refugees was leaving the city, hurried along by the Lancers who were escorting them. Fear was reflected in the eyes of those people, most of them of the Andú race.

“There it is,” Kayti said. “The lovely city of Silanda.”

“They won’t let us in,” Komir said. “The city is sealed.” He was frowning at the crowd of soldiers in blue and silver stationed above the gate.

“The fact is, there are soldiers everywhere,” Hartz said. “I don’t think they’ll let us in either. Why don’t we go around the city quietly and keep on our way?”

“Obviously you’re not familiar with military procedure.” Kayti explained. “If the Rogdonians find us walking around the city they’ll think we’re Nocean spies and kill us with no warning, either the archers from the battlements or the Lancers on patrol. There’s a curfew, nobody’s allowed to walk around outside the city.”

“Then what on earth are we supposed to do?” Komir said restlessly. “We have to cross this damned city to keep on our way south until we cross that mountain range, then turn East. We must reach the Usik forests, any way we can!”

“Are you sure that’s where we have to go?” Hartz asked, sounding doubtful.

“I’m positive. It’s what Amtoko said in my dream. I have to go there to fulfill my destiny. There’s something or someone there that I must find to help me in my quest.”

“I won’t be the one who contradicts our Witch,” the ever-superstitious Hartz said quickly. “I don’t want her casting a spell on me.”

“I don’t like this business of going into Usik territory, I don’t like it at all,” Kayti protested.

“Nobody’s making you come with me,” Komir said decisively, “especially you, Kayti. Amtoko has set a course for me, and for good or ill, I’ve decided to follow it. There’s nothing more to be said.”

“Who knows, perhaps we’ll come across a Troll in Usik territory!” Hartz cried excitedly. “Or something even worse, like a giant man-eating spider, that would be awesome!”

“All right, Komir,” Kayti said, “I’ll get us into the city.” She shook the dust of the road from her cloak and armor. “Put on your bearskin cloaks and carry your weapons fully in sight. And don’t say a word.”

The two Norriel glanced at each other for a moment, and Komir shot a look of pure mistrust at Kayti.

“I know you don’t trust me, but if you want to get into this city you’ll have to do what I say.”

Komir did not trust the cunning redhead, but at that moment he could not think of any plan. On the other hand he was sure the young woman had already thought of something. He nodded while his emerald eyes glittered with contained rage.

Kayti walked up to the great door, followed closely by Komir and Hartz.

A young officer at the head of a dozen soldiers in blue and silver stopped them. “Halt! Where do you think you’re going!”

“We’re going to the city, Captain,” Kayti replied calmly.

“The city is closed and is being evacuated on the Duke’s orders,” the young officer growled. “War is about to begin, or don’t you have eyes in your head?”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Kayti said softly.

“There’s a great Nocean army at the gates of the city. The siege is about to begin, all civilians must leave the city without exception. And obviously nobody is allowed to come in!”

Kayti did not budge.

“But you see, sir, we’re not civilians…”

“What do you mean, you’re not civilians? You’re certainly not soldiers!”

“We’re mercenaries, sir. We come to earn our living, to fight for gold.”

The Captain, taken aback, looked them up and down.

“My name is Kayti. I’m a Knight of the Custodial Brotherhood, and these two are Norriel warriors from the highlands. We’re looking to enlist as mercenaries for the defense of the city.”

The Captain looked at them uncertainly, his eyes on the weapons they were carrying.

“Sergeant Jontal, what d’you think?”

The Sergeant, a strong, tough-looking man in his forties, walked up to Komir and uncovered his forearm without a word. Then he went up to Hartz and grabbed his arm. The warrior gave him an angry look, and immediately the dozen soldiers put their hands to their swords. The Sergeant raised his fist and his men relaxed. Looking at Hartz he said:

“And now your arm!”

Hartz looked at Kayti out of the corner of his eye and saw her prompting him to comply.

The big Norriel offered his forearm for the Sergeant to inspect.

“They’re telling the truth,” said the veteran Sergeant. They’re Norriel warriors, they wear the mark of the Bear tattooed with red-hot iron on their forearms.”

“All right. What then?” the young Captain asked.

“Then we let them in. Their race are great fighters, they’ll come in handy.”

“All right. Follow Sergeant Jontal, he’ll lead you to the recruiter.”

Kayti saluted the officer, and they followed the Sergeant through the great door into the walled city. They entered a city as beautiful as it was doomed. It was caught up in a profoundly dangerous situation, and there was no way back from it.

The city was seething with activity. The last civilians loaded their few belongings on their own backs or on mules and donkeys. They were heading for the gate in search of safety. Jontal walked on fast through the throng. As they made their way toward the centre of the singular city, they could see that it was full of soldiers carrying out all kinds of tasks. Fear and worry were patent in the atmosphere, like the unpleasant smell of a sewer spreading throughout streets and squares. They arrived in front of the huge barracks which had been built in the city’s central square. Behind a long wooden table sat the recruiter. Jontal left them with him and went back to his duties with true Rogdonian efficiency.

“Name and origin,” the recruiter said in a bored voice, without even raising his eyes from the large book he was writing in.

Komir looked around and saw armed men of different races who were not wearing blue and silver. They must be mercenaries, like them.

“Kayti, of Irinel,” said the warrior in white armor.

“Kayti of where?” the recruiter asked.

“Of the Kingdom of Irinel, a long way to the east.”

“Never heard of it,” he said in the same bored tone, “but that’s not to be wondered at either, half the mercenaries here are from regions I wouldn’t know how to find on the map. Whole pay or half pay?”

Kayti was thoughtful for a moment. Komir and Hartz did not understand what she was negotiating.

“Half pay, until the fall of the first wall,” she said at last.

“Are you sure? The pay triples if you sign up until the fall of the second wall…”

“Appreciate it, but the fall of the first will be enough.”

“You’re very careful, young warrior,” a hoarse voice said behind the group.

The three turned around to see an old man with snow-white beard and hair, dressed in a simple grey cloak and leaning on a staff. With him were half a dozen soldiers. Komir looked at him and felt a warning flash from his Ilenian medallion, he tensed.