Keeper of the Eye (The Eye of the Sword Book 1) (39 page)

“So why are you standing here?”

The corporal glanced at the other man for a moment unclear how to answer.

“Do you have information my corporal does not?” Jackson asked the stranger sharply.

“Yes, sir.” The man replied, saluting. “Private Thomas, sir. We were chasing a fugitive and her companions. They were headed for the bridge but turned east when they saw your men. We chased them until they ran into the ruins.”

“Fugitive?”

“Yes, sir, Falon Deshar. She was spotted at Riga. We don’t know who is with her.”

“I see,” Jackson said, internally seething with hope. Perhaps this trip wasn’t a waste of time after all. “And why are you standing here instead of taking her into custody?”

“Sir, the ruins...that’s Castle Desid.”

“Desid? Are you telling me thirty-five grown men are standing here because you’re afraid of a ghost story?” Jackson looked over his shoulder. “Marshall! Take your men and arrest Falon Deshar. I don’t care what you do to her companions.”

Marshall slammed his fist to his chest then spurred his horse to action followed by his squad. Jackson looked at both his corporal and Private Thomas with contempt.

Marshall was almost to the dry moat when the ground beneath him erupted, throwing him off his horse. His men reigned in shaken. A wall of fire erupted from the ground forcing them to retreat back up the hill.

Jackson glared at the castle ruins as his squad galloped back, Marshall on foot, chasing his own horse.

“Gillespie! Head back to the bridge. I want those catapults here now. And get those two magichae up here. It’s time they earned their keep. I want that place leveled by sundown.

C
HAPTER
43

The Ruins of Desid

“How did they find us?” Michael exclaimed, reining his horse to a stop in the castle courtyard. “And where did that army come from?”

He turned and looked at the entrance. All that remained of the portcullis were scraps of rusted metal strewn on the ground. At least the gatehouse still stood. “No way to bar the entrance,” Michael assessed, “and the moat’s dry.”

“Dry!” Garen complained. “It’s nothing more than a grassy ravine! How are we supposed to defend this place?”

“You both whine like children,” Dalan said flatly.

“Perhaps they need a honey rag to suck on,” Darela added, grinning.

“Ha, ha,” Garen replied sarcastically, with a grimace. “At least they’re not following us.”

The soldiers had stopped at the crest of a hill several hundred paces away. The leader of the band that had pursued them looked to be conferring with the leader of the army squad.

“Jezel take my shorts,” Max said. “They’re actually afraid to come in here.”

Michael frowned. “Why? Where are we?”

“Desid,” Max said.

“Desid! This is Desid?” Falon shrieked, looking in all directions like she expected something to reach out and grab her.

Everyone but Max looked at her questioningly.

“Dalan, Darela, can you assist me,” Max said, dismounting from his horse.

“What about those soldiers?” Michael asked.

“If they muster enough courage to charge in drop the gatehouse on them,” Max replied like such an idea should have been obvious.

“Who is Jezel?” Dalan asked, following Max toward the remains of the keep.

“And why would she take your shortclothes?” Darela added.

“Umm, what is Desid?” Garen asked.

“Desid was the stronghold of Rhen Saint Lan, Duke of Listrim, one of the kingdoms that later became Shaladon,” Falon answered. “He was a sadistic warlock who experimented on people in unspeakable ways. Considered torture a sport. When the army of Brenmier, the neighboring country to the north, laid siege on Desid it took them two months to break the defenses. When they found the perversion that had taken place within these walls, they fled, afraid they’d be tainted by the evil. Desid has remained empty ever since. It’s cursed ground. That’s why they didn’t follow us in.”

“Sooner or later they will,” Michael grumbled, looking around. “No reason to make it easy for them.” He wanted to see what advantages the castle did offer. Perhaps there was a way to divert the river into the moat.

“Where are you going?” Garen asked.

“To look around,” Michael said over his shoulder. “Let me know if they decide to pay us a visit.”

Michael climbed the steps to the north wall. The castle was a simple square structure with crenulated walls and barrel towers at each corner. The free standing keep was crumbling, heavily damaged on the face and north side with stone strewn across the courtyard. It was four stories at one time but the roof had caved in and much of the top floor destroyed. Pieces of a slopped wood structure against the north wall were the remains of the stables and the stone structure against the south wall must have been the chapel.

The rampart of the north wall was broken in so many places it was almost unusable. Since the river snaked around the north and east sides of the castle, the south and west walls were the only ones they had to defend. He was looking down at the dry moat arching around the castle when he heard Garen’s high pitch whistle.

“We’ve got more guests!” Garen yelled, pointing at the hill. Another group of soldiers had joined the first group.

Michael picked his way back across the northern rampart quickly.

“I guess they’re over their fear,” Garen said wryly as Michael came running up to the gatehouse. Twelve soldiers on horseback charged toward them.

Anger welled up inside Michael. He was tired of running. He was tired of being chased. He was tired of playing their game. The ground in front of the soldiers erupted, large chunks shooting into the air. The leader fell from his horse when the animal reared while others stood atop their whickering horses stunned. Some simply held on as their mounts bolted back the way they had come.

“Enough, Michael!” Max said, emerging from the depths of the keep.

“If they want a fight, Max, I’ll give ‘em one!” Michael bellowed. “Look at them! They chase us like we’re criminals and we run. We run! Why? I am tired of hiding. If Aleister wants a fight then I’ll give him one!”

“Get a hold of yourself!” Max snapped.

The leader of the soldiers stood, teetering and shaking his head while his remaining men held their horses in a disorganized cluster.

Michael’s anger seethed. He swiped his hand left to right and a wall of fire erupted in front of the soldiers. It was all the encouragement they needed to turn tail, their leader running on foot, chasing his horse.

“Michael, that’s not helping us,” Max said, lowering Michael’s outstretched hand.

Michael glared at the soldiers on the hilltop. “I’m tired of this farce! You’re the one who told me to drop the gatehouse on them.”

“Are you too dull to know sarcasm?” Max snapped. “Twelve men, Michael. You could have let them enter and easily subdued them. That would have at least concealed what powers you have. Dropping the gatehouse is a last resort. Now they know what they’re up against. When the rest of their soldier gets here—”

“All the more reason we need to fight our way out now.”

“And word will travel faster than your horse. What will you do when a force of magichae led by Aleister catches us in the open?”

“We can’t just stay here and wait,” Michael said.

“I agree,” Max said. “So listen up.”

Max explained that Dalan and Darela were searching for another way out of the ruins. The plan sounded simple but bordered on desperate since it depended on them finding the secret exit Max was certain existed. Michael had to agree that no one would have designed a single gated castle without making an alternate exit.

“So until they find the passage we need to get ready for a fight,” Max said.

Garen and Falon inspected the southern wall’s towers. They were intact, but the southeast tower bordering the river had many more fissures. It would not take much to bring it down.

Michael returned to the rubble of the northeast tower. Something had piqued his interest when Garen let out his alarm. An earthen dam sealed the river from the moat. Most likely it had been built by the invading army of Brenmier. If he could break the dam, then Desid would once again become an island.

Michael climbed down the rubble of the rear tower. The manmade hill of earth had three white-barked birch trees growing from it, one so close to the edge of the dam it roots were exposed by the river’s flowing waters. He reached out mentally, feeling the earth, noting the large rocks buried under years of dirt, how the roots of the trees worked their way around them and plunged deeper into the ground. Picking out the primary roots of the birch closest to the river, he sliced them with Air one by one. With a push the tree toppled into the river, creating a nice splash and leaving a crater in its place. Michael did the same for the other trees.

With the trees gone, the ground felt looser. He turned his focused to the rocks deep underground forming the base of the dam. Delving into a large boulder the river had partially exposed, he sought out the internal fissures within it. Large chunks of earth fell away into the river as Michael rent the boulder into pieces and pulled it away from the dam. The rapids helped now, lashing against the dam, seeking out newly opened crevices, weakening the earthen wall. Michael worked methodically, breaking away the anchors of the dam, piece by piece. After an hour, sweat drenching his clothes and his head throbbing, Michael gave one final surge of power and the river flooded into the moat once more.

“Bravo, Michael!” Max cried from the top of the tower. “Well done. That will buy us time. Come, we are gathering at the gatehouse.”

Michael followed Max to the roof of the gatehouse where Falon and Garen stood against the crenulated wall, watching the small army assemble on the western hills.

“Things just got worse,” Falon said as they stepped onto the flat roof. From their vantage point, they could see the catapults approaching. “These walls won’t last long against those war machines.”

Max smiled. “Let them bring the castle down around us. It will cover our escape.”

His smile disappeared, though, when he noticed Dalan standing at the stairs, shaking his head. They had indeed found the secret exit, but it was flooded.

“Ok,” Max said, stroking his chin, eyes darting to and fro. “Michael, I can shroud you in a spell of illusion, make you invisible. Then once the battle starts you can slip out—”

“And leave you here?” Michael replied. “No. No way.”

“Michael—”

“No one is sacrificing themselves for me,” Michael snapped. “How am I supposed to stop Aleister without you?”

“What if we bury ourselves under the keep?” Garen asked. “When those catapults start firing and the walls start to fall we retreat underground and bring the keep down to bury us. Once they think we’re dead in the rubble, they will move on. Right?”

“I don’t think we have any choice, but to fight them to a man,” Michael assessed.

“You realize those are your countrymen,” Max said.

“They’re Aleister’s men, I’m the enemy. You think waving the Eye in front of them would change that?”

“I think it just got worse,” Falon said, pointing at two men riding beside a catapult. One was tall, muscular, his bald head shining in the afternoon sun. The other small and mousy, easily overlooked in a crowd. “Those are two of Aleister’s warlocks. When the catapults are ready, they’ll guide the shots. Get rid of them and we stand a better chance.”

“We can shoot them with arrows,” Michael replied.

Falon looked at him. “Do you really think they won’t deflect them?”

“What do you suggest? Storm past three hundred soldiers?”

“No,” she replied. “Max, you could make me invisible and I could—”

“What?” Michael demanded. “No way, no—”

“When they get those catapults built they’ll turn this castle into rubble,” Falon shot back.

“Why not make us all invisible and we can all walk out of here?” Garen asked.

“I can’t shroud all of us,” Max replied. “They know we’re here. That truth would nullify the spell. I could shroud one, maybe two.”

“If I can get to those two warlocks, I could eliminate our biggest threat,” Falon said.

“Are you out of your mind?” Michael demanded.

“If you have any better ideas, I’m listening,” she fired back.

No one had a better solution, but Michael refused to consider the idea. He was still adamant when the southern wall shook with the first hit. A massive payload set aflame by the warlocks slammed into the southwest tower causing it to shake violently. Garen loosed arrows, targeting the engineers. Strangely Dalan and Darela stood apart having a heated discussion. Darela sliced the air horizontally with his hand ending the conversation and the twins took position on the west wall.

Michael had no time to dwell on the brothers argument as a volley of flaming stones screamed toward them. Everyone cleared the gatehouse as the payload smashed the crenulated wall of the gatehouse.

***

“Max, please,” Falon said. “Cover me in a spell of illusion.”

Max looked at her doubtfully until a fireball exploded against the rampart near them.

“Those two warlocks have to be taken out,” she pleaded. “We don’t have another option.”

Max looked down the wall at Michael. “Even if you manage to get past the fray, once you touch either warlock you’ll be revealed.

“Please, Max. This is my only way to help.” Tears welled up in Falon’s eyes. “After all I’ve done. With what I am. Please, this will make it all worth something.”

A fiery boulder flew toward them. Michael threw out his hands, face contorted with strain, and the boulder crashed into the wall below them leaving a massive dent. Falon nodded a thank you, but Michael was running to the southeast tower, focused on his next target. How long could he deflect attacks? “Besides, the warlocks will find us even buried under the ruins.”

Grudgingly, Max created the spell of illusion around her. He could see Falon plainly, but to anyone else, including Michael, she was invisible.