The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (40 page)

She can’t be the only one who survived
, Vaaler thought.
They can’t all be dead!

“Get the sleds ready,” Shalana ordered. “We break camp now.”

Andar watched silently from the corner of the tent as the Queen’s war council debated what had gone wrong in the day’s battle.

For the first time since entering the Frozen East they had been faced with real resistance, a devastating counterattack that had left them short of supplies and crippled morale. Now each of the councilors was desperately trying to shift the blame as they gave their reports.

“We should have been warned to expect a possible attack in that location,” General Greznor declared. “It was the perfect environment for an ambush.”

“My scouts aren’t being given enough time to survey the territory,” Hexiff countered. “You’re advancing too quickly.

“And your troops should never have been spaced so far apart,” Hexiff added. “It makes it difficult for them to provide support and reinforcements.”

“We were trying to cover as much ground as possible to make sure none of the smaller clans slipped through our lines,” Greznor shot back. “If I’d known all the barbarians had joined together, I would have used different strategies,” he added, casting a dark look at Pranya.

The Queen’s spymaster scowled.

“How are my people supposed to infiltrate the clans? They’d kill us on sight. We’d need some way to hide our true nature. A charm or illusion to alter our appearance.”

“You know that isn’t possible here,” Lormilar snapped, his insecurity over his impotence making him even more defensive than the others. “We must focus on the things we can control—like the number of soldiers protecting the supply wagons!”

“Half my guards were called away by the horns,” Bassi, the quartermaster, reminded everyone.

“And the vanguard patrols closest to you were too busy walking into barbarian ambushes to help,” Greznor added.

“That wouldn’t happen if our spies had given us proper warning!” Hexiff protested.

“If your patrols are too stupid to watch for an ambush, there’s nothing I can do to save them!” Pranya fired back.

“Enough,” the Queen commanded, her voice weary. “How bad are our losses?”

“The actual casualties aren’t the issue, my Queen,” Greznor said after clearing his throat. “It’s the supplies that concern me the most.”

“We salvaged what we could,” Bassi told her. “But even with the rationing, we’ll run short of food in another week.”

The Queen nodded grimly, then dismissed the councilors with a wave of her hand. Slowly they rose and bowed before leaving the tent, each wondering who would bear the brunt of her—and Orath’s—wrath for this catastrophic failure.

Eventually only Andar, Rianna, and the Minion remained in the tent. Only then did Rianna say what they all knew but none of the others had the courage to voice.

“My son is helping the enemy. He has chosen to stand with the Destroyer of Worlds rather than his own people.”

“We will change the signals,” Orath answered, as if that would somehow solve the real problem.

The Queen didn’t speak but simply sat in her chair, staring down at her hands.

“Can you blame Vaaler for this betrayal?” Andar said, daring to speak up despite knowing it could cost him his tongue. “You cast him out. You drove him into the arms of these savages, then you unleashed this army on them! What did you expect?”

“Silence, slave!” Orath barked. The Queen, however, didn’t speak.

Ignoring the minion, Andar approached Rianna and dropped to his knee beside her chair. He reached out and placed his hand gently on her wrist, and she finally raised her eyes to look at him.

“We have no supplies. The soldiers are exhausted and frozen and reeling from this defeat. If you press on, this can only end in disaster.”

Orath reached out and seized Andar by the shoulder and hauled him to his feet, his grip strong enough to make the former High Sorcerer gasp in pain.

“If the Destroyer of Worlds has united the savages under a single banner,” the Minion hissed in the Queen’s ear as he shoved Andar aside, “then our victory will come even more quickly.

“Hexiff’s scouts have spotted a mass exodus of refugees, all heading in the same direction. They are gathering in one place. If
we follow them to it, we can wipe out your enemy in a single battle!”

“Slaughtering defenseless refugees won’t stop the warriors who attacked us today!” Andar protested.

“It will draw the warriors out,” Orath insisted. “Instead of scattered patrols, tell Greznor to transform your troops into a real army and we can meet them head-on!”

“We don’t even know their true numbers,” Andar cautioned. “The farther east we go, the greater the toll it takes. Our bowstrings freeze and the wood warps in the cold, rendering the archers useless. Frostbite takes the fingers and toes of too many soldiers each night, further thinning our numbers. Add in starvation and the threat of a winter storm, and your army might be a mere fraction of what we have now by the time the savages make their stand!”

“We still have the ogre,” Orath reminded her. “It slaughtered dozens of the savages today; they are powerless to stop it. With the beast under our command, the enemy cannot stand against us. The Destroyer of Worlds will fall and the Ring will be yours once again.”

Rianna turned her head slowly from Orath, to Andar, then back to Orath.

When she finally said, “Tell Greznor to gather our forces and change course for the refugee camp,” Andar’s heart sank.

J
ERROD STILL DIDN
’
T
trust Hadawas, but the physical ordeal of the second day of their mountain trek left him little time to focus on his suspicions. Hadawas led them through a frozen labyrinth of ice and stone, somehow finding every nook and cranny they could use to go farther and farther into the otherwise impassable mountain range.

Encumbered by the extra layers of cloth wrapped tightly around their bodies and the packs strapped to their backs, they crawled on all fours through twisting, seemingly endless dark and drafty tunnels. They hugged the cold mountain face, buffeted by fierce winds while creeping along slick ledges so narrow their heels dangled over the edge. They scaled sloping rock formations so steep that Hadawas’s warriors had to go ahead and use a harness to hoist the elderly chief to the top, then half climbed, half slid down the other side, always on the verge of losing control and careening over the precipice at the bottom.

Once again the yeti followed them the entire way, growing more numerous and more agitated as the humans forged deeper and deeper into their domain. They came closer and closer until it wasn’t just Jerrod who noticed them lurking above. Norr let out a cry of anger and surprise as one reached down to paw at the big man’s arm, triggering a round of the howling laughs from the others as the offender bared its teeth then scampered away up the
sheer side of the mountain, taking the others with him. The clawed swipe didn’t leave a mark, but it shredded the top layers of Norr’s thick clothing.

By the time they reached the relative safety of the wide, flat plateau at the bottom of the peak they’d just crossed, the light was fading. Darkness came early as the sun disappeared behind the massive mountain peaks, but Jerrod felt it was for the best—they desperately needed to rest.

It was obvious Keegan could barely walk another step; his missing hand making all the crawling and clambering through the mountain passes even more difficult. Norr was grimacing in pain, having pushed his knee too hard. Scythe was exhausted and shivering uncontrollably, her small, lithe form lacking any natural insulation against the cold. The Sun Blade warriors carried themselves with the herky-jerky motion of men so tired they had trouble controlling their limbs. Even Jerrod felt as if his body were ready to shut down.

How is Hadawas still on his feet?
the monk wondered.
Even being lifted up the worst of the slopes, a man his age shouldn’t even be able to stand after all this
.

And then, almost as if Jerrod’s thoughts had triggered it, Hadawas collapsed face-first in the snow.

One of the Sun Blades cried out in dismay, and two of them dropped down and gently rolled the old man onto his back.

“There’s a cave close by,” he gasped, each word struggling to escape his lips, then his eyes rolled back into his head, and he lost consciousness.

Knowing they had to get Hadawas—and the rest of them—shelter quickly, Jerrod pushed out with his awareness. His head began to ache from the effort, a throbbing in his temples that he feared would last for hours. But he finally sensed what Hadawas was talking about—a small opening in the ground, almost completely buried beneath the snow.

Norr and two of the Sun Blades swept the snow clear to reveal the mouth of a sharply sloping tunnel leading down into the rock below their feet.

“It extends for several yards, then opens into a larger chamber,” Jerrod assured them. “There’s room for all of us. The ceiling is even high enough for Norr to stand up.”

Once they were all inside, Norr took out the last of their peat supply and lit it. The smoke made everybody’s eyes water, but as the heat spread slowly through the cavern nobody complained. The warmth seemed to revive Hadawas, who opened his eyes after a few minutes. With the help of one of his warriors, he managed to sit up.

“I can go no farther,” the old man wheezed. “But you must continue on without me.”

“How will we know where to go?” Norr asked.

“The worst is over,” he told them. “There is a trail on the other side of this plateau. It leads down into a small valley. On the other side you will see another peak—much larger than any of the others. The Guardian’s lair is on the other side, but you will not have to scale the mountain.

“There is a trail. Follow it up and around the peak; it will bring you to the Sword.”

“What about you?” Scythe asked. “We can’t just leave you here.”

“You have enough food to spare,” he told them. “Leave some with me and I will rest in this cave. Bring the Sword back to me here and I will lead you back down the mountains.”

“We won’t leave you here alone,” one of the Sun Blades declared.

“Two of you stay with me,” Hadawas ordered. “The rest go with Norr.”

“I think that’s a mistake,” Jerrod cautioned, seeing a chance to eliminate any chance of Hadawas’s double-crossing them. “You
saw that yeti strike at Norr. The creatures are growing bolder. If they attack this cave, you will need all your warriors to protect you.”

“Why are you so eager to leave my people behind,” Hadawas wondered aloud, as if reading Jerrod’s true motives. “Is this a trick to steal the Sword for yourself?”

Norr knelt down beside the old man and gently took his bundled hand in his own.

“We have our own need of the Sword,” he admitted. “But I made a vow to the clans. I will not leave my people defenseless against the Danaan. This I swear to you.”

Hadawas looked deep into Norr’s eyes, then nodded.

“Tomorrow you four will go on alone,” he said. “And we will wait here for you to return with the Sword.”

Then he lay back down gingerly and closed his eyes, exhausted by the effort of speaking.

Keegan woke in the middle of the night from a familiar dream. Once again he’d been standing on the edge of the ocean, the waves lapping on the shore at his back as he brandished Daemron’s Sword and faced the onrushing army of Chaos Spawn. But this time he’d recognized the woman lying unconscious at his feet before the ravaging horde tore him apart.

Cassandra, Rexol’s old apprentice. The one who helped us escape the Monastery
.

Identifying the woman with him did little to clarify the meaning of the dream, however. The vision of his own death—and failure—was troubling enough to keep him awake for several minutes, but in the end his body’s fatigue won out and he drifted back to sleep.

It seemed only a minute later that Jerrod was shaking him back to consciousness. The peat had burned itself out in the night, but
the cave was still warm enough that Keegan was glad he’d stripped off most of the layers of clothing before he fell asleep.

“It’s time to go,” the monk told him.

Once he, Jerrod, Scythe, and Norr were ready and about to leave, Hadawas said, “Remember—I will be waiting here for you to return. You made a promise, Norr. Do not betray your people.”

The big man nodded and the four of them set out, climbing up the steep tunnel and back out onto the plateau above. Keegan’s body still ached from yesterday, but they kept an easy pace and slowly his limbs and muscles began to loosen up. It helped that the weather was milder than before, and they had no trouble finding the path Hadawas had told them to look for.

The descent into the valley was steep, but compared to what they had already faced it almost seemed pleasant. A second mountain range rose up on the other side of the valley, and it was immediately obvious which peak Hadawas had referred to. Though the top was hidden high up in the clouds above, the base was three times around as any of the others.

“We better find that path Hadawas mentioned,” Scythe noted, “or it’s going to take us a month to climb that monster.”

The temperature slowly warmed as they continued to descend, until Keegan was sweating beneath all his layers.

You’ll need them soon enough when we start going up that mountain
.

“The yeti are gone,” Scythe noted.

“They stopped following us as soon as we began our descent into the valley,” Jerrod noted.

“That doesn’t make any sense,” Norr said. “Not if they really are descended from ancestors who were seeking the Sword.”

“Maybe in their madness they’ve forgotten what they once looked for,” Jerrod hypothesized.

“Or maybe they’re afraid of the Guardian,” Scythe chimed in.

“Whatever we are about to face,” Jerrod assured them, “we will prevail. We have the Ring, and this is Keegan’s destiny.”

Even if you’re right
, Keegan thought,
there’s nothing in your prophecy that says all of you will survive
.