Dragons' Onyx (13 page)

Podil turned and looked at the window. She shook her head when she saw that it was dark outside. Once again she had let the day slip by while researching a question. She chuckled to herself and shook her head mirthfully. How many times had she been surprised to observe the same thing? She picked up her papers and prepared to close the library and return to her room. Suddenly, she halted abruptly, a mask of concern falling over her face.

Podil slowly rotated, examining the dark corners of the empty library. Her eyes crinkled as she peered into the darker voids. She did not know what she was searching for, but she knew the feeling of her internal alarm going off. Something was amiss.

“There is no need to prepare to defend yourself,” a voice said from the shadows near the door on the other side of the room. “I am glad to see that you are still capable of being aware of another’s presence.”

“Age is only in one’s mind,” Podil replied. “I should have realized that it was you. Nobody else has ever been able to sneak up on me. What name are you using these days?”

“Names mean nothing,” the voice answered. “What one is called does not change his very nature, unless it is meant to. Lately, I have been called Boris Khatama.”

“Well then,” responded the elven magician, “come into the light, Boris Khatama. I still prefer to see who I am talking to.”

“Do you think anyone would dare to impersonate me?” chuckled the Mage as he walked towards Podil.

“That would be foolish of them,” replied Podil. “Is it worth my effort to ask how you got into this library? The guards should not have even let you onto this level without someone alerting me.”

“The guards are not aware that I am here,” shrugged Boris. “Queen Alysa does not even know that I am here. I came to speak only with you.”

“Impressive,” Podil said as her eyes widened. “That is a trick that you must teach me, or does one need to be immortal to perfect it?”

“It comes in handy at times,” Master Khatama replied. “Let us not waste time on trivialities, though. I need your help.”

“You need my help?” the elf magician repeated with surprise evident in her voice. “I cannot imagine anything that I could do that you are not capable of yourself. What is it that you require of me?”

“It is something that I am not prepared to discuss at this time,” the Mage evaded the question. “You must trust me that your skills are required. It is a matter of great importance.”

“Obviously,” Podil nodded slowly, “or your would not waste your time with such a clandestine visit. Why have you come to Sorelderal like a burglar? You must know that you are always welcome here.”

“I do indeed,” the Mage smiled. “This time is different, though. I do not wish others to know where you have gone.”

“Gone?” echoed Podil. “Do you mean that you wish me to leave Sorelderal? For how long?”

“I am not sure how long,” sighed Boris. “Maybe forever.”

“You know that I will obey the Mage,” frowned Podil, “but I think that you owe me some explanation for tearing my life apart. My heart has never sought to leave Sorelderal.”

“Fair enough,” conceded Master Khatama after a long delay. “I have to deal with Alutar once again. Your services are required to ensure success. Now that you know the severity of the problem, you can understand why I am unable to speak of your return to Sorelderal.”

“Indeed,” Podil nodded solemnly. “The fact is that I may never return at all because there is a strong chance that I will not survive the mission that you have chosen for me. Very well then, may I have time to gather a few possessions? I suspect that this task will require a journey of some duration?”

“Yes to both,” smiled the Mage. “In fact, I want you to secure two horses when you leave.”

“When I leave?” questioned the elf. “I am not leaving with you?”

“No,” answered Boris. “It is better for you to leave alone. I will be camped several leagues north of here. Follow the river north. I will keep watch for you.”

“I do not have your ability to move without being seen,” frowned Podil. “Questions will be asked. Are you sure that this is wise?”

“You are an old and wise elf,” smiled the Mage. “Simple questions will not deter you from what must be done. I think you underestimate yourself in any event. I will keep watch for you by the river.”

The elf magician heard a noise behind her. She spun to see what it was, but nothing was there. When she turned back towards the door to the library, the Mage was gone. Podil’s mind spun with questions. Her first instinct was to put her logical mind to work at finding answers to the riddles posed by the Mage, but she soon realized the futility of that exercise. She sighed to herself and smiled when she recalled her earlier promise to herself that she would get out more. She snuffed out the candle and closed the library door as she headed to her room to pack a few belongings.

With her pack on her back, Podil stole down several levels of the tree city. She hesitated in the shadows while other elves passed by. When it was safe to move again, she continued down the levels until she almost reached the lowest level. Podil knew there would be two guards at the rope ladder just below her. She had to avoid them to effect her unnoticed departure.

Podil frowned as she pictured the two guards in her mind. She knew that there were few things that would distract both guards at the same time, plus there were roving guards on the ground below. While the guards were meant to stop enemies from entering the city, they were also well placed to notice people leaving. While Podil was wracking her brain to figure out a diversion that would not harm anyone, she heard the guards lowering the rope ladder. She stole down a few steps until she could see what was going on.

Her acute hearing picked up the voices of the elf guards and she smiled inwardly. It was the time of night when the roving guards below were replaced. She waited anxiously until the men below climbed up, and the replacements gathered before going down. When she felt the timing was right, she flicked her wrist towards the far end of the platform. A loud crack resounded through the still night air. The commotion below was instantaneous. Loud cracks, when you live in a tree, are the sounds of danger. The six elves scrambled to find the source of the noise. Feeling like a thief, Podil silently scrambled down the remaining steps and onto the rope ladder. She swiftly descended the ladder, her earlier stiffness completely forgotten in her desire to escape unseen.

When she reached the ground, she wasted no time in heading for the paddock. Knowing that it would be one of the first places that the replacement guards would check, Podil worked feverishly to secure two horses. Within just a few moments, the elf magician was riding through the woods with a spare horse in tow. Her mind was briefly distracted by the fear of goblins roaming the woods, but her thoughts were mostly centered on solving the question of what the Mage was up to.

* * *

Lieutenant Montbalm stood squarely in the center of the large open doorway at the base of the Castle of Man. Behind him were scores of archers awaiting his command to open fire. The lieutenant felt defenseless as he thought about the tens of thousands of goblins and ogres that were just on the other side of the huge castle. His left eye twitched nervously as he peered into the city of Tor for sight of the approaching riders.

“Where are they?” he muttered nervously to himself under his breath. “They should have appeared by now.”

“The Dark Riders are getting closer, Sir,” a voice shouted down from a crenel five levels above his head.

Finally, the lieutenant detected motion in the streets of the abandoned city. He closed his left eye briefly in an attempt to stop its twitching. It didn’t help.

“Riders approaching, Sir,” a nervous voice behind him announced.

Lieutenant Montbalm squinted into the sun and saw the seven riders approaching. He frowned when he saw the slow pace they were traveling at. He waved his arms to tell them to hurry. The lead rider saw the signal and picked up the pace. The lieutenant waited impatiently.

“Inside quickly,” Lieutenant Montbalm said when the riders had crossed the bridge. “There are Dark Riders not far behind you.”

“They will not be riding up to the gate,” Alex replied. “They realize that would be akin to suicide. The ogres on the other side of the castle might just do that, though.”

The riders entered the Castle of Man and dismounted. Lieutenant Montbalm ordered the gates closed.

“Are you always so casual?” he asked brusquely. “Do you not feel the sense of danger that pervades this place?”

“It does little good to let your emotions get the better of you,” replied Alex. “As for the aura of danger surrounding the Castle of Man, that is why we have come.”

“Just the seven of you?” inquired the lieutenant. “I expected more. I am sure that King Devon expected more as well.”

“How many did he expect?” questioned Alex. “A hundred? A thousand? How many would be enough to ensure victory against the overwhelming odds facing us? And how much benefit would we gain from throwing more bodies into this castle?”

“I am not sure,” puzzled the lieutenant, “but I know that we can use all of the help that we can get.”

“So, too, can Tagaret,” responded Alex. “While we thought that the Dark Riders would converge on the Castle of Man, there really was no reliable information to guarantee that they would not proceed directly to Tagaret. This battle can only be won by strategy, not by adding more bodies in here.”

“What strategy can we adopt?” questioned the lieutenant. “This is not a battlefield where we can maneuver. Our only strategy is to throw things down on the enemy and hope they tire of dying.”

“We shall see about that,” smiled Alex. “Let me introduce my people to King Devon.”

“He is waiting to see you,” nodded Lieutenant Montbalm. “Follow me.”

The four rangers looked around in awe at the Castle of Man. They had heard the stories about the tower castle that stood as tall as the mountains, but seeing it first-hand was still overwhelming. Their eyes took in everything and Alex had to smile to himself. He now realized what he must have looked like on his first visit to the Castle of Man.

The ride to the top of the tower involved many rides on a series of lifts. Each lift consisted of a large square wooden platform with cables attached that carried the group up five levels. At the end of each lift ride, the group had to move to another lift towards the center of the castle, as the diameter of the castle kept getting smaller the higher they rose. When they reached the last covered level, the lieutenant escorted them up a small stairway to the roof, which was like a mammoth courtyard loaded with trebuchets.

“Alex,” called King Devon as he saw the group emerge from the staircase. “Come see what followed you here.”

Alex led the group to where King Devon was standing. The king pointed out one of the crenels, and Alex gazed down at the Dark Riders that were arriving from the south.

“It would seem that we had little time to spare in getting here,” remarked Alex as he gazed out of the tower at thousands of Sarac’s followers streaming northward toward the Castle of Man.

“I noticed that your group is rather small,” stated the king. “How will the rest of the Alceans manage to get through that army?”

“We are all that are coming,” Alex informed the king. “Alceans would be of little help in this battle. It is not as if more bodies inside the Castle of Man will be decisive in the coming battle.”

The king frowned as he stared out at the massing army of the Dark One. Eventually he nodded, more to himself than to Alex.

“That is understandable,” King Devon said. “My first thought was that the Castle of Man means little to King Arik, but I know that is a false assumption. One thing that Lieutenant Montbalm learned in Tagaret is the incredible awe that the people hold you in. For King Arik to risk losing you, shows that he cares a great deal about what happens up here. Tell me of the men you brought and what your ideas are for defending the Castle of Man.”

“In addition to Jenneva and Tanya,” Alex began, “I brought four highly skilled Alcean Rangers with me. Their skills run the gamut from swords to mountain climbing and everything in between. I think we can use them to disrupt the enemy and put them off balance.”

“That is good news,” shrugged King Devon, “but it will hardly be decisive.”

“There is little that I can offer you that will be decisive in the coming battle,” admitted Alex. “Apparently, Sarac has decided that he needs to win this battle. I expect him to throw everything he has against us.”

“You speak words that make me feel like the gloom of the Darkness has returned over the Castle of Man,” sighed King Devon. “You cannot imagine the cheer that arose out of this castle on the morning of the clearing. It was the first day in a long time that my people truly felt hope for the future.”

“I would be deceiving you,” confessed Alex, “if I led you to believe that I see a rosy end to this confrontation. The fact is, that Sarac’s forces will take this castle or die in the attempt. As we are postured strictly in a defensive stance, our options are limited. All we can do is react to Sarac’s attack and hope they tire of the battle.”

“And you do not believe that they will tire,” nodded the king. “Yet you came here to help my people. Knowing what you know, I cannot understand why you would throw your life away. Surely, the defeat of the Castle of Man could not be laid at your feet or King Arik’s. Why have you come? And what of those that you brought with you? Do they know they are about to be sacrificed?”

“I would not bring anyone with me on this mission that was not truly informed of the potential outcome,” declared Alex. “As to why I came, there are several reasons. I do not consider any battle to be a lost cause, and your people are worthy of being saved. I do not know if my being here will help, but I am willing to do what I can. The people with me feel the same.”

“That you care,” smiled King Devon, “is heartwarming in itself. I know that the first time we met that I was adamant about not needing or wanting outside help. I look back on those feelings with disdain. Perhaps if I had been wiser back then, Sarac would not feel as if he could waltz though my pass, and we would not be facing this army.”