Wards of Faerie: The Dark Legacy of Shannara (41 page)

She turned as Arling gripped her arm. “What do you think we should do?” her sister whispered.

Aphen gave her hand a squeeze. “Wait them out. They aren’t doing anything yet. We have to be patient. Bombax, have you checked any of the approaches to the other walls?”

He shook his head. “You go. I want to stay with Krolling in case this isn’t a trick and they actually do attempt an assault. They have ladders, so they might think they can scale the walls. Madness, if they try it. But who knows? Go on, Aphen. Take Arling with you.”

She didn’t particularly want to do that, but she guessed Arling was just as safe going with her as staying behind, and if they were together she could keep an eye on her sister. So together they set out for the west wall, descending the stairs from the ramparts to the courtyard, cutting across to the first of several walls that bisected the outer courtyards like spokes from a wheel, allowing them quick access through the Keep proper and the courtyards adjoining the west wall. Aphen was thinking that somehow things were getting away from them, that all their efforts to stay safe were on the verge of failing. It wasn’t hard to pinpoint the source of this premonition; they still hadn’t found out who fired the rail sling the previous day. If there was a traitor within the walls, they were very much at risk.

She had asked Cymrian the previous night for his impressions of the boy Deek Trink. “Too clever for his own good,” Cymrian had responded. “Too ready to persuade you he’s your friend when maybe he’s not.”

He didn’t say aloud what was clearly in his mind—that he didn’t like Deek Trink—but it was obvious enough. It made her think she should have locked the boy away in spite of Bombax. But that would have meant another confrontation, and she wasn’t certain her suspicions were valid. It was easier just to have him watched.

Now she was wondering if she had made a mistake putting but a single guard on him.

“What do we do if they attack?” Arling asked suddenly. They were climbing the stairs to the west wall now, hurrying to have a look at what was happening outside. “Can we stop them? We’re so few.”

Aphen shook her head, unwilling to answer. In truth, she didn’t know. Her only plan at this point was to rely on the wards of the Keep to protect them. If that failed, she didn’t see how thirty could stand against what looked to be close to five or six hundred, even with Paranor’s walls to protect them.

They reached the ramparts and peered over. The clear-cut area that separated the Keep from the forest lay empty below. No sign of anyone. But the walls had been built in a zigzag fashion to allow for defense from more than one angle, and from where they stood they could see only a portion of this one. So Aphen, wanting to be sure the
others were safe, as well, began walking north with Arling trailing after in silence. Together they reached the end of that section of wall, rounded the watchtower, and turned down the next.

Instantly they saw the line of armed men slipping out of the trees and sprinting for the Keep, one after another, before disappearing inside through an open door.

Although Aphen had been looking for something like this and had been half expecting to find it, it was a shock nevertheless. She wheeled on Arling, backing them both away from the edge of the wall where they might be seen. “Run back for Bombax and Krolling. Tell them the walls are breached and the Federation is inside. Bring them here at once. Tell them to hurry!”

To her sister’s credit, she raced away without arguing. Aphenglow continued ahead to the next watchtower, pulled open its heavy wooden door, and started down the winding stairs.

Federation soldiers were inside! The safety of the Keep was compromised and Paranor was at risk!

The words screamed in her mind, harsh and insistent, demanding she do something. She wondered how far inside the enemy had penetrated. She wondered what their orders were. At the very least they would try to open one of the four sets of main gates to let the others in. Her hands tightened on the walking staff as she limped from step to step, her senses attuned to the silence of the tower’s dark interior. She heard sounds of movement, soft and furtive, from below. The soldiers were moving about in the hallways, settling themselves in place, waiting until all were inside before trying to reach the gates. How many would she have to face alone? How many would she have to stop?

Her leg began to ache, and she realized she was tense and stiff and forced herself to relax. She found herself wishing Bombax were there. Or Cymrian. Maybe Cymrian even more, so cool and collected and seemingly always prepared. But they were both elsewhere, and she couldn’t depend on either of them.

She eased her way to the bottom of the winding stairway and stopped again in the lower entry. Passageways branched both left and
right, but it was from the latter’s dark interior that she heard the faint sound of movements. She realized that she was between the west gates and the soldiers—and they were advancing toward her, creeping through the shadows and hoping not to be discovered until it was too late.

She would have to stop them here.

She glanced around quickly. There were no interior doors on these passageways. Quick movement from one tower to the next was important, and so the corridors were kept open. The point was to stop an enemy before it got inside. Interior doors were more an obstacle to a defender than a help. Given that the Keep’s walls had been breached only once before in its two-thousand-year history, it was hard to argue with the reasoning.

But now it had happened a second time, and Aphenglow wished she had at least one door she could put between herself and the invaders.

They were getting closer.

She tried to think what to do. She wanted to keep them contained in the narrow passageways of the Outer Wall where they couldn’t spread out to the inner Keep. If they got into the courtyard, they would be all over the place.

The tower room was too confining to use the magic she would need to hold back the men pouring into the walls, but she had no choice. Going outside meant giving them a better chance to get behind her and reach the gates. She backed into the shadows of the next corridor, giving herself a clear view of the tower chamber and thereby a window of vision large enough to see the men she knew were coming.

Then she waited.

Drust Chazhul hunkered down in the forest just beyond the west wall, watching his soldiers cross the open space to where the tiny service door gaped open to admit them. Stoon was crouched at his side, the two of them counting heads as the soldiers disappeared inside.

“Good as his word,” he observed softly.

“Always has been.” Stoon was watching the top of the wall intently, scanning it end-to-end, searching for signs of the Druid Guard. “He’s clever, that one.”

Another two or three soldiers had made it inside. That made it more than thirty now. They had brought fifty, thinking that would be more than enough to force at least one of the main gates. They had left the rest of the army at the south gate as a diversion. A second force was hidden in the trees behind them waiting to enter when the west gate was opened by the advance party. It should happen quickly once all fifty were inside.

“Don’t forget,” Drust said. “I want the Elessedil girl alive.”

Stoon shrugged. “Why bother? You’ll just kill her anyway.”

“Maybe not. After my soldiers have reminded her that insolence has a cost, I might still send her back to her grandfather.”

The assassin gave him a look. “Kill her and be done with it. You don’t want to play games in this business.”

Drust turned away. “When are you going in?”

“In a little while. No need to rush things.”

They went silent, watching as the last of the advance force disappeared through the doorway. On the walls above, nothing moved and no one appeared.

“I think I’ll move over to the west gate and wait there.” Drust was restless, impatient. “I want to be there when it opens.” He rose, looked down at Stoon and smiled. “It’s almost here. The end of the Druids and their precious Keep. The end of their magic. And I will have been the one who brought them down.”

Stoon was tempted to suggest it was a little early to celebrate, but he managed to hold his tongue.

When the first of the Federation soldiers crept out of the corridor across from where she was hiding, Aphenglow was ready for them. Her magic summoned, she let the first three attackers get clear of the opening and then stepped into view. The soldiers reacted at once, bringing up their weapons and rushing at her. But the Druid magic slammed into them and threw them back against their fellows, clogging the passageway with screaming, cursing men.

She didn’t wait for them to untangle themselves, but went after them immediately. Shielding herself with magic spun from one hand, she attacked with magic thrown from her other—a heavy, weighted blow that crashed into all the soldiers she could see and flattened them in their tracks. The corridor became a madhouse, the shock of what had happened stopping the advance completely, forcing those still able to retreat. Those at the forefront of the strike yelled to their comrades to fall back. There were more doors farther down, Aphen knew, but at least they were farther away from the west gate.

Fair enough.

She went out the tower door, stepping into the open courtyard beyond, searching for the help she expected to find.

No one was there.

She stood where she was for a moment, shocked and confused. Where were Paranor’s defenders?

Then she heard shouts and cries from somewhere on the other side of the Keep, and realized that the real battle was being fought elsewhere. She wanted to rush over to find out what was happening, but that would mean abandoning her defense of the west gate, which she knew would be a big mistake.

She would stay where she was needed.

She was making her way down the interior of the wall toward the next tower when its door was flung open and the rest of the Federation advance force poured out into the courtyard.

She stopped where she was. She could tell at once that she was too far away to stop all of them and with her damaged leg could not move quickly enough to remedy that. Changing her plans, she began crossing the courtyard toward the Inner Wall of the Keep, flinging shards of magic at the men who were coming at her. She took down a few, but the rest came on. They were ignoring the west gate, intent on reaching her instead. She dropped into a crouch, summoned the broadest strike she could manage, and unwrapped it like a sheet of hammered steel across their path. They were blocked and for the moment could not get through. She spun out the magic then folded it over them, cutting off their air.

Struggling to break free, they began to choke and gasp.

She knew the magic would not last long, but it gave her the chance she needed to escape. She could not stand against so many without aid. She hastened as quickly as she could for the safety of the Inner Wall, and with her back turned she only just managed to catch sight of the lean, swift figure coming up behind her. She swung back around just as her attacker dropped to one knee and sighted down the length of a long blowgun.

Reacting solely on instinct, Aphenglow managed to throw up a protective shield. The blowgun darts disintegrated on contact, the brightness of their poison exploding in red bursts against her shield as they did so. Aphenglow had risen and begun running once more, limping noticeably, when her attacker used the blowgun a second time. Even though she was ready for the attack, she stumbled and went down, the darts skimming past her head, black missiles in the bright morning sunlight.

This time when she rose, she went after him.

But her attacker had anticipated her and was already running the other way. She sent an entangling magic after him and brought him down in a jumble of arms and legs, his blowgun flying away. She would have done more, but by now the magic that had confined the Federation soldiers had collapsed and they were coming toward her anew.

There’s no time for this
, she thought.

Using magic to slow them—a tripping incantation that ensnared their feet—she began backing away once more, keeping an eye on both soldiers and the blowgun artist. But her efforts had drained her, and she was beginning to stumble badly. Holding back her attackers was sapping what remained of her strength, and she was still fifty feet from the safety of the Inner Wall.

They were almost on top of her when Bombax appeared.

He surged out of a haze of smoke and brume and flew across the ramparts with a roar, charging down the stone stairway and leaping into the courtyard, black robes flying out behind him. He was screaming at the attackers to draw their attention, challenging them to come for him. The Federation soldiers turned away from Aphenglow,
caught sight of the black-clad apparition across from them, and fled at once. The blowgun artist was already gone.

Aphenglow called out to Bombax, and he raced toward her, his dark face intent, his eyes wild and dangerous. Fresh attackers were appearing all about them, coming through courtyard doors and down off the ramparts. They seemed to be everywhere. Somehow the Federation must have breached Paranor’s defenses in more than one place. Aphen kept backing away toward the Inner Wall, still using her magic, rallying against this new threat, trying to protect Bombax as he was protecting her.

He reached her while still on the fly, swept her off her feet without slowing, and raced for the closest doorway. Using his magic as he ran, he released the locking devices so that the door sprang open. Spears and arrows flew all around them, and Federation soldiers, howling in rage, closed in from three sides.

But by then they were through the dark opening of the Inner Wall entry and the door had slammed shut and locked itself behind them.

Stoon, bruised and battered and furious with himself, stumbled back down the corridor tunneling through the Outer Wall to the door that had let him in and pushed his way back outside again, heading for the surrounding forest. Behind him the fighting was intense, raging all along the Outer Wall. He didn’t look back to see what was happening, having lost interest in being involved in any way. He was lucky to be alive, and he knew it.