City of the Lost

8 Midsummer’s Day

She woke to more voices. Several spoke from above and around her-strong, disembodied voices that spoke Common and seemed terribly upset about something.

“There they are! Over here!”

“Oh, bloody Chaos, all of them?”

“Iyesta will have our guts for bow strings.”

“We couldn’t help that storm last night. The whole city is in a shambles.”

“It wasn’t a storm that killed them.”

Killed them? Linsha wondered. Killed who? But curiosity wasn’t enough to pull her fully awake.

“What do we do, Caphiathus?”

“Do not touch them. Leave them here for now. Azurale, gallop to the Citadel to tell their commander to bring litters. He will want to see this. You, Leonidas, stay here to guard the bodies until the Solamnics come.”

“What are you going to do?”

There was a heavy intake of breath. “Tell Iyesta.”

Like a frog in a pond that has risen for a quick look, Linsha’s consciousness slid slowly back under the depths. The voices went on around her unheeded.

Some time later a louder, more persistent noise finally penetrated the heavy gloom in Linsha’s mind. Hooves, most of them shod with iron, clattered up the road in a rapid staccato that cut through the bonds of her unconscious sleep. She woke slowly, one layer of thought at a time, while the sounds around her increased and became more demanding.

Horses pounded around her and wagon wheels groaned to a stop somewhere close by. Voices intruded into her awareness.

“They’re over here, sir,” she heard someone call.

Leonidas. The name swam out of the depths. She knew him. She tried to open her eyes, but a weight pressed down on her face.

“Holy gods,” said a voice close by in a cool tone that belied the emotion of the words.

Another name surfaced from the muddy waters of her mind—Remmik.

“Are they all here? What happened? What evidence have you found?” The questions shot out like arrows, fast and pointed.

Linsha felt irritation hit her like a bucket of cold water. The unfeeling bastard. There were dead around somewhere. How dare he use that tone. The curiosity that failed to rise inside her before came welling up, bringing her mind awake and filling her muscles like a tonic. She realized the weight on her face was her own arm. It felt as unwieldy as a log, but she managed to pull it off her eyes.

“She moved!” Leonidas yelled. “Sir Remmik, she’s still alive!”

Hooves clopped on the ground by her head and gentle hands lifted her arm off her face. She stirred and tried to open both eyes. Only one would open, and it was too much. Bright morning sun bore into her vision; pain hammered into her head. The ground rocked underneath her, and nausea spread through her belly. She curled into a ball and moaned.

“Is she injured? Is she bleeding?” she heard Sir Remmik demand to know in a tone that was more irritated than solicitous.

Is she dead? Is she rotting? Linsha’s thoughts added perversely. Never had she hated that man so much.

“She has a head injury,” Leonidas replied. “I can’t tell if she’s wounded anywhere else.”

“Then get her away from Sir Morrec’s body. And leave that dagger. I want it for evidence.”

Through her misery, the words penetrated her mind like a knife. Sir Morrec’s body? Was he dead? And what dagger? She tried to remember what happened before her head exploded, but it was so hazy all she could recall was rain and darkness and thunder.

Several people put their hands under her head, shoulders, and knees and carried her to a patch of shade at the side of a tumbled wall. A cloak was laid down for her, and she was left to recover her senses while the new arrivals set to work. Like an appointed guardian, Leonidas brought her water and placed himself beside her.

Linsha lay still and mustered her strength. Slowly she turned her mind away from the light and the noise and concentrated on the keening throb in her head. She did not have enough strength or mystic talent to heal the damage to her skull completely, but she could use the magic power within her to ease the pain and settle the sickening queasiness and the lightheaded dizziness of shock.

The pain gradually receded, and as it loosened its iron grip on her mind, a few memories slowly filtered into place. She now knew who she was and where she was. Only the details of the night in the storm remained maddeningly vague.

Linsha slowly sat up, grunting with pain. She could not yet open one eye, hut now her questing fingers found a gash and a massive swelling above her right eye. Blood caked over her eyelid and the side of her face. She sighed and slumped on the cloak, too weak to try to clean her face. Her clothes were wet and clammy. Her auburn curls lay flat, plastered down by blood and mud. An odd acrid taste lingered in her mouth.

“I am pleased you are still alive,” the young centaur said hesitantly.

She glanced up at his earnest face. She could not think properly, could not put patterns together. Memory, imagination, and reality went back and forth and made no clear sense. Yes, she remembered riding out of Iyesta’s lair with Sir Morrec and the escort, but what happened after that? Why was Leonidas here? She rubbed her arms and finally formulated an answer. “Thank you.”

She said nothing more, only sat and stared and tried to think. As she watched the activity around her, the words spoken in her twilight sleep came back to her. It wasn’t the storm that killed them. She sat up a little straighter and grew more alert.

Sir Remmik sat on a horse about ten paces away, supervising the removal of the bodies. The bodies. Oh, gods, no. Linsha’s thoughts clutched at that painful reality. A squad of eight Knights had brought a wagon and some litters. Silently, they laid out the bodies of their fallen comrades, wrapped them in canvas, and laid them gently in the wagon. The rigidity of the body that usually occurred right after death had already begun to recede in the heat of the new day, making their job somewhat easier.

Linsha watched this process for several minutes until they came to the last body. When they turned him over, her vision blurred and her head sank to her knees. It was Sir Morrec.

The old Knight lay sprawled on his stomach, his sword near his hand, and his uniform still soaked with rain. The hilt of a dagger protruded from his back.

“Get that dagger out and give it to me,” ordered Sir Remmik. “I want all of you to witness where it was found.”

Silently, and without looking at Linsha, a Knight pulled the dagger out of the dead man’s back and handed it to Sir Remmik. He wrapped it in a piece of cloth and put it carefully in a saddlebag, while the Knights wrapped Sir Morrec and placed him atop the pile of bodies.

“Now, if you’re finished, Sir Hugh, you will place Rose Knight Majere under arrest and escort her back to the Citadel. She is to be placed in the cells until her trial.”

Leonidas stamped a hoof hard on the ground. “What?” he cried. “On trial? For what?”

Sir Remmik at least had the decency to look pained. “I intend to charge her with murder and treason. At the very least she should be imprisoned for dereliction of duty.”

The other Knights looked astounded. Only Linsha, still sitting on the ground, bowed her head. She was not surprised. In Remmik’s place, she would have done the same. She had recognized the dagger the moment Sir Hugh pulled it from the commander’s body, and her heart sank to her knees. Surely it wasn’t possible that she had killed Sir Morrec. She stared down at her hands and saw the rain had washed them clean. There was no blood to incriminate her, and the blood on her clothes was her own. But, unbidden came an image to her mind of a black, faceless figure moving toward her with a sword. Could it have been?

Linsha shut her thoughts off. She could not remember what had happened clearly enough to prove her innocence. Probably nothing would prove her innocence to Sir Remmik’s mind, but she felt too sick and befuddled to argue with him at this moment.

The same could not be said for the buckskin centaur. He barged forward, full of zeal, and pushed up against Sir Remmik’s horse. “Did you take a close look at this scene? Your Knights were attacked! Don’t you want to know who did this? Don’t you want to start looking for the culprits? It’s obvious the Lady Knight was attacked, too. Their attacker probably took her dagger and killed Sir Morrec. There are no other bodies here. Don’t you find that suspicious? Why waste your time on punishing your own Knights?”

The new commander of the Solamnic Knights leveled a disdainful glare on the centaur. “I do not consider it a waste to uphold the honor and justice of the Order. A grave crime has been committed here, and I will not allow the culprit to escape punishment. Not this time. We will conduct our own investigation. Now back off. Sir Hugh, do your duty.”

The younger Knight stared at his commander, then looked doubtfully at the Rose Knight. The reluctance was plain on his face as he climbed down from the wagon and moved to obey.

Linsha forestalled him by tottering to her feet. She wanted to stand alone and walk to the wagon, but the ground developed a nasty wave, rocking and heaving beneath her feet. She would have fallen if Leonidas hadn’t hurried to her side and caught her arm. Sick and shivering in her wet clothes, she leaned against his warm side and tried not to pass out again.

Leonidas exchanged a look with the second centaur and tilted his head toward the west, the direction of Iyesta’s lair. The other centaur indicated his understanding with a brief nod and left. No one tried to stop him.

“If the commander will allow me,” Leonidas said, his disapproval still radiating in his eyes, “I will carry his prisoner back to the Citadel. She cannot yet walk unaided.”

Sir Remmik paused, torn between the desire to drag her back on foot or the need to make her sit on the wagon with the bodies. Finally common sense prevailed. It was obvious she could not make it as far as the Citadel on her own feet.

“Do I have your word you will not try to carry her off?” he growled. “If you try, I will have my Knights shoot you.”

Leonidas touched his left shoulder with his right hand in the salute of the centaur militia. “My word.”

“If you insist,” Remmik said. “Take a place behind the wagon.” He wheeled his horse away from the centaur to face the other Knights. “Mount up!”

While the Knights mounted and formed a column behind the wagon, Leonidas helped Linsha onto his back. She clutched the mane on his withers and tried not to let her head sink onto his shoulder “Thank you,” she said quietly. “You are an unexpected ally.”

The centaur readjusted his bow and quiver across his back so they did not interfere with Linsha’s face. “You could have pressed charges against me for shooting at you,” he said equally as quietly. “Uncle expected you to. But you didn’t. I owe you. Besides, this is a travesty. It is obvious you were attacked.”

“But I don’t remember,” she murmured, her voice dangerously close to tears. “What if I did kill Sir Morrec? The storm was so…” Her words trailed off.

“I can’t believe you would do such a thing,” he said forcefully. “You are too experienced to make a mistake like that.”

“You give me much credit.”

“Why doesn’t your commander?”

“He wants me to be guilty.”

The buckskin was so surprised by her remark that he could not think of anything to say. He suddenly noticed the Solamnics were waiting for him and hurried into place, his expression thunderous.

At Sir Remmik’s command, the procession began the slow, sad ride back through the Missing City. Linsha paid little attention at first. She still felt groggy and queasy, and all she could think about was lying down again. Even in a cell. At least a cell would be dark and quiet.

But after a while, Leonidas, worried about her silence, whispered, “Have you noticed?”

She lifted her head, opened her eyes, and looked around, getting ready to say, “Noticed what?” Then the truth hit her and surprise nearly knocked her off the centaur’s back. The procession was nearing the Artisans’ District where many new houses and shops had been built in the manner of Gal Tra’kalas. The phantom images of the elven town had always been lively here with busy streets, populated homes, and lovely gardens. Now those images were gone, totally erased. There was nothing. No elf, no building, no animal, no flower left of Gal Tra’kalas. As far as Linsha could see there were only the real buildings of wood and stone and mortar.

“What happened?”

The centaur waved his hands. “We don’t know. We found it this way when we came out after the storm. It’s as if that tempest Mew the Missing City away. It is truly missing now.”

“What did Iyesta say?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t seen her. Uncle took us out as soon as the storm blew over to help where we could.” He grimaced. “The city is in a shambles. The harbor is worse. It was struck by wind and waves. The docks are gone, most of the ships are sunk, and the waves washed out many of the buildings in the first row along the waterfront. The Legion is down there now trying to find survivors.”

Linsha noted a faint overtone of disapproval in the one omission he made. “And where are the Solamnics?”

“Some of them are here. The rest are in their Citadel.”

Angry now, and deeply worried, Linsha forced herself to concentrate on the city around her. Without its ghostly sister city, the houses and buildings looked strangely naked. The people who moved about the streets seemed confused and disconcerted.

Leonidas was right. The town was in a shambles. The wind and rain had pounded the buildings. The stone edifices had fared better than those made of wood, but everywhere Linsha looked she saw roofs ripped off, walls collapsed, trees felled, debris blown in heaps against fences, and shutters and awnings torn from their supports. Lightning had struck several places, starting fires despite the torrential rains, while the rains had eroded the roads, washed out gardens, and left pools of muddy water lying in every depression. When the Solamnics passed the open air market, Linsha saw not a single stall or awning had been left standing. Merchants and tradesmen milled around the marketplace trying to sort through the mess.

In fact, the closer she looked, the more people Linsha recognized who were outside trying to help clean up the aftermath of the storm and help those who were injured. She looked everywhere for a familiar Solamnic face and saw none. Only the Knights with her had apparently come out into the city.

Linsha felt her face grow hot. Surely Sir Remmik wouldn’t be that thickheaded. She turned her head and saw Sir Hugh riding behind her. “Where are the other Knights?” she asked, her voice intentionally unaggressive.

Sir Hugh was a well-made man, compact, muscular and erect. He had newly reached the rank of Knight of the Sword and was still learning its fit. He glanced at the others around him before he answered. They didn’t look any more pleased than he to his answer. “They are in the Citadel. Sir Remmik called an emergency and ordered everyone in.”

“You mean he did not allow anyone out to help in the city? Leonidas says the harbor district was badly damaged. The Legion is there!”

“We know,” another Knight said quietly. He said nothing more, but Linsha could see his jaw grinding.

“And all of you went along with him?” Linsha could hear her voice rising in angry disbelief, but in truth she could not fault their actions. Most of the Knights in the circle were young and deeply loyal to Sir Remmik. Many respected him to the point of awe, for they only saw his authority and his ability to organize a fighting unit. Very few on the receiving of his ire and dislike stayed long in the Missing City. Linsha had been the exception because of her rank.

“He is the commander now,” Hugh pointed out. “The Measure states we must obey him when the safety of the unit is at stake.”

“And the Oath you took swore you to sacrifice all for the sake of honor!” Linsha nearly shouted. “What honor is there in hiding behind a castle door?”

“Silence!” Sir Remmik’s voice boomed over her question. “You are charged with crimes against the Order. You have lost all right to question the validity of honor.”

“Lost all right!” she shouted back, totally outraged, and the sudden outburst nearly made her black out again. She stopped, took a deep breath, and went on. “It is my duty to defend my honor and the honor of our unit. You want to throw me in the cells, then do it. I will defend myself in council. But you have no right to shut up these Knights behind your fancy walls when the people of the city need their help!”

A few murmurs of agreement echoed her last words.

Sir Remmik’s veneer cracked. It had been a long and harrowing night for him, and his usual cool demeanor had been stretched too far. He wrenched his horse around and, drawing his sword, charged down on the centaur and Linsha. Leonidas leaped back, whipped his bow off his back, and had an arrow nocked in the time it took Sir Remmik to urge his horse forward. The two stood there, breathing heavily, their weapons trained on each other.

“She maybe your prisoner,” said Leonidas, “but she is my rider and in my protection. I could shoot you before you could twitch that blade.”

“And my Knights will kill you,” Sir Remmik snarled.

Linsha glanced sideways and saw the truth of that. Every Knight behind them had their bows lined up on the centaur and herself. She muttered a curse under her breath.

People in the streets stared at the strange actions of the Solamnic Knights and quickly moved out of arrow range.

“Sir Remmik,” she said in a calming tone of voice. “I will be silent. Please put your sword down. You have accused me, but there is no justice in an execution without a trial. You were not present at the attack and you have no eyewitness. If you kill me without proving your accusations against me, you could be charged with dishonor and murder.”

The argument, as Linsha hoped, struck home. Sir Remmik’s belief in the justice of the Order would not allow him to kill another Knight until a sentence of execution had been handed down. He made a visible effort to bring himself under control and lower his weapon.

When the Knight commander’s blade dropped, Leonidas lowered his bow and returned the arrow to the quiver. The Knights, too, lowered their weapons and a silent sigh of relief fluttered through the ranks. Without speaking, they continued the procession through the battered streets.

They took a more northerly route through the district and passed through the city wall north of the Citadel. It wasn’t until they reached the hill where the fortress reared above the bluffs and sand dunes that Linsha caught her first glimpse of the storm damage to Mirage. Her eyes grew wide. Leonidas’s description of the ruined waterfront hardly began to convey the widespread destruction caused by wind and waves and storm surge. The great storm had battered the streets of the Missing City, but it had leveled the first two rows of buildings along the harbor and sunk every ship at anchor in the water. The two piers had vanished, and the docks where the goods were unloaded from the freighters were so many piles of scrap wood mingled with the remains of ships and the floating debris of warehouses, taverns, and shops.

Linsha noticed many people down along the waterfront working among the heaps of flotsam and broken buildings. It angered her anew to know none of those people trying to help were Knights of Solamnia. Sir Morrec’s soul would be having fits of rage. She bit her tongue to stay quiet for fear of angering Sir Remmik all over again. Surely some of the other Knights would recognize the flagrant breach of service to one’s community and try to convince their new commander to relax his stance.

The escort reached the gates of the Citadel to the mournful call of a horn blowing a dirge for the dead Knights from the high parapet. The entire garrison had turned out to meet the wagon, and they stood silently watching as the dead were carried into the fortress.

Leonidas stopped at the first gate, forcing the Knights behind him to stop as well. Ignoring them, he helped Linsha to the ground.

“Make sure Iyesta knows, please?” she asked, her green eyes boring into his.

“I will tell the Legion what is happening, as well. You have friends who will not allow this.”

She nodded once and stepped back, allowing him to pass, relieved that her earlier assessment of his abilities were proving to be true. Under his gangly exterior was an intelligent and determined young centaur.

Turning his back to the Citadel, Leonidas cantered down the hill and sped away westward.

Linsha took a deep breath and strode into the castle. A few minutes later she was taken to the cells beneath the gatehouse. The new prison level had been recently completed and consisted only of six small rooms carved out of the bedrock and joined by a single corridor. The newest prisoner was placed in the smallest, darkest cell available, and since there was no one else in the prison level at the moment, there were several to choose from. At that moment, Linsha would not have cared if an entire tribe of kender was in there with her. When the cell door clanged shut, she sank to the hard shelf that passed for a bed, rolled over onto her back, and fell into a deep sleep.