Siege of Stone

CHAPTER 77

Prelate Verna and her companions stared in disbelief at the vast army encamped in front of Ildakar. Renn groaned, “A handful of us can’t do anything against that.” He hid behind a tree and seemed to be holding himself back. “I looked out upon that stone army for so many centuries, but I never expected them to be a threat again.”

“Our avalanche took care of thousands of them,” Zimmer said. “But from what I see down there, I doubt General Utros would even notice the loss of that expeditionary force.”

Scanning the ancient army, the burn scars on the hills, the damage done to the plain, Verna tried to imagine what had happened here. “The city fought hard against them, that’s for certain. And it looks like they have had some success.”

Captain Trevor looked pale and distraught. “We need to get inside Ildakar and find out what’s happened.”

General Zimmer heaved a great breath. “I know you want to make your way back to the city, but unless you can find a way for us to fly, wizard, we will not get through that army. Is your gift that strong?”

Renn scratched the beard stubble on his cheeks. “No.”

The gray drizzle and the clouds overhead muted the details, though the sun struggled to come out. As they watched, Verna saw the distant gates of Ildakar open, and six separate groups of fighters, like individual strike forces, rode outward in a brash and foolish sortie. “Look, they’re launching an attack.”

“Such small strike forces! Are those all the defenses Ildakar has left?” Renn said in disbelief. “They will be like tiny darts against a bull yaxen.”

They all watched the small parties race recklessly away from the walls. The six parties galloped in separate directions, heading toward different points. Reacting to this unexpected and unimpressive incursion, the large ancient army began to stir. At the lead of each Ildakaran strike force rode a gifted fighter who called up roaring winds and flashes of lightning, using magic to sweep aside the defensive lines. The six parties rode at full speed, intent on some clear goal.

“That cannot be a full-scale attack,” Zimmer said, crossing his arms over his chest. “Most of the groups are skirting the edge of the big camp, riding the perimeter. Are they trying to get away? It makes no sense.”

“Yes, it does,” Verna said, pointing. “Each of those groups has a specific target. They know where they’re going.”

The six teams galloped at breakneck speed, flailing with swords and magic, clearing away the half-petrified soldiers who closed in to stop them. Verna could tell they were avoiding direct engagement for the sake of speed. Two of the groups rode to the boundary hills along the southern edge of the valley, and two other teams went north, riding along the edge of the blackened grass.

Another strike force circled around and cut through the sparsest part of the camp toward the far end of the valley, where Verna and the others lay hidden. The gifted leader of that group formed a wedge of air, like a plow through the defending soldiers.

The last of the six teams headed straight into the heart of Utros’s army, cutting their way into the thick of the soldiers.

Fierce lightning lanced out from all the groups, striking clustered enemy soldiers, blasting divots in the ground. Verna struggled to understand what they hoped to accomplish.

Oliver and Peretta stood together, staring, and Novice Amber said, “Can’t we do something to help? They don’t even know we’re here.”

Oliver gave a determined nod. “When we called down the avalanche, we all worked together, and look what we achieved.” He looked behind him at the gifted scholars in their party, along with the D’Haran soldiers, the handful of guards from Ildakar, and Verna’s Sisters of the Light. “We can do something. We know some spells.”

“But we don’t know what their plan is,” Sister Rhoda pointed out, “or how we can assist them.”

“We know that we should help Ildakar, no matter what,” Peretta said. “We know what side to choose.”

Renn’s voice cracked with dismay. “That’s Ildakar. If we can take action, then we must.”

The strike forces galloping along the northern and southern hills were heading swiftly to some predetermined position. One group on each side of the valley stopped halfway along the boundary hills. The defenders formed a circle around a gifted leader in the center, who began some sort of activity. Other strike forces continued riding even faster along the hills, farther from Ildakar.

The strike force closest to Verna and her hidden companions faced fierce opposition, though. The enemy ranks closed up as they charged forward, blocking the team and curtailing their progress, though they all kept fighting.

“Look, there is our chance! We have to help.” Renn pointed. “We can surprise the enemy from behind. Nobody knows we’re here!”

“Dear spirits, yes.” Verna looked back at Amber, Rhoda, Eldine, and the other Sisters who had followed her from Cliffwall. “We will use our magic now, all of us.”

Their expedition got ready to move, even though the odds were against them. “If we are going to make a difference, we’d better head out.” General Zimmer mounted his warhorse. “Come on!”

Drawing upon his glory as a wizard of Ildakar, Renn swirled his hand in the air, and the thick clouds overhead pooled like an eddy in a gray river. At his summons, rain began to pour heavily out on the battlefield.

As she mounted her horse, Verna directed her comments to the eager apprentices from Cliffwall. “Remember what you learned. We taught you many spells already, and we will need every trick you can think of.”

As they spurred their mounts into motion, Renn shouted in a hoarse voice, “For Ildakar!”

Ahead, the nearby strike force had stalled, surrounded by half-petrified fighters who battered them. The Ildakarans fought furiously, seemingly protected by unusual silken cloaks. The wizard who led the group summoned lightning to blast the enemy ranks, clearing an area and knocking the ancient soldiers back, but it bought him only a small amount of time. He got immediately to work.

The enemy fighters regained strength and pressed forward again toward the trapped strike force, while the defenders made a last stand, encircling the central wizard to give him room to complete his task. He lifted a sack and dribbled a red liquid on the ground, drawing some kind of large pattern.

Utros’s fighters pummeled the defenders, trying to reach the wizard before he completed his work.

“Faster!” Verna said, as they raced forward.

In the downpour, Renn surprised the enemy attackers by blasting lightning from behind them, incinerating twenty of the hardened soldiers. A roar of astonishment swept through the ranks as they turned to face the unexpected attack from the rear.

Verna leaned forward, grasping the horse’s mane with one hand while clenching her other into a fist and pounding the air in front of her. Her magic sent a rumble of wind that slammed into the enemy line surrounding the trapped strike force. Amber and the other six Sisters used the same magic, blowing the stiff warriors out of their way.

The wizard at the center of the strike force did not fight back with his own magic, did not break his concentration as he painted an intricate design on the ground. He had long grayish-yellow hair that hung in a thick braid at the side of his head, and he worked swiftly, ignoring the bedlam all around him. Verna realized that he must be making some kind of spell-form with the red paint.

Renn called as he rode forward, “That man looks like Oron, using magic to shield it from the rain, a wizard from the skinners’ guild!”

All eight Sisters of the Light blasted with more wind. Verna released a jagged bolt of lightning that vaporized a tall warrior in leather armor. General Zimmer rode hard with his sword raised, as did the D’Haran soldiers behind him. Captain Trevor and the city guards kept up, flushed and determined to fight as well. They crashed through the besiegers around the strike team.

“We will help you, Oron!” Renn yelled.

Despite the mayhem all around her, Verna saw that the other strike forces had formed pitched battles at generally equidistant points around the hills, like a loop that enclosed nearly a quarter of the ancient army. Verna still didn’t know what they were doing, but the groups anchored themselves and fought hard to allow their gifted commander to create a spell-form on the ground, similar to what Oron was doing.

The protectors around Oron fell back in a last desperate defense, but the Cliffwall expedition crashed into the enemy soldiers, scattering them and giving the wizard all the room he needed. Verna and Renn rushed up to him. The rune drawn on the ground was unlike anything Verna had ever seen.

“That looks like transference magic,” Renn said.

Oron squeezed the last droplets of red on the trampled dirt and finished his pattern. He looked up, his face serious, showing no surprise or welcome. “Renn, it is about time you came back. We need more wizards to help in the fight.”

“I brought these others with me. They can help, too.”

Exhausted, Oron looked at the design on the ground and spread his palms above it, as if warming his hands over a fire. He pressed down, meeting some invisible resistance, and a shimmering transparent glow covered the paint. “There, the rune is preserved and intact, and Utros will not be able to damage it until Elsa can finish her work.” He swiped perspiration from his forehead. “If her plan succeeds, we might not need another army of our own.”

He glanced around the valley and saw the other strike forces also completing their work. He quickly explained about the five squads, each led by a gifted noble, like himself. “The teams are each laying down a boundary rune, while Elsa and the wizard Nathan are pushing into the heart of the camp, where Elsa herself will anchor the transference magic and then trigger it. We might destroy a significant portion of the enemy army.”

“All the more reason for us to help,” Renn said.

Oron jabbed his hand toward the sky and released a bright fireball that rocketed higher and higher, like a flare. “Now they know my rune is in place.” Thousands more enemy soldiers began to close in, rebounding from the unexpected attack. Oron tossed his thick yellow braid over his shoulder. “I would like to live long enough to see the effect.”

By the time Bannon and Lila rushed back to the bluff’s edge, the first five Norukai ships had slammed against the docks below. Bannon ground his teeth together. “I can smell them from here. They stink of blood, pain, and ugliness.”

Lila flashed him a grin. “I would have enjoyed killing them regardless, but if you tell me there is even more reason to hate them, I will enjoy the fight all the more.”

The raiders threw ropes, tied their serpent ships to the pier at the base of the bluff, and swarmed off the decks. The river behind the hideous fighters was crowded with serpent ships, all converging on Ildakar.

On the cliff face, more than a hundred city fighters appeared at the openings of various access tunnels, holding weapons ready to defend against the assault from the river. As he stood at the opening, Bannon glanced at the intricate transference rune he had helped paint on the sheer stone. Above, on top of the bluff, though, he didn’t see the duma members he expected. “Where are Damon and Quentin? They should be here fighting! We need their magic.”

The Norukai began swarming up the platforms and carved stone steps like a line of army ants. Beside him, Lila had a short sword and a dagger, but she slid both weapons back into their sheaths at her side. “I will fight with those later.”

Instead, she picked up a barrel of flour from among the supplies stored in the tunnel and hurled it straight down. The cask crashed into two of the Norukai climbing the lower steps, knocking them both loose. Blood sprayed from their broken heads mixed with the cloud of white flour, and they tumbled down the bluff, knocking down other raiders who climbed behind them. Bannon liked the idea and did the same, tossing a small cask down to smash more Norukai.

In the other tunnels the Ildakaran fighters did likewise, grabbing sacks, rocks, even a crate of old fish that they dumped down the bluff face, pelting the oncoming Norukai. But raiders continued to swarm up from their ships, ignoring their losses as they climbed the cliff.

At last, waves of magic from above whooshed down the sandstone wall with a snap and a shudder. Bannon craned his neck and saw several figures in silken robes unleashing their gift from the top of the bluff.

“Now we have some help,” Lila said.

The docks anchored at the river’s edge disengaged from the rock, making the lashed serpent ships grind together, their hulls creaking. With an outcry of dismay, the Norukai still on the decks clambered over one another, some diving into the river as their ships shifted.

But the Norukai kept coming. More raiding vessels crashed together, clogging the river, piling up until the raiders tied their hulls together to form a boarding ramp and they ran from ship to ship to reach the cliff face.

The wizards on top of the bluff released more magic, and spouts of water thundered out of the cliff face. Drainage from the streets and sewers gushed out upon the swarming Norukai. Although the cliff was already wet from the morning’s rain, the effluent drenched the attackers.

Bannon lugged a heavy barrel over to the opening. “Sweet Sea Mother, is this thing full of rocks?” He only cared that it was heavy. With a lurch, he tossed the barrel out the opening and watched it tumble and smash into one of the platforms far below just as the Norukai tried to climb up.

Lila seemed to be enjoying herself. “Let us each do that a hundred more times. Even so, we may still have to face the rest of the Norukai with our swords.” She grinned at him. “Then the real fun will start.”

Thora rose to her feet inside her dungeon cell as the heavy door crashed open. Quentin and Damon stood there, sweating and terrified. “It is time, Sovrena! If we don’t work the blood magic now, Ildakar will surely fall.”

“Has General Utros breached the wall?”

“The other duma members are out battling his forces now, trying to implement Elsa’s transference magic,” Quentin said.

Damon interrupted, “And a Norukai attack fleet just arrived on the river! Fifty serpent ships and thousands of raiders are attempting to breach the city through the bluffs. We cannot survive both attacks.”

Thora raised her eyebrows. “So, you have decided to raise the shroud once and for all?”

Quentin nodded quickly. “It has to be now. Any duma members who would speak out against the action are on the battlefield, and Nicci is still gone. That means we can make this happen, if we move quickly. We have to do something before Ildakar falls.”

Damon clasped his hands together. “Please, Sovrena, we need your help. You are the most skilled at bloodworking. You’ve raised the shroud before.”

“I promised I would help,” she said, moving toward the doorway.

Quentin hurried her along. “We have already dispatched guard teams throughout the city. They have the names of volunteers and will round them up.”

Damon added, “Along with the provisional lists.”

Galvanized, Thora followed them at a brisk pace through the stone-walled corridors, following the bright torches that lit the way. “It is a sacrifice we must make to save Ildakar. Those brave volunteers will rescue us.”

“Eight hundred are being brought now,” Damon said as they ran along the corridors.

“We will need at least a thousand for a bloodworking of this magnitude,” Thora said. “And nobles, if you can find them. Gifted blood is powerful. That would decrease the number necessary.”

“But the ungifted are easier to catch and kill,” Quentin said. “The guards are gathering great numbers of candidates. Since the murder of High Captain Stuart, they have grown much more bloodthirsty.”

They passed under the stone archway and emerged into the open outside air. Thora looked up into the gray sky and scanned across the top of the plateau. “The pyramid is destroyed. Where will we perform the magic?”

“We don’t need the pyramid,” Damon said. “We just need the spell-forms and the apparatus.”

“And the blood,” Quentin said. “We had to find a place that could hold so many people.”

The city was in a panic as word of the Norukai invasion spread. Citizens ran through the streets, some rushing for shelter, others grabbing weapons and racing toward the bluffs to help fight the raiders. Soldiers ran to defend the main gates and the outer walls in case General Utros should retaliate in response to the strike teams outside.

When Thora saw where the two wizards were leading her, she was pleased. Quentin and Damon took her through the high entrance to the huge combat arena. A buzz of frightened conversation echoed among the large crowds that had already been herded here. City guards roughly rushed people through the entrances, deaf to their pleading. Many of the men and women were weeping, while others walked in a daze. One older couple stared ahead and held hands, walking with grace as they willingly entered the sacrificial arena.

Inside on the combat field, Thora saw that Damon had re-created the silver crucible, the metal channels and troughs to hold the blood, the great mirrors that reflected the wan sunlight and directed it toward rotating prisms of quartz. Across the raked fighting field, Quentin had drawn the complete spell-form.

“It is just waiting for all the blood it needs,” Damon said.

As more and more people were herded into the arena waiting to die, Thora nodded. “We should start immediately.”