The Sentinel

CHAPTER 12

As the caravan continued onward, Arietta and Joelle rode side by side, talking steadily in an attempt to keep Joelle’s mind off her pain. They discussed men, Kleef and his code, the difference between romance and love, their lives before the world went mad. The longer they conversed, the more Arietta enjoyed Joelle’s company, and it was not long before she realized she had never met anyone quite so open and willing to share her true feelings as the heartwarder.

Eventually, the conversation turned to how they had become Chosen, and Joelle revealed that she had become a Sune worshiper only after a threat against her beauty prompted her to offer a rather large tithe to the Firehair Church. Arietta confessed that she found most noblemen unworthy of her affections and had deliberately sabotaged her father’s efforts to arrange a suitable marriage for her. It was not something she had ever admitted before, even to her maid Odelia, and Arietta began to understand what it was to have a true confidante, someone with whom she could share her most intimate feelings.

The only damper on their growing friendship was Malik, who often came forward to intrude on the conversation. His remarks were cutting toward Joelle and resentful of Arietta, and he soon became an angry presence smoldering just out of earshot behind them. His behavior was at least partially a reaction to Arietta’s harsh words earlier, but she knew his hostility went deeper than that. Aboard the Lonely Roamer, Malik had made it clear he didn’t want anyone else competing with him for Joelle’s attention-and apparently that included women.

After a few hours, the caravan finally left the road to make camp atop a nearby butte. Littered with loose boulders and ringed on three sides by hundred-foot cliffs, it was a good place to regroup. While Kleef and the rest of the guards prepared their defenses, Arietta helped Joelle dig the arrow out of her leg and cleansed the wound.

The two women passed the night sleeping side by side in the open, and the next morning the caravan woke to find the butte surrounded by thousands of orcs. Faroz ordered the column to form up anyway, then had his wizards unleash a barrage of spells that rained sheets of fire and stone down on the orcs’ heads. The horde fled in disarray, leaving half their number lying dead in the field behind them.

The caravan returned to the road and continued on its way toward Ormpetarr. That night, it made camp behind a circular thorn hedge raised by the eladrin traveling with the caravan-and the companions spent half the night listening to orcs being strangled to death by blood-sucking vines. The night after that, the caravan slept inside a ring of mud created by Faroz’s wizards, and they had to endure an endless chorus of panicked squeals and snorts as the orcs tried different methods of sneaking across the moat.

On the fourth night after crossing the River Arrabar, the caravan made camp at the edge of the Chondalwood, inside the ruins of an ancient hilltop fortress. The citadel stood on a tor so high that anyone peering over its eastern walls found themselves looking at the forest canopy from above. A well in the courtyard still supplied clean sweet water, though its shaft was so deep that bringing a bucket of water up required several minutes of cranking the winch.

It was an hour after dark, and Arietta was changing the bandage on Joelle’s arrow wound while Malik sat in front of the horse line, drinking tea by moonlight and glowering at them across a small campfire. Kleef was inside the doorless tent, trying to get some sleep before he took command of the late watch. He did not seem to be resting very well, as he was thrashing around in the throes of yet another nightmare, grunting and growling as though locked in a wrestling match. Finally, he gave an incoherent bellow and rolled up against the tent wall, where he lay mumbling and flailing against the canvas.

Joelle glanced at him and said, “It’s worse than usual tonight.”

“Much worse,” Arietta agreed. “But Yder must know by now that Kleef will never break a vow. Why does he keep trying?”

“Because Yder sees what you do not,” Malik said. “Kleef’s greatest weakness is his bitterness, and Shar is the goddess of the embittered. Yder does not wonder if he will turn the oaf to Shar’s service, but only how soon he will succeed.”

Joelle shot him a frown. “That’s a terrible thing to say.”

“There are no truths more dangerous than terrible truths,” Malik said. “Those are the kind no one wishes to see.”

“And just what is it that we don’t see?” Arietta demanded. “Kleef may resent those who turn their backs on their duty, but that doesn’t mean he would ever betray his own vows. Quite the opposite, I assure you.”

“You assure me?” Malik held her eyes just long enough to convey his disdain for her assurances, then said, “Oh, what a relief. I will certainly sleep easier tonight.”

He took a sip of tea and looked into the fire. Arietta finished changing the bandage on Joelle’s leg, and the trio spent the next quarter hour in uneasy silence, watching the flames and listening to Kleef toss and growl in his sleep.

Though Joelle insisted Malik was as dedicated to delivering the Eye of Gruumsh as she was, Arietta could not help thinking that was not entirely true. Malik seemed more interested in keeping the heartwarder to himself than he did in marshaling Kleef’s help to stop Shar. That did not seem like someone who put his mission above all else, and Arietta wondered if the Eye itself could be affecting Malik, making him behave in a way that undermined his own cause.

Arietta was still pondering the question when an alarm horn sounded from the front of the citadel, where the steep road from the plain below ended in a pile of rubble that had once been the citadel’s gatehouse. The caravan did not immediately spring into action, for the events of the last few nights had taught the travelers to trust in Faroz’s defenses. Instead, a vague sense of expectation fell over the courtyard, and the drone of camp conversation quickly faded as all ears waited for a report.

Finally, it came. “Orcs, coming up the hill.”

A gentle murmur spread across the caravan as travelers gathered their shields and weapons. Still, there was no rush to reinforce the gateway, nor even much movement in that direction. If help was needed, the guards would call for it-and if it wasn’t, a bunch of travelers running about would only interfere with the wizards. Arietta strung her bow, then both she and Joelle buckled on their weapon belts. Malik did not even bother to do that much, continuing to sip his tea and leaving his sword on the ground next to him.

No one bothered to wake Kleef. If the watchman was needed, the din of battle would rouse him in plenty of time for the fight.

A long clatter echoed across the courtyard as the wizards sent mounds of rubble tumbling down on the orcs. The sound was followed a few seconds later by a distant chorus of shrieks and groans, and the guards gave a rousing cheer that suggested the assault had already been broken.

If Kleef heard any of it, the only sign he gave was that he began to thrash in his sleep even more wildly.

Then cries rang out over near the well. Arietta rose and looked toward the sound-and found her view blocked by the silhouettes of pack animals and other people. The chime of steel on steel echoed across the courtyard. Human voices shrieked in pain, and she glimpsed stooped figures charging through the moonlight.

“Orcs!” Arietta gasped. “Inside the perimeter.”

“Malik, douse that fire,” Joelle ordered. “And stay close until we figure out what’s happening.”

“We know what is happening,” Malik said. A wet sizzle sounded from the fire, and the smell of steam and ash filled the air. “The brutes have tricked us!”

The well, of course.

Arietta had no way to guess how large a hiding place the orcs had dug inside the well, but she felt certain they could not be climbing out of the narrow shaft more than two at a time. To turn the trap against the brutes, all they had to do was reach the top of the well and hold it.

Kleef yelled something unintelligible, clearly still asleep. Arietta turned to wake him-and saw Joelle already ducking into the tent to do the same.

As soon as Joelle touched his shoulder, he sat up and caught her on his forearm, then hurled her out of the tent. Arietta barely had time to step out of the way before the heartwarder landed beside her and went tumbling.

“Kleef!” Arietta yelled. “Wake up!”

Kleef grabbed his sword and stumbled out of the tent, his eyes vacant and unfocused, his expression blank.

“Over there, you fool!” Malik cried. He was still holding the canvas bucket he’d used to douse the fire, and he swung it toward the well. “Orcs!”

Kleef pulled Watcher from its scabbard-but instead of heading for the well, he stepped toward Malik.

Arietta moved to intercept him. “Kleef-”

“Orcs!” Kleef said, cutting her off. He pointed across the fire pit, then sprang after Malik. “Filthy orcs.”

Malik hurled the bucket at him and turned to flee, but Kleef was already on him. He caught the little man by his collar and raised Watcher. Coming in from the side, Arietta slapped her bow down across his wrist.

The blow did not land hard enough to make Kleef drop his sword-but it did make him glance back at her. “Orcs!” he snarled. “Filthy orcs.”

Arietta did not even see his foot move. She simply felt a huge boot plant itself in her abdomen, then her entire midsection blossomed in pain, and she went flying.

She landed in a breathless heap two paces away. Arietta saw dozens of figures out in the courtyard, their blades rising and falling as they did battle among the neighing pack animals. In the darkness and confusion, it was impossible to tell the orcs from the humans, but she had the sense that the fight was expanding rather than contracting-a sure sign that there were still orcs pouring from the well in the center of the courtyard.

As Arietta struggled to get her breath back, she saw that Joelle had recovered her feet and was on Kleef’s far side, shouting for him to awaken. Malik had squirmed out of his drab robe and was standing in front of the horse line, brandishing his sword and demanding that Kleef return his robe.

“Orcs!” Kleef swung his blade at Malik’s neck. “Filthy orcs!”

Malik threw himself to the ground shrieking, then rolled beneath the horse line and vanished. Before Kleef could pursue, Joelle leaped in front of him, palms raised.

“Kleef, look at me.” She slipped inside his guard, then placed a hand on the wrist of his sword arm. “Do I look like an orc to you?”

Kleef jerked his sword arm free, and Arietta feared for a moment that an orc was exactly what Joelle looked like to him. Arietta rolled to her knees and rose.

Then Joelle flashed one of those radiant smiles of hers, and Kleef squinted like a man looking into a bright sun. His brow furrowed and his gaze came into focus.

“Joelle?” Kleef seemed confused for a moment, then he finally exhaled in relief and displayed the robe he had taken from Malik. “I have it back.”

And that was when the agate on Watcher’s crossguard began to glow. Realizing at once what had happened-that Yder had used Kleef’s dreams to trick him into revealing the location of the Eye-Arietta nocked an arrow and scanned the perimeter of their little campsite.

Dark figures emerged from the gloom inside the tent, from the shadows between the horses, from the murk all around. Arietta chose a target coming up behind Joelle and loosed, then dived to the ground, rolled to a knee, and came up to find a shade splaying his fingers in her direction.

Behind her, Kleef boomed, “Down!”

Arietta hurled herself back to the ground and Kleef stepped over her, bringing Watcher down to intercept a disk of spinning shadow. The disk dissolved into a harmless spray, and a trio of white darts went streaking back in the opposite direction. They buried themselves in the shade’s chest, and before he hit the ground, Joelle leaped in to behead him with her sword.

Kleef caught Arietta beneath the arm and pulled her to her feet, then pressed Malik’s robe into her free hand and pointed after Joelle.

“Go!”

Giving Arietta no time to argue, he spun around and began whipping Watcher back and forth, cleaving shades with every stroke. Though he was too hard-pressed to stop for beheadings, he slowed their charge and gave Arietta time to reach Joelle.

The heartwarder was dancing back and forth between two shades, pivoting and ducking as she struggled to parry their attacks. Arietta used her bow to hook the nearest one’s foot. He whirled on her, bringing his glassy blade around in a sweep that would have removed her head-had she not already been backing out of reach, her bow pulling his front foot from beneath him.

The shade hit the ground with a deep thud, but he remained alert enough to bring his sword back across his body in a clearing sweep. Arietta stepped back, then threw the robe over her shoulder and nocked an arrow. The Shadovar rolled and spun, coming to his knees ready to spring.

Arietta loosed and planted the shaft between his eyes.

By then, she could hear Kleef only a few steps behind her, huffing and grunting as he slowly gave ground. Knowing they were doomed if they did not break free of the ring of shades, Arietta slipped her bow over her shoulder and drew her sword, then stepped in to help Joelle.

They had barely lopped the heads off the fallen shades before they turned to find a pair of steel-blue eyes approaching, moving through the whirling mass of orcs and men without once stepping aside or even pausing to avoid becoming entangled in the battle. The silhouette of a gaunt face soon appeared around the glowing eyes, followed by a tall figure in a murk-swaddled cloak.

Yder.

Arietta started to move into a flanking position, but Joelle put a hand out to stop her. The heartwarder uttered a quick prayer to her goddess, and her long red hair began to emit a faint aura of fiery light. She pointed her sword in Yder’s direction, then started to race toward him.

“Help me!” Joelle called. “Kill that one!”

Sune’s magic carried Joelle’s voice into the ears of their fellow travelers. All at once, dozens of fighters broke from their battle with the orcs and whirled on Yder, assailing him with everything from golden missiles of magic to spiked clubs. The prince vanished behind a wall of attackers, leaving Arietta and Joelle with a clear path to … what? A courtyard filled with angry orcs?

Joelle breathed a sigh of relief, then said, “Let’s take the high ground.”

She pointed to their left, where the moonlit face of the citadel wall loomed above a handful of bustling campsites. Ascending the interior of the wall was the jagged line of a stairway-and the battle with the orcs had not yet spilled into that part of the courtyard.

Arietta nodded and started toward the stairway, which lay about thirty paces ahead. It made her stomach ache to let Kleef bring up the rear alone, but the first priority was protecting the Eye-and that meant she had to get away from the shades.

Before they had taken five steps, a tremendous hiss sounded from Yder’s direction, and his attackers began to shriek and wail. Arietta glanced over to discover that the prince had surrounded himself with a whirling sphere of shadow. A dozen stunned men stood at its perimeter, staring at wisps of shadow where their sword arms used to be, watching in horror as their shoulders melted into shadow and drained into the hissing orb.

Arietta felt Joelle’s hand on the small of her back, urging her to move faster. She raced around a campsite with three tents and a horse line that must have had thirty animals. And then the hiss ended as suddenly as it had begun. When she glanced over, Yder was standing alone in a ten-foot circle of emptiness, his gaze fixed on the last place he had seen his quarry. It did not take long for his eyes to turn in their direction again.

Kleef was still behind Arietta and Joelle, about even with the large campsite, pivoting and spinning as he held four shades at bay. But even he could not be in all places at once, and there were four more shadow warriors circling around the other side of the campsite, racing to catch Arietta and Joelle before they reached the stairwell. Judging by their speed, the shades were likely to succeed.

“We’re not going to make it,” Arietta said. “What now?”

“You return what was stolen from me.” The reply came not from Joelle but from a nasal voice on Arietta’s opposite shoulder. “That is what.”

“Malik?” Arietta turned to find the little man running alongside her, his far hand holding his sword. “Where have you been?”

“Hiding from the thieving oaf who tried to kill me,” Malik snarled. “Where else would I be?”

The three companions were less than ten paces from the stairs-about the same distance as the four Shadovar rushing to cut them off. Malik reached up with his free hand and tried to pull his drab robe off Arietta’s shoulder, but it remained trapped beneath Arietta’s bowstring and would not move. Before she could raise a hand to help, he brought his sword around and slipped the tip beneath the bowstring, clearly intending to cut it.

“No!” Arietta pushed an elbow into the side of his head and sent him stumbling, then pulled the robe from beneath her bowstring. “And don’t you ever turn a sword my way again.”

Arietta tossed the robe to him, then instantly lost sight of him as he dived to the ground and rolled into the shadows at the base of the wall. Seeing that Joelle had already taken a position about three paces from the stairwell, Arietta stopped next to her and turned to face their pursuers-only to discover the shades had changed directions and were already sinking into the shadows behind the nearest horse line.

Kleef, down to just two foes, was standing his ground no more than five paces from Arietta and Joelle. Beyond him, the battle against the orcs seemed to have stabilized, with wizards and mounted caravan guards working the perimeter of the fight, slowly forcing the enemy back toward the well.

Malik was nowhere in sight.

Realizing that the shades did not necessarily need to go through her and Joelle to reach the top of the citadel wall, Arietta spun around and looked up the stairs. Near the top, she saw a line of dark silhouettes emerging from the shadows, then continuing upward toward the top of the wall.

“Joelle, above us!”

Without waiting for a reply, Arietta charged up the stairs. Set into the wall itself, they were steep and narrow, with no handrail to offer support. Still, she managed to climb quickly and was more than halfway up when the fifth shade emerged from the shadows near the top and turned to face her.

A trio of Joelle’s white darts came flashing up from the courtyard below. The shade managed to dodge one and catch two on a shield of shadow. By then, Arietta was on him, hacking at his knees, then driving her sword up into his torso. She angled the tip of her blade toward the citadel interior and sent him plunging into the courtyard below.

“Go!” Joelle called. A wet crunch sounded as she brought her blade down across his neck. “They’re after Malik!”

Arietta nodded, then traded her sword for her bow. She nocked an arrow and, expecting to see a shadow disk flying toward her at any moment, crept the rest of the way up the stairs.

The attack never came, and when she reached the top, it was to find herself alone. The last four shades were moving along the wall in both directions, their glassy swords probing shadows and crannies as they searched for Malik in every conceivable hiding place.

Arietta stepped onto the top of the wall, then crouched in the shadows of the parapet. She heard Joelle’s voice down at the base of the stairs, calling out to Kleef.

When Malik did not reveal himself, Arietta whispered, “Malik?”

Her only reply was the sound of Joelle’s boots pounding up the stairs behind her, and the faint rustle of leaves, coming up from the trees on the other side of the parapet.

Or were they leaves?

Arietta rose high enough to peer over the parapet and found herself looking down on the vast Chondalwood forest. The canopy was perhaps twenty feet below, a billowing blanket of moonlit leaves that came up tight against the base of citadel walls. She saw no sign of niches or crannies in which the little man might hide, but the walls were rough enough that he could have climbed down to conceal himself among the trees.

Arietta leaned over the parapet, then called again, “Malik?”

This time, a soft scoff sounded behind her. Arietta turned to see a gray blur charging toward her, two outstretched hands leading the way.

“Malik!” Arietta let go of her bow and raised an arm to defend herself. “What are you-”

Then he hit her, and Arietta felt herself going over the parapet. She grabbed a handful of coarse wool, then realized it was too late to save herself, that she would only pull her attacker down with her. She tried to open her hand, but her feet were already in the air, Malik already coming down atop her.

“Thief!” he cried. “Harlot!”

They tumbled apart and crashed into the forest canopy, and the last thing Arietta saw before sinking into the leaves was Joelle’s stunned face, peering over the parapet after her.