The Sword Of Midras Part 18

And we are, after all"Karpasic sighed as he lifted his bulk off his enormous chair and added"practical men.

CHAPTER.

22.

The Walls The dawn rose bloodred in the east. The high clouds were bathed in the crimson light, coloring the world below. Beneath it, the Westreach Army of the Obsidian Empire marched with purpose in a wide line of advance across the expansive prairie toward the walls of Opalis.

Aren watched their approach from atop the Long Wall near the Storm Gate Tower. He stood next to Commander Trevan as they watched the approaching army from behind the defensive crenellations. All along the top of the Long Wall stood ranks of the citys longbow archers. Their quivers were situated upright at their feet, filled with arrows, but their enemy was still miles away. There was nothing for them to do but watch their approach with the silent apprehension of the dawn.

Those look like pikemen in the front center of the line, Trevan observed.

They think you have knights or possibly some sort of mounted cavalry. Aren nodded. There will be ranks of foot soldiers behind them, and archers arrayed behind them.

Trevan glanced over at the captain. Anything else you care to tell me?

They will have disbursed their special units in block formations down the line separately from the human warriors, Aren said as he turned his back on the horizon and leaned against the upright stones of the crenellation. The towers of the citadel rose before him, s.h.i.+ning like frozen flames in the morning light. A third of their mounted knights will be positioned at the flanks, with the remainder positioned behind the line. Any heavy siege units they might have will be farther back still. They will sweep around the defensive walls of the city"most likely burning the outlying buildings to the ground"and then settle in for the siege.

Why are you telling me this? Trevan asked.

Aren looked over at the commander. Is there anything youre planning to do about it?

No, Trevan admitted with a rueful smile. How do you know what formations theyll take?

Because they were my idea. Aren nodded in return. How long do you believe you can hold out?

As long as necessary, Trevan said with grim confidence. Word has gone out to the baroness, and she will bring the warriors of Ardoris to our aid. Six weeks until they arrive"perhaps eight. By the time they arrive, your Westreach Army may have lost their appet.i.te for the fight.

I would not count on that, Commander, Aren said. Karpasic believes Opalis to be a treasure city and, by now, so does every captain, knight, warrior, cook, and ratcatcher in his army.

You think hes told them that? Trevan asked.

No, but I would have if I had them at my command. General Karpasic, on the other hand, would have tried to keep that knowledge to a select few, and there is nothing more difficult to maintain in an army than a secret, Aren replied. He s.h.i.+fted his gaze past the citadel to the rooftops and spires of the beautiful city within the walls. Every warrior is persistently aware that their life or their death, their comfort or their misery, their deprivation or satiation can depend upon the whim of a decision made by someone in authority over them. The only means a soldier has of influencing this role of the dice is to know something more than the warrior standing next to him. The trafficking in rumor is a currency on the battlefield more valuable than gold. So, from the moment Karpasic even muttered the words treasure city, talk of it would have spread among his soldiers with the ferocity and speed of a dry gra.s.s fire.

Aren turned back around to face the approaching army. As long as they believe that this wall beneath us is all that stands between them and relief from their pain, they will do anything, endure anything, and sacrifice anything to obtain it.

Then we both have everything to gain, Trevan observed.

And everything to lose, Aren agreed.

It must be difficult for you to see your comrades approaching, Trevan observed.

It is, I will admit, a rather unaccustomed perspective. Aren grinned. I am usually on the outside, trying to force my way in.

Trevan turned from the horizon to face Aren. So why are you still here? Syenna went looking for you last night. Somehow you managed to avoid her entirely.

I was hardly avoiding her. Aren frowned. I wonder that I havent seen her at all. Do you think shes avoiding me?

I rather doubt it. She seemed almost frantic until I told her you were in your cell. Trevan glanced at the captain. She was certain you had left Opalis to join your comrades and welcome them to the city.

Reports of my departure have been greatly exaggerated. Aren sighed as he batted his eyelashes.

So why are you? Trevan pressed.

Why am I what?

Still here?

I told you I wouldnt do anything to harm the city. Aren shrugged. I gave you my word and, by my reckoning, you are safe from me for another, what, five weeks? Of course, if the siege lasts longer than that, you may have to kill me just as a matter of principle. But until then, how could I break my word?

No, thats not it. Trevan shook his head. I know you, Aren.

Aren looked sharply at the commander.

Thats right, Trevan replied. The day you came into the city, I tried to take your sword"that blade of the Avatar. It didnt show me much of you, but it was enough. You thought you knew exactly who you were when you were a captain in the service of the Obsidians, but the sword has opened your eyes.

Well, then let the sword open your eyes instead, Aren snapped. Im tired of it.

Really? Trevan laughed. Tell me, Captain Bennis of the Obsidian Cause, why do you still have the sword? Why havent you just given it away?

Havent you heard? Aren rolled his eyes. The thing is cursed. Theres not much market for a cursed blade.

Trevan shook his head. Then why did not just throw it away or toss it over the side of the s.h.i.+p when you crossed the bay?

I was doing plenty of tossing on the s.h.i.+p, Aren advised him with a chuckle.

But you still kept the sword, Trevan persisted. No one, including the blade, is forcing you to keep it. If you really wanted to, you would long ago be rid of it. So what is it? Why do you keep it?

Your eyes are open too, Aren sneered. You tell me.

Because now youve seen things, know things, Trevan said, gazing back toward the horizon. Why do you think I let you wander my city? I knew you would see my city in ways you had never seen any city among all your miserable conquests ever before. And now you can no longer pretend you are blind anymore.

Well, even a blind man could see that you wont be able to hold anything outside the walls, Aren said, changing the subject. Did you evacuate Brambletown?

The last of the caravans left for the west this morning. Trevan nodded. Those that didnt leave with them have all come in the gates. Well be closing those soon. I can only hope well be able to open them again not that many days from now.

Aren turned his back again to the horizon, his eyes falling down past the rooftops below him to the long and crowded arc of Muse Way.

All this time youve been at my heels, and now I can no longer feel the breath of your pursuit at my neck, Aren thought. Where are you, Syenna?

I am sorry, s.h.i.+eldmaiden, Lanilan Stranthas said with an exasperated sigh. I just cant help you.

But there has to be something, Syenna urged, her voice in a near panic. Something you can tell me, someplace you can send me that can give me an answer!

There are no answers, the loremistress replied. She spread her hands wide over her research table, gesturing to the stacks of books and jumble of scrolls on its surface. This is all it every reference I have plus everything from the t.i.tans own libraries related to transformational magic. Ive even researched a number of religious texts and some of the formulas weve been transcribing from the cloaks of the Obsidians we have managed to kill. Look, over here Lanilan guided Syenna by the arm to the end of the table. These are the Scrolls of Merkin, the most complete collection of his reflections on sorcery remaining today. They detail so much about how sorcerers, wizards, and conjurors functioned in the days before the Fall, even though the Fall predated Merkin by over one hundred years. The problem is that the magic he describes no longer works the way it once did. The Fall caused such a fundamental change in the makeup of the world, that magic as it was practiced in that time is practically useless. Oh, here and there may be some principles that are still functional, but the shattering of the moon and the fall of the Shards ended the ways of magic as it was practiced then. New magic sprang from the world, but it was wild, untamed, and worked completely differently on a fundamental level. This"she pushed Syenna farther back down the table and pointed toward a thick book"this is the Codex Sublima"perhaps the only one of its kind outside of the vaults of the Obsidian fortress at Desolis"and its spells, incantations, and transformations are so filled with contradictory notes and corrections as to be nearly useless. The Obsidians, it appears, have only a marginally better understanding of their magic than we do. Worse, there is nothing in it describing basic functioning sorcery as practiced by the Obsidians. It is as though everyone who was to read this book already would and should have a working knowledge about sorcery before it would even begin to make sense.

But the letters, Syenna urged. You said the correspondence from the woman in Port Crucible"

The Epistles of Arabella? Lanilan sighed. Yes, I read those as well. The nature of the magic that was performed on her was different than that suffered by your sister.

But she was a subject of the transformations, Syenna said quickly. You said her account might have given us some clue as to how the Obsidians went about their magical experiments.

Much of what the woman writes is the random gibberish of a fevered mind, Lanilan said, shaking her head. It doesnt tell us anything that can tell you about what happened to your sister, let alone how to change it.

But there must be something, Syenna whimpered. Something youve overlooked Im sorry"truly sorry, s.h.i.+eldmaiden"but Ive explored every avenue available to me, the loremistress said quietly. Only the Obsidians know what they did to your sister. They are the only ones who might know how to undo it but from what Ive read, Im not even convinced that they understand their own sorcery that well. Even if they could, how would you ever convince a sorcerer to help you?

No! Syenna screamed in agony, tears of frustration forced from her eyes to streak down her cheeks. Theres got to be another way! Youve got to offer me another way!

The loremistress looked at Syenna, shaking her head sadly. Another way? Another way to to what? Change the past? Rewrite what has already been written? What other possible way is there?

But Syenna was already running out of the Athenaeum doors.

The smoke from the raging fires of what had been Brambletown drifted in heavy patches across the top of the city wall. Aren had followed Trevan over the Storm Gate to the South Wall as they had observed the fires being set in Brambletown. They had moved down the line of defenders on the wall until they were situated between the pair of towers overlooking the Jaana River below.

There, they had spent the day watching the outer town burn to the ground. Now it was evening, judging by the fading light beyond the pall of smoke. The Westreach Army was moving along the opposite side of the river and burning the ramshackle town as they moved. Aren and Trevan could no longer see the army through the smoke, but Aren was certain they had reached the Harvest Bridge southwest of the Fields Gate by now and would have completed the encirclement of the town by joining with the forces that Karpasic had ordered to surround the town on the northern side.

Aren held the corner of his cloak across his mouth, trying to keep the occasional dark cloud from choking his lungs. It was difficult to see through the smoke to the approaches to the base of the wall below, but it was essential for the defense of the city.

The defense of the city. Arens laughter at his own thoughts was punctuated by coughing. If I do see Karpasics warriors charging the wall, am I supposed to raise the alarm or join them?

It troubled him that he could not answer the question easily. He knew his duty to the empire, and he truly believed that the Obsidians were a force of law in a lawless world. The order the Obsidian Cause was bringing to lands overrun by chaos and contradiction was worth its price in blood. But now, on the walls of the city he had come to know too well, he was wondering whose blood was paying that price and whether the cost was too high after all. Karpasic was an opportunist rather than an idealist; he reveled in spilling other peoples blood to pay for his conquests and his spoils of war. Where, in practice, where were the ideals of the Obsidians on which Aren had justified every act he had performed on their behalf?

Aren crouched on the wall, contemplating those forces he served on the outside of Opalis and those fragile ideals that he saw living within the city.

Do you see anything? Trevan choked out next to him.

No, Aren answered. The smoke drifting toward the wall was being whipped by a southern breeze, offering occasional clear views across the approaches to the wall. The setting sun isnt helping any.

Its been a long day, Trevan said.

Its going to be a longer night, Aren observed. The fires are still burning, but at least they seem to be dying down. What about the West Wall and Long Wall?

They report a continuous siege line established beyond the approaches, Trevan replied, wiping his hand over his eyes. Theyre setting up a camp to the southeast well out of archery range along the banks of the river. The North Gate road has been cut off.

Its a siege then. Aren nodded. They look like theyll be settling in. But Ive been thinking, Commander. This doesnt make sense.

What do you mean?

This siege, Aren said, c.o.c.king his head out beyond the wall. I think the Obsidians would be just as surprised to know this army is at your gates as you are at finding them there.

You think the army is acting on its own? Trevan squinted at the captain through the smoke.

I think General Karpasic may not have the luxury of time that a siege requires, Aren said. There may be a way to save your city after all. If you can manage to hold out here for a week or perhaps two, there may be time enough for the Obsidians to put pressure on the general. Then he might be willing to listen to a more reasonable voice.

Your voice, I take it, Trevan said dryly.

I rejoin my army, the army goes back to the campaign it was ordered to pursue, and the city and its people remains intact. Id say it was worth the price of losing a single prisoner. Aren shrugged as he tried to peer through the smoke. The depression to the south was bordered by the river. Aren could see shadowy figures moving at the farthest edge of his vision. Some of those warriors were men who he most likely knew by name. He wondered how many of them would be glad to see him.

Aren turned around, leaning his back against the crenellation set into the outside top of the wall. He could see the rooftops of Opalis and, occasionally, a glimpse of the towers of the citadel through the swirling ash and smoke. The city was beautiful, but only rich in all the ways that Karpasic either did not understand or despised. The city and its people deserved a better fate than what awaited them, Aren thought, but what could he possibly do about it?

Aren turned. Something caught his eye to the west. The smoke swirled with the breeze over the top of the wall and cleared suddenly, revealing a short set of stairs that joined two sections of the wall that had been built at different heights. At the end of the higher section of wall, he could suddenly see the western tower through the smoke.

There, standing atop the wall was a woman wearing a long, white gown. Her dark hair had been carefully coaxed into tight curls. She stood with confident poise, though there was a deep sadness about her countenance. Her large, watery eyes looked back at Aren with a fixed, pleading gaze.

Aren shook with a start.

He had seen this woman before.

She turned from him, walking west along the top of the wall.

That woman! Aren blurted out.

What woman? Trevan, who had been watching over the wall, turned toward him.

That w-woman walking away from us, Aren stammered as he pointed westward down the length of the wall.

Trevan frowned as he peered to the west. What are you talking about? I dont see anyone.

The top of the western wall had vanished beneath another veil of ash and smoke.

She was at Midras. I saw her in the ruins there. She was the one who warned me of the Guardians just before they attacked. She was the one who led us to" Aren suddenly clambered to his feet. Come on! Weve got to find her.

Find who? Trevan called after him as Aren hurried westward along the top of the wall.

Come on! Aren called back. He came to the stairs leading upward and quickly ran up them. Aren could hear Trevan running behind him, struggling to keep up. He rushed past the rows of archers from the Opalis Legion stationed all along the top of the wall. The western tower was a vague shadow through the smoke, getting darker and more solid as Aren ran.

He saw her moving along the wall behind the sentinels and beyond the western tower. The warriors, each looking outward in anxious antic.i.p.ation, took no notice of the woman as she pa.s.sed behind them, the wide skirt of her dress flowing as she ran.

Aren dashed after her, pa.s.sing around the western tower and continuing along the top of the wall. He caught another glimpse of her as she turned where the wall jogged outward before it continued toward the northwest and the Fields Gate Tower.

Arens boots slid along the stones as he rushed around the jog in the wall. He could see where the wall ended at the Fields Gate Tower. A guard stood at the closed door that entered the tower.

The woman had vanished.