The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (31 page)

Leptar reached the foot of the stairs and saw that the pulsing cord vanished under a heavy wooden door. He suddenly felt he should leave; there were those with powers he did not understand on the other side of this door. Yet what could he say to the High Lord if he didn't open the door?

Leptar drew the heavy bone-handled knife he wore at his side. There were no guards; the men inside wouldn't be expecting him.

With a mighty pull, Leptar hauled the door open.

A loud bubbling and hissing assaulted his senses, and clouds of hot steam rolled at him, so that for a moment he couldn't see.

The glowing line broke into strands, each strand running into a tank. As Leptar looked on, his mouth agape, the sides of the tank closest to him began to glow.

About the same time Leptar realised it wasn't the glow of magic — it was the glow of heat — the tank melted from the intense temperature as the salted water vaporised to steam, and the superheated steam reached higher and higher pressures in the sealed tank.

Leptar opened his mouth to scream as a river of molten stone poured past his legs, but there was a series of explosions, and flying slag splattered into his face and chest.

He didn't make a sound.

33

E
LLA
chanted constantly as she transferred the heat of the lake into the tanks under the barracks in Torlac.

This lore was far too powerful for a single activation sequence, and her lips moved continually as she called the names of the runes, reading the colours of the symbols on the thick shaft sunk into the lake, noting which were brightest and which grew dim.

Cracks appeared under the surface of the lake, and Ella heard murmurs behind her; cries of wonder.

Deciding it was time, Ella called forth the final activation. "
Luktar-loklur
!"

With a mighty crack like thunder, Lake Halapusa froze as the water turned solid at Ella's command.

Ella's arms flopped back to her sides, and she turned back to where Jehral and Prince Ilathor sat astride their horses watching her. Shani stood nearby. Ella smiled — a weary smile of triumph.

"I should never have doubted you," the prince breathed, awe-struck. "Both of you," he said, turning to Shani.

"How long will it last?" Jehral asked.

"The heat has been sunk into salted tanks of water underneath the barracks in Torlac," Ella said. "If my and Shani's calculations are correct, they should hold enough heat for the lake to stay frozen for at least a day."

"And if they are not?" Jehral said. "Sorry, Ella, but I have to ask."

"Then, man of the desert," Shani said. "You'll be swimming in boiling water before the day is out."

"My prince," Jehral said, suddenly urgent, "the Petryans will know what we have done. It is time."

The tall leader of the Hazarans shook himself as if out of a trance. His horse turned as he wheeled it around. The prince signalled to his men and they galloped up the slope towards where the Hazaran warriors lay in hiding, calling out to initiate the attack.

Ella turned to Shani. "Where should we watch from?" she asked.

"Watch?" Shani said. "I don't plan to watch."

Ella then noticed the Petryan held reins in her hands. Beside Shani's horse was Ella's own horse, Afiri.

"It will be dangerous," Ella said.

"Life is dangerous."

The two women mounted up. Ella felt her heart race as she looked back over her shoulder towards the cleft in the crater's rim. A great dust storm rose out of the red earth, rushing forward in a way Ella knew wasn't natural, a cloud of sand and wind where the flashes of steel and horses could be seen between swirls of air given form.

In an instant, the two women, one in green and one in red, were swept away with the horde of riders.

Tens of thousands of Hazarans leapt from the lakeshore onto the ice. Ella held her breath but it held, and Afiri also ran onto the blue ice. The first wave of horses slipped and scrabbled, but the going was made easier as the ice was chewed up, the hooves finally digging into the slippery surface.

The riders raced across the surface of the frozen lake. The dust storm covered the great army, yet from inside the illusion Ella could perfectly see the tiered city grow in size as the horde of riders approached.

Ella reached down to the hilt she'd attached to her saddle. Her fingers closed around the curved dagger Jehral had given her. She had since enchanted it, and as she withdrew the blade and activated it, the heavy knife suddenly felt as light as one of Ella's scrills.

Ella looked behind her, back at the shore of the lake where the sunken pillar stood bright and tall, surprised at how far they'd already come.

Was that a figure in green, a man, running down the slope towards the lakeshore? Before Ella could look more closely, her attention again returned to her horse as Afiri slipped on the ice, before regaining his footing.

She held the knife in one hand, and with her other hand Ella held her reins against the pommel of the saddle. She gave Afiri his head; she couldn't have stopped him if she'd wanted to, and then suddenly there were balls of fire flying through the air around her.

They were mostly untargeted, wild shots thrown at them from the terraces and walls of Tlaxor. Ella was thankful for the illusionary storm that surrounded them — the Hazarans had no method of striking from a distance. Yet the illusion gave them no actual protection, and many of the Hazarans were caught by the blasts, screaming and falling off their horses as red energy smashed into their faces and torsos in clouds of sparks. Ella cried out when a flaming ball caught the horse of a warrior riding next to her. She smelled burning hair and heard the sound of sizzling flesh as both horse and rider erupted in a gush of fire.

They reached the main gate, set into sloping walls with no protection for the struggling Hazarans. The storm was of little value here, for the High Lord's elementalists could hurl fire at the foot of the gate and they were bound to strike someone. Some valiant warriors left their horses and, with knives between their teeth, began to scale the slanted walls. Most exploded in screaming flame, but a few made it to the top, giving the men below a few moments respite from the relentless fire.

Ella saw Shani holding a great fireball between her wrists, the biggest Ella had ever seen. Sweat dripped down the elementalist's forehead, and if she hadn't been wearing her protective robe, Ella knew her friend would have been scorched.

With a shout Shani launched the ball at the gate. Twisting and turning through the air, it made a sound like tearing paper as it flew at the centre of the dark wood.

Ella could see builder's runes on the gate, and knew what would happen next. The huge ball of flame fell apart in a flurry of sparks. The gate was scorched, but it held.

The Hazarans became crowded up against the gate, and soon it would be a massacre as the packed warriors proved themselves easy targets for the High Lord's elementalists. Realising the danger, the horsemen peeled to either side, some heading to the left and others to the right as they encircled the tiered city.

Prince Ilathor came forward. He dismounted from his horse and drew the huge scimitar he wore at his side. Ella watched open-mouthed as he called a series of runes, and the scimitar blazed with blue fire. Reading the colours, Ella knew only Alturan enchanters could have made such a sword, but it was a scimitar, a style of blade that was definitely not Alturan. She wondered how old it was, how long it had been in Ilathor's family. She wondered if the prince even knew.

Ella could predict what was coming next. The prince took the scimitar in two hands and swung at the gate. The sword that could cut through stone smashed against the gate that had been reinforced with the lore of House Torakon's builders.

Yet Prince Ilathor's sword bounced off the gate with a fountain of sparks as the enchanted blade met the strength of builder's runes, and the gate won.

With no siege weapons — no battering rams or mortars, scaling ladders or catapults — Ella realised the Hazarans still had much to learn about warfare. The prince needed her help.

"Prince Ilathor!" Ella called.

He looked back at Ella as she leapt off her horse's back.

"When the gate opens, hit it with everything," Ella said as she reached him.

The prince dodged a fireball. "What are you going to do?"

"Whatever I can," Ella said.

Ella pulled the hood of her dress over her head and started to chant. In an instant she could see from the prince's stunned expression that she'd activated the shadow effect and in the chaos of battle could no longer be seen.

Before fear could take hold, Ella ran to a place where the sloped wall was free of climbing desert warriors and plunged her glowing dagger into the stone. Sparks and pieces of stone flew out, bouncing off the material of her dress.

Ella cut a wide gouge in the stone of the wall and placed her foot into the cut, hoisting her body up. She cut another hole in the stone, resting her other foot in the second hole. Two more holes gave her hands something to hook onto, and Ella hoisted herself up, one limb at a time.

It was painstaking work, and would never have been possible without the slope of the wall, but gradually Ella climbed, never looking down, cutting hole after hole in the stone until soon she was half way up the wall.

Ella looked up, just in time to see a fireball screaming at her head. She tucked herself into her dress and prayed that this time the enchanter's arts would beat the lore of another house.

The heat washed over her, and she knew that in that moment she would be illuminated as the fire covered her ethereal form, outlining it like a tree hit by lightning.

Looking up, Ella saw an elementalist prepare another fireball, but the man was forced to duck when a huge ball of flame came from below, bathing the wall in its glow, giving her the time she needed.

Ella knew how hard it must have been for Shani to send that fireball at her countryman. She knew she couldn't afford to miss the chance.

Ella climbed the wall at a furious speed, cutting the holes just in time to enter her foot or hand, and then already gouging the next one as she moved up.

Then she was at the summit. Looking down, Ella could see that the prince's men were under heavy fire; they wouldn't hold much longer. In front of her a parapet lined the top of the wall, while below, inside the gate, Ella could see ranks of Petryan soldiers awaiting any breach by the Hazarans.

A little to the side of the gate, Ella could see the runes of the gate's opening mechanism. She breathed a sigh of relief — she'd been hoping it wasn't manually operated. The runes would be coded, but Ella was confident she could break the obfuscation and find the activation sequence.

"Your path made it easy to climb," a voice said behind her, "but how do you plan to get down?"

Ella turned, and the prince was standing beside her, the glowing scimitar in his hands and the wind in his hair.

Fireballs came tearing at them from several directions. Petryan soldiers on the parapet were running towards them, swords bared and cries of battle rage on their lips.

Prince Ilathor blocked a fireball with his sword, speaking words that caused a white shimmer to solidify the air around his sword and shield them both. Ella put her body between another fireball and the prince, once again feeling the heat wash over her. They needed to get down from the wall.

"Stairs," Prince Ilathor pointed.

"I need to get to the gate's mechanism," Ella said. "Protect my back."

Ella and the prince dashed down the steps from the parapet. Ella chanted under her breath to enhance the protection of her dress, but was fearful for the prince in nothing but ordinary clothing. She threw a handful of flashbombs into the ranks of the soldiers, pandemonium following in their wake as the Petryans were blinded. Ella and Ilathor rushed to the gate and Ella started to decipher the runes on the mechanism while Ilathor stood at her back, sword extended, ready to face thousands of Petryan soldiers on his own.

"Quickly," the prince said.

"I'm going as fast as I can!" Ella cried. "Aren't you a bit busy to be harassing me?"

The Petryan soldiers at the back pushed past those disabled by the flashbombs, and the swordsmen in red rushed forward to take down this foolish solitary man.

Prince Ilathor's scimitar whirled, flashing through the Petryan soldiers as he cut first one way then another. In a moment he would be overrun and Ella would be cut down from behind; there were simply too many of them.

"I've got it!" Ella shouted.

She spoke the words, and the gate's mechanism lit up as she decoded the symbols, seeing through those that had been placed there simply to hide the activation sequence.

The gate opened quickly, and Jehral, Shani, and thousands of yelling horsemen rode past Ella to support the prince against the Petryan soldiers.

The Petryans weren't used to fighting men on horseback, and one by one they began to bolt. The heavy sabres of the Hazarans bit down into the soldiers, blood spurting up into the air in their wake. The whirling storm of illusion now twisted around the forms of the horses, making the warriors appear otherworldly, like some terrible vengeance sent down from heaven.

Shani halted, her horse rearing up into the air. "Ella! Will you come with me?"

"Where?"

Shani pointed up into the air. "The Poltoi Palace. We need to find the High Lord before he tries to escape. It's at the summit of the city."

Ella took Shani's arm and was lifted up to the horse, sitting side-saddle behind her friend. The horse whinnied as Shani kicked it forward, and Ella nearly fell.

"Hold on!" Shani called.

Ella knew the Hazarans would be opening the other gates, and the retreating Petryan soldiers were now fully in rout. A soldier in red cringed as the horse surged forward, and Ella looked around her, knowing that the scene in front of her would always be remembered.

Now that she looked, she could see how starved, weak and dispirited the Petryan soldiers were. Many had dropped their swords at their feet and fallen to their knees in supplication. For a moment it seemed that the Hazarans would run riot through the city, burning and pillaging, but Prince Ilathor and the other tarn leaders soon called their men to order and the ruthless discipline of the commanders began to take effect. Petryan soldiers still ran ahead of them, but the prince first formed up his men — there would be no mad dashing through the terraces and cobbled streets of the tiered city; they would instead methodically search out pockets of resistance.