The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (41 page)

Beorn scratched at his beard before speaking. "The second item of good news is that the desert men of Raj Hazara have taken Tlaxor, the Petryan capital."

There were gasps around the room as those who hadn't heard the news reacted.

"They say a great magic was performed at Lake Halapusa," Beorn looked sidelong at Miro, "and the unconquerable city was taken in a day."

Miro had the news second-hand, but had been relieved beyond belief to hear about the incredible freezing of the lake and the golden-haired woman who had saved innumerable lives, both in Petrya and here in Halaran.

His thoughts darkened, however, when he thought about an eventual meeting with this desert prince. No one, not anyone, came to Miro's home under the pretence of friendship and took his sister away from him.

"The Petryans are also out of the war," Beorn said, "but these horsemen are heading for Tingara as we speak. They move faster than we do, and they haven't made clear their intentions. Rumour says the Hazarans are building a city, deep in the desert, and I hear they are a violent people."

"This is a matter for concern," High Lord Tiesto said. "We have to place this at the top of our agenda, even higher than the destruction of these horrific essence plants, I'm afraid. The Hazarans cannot be the first to reach Seranthia. The empire is in ruins, and what happens to Seranthia will determine the future of the world."

"I agree whole-heartedly," Miro said. "We must be the first to Seranthia. This Prince Ilathor is not to be trusted, and his motives are unclear. Which brings me to the next item on the agenda," he paused, licking his lips, "the Akari."

One of Tiesto's lords, a man Miro knew not at all, raised his eyebrows so high it looked like they would jump out of his head. "The Akari? Tales to frighten children. Any rumours about them should not be credited."

"Let the Lord Marshal speak," Rogan growled.

"We've sent some scouting patrols into the Azure Plains — risky ventures behind enemy lines. We expected losses, but nothing of this scale. Hardly any of our patrols have returned, but those who've made it back alive speak of white-eyed warriors who cannot be defeated."

"Revenants?" the Halrana lord snorted. "I thought we were here to discuss strategy."

"I've questioned them all myself," Miro said, his patience growing thin, "and my men are not prone to delusions, particularly not when their honour is at stake."

"Think about it," Rogan said. "It makes a horrible sense. The Akari are said to have been exiled to the north by the first emperor, Xenovere the Great, when the Tingaran Empire was newly formed. They used their dead in unholy ways — that's the story. What if this has something to do with Primate Melovar Aspen's new source of essence? What if the Akari have allied themselves to the Primate, or are perhaps under the thrall of his elixir?"

"Preposterous," the lord said haughtily.

"We'll soon find out," Miro said, grim-faced, "for our objective of reaching Seranthia ahead of the Hazarans means we will need to move quickly. I would have preferred to move into Torakon via Loua Louna, leaving a small force behind us to lay siege to the Ring Forts, but for expediency we will now need to assault the Ring Forts directly. Marshal Scola has a large force with him, which, added to ours, will give us the manpower we need to take back Manrith, Penton, Ramrar, Charing and finally the great fortress Sark. We will, however, suffer heavy losses."

"When we once more have control of the Ring Forts," Rogan continued, "we'll have a strong base from which to launch a direct assault on the Azure Plains in Torakon. Our objective is to push through quickly and decisively, using every weapon at our disposal, until we are standing in the streets of Seranthia."

There was a hesitant knock on the door, causing every man in the room to frown, a situation that would have been comical if their words weren't so grave. "What is it?" High Lord Tiesto called. "I left orders that we weren't to be disturbed."

A steward popped his head in; Miro recognised the man who had been planning the evening meal with Amber.

Suddenly he felt a shiver of fear run through him. Why was the steward here?

"What is it?" Miro demanded.

"I'm sorry, terribly sorry, but I need to speak with the Lord Marshal."

"Tell me now," Miro said, unable to wait until he was outside the chamber.

"Lord Marshal, it's about Lady Amber… She was due back from the market hours ago. I went looking for her, but it appears she's gone."

~

A
S
L
ORD
Marshal, Miro had the prerogative of telling his men what to do. He felt no guilt at ordering the city of Ralanast to be searched from one end to the other.

He had never felt so furious, but the anger was directed completely at himself. His men leapt at every snapped command, fearful of their commander's rage, and soon there wasn't a soul in Ralanast who didn't know the Lord Marshal was looking for a young Alturan woman with brown eyes and auburn hair.

Miro put all battle plans on hold, forcing down any objections with an iron will. Yet, when two days had passed and Miro still hadn't found her, he finally stood on the steps of the Terra Cathedral, his fists clenched at his sides, impotent and uncertain, when Rogan Jarvish placed his hand on his shoulder.

"I lost her before," Miro whispered. "Why do I keep losing her? And it's always my fault. I lost her when I let her marry someone else. I lost her when I left her behind at the Bridge of Sutanesta. I lost her when I left her on her own in a city that I told her was safe, a city that I thought, in my arrogance, I had made safe."

"You can't control everything," Rogan said. "You're right, you're being arrogant, but not because you thought the city was safe. You're being arrogant because you think that the destiny of other people can be controlled by your actions. You aren't all-powerful, Miro."

"It's my fault," Miro said.

"You're probably going to believe that you made a mistake no matter what I say," Rogan said. "So I'll just say what I've always said. You learn from your mistakes and you move on."

Miro looked up at Rogan, whispering as realisation dawned. "I never knew I took those words from you."

Rogan clasped Miro's shoulder. "What are you going to do?" he asked.

"I keep losing the people I love. First it was Ella, when that scratched Hazaran Jehral took her from me, and now it's Amber, the woman I want to be my wife. Rogan, I have to find her." Miro looked down at the floor. "Something happened in the prison camp, something she didn't tell me. I could see it in her eyes. Her disappearance must have something to do with it. If Tiesto discovers her here in Ralanast, he can keep her safe for me, but there are many who can search this city. If the enemy have her, they will have taken her to Torakon."

"Miro, if that's the case, your chances of finding her are slim," Rogan said.

"I have to try," Miro said. "Rogan, you will be commander in my place. I know I'll be leaving the men in the best of hands. I give you my word that I'll be back as soon as I can."

45

"
S
TOP,"
Prince Ilathor said. "Do not move a muscle."

Ella froze, half-way through cupping water from the little pool in her hands to splash on her face. She looked sidelong at where the prince was slowly reaching forward to the flat rock beside her, and then with horror recognized the dark shape basking in the sun.

Ella's eyes grew wide and she held her entire body rigid. The prince reached forward and with incredibly fast reflexes he snatched at the long shape. A moment later he held the snake in the air behind its neck as the lower half of its body writhed and swayed.

Ella drew back, looking frantically around for more snakes, but this was the only one. She stepped away from the prince as he grinned at her.

"What kind of snake is it?" she asked.

"It is called a death adder," he said.

"Lord of the Sky," she breathed. "I could have been killed."

"Not a chance." Prince Ilathor's smiled broadened. "This poor fellow is suffering from a misnomer."

"What do you mean?"

"He is very slow and rarely moves away when approached. So he was named a deaf adder. Over the years the name has become distorted, and now he is a death adder. Yet he harms no one."

"Why do you think the name changed?"

Ilathor shrugged. "Perhaps so that a man like me can impress a woman like you."

"You can let him go now," Ella said, looking askance at the prince.

He flung out his arm, the snake flying through the air to land in a nearby bush.

Ella quickly washed her face, and then was silent as she walked by the prince's side, returning to where the horses were being offered some respite from the journey on the sandy banks of a small river.

As they remounted and Ella kicked Afiri forwards, she looked back the way they had come. The long column stretched as far as the eye could see, tens of thousands of horsemen and many more on foot. Camp followers trailed in their wake: cooks, tinkers, grooms and whores. Ella was glad she rode with the prince and Jehral at the head of the column, otherwise she would have been as covered with dust as those behind. Bartolo and Shani also rode at the head, along with ten Petryan elementalists, friends of Shani's from Tlaxor.

Ella was surrounded by friends, and Prince Ilathor was always nearby, yet she felt alone. Since their night together she'd told the prince she needed time to think, and he'd respectfully honoured her request. Ella felt guilty when she thought about Killian. Did that mean she didn't love the prince?

As Prince Ilathor took them through the Gap of Garl, away from his homeland and towards Tingara, she realised she had never been this far from home. She wondered where Miro was, and whether he was safe. She fingered the pendant on its chain at her neck, and wondered what Prince Ilathor planned to do when they reached Tingara.

The temperature turned cool as they left the warm Petryan lands and the mountain ranges no longer blocked the cold weather from the north. On one side, to the west, Ella could see the jagged tops of the Elmas, the range that separated Petrya from the lands of Altura and Halaran. On the other side of the Gap of Garl, the mighty Emdas rose in the east, looming over the riders, the mountain tops white and covered with clouds, the summits so high they could hardly be seen.

A speck grew on the red horizon, a returning scout from the flat land in the north. Their journey through the Gap of Garl took them first north, and then east. It was a long way around, but it was the only way.

A cloud of dust rose behind the single rider. He was clad in Hazaran costume, and soon his yellow sash could be seen against the black. The man pulled up in front of Prince Ilathor.

"A small army," the scout said, his breath coming between gasps, "up ahead. Just past that rise."

"What banner?" Jehral asked.

"A withered tree on grey," the scout said.

The prince looked first at Jehral, who raised his eyebrows, and then Ella, who shook her head. Bartolo shrugged and even Shani's face said she didn't know the markings.

"How many?" Prince Ilathor asked.

"Perhaps two thousand, it is hard to say."

"Go and speak with them. See if you can find out who they serve."

"Yes, my prince," the scout said, wheeling his horse and riding away.

"If he doesn't come back by the time the sun hits that tree," the prince said, "he isn't coming back."

"You have a cold heart, desert prince," Shani said, low enough that the prince wouldn't hear, but close enough that Ella could.

"This is a poor place for a battle," Bartolo said. "There are hills to either side. We should move to higher ground and fortify our position."

"He speaks sense, my prince," Jehral said.

"Thank you, bladesinger," Prince Ilathor said, "but that is not our way. Two thousand is nothing to an army this size."

~

A
S THEY
waited, more and more of the Hazaran riders arrived, to be deployed in fighting formation as a long line of riders, but the scout did not return.

Prince Ilathor prepared for battle.

The elders — those women who had been chosen to receive the lore of Raj Hazara — summoned illusionary warriors, storms and whirlwinds. The sky overhead flashed and lightning stabbed down at the earth. Dust rushed one way and then another as the elders struggled to keep control of their lore.

The open field was where the desert warriors fought best, and as Prince Ilathor's deadline for the scout's return approached and then passed, he signalled his captains and launched his mighty army into action. The infantry and Petryan elementalists were to stay behind; they couldn't keep up with the horsemen, and of the Petryans only Shani was comfortable on a horse.

"Stay back, Ella," the prince commanded, as he spurred his black stallion into action, determined to be at the forefront of the attack.

Seeing her friends in the line, Ella ignored the prince and joined Shani, Bartolo, and Jehral, keeping her horse close by her red-robed friend.

Ella had to admit she was impressed, even exhilarated, to be travelling with such an army, imagining the fear that the lightning, storms and the horses themselves must strike into the enemy's hearts.

Yet as the air was filled with the thunder of hooves on the hard earth, the temperature suddenly dropped, giving Ella a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. Ella gripped her reins tightly in her hands, her knees pressed hard into the horse's flanks.

Ella saw that her breath was steaming in the chill air; surely such a rapid decrease in temperature wasn't natural?

The ground before her rose in a steep incline. Ahead, the thundering mass of riders crested the rise in front of her and then vanished under the hill as the warriors went down the other side. As the steepness increased Ella leaned forward in the saddle and spurred her horse on, realising she had lost sight of Jehral and only Shani and Bartolo were with her now.