A Darkness at Sethanon (37 page)

Pug didn’t
hesitate, but incanted quickly and closed his eyes. Above them the
others could see a faint glowing canopy come into existence. Pug
opened his eyes again.

Macros said,
“Well, you couldn’t have known.” Then his eyes
narrowed and his voice rose in anger. “But you should have been
clever enough to have anticipated this trap!”

Pug and Tomas
suddenly both felt such guilt as they had when boys, being
reprimanded by Tomas’s father for some failing in the kitchen.
Pug shrugged off the feeling and said, “We thought it all
right, seeing you waving to us.”

Macros closed
his eyes and leaned his head against the staff a moment, then heaved
a deep sigh. “One of the problems with being my age is you look
at everyone who is younger as children, and when everyone else around
you is younger, it means you live in a universe of children. So you
tend to scold more than is proper.” He shook his head. “I
am sorry to be so short with you. I was trying to warn you off. If
you’d thought to use one of the abilities you learned from the
eldar, we could have spoken despite the noise of the dragon. Then
Tomas could have lifted me up to the dragon, and we wouldn’t be
in this mess.”

Pug and Tomas
exchanged guilty glances again. Then Macros said, “Still,
there’s nothing to be done, and no gain from recriminations. At
least you got here on time.”

Tomas’s
eyes narrowed. “On time? You knew we were coming?”

Pug said, “Your
message to Kulgan and me said you could no longer read the future.”

Macros smiled.
“I lied.”

Pug and Tomas
were both mute in astonishment. Macros stood up and began to pace.
“The truth is when I penned my last missive to you, I could see
the future, but now I really can’t anymore. I lost the ability
to know what was to happen when my powers were stripped away.”

“Your
powers are gone?” said Pug, understanding at once what a
staggering loss that would be to Macros. Above all others, Macros was
the master of magic arts, and Pug could only imagine what it would
feel like to be suddenly stripped of that which gave definition to
your being, your existence and nature. A magician without magic was a
bird without wings. Pug locked eyes with Macros for a moment, and
they both knew there was a bond of understanding.

In a lighter
tone, Macros said, “Those that put me here couldn’t
destroy me - I’m still a tough old walnut - but they could
neutralize me. Now I am powerless.” He pointed to his head.
“But I’ve my knowledge and you’ve the power. I can
guide you like no other in the universe, Pug.” He took a deep
breath. “I can gauge the situation based on superior
information to that which you presently possess. I know more of what
faces us than anyone in the universe, save the gods. I can help.”

“How did
you come to this place?” asked Pug.

Macros motioned
for them to sit and they did. To Ryath the mage said, “Daughter
of Rhuagh, there is game, though scant, upon this island of plants.
If you are clever, you shall not starve.”

The dragon said,
“
I shall hunt.
”

“Ware the
limit of the protective shell I’ve erected about the Garden,”
warned Pug.

“I shall,”
answered the dragon as she took wing.

Macros looked at
the pair and said, “When you and I closed the rift, Pug, you
directed shattering energies for my use. As a by-product of that
business, I was suddenly a beacon in the black to that which strove
to pierce the barrier between worlds.”

“The
Enemy,” said Pug.

Macros nodded.
“I was seized and a battle ensued. Fortunately, as powerful as
what I face is, I am . . . was not without powers of my own.”

Pug said, “I
remember watching you, in the vision upon the Tower of Testing,
turning aside the warped rift that threatened to allow the Enemy to
regain that universe.”

Macros shrugged.
“You live long enough, you learn a few things. And I may be
unkillable.” The last was said with a note of regret. “In
any event, we battled for some time. How long I cannot judge, for, as
you’ve no doubt noticed, time has little meaning between
worlds.

“But at
last I was forced to take a stand here in the Garden, and my powers
were limited. I could not quite reach the city, for there I have
means to augment some of my powers with clever devices. So, we
battled to a standstill, until my powers were stripped from me and
the trap was set. Then the Enemy destroyed the bridges and left. So I
was forced to wait until you arrived.”

“Then why
didn’t you say something in your last message?” asked
Pug. “We could have come sooner.”

“I
couldn’t have you two coming after me before it was time.
Tomas, you needed to come to terms with yourself, and, Pug, you
needed the training only the eldar could give. And I’ve used
the time to some purpose. I’ve healed some wounds and” -
he pointed to his staff - “I’ve even taken up wood
carving. Though I don’t recommend using rocks as tools. No,
everything had to move at its proper pace. Now you are fit weapons
for the coming battle.” He looked about. “If we can
manage to escape this trap.”

Pug regarded the
glowing shell above their heads. Through it they could see the stars,
but there was something odd in the way they appeared, as if they
flickered in odd rhythms. “What sort of trap have we
encountered?”

“The most
clever sort,” said Macros. “A time trap. The moment you
set foot upon the Garden, it was activated. Those who set it are
sending us backward in time, at the rate of one day’s movement
backward for each true day’s passing. Right about now, you two
are sitting upon the dragon looking for me, I should think. In about
five minutes, you’ll be battling the black dragon. So on and so
forth.”

Tomas said,
“What must we do?”

Macros seemed
amused. “Do? At present, we are isolated and rendered helpless,
for those who oppose us know we did not defeat them in the past, for
nature puts limits on such paradox, so our only hope is to break free
somehow and return to our proper time . . . before it is too late.”

“How do we
do that?” asked Pug.

Sitting again
upon the rock, Macros rubbed his beard. “That’s the
problem. I don’t know, Pug. I just don’t know.”

A
rutha
watched the horizon.

Companies of
horsemen galloped toward the gate, while behind them the sky was
thick with dust. Murmandamus’s army was marching on Armengar.
The last of those coming from the kraals and steadings were reaching
the gates, with herds of cattle and sheep, wagons loaded with crops,
all lumbering into the city. With the decline in population over the
years there was ample housing for everyone, even space for livestock.

For three days
Guy, Amos, Armand de Sevigny, and the other commanders had been
leading skirmish parties to slow the advancing columns while those
called to Armengar reached the city. Arutha and the others had ridden
out with them from time to time, lending aid when possible.

At Arutha’s
side, Baru and Roald watched as the last company of horsemen to quit
the field before Murmandamus’s host came thundering out of the
dust. Baru said, “The Protector.”

“One-eye’s
cutting it close this time,” said Roald. Behind the dashing
horsemen, goblins on foot and moredhel cavalry followed closely. The
dark elves quickly left their goblin allies behind as they chased
Guy’s company. But just as they overtook the last rider,
archers from another company wheeled and began shooting over Guy’s
men, raining arrows down upon the moredhel. They broke and retreated
and both Armengarian companies were again dashing for the gate.

Arutha spoke
quietly. “Martin was with them.”

Jimmy and
Locklear came hurrying along, Amos a short distance behind. The
former sea captain said, “De Sevigny says that if anyone is
going to make the run to Yabon, they have to leave tonight. After
that, all the patrols in the hills will fall back to the redoubts
upon the cliff tops. By midday tomorrow there will be only Dark
Brothers and goblins in the hills out there.”

Arutha had at
last agreed with Baru’s plan to carry word south. “All
right, but I want some last words with Guy before we send anyone.”

“If I know
One-eye,” said Amos, “and I do, he’ll be standing
by your side within minutes of the gate’s closing.”

True to Amos’s
prediction, as soon as the last stragglers were safely through the
gates, Guy was up on the wall studying the approaching army.

He signalled and
the bridge across the moat was retracted, slowly disappearing into
the foundation of the wall. Looking down, Roald said, “I was
wondering how that would be taken care of.”

Guy motioned
toward the now unbroken moat. “A drawbridge can be lowered from
the outside. This one has a winch below the gatehouse which can be
operated only from there.” He said to Arutha, “We have
miscalculated. I thought we’d face only twenty-five thousand or
perhaps thirty.”

“How many
do you judge?” asked Arutha.

Martin and
Briana came up the stairs as Guy said, “Closer to fifty.”

Arutha looked at
his brother as Martin said, “Yes, I’ve never seen so many
goblins and moredhel, Arutha. They’re coming down the slopes
and out of the woods like a flood. And that’s not all. Mountain
trolls, entire companies. And giants.”

Locklear’s
eyes widened. “Giants!” He threw Jimmy a black look as
the older boy elbowed him quiet.

“How
many?” asked Amos.

Guy said, “It
appears several hundred. They stand a good four or five feet above
the others. In any event, if they are scattered about in
equal-numbers, several thousand have come to Murmandamus’s
banner. Even now the bulk of his army is still in camp north of the
Vale of Isbandia, at least a week away. This coming toward us is only
the first element. By tonight ten thousand will camp opposite our
walls. Within ten days there will be five times as many.”

Arutha looked
out over the wall in silence for a while, then said, “So what
you’re saying is you cannot hold until reinforcements arrive
from Yabon.”

“If this
were any normal army, I’d say we could,” answered Guy.
“But past experience tells us Murmandamus will bring some
tricks to bear. By my best guess he’s allowed only four weeks
for sacking the city, otherwise he won’t have enough time to
cross the mountains. He’s got to flood a dozen lesser passes
with soldiers, reform his army on the other side and move straight
south to Tyr-Sog. He can’t move west to Inclindel, for it would
take too long to reach the city and dispose of the garrisons before
reinforcements arrive from Yabon City and Loriel. He needs to
establish himself in the Kingdom quickly, to ready for a spring
campaign. If he tarries here even more than a week beyond that
schedule, he risks the possibility of being caught in the mountains
with early snows. Time is his biggest enemy now.”

Martin said,
“The dwarves!”

Arutha and Guy
looked at the Duke of Crydee. Martin said, “Dolgan and Harthorn
moot at Stone Mountain with all their kin. There must be two, three
thousand dwarves there.”

Guy said, “Two
thousand dwarven warriors could tip the balance until Vandros’s
heavy foot can cross the mourftains from Yabon. Even if we can only
hold up Murmandamus for an additional two weeks, I think his campaign
will have to be aborted. Otherwise it’s likely he’ll have
an army stuck in the Yabon Hills in winter.”

Baru looked from
Arutha to Guy. “We’ll leave an hour after nightfall.”

Martin said,
“I’m going with Baru and will travel to Stone Mountain.
Dolgan knows me.” With a wry grin he added, “I’ve
no doubt he’d be loath to miss this fight. Then I’ll go
to Yabon.”

“Can you
reach Stone Mountain in two weeks?” asked Guy.

“It will
be difficult but possible,” answered the Hadati. “A small
band, moving quickly . . . yes, it is possible.” No one needed
to add ‘barely.” All knew it meant better than thirty
miles a day.

Roald said, “I’d
like to try as well. Just in case.” He didn’t say what,
but everyone knew it was against the possibility that either Martin
or Baru would not survive.

Arutha had
agreed to Martin going with Baru, for the Duke of Crydee was only
slightly less gifted travelling through the hills than the Hadati,
but the Prince didn’t know about Roald. He was about to say no,
when Laurie said, “I’d better go as well. Vandros and his
commanders know me, and should the messages be lost, we’ll need
to do some convincing. Remember, everyone thinks you’re dead.”

Arutha’s
expression darkened. Laurie said, “We all made it to Moraelin
and back, Arutha. We know what it’s like to travel in the
mountains.”

At last the
Prince said, “I’m not sure it’s a good idea, but I
don’t have a better one.” He looked out at the
approaching army. “I don’t know how much I believe in
prophecy, but if I am the Bane of Darkness, then I must stay and
confront Murmandamus.”

Jimmy and
Locklear exchanged glances, but Arutha preempted any volunteering.
“You two will stay. This may not be the healthiest of places in
a few days, but it’s a damn sight safer than scampering across
the mountain ridges through Murmandamus’s army at night.”

Guy said to
Martin, “I’ll make sure you have some cover for a while.
We’ll have enough activity until dawn in the ridges behind the
city to cover your escape. Our redoubts above the city still control
a good portion of the hills behind Armengar. Murmandamus’s
cutthroats won’t be behind us in strength for several days. Let
us hope they’ll assume everyone is heading toward the city and
won’t be too careful in looking for those heading in the other
direction.”

Martin said,
“We’ll leave on foot. Once we’re free of patrols,
we’ll appropriate some horses.” He smiled at Arutha.
“We’ll make it.”