Dark Crusade (22 page)

Let the quarry run itself to exhaustion. Now that the end of the hunt was at hand, it made little difference to Jarvo whether he reached Ingoldi this day or the next. The battle could have but one outcome. Kane grimly watched the gates of Ingoldi close behind the last of his haggard horsemen. It was afternoon, and his men had ridden through the night. With luck, Kane estimated they would have as long as the next day to prepare for the Combine's assault. Jarvo could not have carried siege engines with him at this pace. It would take days to construct such weapons, and if Orted's soldiers could hold the wills until then, Kane's men and horses should be rested enough to make a sortie.

Not that any sortie would break Jarvo's siege, Kane mused, but such tactics--lightning raids, then a dash back within the walls--could inflict costly casualties, destroy the Combine's new siege equipment. The best hope for them now would be to seek to hold out until the Prophet could summon his followers from the outlying cities of Shapeli. A peasant army could threaten Jarvo's rear, if their number were great enough. In time, the Combine's army might be crushed between two fronts.

Kane wondered whether the Prophet's followers would answer such a call--or whether those beyond Ingoldi would wish Jarvo luck in crushing a vicious tyrant.

An honor guard of Defenders of Sataki approached him. Their leader informed Kane that the Prophet awaited him in Ceddi.

"Don't go!" Erill whispered.

Kane grinned tiredly, "We have to coordinate our defensive strategy before Jarvo comes to add his voice. I'll get some rest afterward."

"Hell, you know what I mean. Don't trust him."

Kane looked at her, shrugged. "Orted knows we have to fight together if there's any chance at all. If he means treachery, he'll have to hurry before Jarvo puts an end to our quarrel.

"Alain, I'll need you with me. Dolnes, you know the city." He called off others of his staff, added: "And I'm sure Orted won't object if my personal guard rides in with me."

"Kane," Erill said. "Take me."

"Why?"

"Why not? I've ridden this far."

"As you wish." Kane had never asked the girl why she stayed with him during the gruelling race. She might have gone her own way, or remained in one of the towns along their retreat. He knew she felt neither love nor gratitude toward him, nor had she cause to. Erill was too hard to show any emotion, not even fear. She only wanted to be in at the kill.

Kane's officers led their exhausted men to their former barracks, to try to catch a few hours rest before the coming battle. Kane, accompanied by what remained of his personal regiment, followed Orted's honor guard into Ceddi.

The Prophet received him graciously. Their meeting was no more cordial than form required. They had discussed strategy and tactics on many a previous occasion--each knowing that their alliance must end in only one way. This occasion was no different.

It was growing dark by the time they ended their conference. Orted had agreed to all of Kane's proposals--evidently content to place the conduct of the defense in his hands, just as he had earlier entrusted the direction of the Sword of Sataki to Kane. That suited Kane, who had feared interference.

Food and drink had been served to the council, and to Kane's tired guard in the courtyard below. Sleep seemed most imperative now, and Kane decided it was time to find his quarters. He stood up to return to his men, wondering as he made his excuses what had become of Erill.

Esketra lay in her scented bath, watching the sheen of bubbles as they swirled and shattered. Her rich black hair was piled in thick coils, held in place with golden pins. She would wash it again in the morning, let her handmaidens brush the silken tresses, soothingly work in the perfumed oils. Now it was evening, and she did not wish to wait for it to dry before going to Orted.

The Prophet had been in a strange mood these last few days, she mused, trailing her fingers over her soft white skin. He was in a state of repressed excitement--more like a man who envisions the fulfillment of some long-cherished goal, rather than a ruler whose empire is teetering on the edge of utter ruin. Perhaps Kane's return to Ingoldi had rekindled Orted's confidence in his ultimate victory.

Victory. Against the invincible army that Jarvo was leading against them. Rumors said it was the greatest army ever amassed, that this newly formed Grand Combine would overwhelm Ingoldi's walls as a wave washes over a child's sandcastles, that their orders were to spare no living soul of the Prophet's Dark Crusade. Those noochees who repeated such lies in the hearing of the faithful were very shortly in better need of their breath. Still the atmosphere of impending doom did not clear.

Perhaps she had been wrong in joining her fortunes to those of Orted Ak-Ceddi. But who could ever have imagined that little toad Jarvo as a threat to the awesome power of the Prophet? What if Jarvo did destroy Ingoldi? What would he do to her?

Esketra smiled, remembering his stupid, fawning worship of her. She would cry, hint at horrid cruelties, and Scarface Jarvo would puff out his chest and play the savior. One tear from her eye, one glimpse of her beauty, one promise of a kiss from her red lips--and little Jarvo would kneel at her feet. Then let the gods guess who was conqueror and who the slave. The fortunes of war hung in balance, but for Esketra it would mean victory however the balance might swing.

It was time to dress. She rose from her golden tub, reaching for a towel. Her handmaidens should be here--where were the little bitches loitering? Angrily Esketra called for them, dabbing at her sleek skin with her towel.

Someone entered her bath. When she lowered the towel from her face, Esketra saw that it was not one of her servants.

It was a scrawny girl in dirty riding clothes, her face streaked with dust and sweat, lined with fatigue. Her eyes were green as a cat's.

"What are you doing in here!" Esketra demanded. "I bring a message from Jarvo," the strange girl said, stepping forward cat-quick.

"Jarvo!" By the gods, had he already entered the city!

"Jarvo sends you his love," the girl said, extending her hand.

Esketra glanced to see what the girl had to give her.

It was a poniard.

As he left the council chambers, Kane wearily paused at a tower window. It was dark now, he noted. Tomorrow would probably bring the army of the Grand Combine to Ingoldi's walls. Before then, some rest. He would need all his strength if lie were yet to stave off defeat. The chances were bleak, but he had survived far worse.

Absently Kane gazed out across the city. His eyes narrowed. Smoke and flame already flared into the night. A quarter near the wall was ablaze. Surely not Jarvo already...

Kane cursed. Those were his barracks that were afire. His men... In the distance he could hear the dull animal roar of the attacking mob.

"Alain!" Kane shouted. "Get the others! We're riding out! Now!"

A sweep of Kane's arm, and his sword flamed in his left fist. Already they were alone in the hallway--the Prophet's counselors had discreetly withdrawn as they left the upper chambers. Kane had been in this situation too often not to realize what portended.

A rush carried them into the great hall--ominously deserted. The main door stood invitingly open--leading into the courtyard, where Kane's personal guard should await his return. Not daring to hope that Orted had been an instant too slow in closing his trap, Kane plunged into the darkened courtyard.

His men were lounging about the enclosure. They gave a startled greeting as Kane and his officers burst out of the great hall with drawn blades.

"Mount up!" Kane shouted. "We're getting out of here fast!"

As if to mock his command, the massive iron portcullis of the main gate crashed down with a thunderous knell. Behind Kane, the iron-bound doors of the great hall slammed shot with a clash of bolts.

Kane spun a glance about the courtyard. The few small doors that led back into the towering citadel were closed as well. Short of forcing the gate or scaling the fifty-foot walls, they were trapped within the courtyard.

Laughter tumbled down from a tower window. Orted's laughter. Kane saw the Prophet silhouetted high above, gloating from his tower window.

"Are you in such a hurry to leave, Kane?" the Prophet Jeered. "You must not miss the evening's crowning spectacle!"

"Orted, you bloody fool!" Kane yelled up at him. "Have you gone completely mad!"

"No, Kane!" the Prophet roared. "You're the fool this night! Have you forgotten the warning I gave you at Sandotneri?"

"You're insane, Orted! You need me to defend your city front Jarvo!"

"Jarvo will die on another night, Kane--when he tries his steel on my shadow horde! He rides to his doom, even as you have already ridden to yours! Fools, did you think you could intrude upon the Altar of Sataki with impunity! Were you mad to think I could ever forgive your treachery to Sataki, Kane? You and your traitor band are all inuchiri--and you know the penalty you must pay for that sin!"

"Orted, you're mad! You'll destroy us both!"

"Wrong, Kane! I'll feed the shadow horde instead--on your souls tonight, and on the souls of Jarvo's proud army on another night! Then let the world shudder before the might of Sataki!"

Kane's men milled desperately about the enclosure, as the Prophet's taunts and laughter echoed across the court. The trap was a solid one. Given time, Kane knew they could batter down one of the interior doors, storm the barbican and raise the portcullis. They would not be given time.

Already the dread chanting of the priests reached the ears of the doomed soldiers. Orted had only held them here to await the fall of night, so that his priests could invoke the spell that summoned the slaying shadows. The evocation would not take long.

Kane ignored the Prophet's triumphant laughter. Kane had made a final error. He had assumed he was dealing with a rational mind, with Orted the bandit chieftain, who would have to agree to the logic of Kane's proposed alliance. Instead he dealt with a vengeful god.

Kane lunged for Angel, dug into the saddlebags, as the black stallion pranced nervously. The tension in the night was like the aura before a lightning storm.

His fingers touched a carefully wrapped packet. Moving with reckless haste, Kane tore away the rolls of padding--revealed the silver-grey casket he had taken such pains to obtain from the buried ruins of Ashertiri, knowing he must someday destroy Orted Ak-Ceddi, or be himself destroyed. He had hoped for other circumstances than these in which he was now ensnared, but there would be no other chance.

Chanting an invocation as he worked, Kane snapped the crimson seal that locked the casket's hasp. He felt power stir within the metal box. Deadly power, but Kane would take Orted with him.

Tendrils of blue light were already seeping through the airtight cover of the silvery casket. Kane had no need to warn his men to stand clear. Shouting out a spell in a tongue far older than lost Ashertiri, Kane stalked across the enceinte toward the citadel's central tower. He seemed to hold a blue-white star in his outstretched hands. Even though he cast the spell, Kane felt the skin of his hands sear from the power that stirred within the casket.

Averting his face, Kane shouted a final phrase, flung the metal casket away from him. Already a square of glowing silver, the ancient box exploded in an incandescent ball as it fell through the air. Kane leapt backward, praying that his spell would control the awesome force he had set free.

The courtyard crackled with a stark, searing light--brighter than the sun. A star seemed to explode against the base of the citadel wall. Horses reared in unmanageable fright. Men flung arms across singed faces.

Bathed in an aura of elemental flame, the salamander stretched its swelling limbs and stared lazily about.

Kane shouted a command in the tongue of the wizards who millennia ago had imprisoned the fire elemental. Slowly the salamander turned about, heeding the potent phrases. Its grotesque head swiveled toward the stone wall, and it waddled forward in obedience to Kane's command.

Elemental flame touched stone, and the wall erupted in a spraying fountain of lava. The salamander stalked forward into the gap. Molten globs of stone tumbled upon its obscenely bloated form--dissolved into incandescent fragments front the unearthly heat of its elemental substance. Dragging its tail like a loathsome comet, the fire elemental burrowed its way into the heart of the fortress, digging a molten path toward Ceddi's hidden cellars.

The chanting of the priests, Orted's gloating laughter--all ceased. Half-blinded by the incandescent flame, Kane's men now listened to the terror-stricken shrieks of those within Ceddi. The salamander had disappeared into the lower depths of the colossal fortress. From its glowing burrow, blue-white flame stabbed into the night.

"Keep close to the outer wall!" Kane warned. "I'm not sure what will happen when it..."

And in the hidden fane of the Satakis, the salamander crawled forth to find the Altar of Sataki--as Kane had commanded. And Kane commanded the salamander to destroy...

Elemental flame lashed out at the alien stone. For an instant the black mirror reflected a white-hot circle of energy--behind which something seemed to stir, to reel back in agony...

The stones of the courtyard seemed to leap upward beneath their feet. The fury of an exploding star seemed to burst from deep within the earth. Men and horses tumbled head over heels, flung to the ground in a terrified mass of stunned and bleeding flesh. Behind them, a section of the courtyard wall buckled outward into the moat.

Like a child's castle of blocks, Ceddi's central tower crumpled inward upon the seething mass of flame and molten rock that was until seconds ago the eons-old temple of a god who dwelt there no more.

For an eternity, stones seemed to crash down and down and down. Explosive echoes tore apart the night. Then a moment of utter stillness--before ears deafened by the holocaust began to hear the anguished shrieks and crackle of flames from within the sundered fortress. In the distance, frightened shouts called from streets where darkness now returned.