From Across the Clouded Range (78 page)

Ipid stuttered, still somewhat taken
by what had just happened. He cut a sizeable chunk off of one of
the sausages, but realized that he should ask a question before
stuffing his mouth. “You mentioned the testing of the village boys.
What is that? Why do some of them not return?”

Eia looked thoughtful but
answered without concern. “We test the boys
and
girls to see if they have the
gift to learn our ways. Everyone has the gift of Hilaal to some
extent, but some are especially gifted and can learn to use the
gift as you saw last night. These young men and women are given the
opportunity to join our order. If they so choose, they are
transported as you were to a place where they can
learn.”

“
What happens to those who
refuse?”

“
You have seen our
abilities first hand, Lord Ronigan. When you were a boy, would you
have refused such powers?” She paused as if expecting an answer,
but Ipid was busy with his eggs and could not have responded if he
had wanted to. “At the same time, we have to curb that enthusiasm
because it is a powerful gift that must be carefully
controlled.”

Eia paused while he washed his mouth
with a long drink of milk. “You want to know about one in
particular,” she started before he could ask. “He was selected and
is learning now. He is unhurt and much more comfortable than he
would be if he was still under your care.”

Ipid felt a pang of mixed relief and
anxiety. At least Rynn was still alive, at least he had not
completely failed the boy. At the same time, he wanted even more
desperately to know about Dasen and Tethina but dared not ask –
Arin already had too much leverage over him.

He drew a deep breath and changed the
subject. “So you admit that you are the Exiles from our legends.”
Eia nodded. “Are the Darthur Exiles too? Is this whole invasion
about recapturing the world you were cast from?” He held his breath
half-afraid of the answer, half-afraid of offending his
host.

Eia laughed. “You don’t listen very
well. Our people forgave yours and pledged ourselves to peace. We
became religious leaders on our side of the Devil’s Teeth much like
your counselors. It was our wish to never return to this world that
holds so many mistakes and hard memories, but the Darthur forced us
to break our oaths. I believe the Belab has already told you this
story, so I will not waste your time with a retelling.”

Ipid remembered what Belab had told
him but appreciated the confirmation. He looked down at his plate.
It was dangerously close to being empty. He forced himself to eat
slowly. “We had always thought that there was nothing on the other
side of the Clouded Range. Why didn’t any of our expeditions ever
return? Why are we just now learning of the Darthur and your
people?”

“
That is a good question,
but a simple one. Your church in ancient times had great powers of
its own. They used those powers to cast us out of your world and
ensure that we would never return. Our side of the mountains is
guarded by a desert called the Great Waste. It is the home of a
merciless people who kill anyone who sets a foot in their lands. It
was only an army the likes of the Darthur that could carve a way
through their lands. An expedition would not last a
mile.”

Ipid wondered how the Church could
have created a desert and populated it with merciless guardians but
was pulled from his thoughts by the realization that he had just
finished chewing the last bite of his sausages. He had time for one
more question. “So, what can you do with your powers other than
transport people hundreds of miles in an instant?” He tried to
sound nonchalant.

Eia giggled at his tone then grew
serious and leaned across the table toward him. “We can tear the
walls of your cities to the ground, rend your towers, and decimate
your armies. Ours is the power to circumvent the order of the
world, to break natural laws. It is the expression of freewill over
order. We can do almost anything we want. We can do things that you
could not even dream of.”

Ipid gulped.

“
Yes, Lord Ronigan, you
should be afraid. Your people should be afraid. With our power
backing them, the Darthur are unstoppable. Your nation will soon
serve him and we will sweep across your world. We swore a great
oath to serve and are bound to it. Now, our numbers are growing and
our powers are increasing. We do not relish this power. In fact, we
are horrified by it. We are horrified by our cowardice, the
cowardice that allowed this power to fall into the hands of these
monsters, the Darthur. They are your example of order turned evil –
structured, disciplined, but maniacal – and we are their
unquestioning servants.”

Ipid looked down at the scraps
remaining on his plate, but his appetite was gone. He imagined the
powers that Eia had just described in the hands of a man like Arin.
All his well-crafted plans, all his manipulations of strategy would
mean nothing if what she said was true.

Seeing that the meal was done, Eia
stood from the table. “I must take you to Kurion now. You have much
to do this day.”

Ipid moved to stand as well, but
before he could, Eia put a hand on his forehead and whispered
strange words. “It is an old blessing of my people,” she explained
when she was finished. “I wish you strength and courage in the
battles you are preparing to face and hope that my spirit will
carry with you to provide you solace. In the land of my people, it
is the blessing that wives put upon their husbands before they go
to war.”

She paused and looked at him for a
long moment. “Come now, but be silent. We will have other
opportunities to talk.”

#

For all that he thought he had gotten
better on a horse, Ipid realized that he still had a lot to learn
as he clutched the reins of his tall horse and prayed that he would
not fall. Below him, the cobbles of the road rushed by in a blur.
If he hit them now, his mission would be over before it started, so
he squeezed the saddle with all the strength his legs could muster
and pleaded to any god that would listen. In his time with Arin, he
had become accustom to the walk, or even occasional trot, that they
maintained on their march, but the yulata, or steady gallop, at
which he now rode, was entirely different. Arin had taught him that
riding was not about sitting, it was like walking you had to use
your legs to stay in rhythm with the horse, rising and falling with
it. That worked well enough when the horse was walking, but Ipid
could not keep up with a gallop. He had fallen completely out of
sync with his horse so that every time he came down, the horse rose
up to meet him with bone-jarring results.

Ahead of him, his lone escort, a
brusque warrior named Härl, was a steady blur that looked like he
was floating above the ground. He leaned over his mount, face
inches from its ear, and moved in perfect harmony with the animal.
It was the extraordinary symmetry of a man and beast that had been
together their entire lives.

Beyond them, the city of Thoren
dominated the horizon, a great semicircle of ever-taller boxes
clinging to the banks of a wide river. At their current pace, they
would arrive at the first buildings in a matter of minutes. To this
point, he had seen no sign of movement from those buildings, and
given their position outside the walls, he could only imagine they
had been abandoned long before the invaders arrived. Still, Ipid
could not believe that the outer ring was entirely unguarded, and
he prayed that the men who were likely hiding in those buildings
would heed the makeshift yellow flag that Härl carried – yellow
being the color of the rising sun and thus the Church, it had
become a symbol of peace. If not, this was going to be a very short
mission indeed.

It was almost noon according to the
position of the sun, and Ipid felt overwhelmed by all that he had
to do in the next thirty-six hours. Following his breakfast, Eia
had planned to take him to the Wilmont Inn and Pubery where Kurion
was waiting, but he had talked her into allowing a quick visit to
the village boys in the camp. Finding that they were as well as
could be expected with no sign of Dasen or Tethina, he followed her
to the inn. On the walk, he had reviewed the Battle of Testing with
Eia. He vaguely remembered the conversation he’d had about it with
Arin but wanted to make sure he had all the details before he tried
to convince the people of Thoren to participate.

Eia had assured him that
if they chose to fight the worst outcome would be for the people of
the Kingdoms to remain te-adeate. If they fought bravely, however,
they could become k’amach-tur, literally those who battle with
honor. These were non-clansmen who are allowed to govern themselves
as long as they pledge men, supplies, and loyalty to the Darthur.
Finally, if the people of Thoren showed themselves as equals to the
Darthur, they could become du-räsch Darthur, not of the blood
Darthur. These were non-Darthur clan members who have the rights of
clansmen including representation on the Ashüt. Ipid had remembered
Belab’s words from the night before.
Slaves by any other name . . . .

When they arrived at the inn, Kurion
had simply pointed him toward his escort, a big warrior named Härl
from Kurion’s Cäthum Clan. Ipid had explained the need for a yellow
flag and had been given just enough time to find some fabric and a
pole. Thus equipped, they had been on their way.

When the first buildings were a few
hundred paces away, Härl reined his horse back and Ipid almost
overshot him before he had his own mount under control. They came
to a stop and eyed the city. Härl’s eyes probed the buildings,
locking on each for a long time then moving to the next until he
had studied each. Finally, he pulled a bow from a pouch in his
saddle and notched one of the distinctive black-shafted arrows the
Darthur used. Ipid wanted to tell him to put the damned thing away,
but he knew that the warrior would just as likely shoot him as put
the bow down, so he held his tongue and hoped for the
best.

The fourth ring, as this
part of the city was called, was really nothing more than a large
expanse of shanty buildings surrounding the city’s third wall. It
was not protected by any fortifications, and Ipid could see no
movement in the rundown buildings as they approached, but then he
did not expect to see the crossbow bolt that would end his part in
this world.
If the Order wants me to
succeed, it will have to let me at least reach my goal. Otherwise,
there is nothing I can do.
He had long ago
learned the futility of worrying about things he could not change,
so he put the fear out of his mind and focused on the arguments he
would make to the city directors.

They continued into the shadow of the
first buildings, but the lack of movement in the normally vibrant
sector was unnerving, and Ipid could only watch the gaping black
windows like the eyes of predators preparing to lunge. Prior to
unification, Thoren had been the seat if the Grand Duke of Greater
Oscante and one of the most powerful cities in the northern
Kingdoms. In the distance, the stout wall that had been the source
of much of that early power could be seen peeking through the
surrounding buildings. That original wall had stood since the time
of the Empire and had served as a rallying point for those that
would eventually form the Kingdom of Greater Oscante from the chaos
that followed the collapse of the Empire.

But now only a fraction of the city
was still inside that fortification. As the city had grown during
the stretches of peace between the kingdoms’ ongoing wars, new
residents had built homes and shops outside the original wall. When
war again threatened the city, the residents had built another, far
less daunting wall to protect their homes. That wall was never
tested. Under similar circumstances, a third wall was built
generations later, but even this failed to constrain the city’s
growth. That final spurt of growth, which had occurred in the
eighty years since the original kingdoms had united, gave the city
the four rings for which it was now known. The three walls acted as
more of a social than a physical divider now. The numerous gates in
each wall were closed at night to keep the undesirables of the
outer rings from making their way into the inner rings, and it was
commonly accepted that the farther one was from the center of the
city, the poorer their status.

That fact was obvious to
Ipid as he rode along the main road through the fourth ring. The
road was steady cobblestones and appeared to be well maintained.
The shops and houses along the road were nice enough and most
looked to be reputable, even if the largest proportion were
taverns. Nice enough that was until his eye drifted down the
streets that radiated from the road. Those streets were
filth-covered mud with garbage piled along desolate shanty
buildings, many of which were barely standing. The stench of
rotting garbage and urine permeated everything, but even over that,
Ipid could detect the acrid smell of pitch.
They are going to burn it
, he
realized.
When the invaders were inside
the city, they would light the entire ring, would sacrifice a
quarter of their city to hurt the invaders.
He was stunned that they were willing to go so far. It made
it clear that they intended to fight, that they planned to hold the
invaders as long as possible. The day before, it would have been
everything he wished for, now it made his job nearly
impossible.
They want a siege. How will I
ever get them to abandon their defenses and face the invaders on an
open field?