The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) (25 page)

So far he drew no attention to himself as he made a slow and steady arc across the grounds. Many of the gray robed scribes manned the walls of the tower. Their faces remained expressionless and little conversation took place between the stoic men of the Delvin order.

Soon the Elf prince edged toward the lapping waters of the lake. Eru horses milled in the knee-deep, rolling waves which spilled onto the shore. To the west the great barrier surrounding Delvi proceeded out and above the lake for approximately two dozen yards then arced downward and plunged beneath the dancing white waves. To the east the curve of the tower’s base met the edge of the water.

Eidyn grumbled to himself. No door or entry point could be found on the whole of the tower’s rounded surface. Whatever the Scribes held within their precious archives, Eidyn would never know. He could discover no means of entry.

Eidyn stood motionless, staring at the tower. Suddenly, a half dozen scribes trotted along the base of the wall and took up station directly across from the Elven prince. The Scribe in charge motioned to his brethren and they quickly fanned out along the tower’s base.

Eidyn frowned for a moment, then averted his eyes to the southern horizon and kept his expression one of disappointment. If the Scribes stood closer to the prince, they would read something altogether different in his eyes. Triumph. Triumph from eyes that caught the faintest glimpse of a tiny figure inching its way up the seaside face of the tower of Delvi.

CHAPTER 19:  THE BOOK OF NOSTR

THE BODY OF Olith Stormbreaker lay before a group of monks from the monastery of Awoi. The holy men bathed the dead general in oils and prepared his body to be sewn within animal skins in the traditional way of the Keltar. Granu limped toward his uncle, his expression grave.

“He died the death of a warrior,” said Shor to the Abbott.

Granu’s expression soured.

“The last of my kin,” stated the king of Keltar. “I stand alone as the last in the direct line of Hrafnu.”

“As you told me in the past, my king. Lineage matters not, it is the survival of the people which matters most.”

Granu turned to Shor and his scowl grew deeper. He spun on the growing throng of Keltaran gathering about the corpse. Granu threw his staff to the ground.

“We can stand no more,” roared the Keltaran king. “Officers of the Anvil get to your troops. We end this struggle today, whether it be through the annihilation of our foe or the death of our people.”

Silence fell over the crowd as it watched the transformation of their king from holy man to raging warrior. Granu raised a clenched fist on high.

“First came the death of our father Awoi at the hands of Amird in a trap set the Malveel.

Amird wounded us a second time by twisting the hearts of the nation he founded and setting the Zodrians on a quest of madness. They took the life of Hrafnu, a man who spent his time on this earth championing peace only to die raging for revenge.

Now we come full circle and Amird and his beasts once again stand on our doorstep to extract more blood from a people who only ever wanted to be left alone. No more. We finish this. From this day forward we are no longer a people hiding in the mountains and running from the sight of strangers. From this day forward we either banish Amird and his followers from this world or die. From this day forward we banish prejudice and hatred from this world. We will walk without fear, or we will die. Today we are free!”

Granu turned and confidently strode toward the body of his uncle. The Abbott’s injuries vanished and his eyes shone with the fervor of battle. He quickly dropped to one knee before the burnt and mutilated body. After a quick prayer he rose and lifted the black blade of the house of Stormbreaker on high.

“I used the axe of Gretcha to defeat my brother Fenrel in single combat and free our people from Amird’s control,” shouted Granu. “But that blade is coated in the treacherous blood of the Deceiver and cannot be trusted. If the house of Stormbreaker is to fall today, then let it end with the blade of my forefathers clutched in my dead hands .....”

A roar of approval arose from the populace and they rallied to their leader.

“ .... and may this sword help me direct a multitude of Amird’s demons to their death!”

A deafening clamor echoed across the grounds of Delvi.

The roar echoed up to the balcony of Delvi’s highest tower. Yully looked down upon the scene, turned and raised a critical eye to the figure standing beside him.

“The giant rouses,” mused the Prelate Nostr. “I thought the death of his brother doused the flame of faith within his belly, but a second death reignites it. He holds the potential to upset the course of action. If Granu Stormbreaker acts prematurely, many of our forces may be destroyed.”

“Do not underestimate those arrayed around him, my lord,” returned Yully. “They may stay Granu’s hand and give Him enough time to return.”

Another roar arose from the grounds below as the Keltaran mobilized to put the thoughts of their king into action. Nostr frowned.

Manfir, Cefiz and Brelg moved through the encampment at a quick pace. The Zodrian king’s face was tightly drawn. The trio passed amongst the Keltaran Anvil unnoticed. The giants rushed about in a frenzy of activity. They sharpened axe  and fitted Brodors with armor. A singular purpose motivated them.

Granu stood beneath a canvas canopy surrounded by his military advisors. Brother Shor was the only giant to notice the Zodrians approach. Manfir could control himself no longer.

“This is utter folly,” barked the Zodrian king as he halted before Granu.

A dozen pairs of eyes locked on the heaving form of Manfir. Granu rose to his full height and crossed his arms.

“We endured centuries of our own folly, Manfir,” returned Granu slowly. “This is an end to it. We will control our own destiny and not allow Amird to choose the time and place of our deaths.”

“But you need not die,” replied Manfir. “We must remain united. We must act as a unit.”

Granu narrowed his eyes.

“United. What has unification brought us?” scoffed the giant. “Our beloved homeland lost. Those we love, dead. Unification turned us into the private army of a boy from the Southlands. Flair shows tremendous ability to lead, but the Anvil of Keltar will be led no longer. We go forth to set our own destiny.”

“Flair was divinely led,” stated Manfir. “Without him this would have ended in a bloodbath atop the Bear’s Knuckles. He united the peoples of this world under one banner.  He diverted the Ulrog from conquering the south. We owe that boy a great debt.”

“Yes, it is true the city of Zodra once again escaped harm,” snarled Granu. “Perhaps Amird takes part in protecting the jewel in his crown. No matter. The Keltaran care not. It is time to stop arguing amongst ourselves as to the best strategy and to do what we are called to do. It is time to fight in the name of Avra! We are the Army of Avra. With his banner at our head and our bellies filled with faith, we are invincible!”

Manfir began a protest, but was halted by Brelg’s hand upon his shoulder. The Zodrian king turned to see the approach of a dozen figures across the Delvin courtyards.

“You did not inform us of this meeting,” called Temujen smiling. “Surely our input must be heard on the plans of our people.”

Nostr stood staring into the swirling black surface of the stone obelisk. His brow knit and his teeth clenched tightly.

“Prelate, there is something you must see.”

His concentration broke and the Prelate of the Delvin Scribes turned from the stone to see Yully standing near the exit to the tower’s balcony.

“I care not what battle formation the Ulrog effect,” stated Nostr coolly. “It will not matter to the outcome of today’s events.”

Yully cleared his throat.

“What you must see does not lie to the north, my lord,” said Yully gravely. “It is the south you must spy.”

Nostr’s face grew distressed and he moved toward the doorway. On the balcony, the Delvi prelate took a moment to survey the confines of the Scribe’s grounds.

Things had not changed dramatically since his last inspection. The human forces and civilians remained crowded between the towers of Delvi and her outer walls. Eru, Zodrian, Keltaran, Astelan, and Derolian soldiers went about preparation for the coming battle. Civilians of all types interspersed amongst the warriors. The people tried to go through the everyday tasks of normal life.

The stone man’s eyes drifted past the walls to the north. Fires raged a league distant and the seething forms of a multitude of Ulrog covered several sections of the horizon. The calculating countenance of Nostr did not change.

He spun and took several powerful strides to the south of the great circular balcony. Yully followed and the pair scanned the shining blue surface of the sea. Upon first inspection the Prelate noted little.

“To the extreme southeast, my lord,” prompted Yully. “Along the horizon.”

A second scan awarded Nostr with the information. A dozen patchwork sails of black and gray formed tiny dots barely creeping over the horizon.

As Nostr stared, the shapes grew and took form. The Delvi Prelate’s stony hands balled into fists and he spoke.

“Unfortunate. More will lose their lives this day than I anticipated.”

“Will they arrive before His return?” asked Yully. “Will they produce any effect?”

“Most certainly,” grumbled Nostr. “The signs are strong but He still requires time. They will certainly reach our shore before that time.”

Teeg stood on the prow of a long boat captained by Sayid Dubad. He stared at the white towers of Delvi rising in the distance.

“I see no sign of battle,” stated the Lady Jenpry from behind him.

The Master of Spies kept his gaze fixed upon the gleaming towers.

“There is no sign of smoke and the carrion eaters do no gather in the skies,” returned Teeg. “I do believe the winds treat us kindly.”

“We are too few,” said Hai. “Surely faith sustains a man in trying times, but faith cannot give one rider the ability to face thirty Ulrog.”

“What are the alternatives?” questioned Granu sternly.

The group remained silent.

“There are none,” said the giant in answer to his own question. “We talk and plan and back ourselves further and further into a box of our own creation. I wish to break free!”

“Then we must break free together,” returned Brelg. “It’s our only hope.”

“Break free from what?” exclaimed Flair. “We must face the facts. We are too few. Too few trapped on an island awash in a sea of Ulrog!”

“Then look to the sea for salvation,” smiled Eidyn as he stepped into the circle. “Our numbers grow and the tide turns.”

The Elf pointed past the white towers of Delvi to the lake. Dozens of small craft approached the shore. A steady wind billowed their sails. Patches of black, white and gray cloth strained against the gusts and drove the roughly constructed craft forward. The sails clung to masts made from the young trees of the Toxkri’s edge. In some cases, moss and lichen still hung from the newly felled timber.

At the lead boat’s rail stood the rigid form of Teeg Cin Fair. Beside him stood the calm and reassuring presence of the Lady Jenpry.

“The Grey Elves will be absent no longer,” smiled Eidyn.

“Nor the Borz,” added Vieri as she stepped beside the Elven prince. “For if I am not mistaken, those sails are woven from the capes of many a Windrider.”

She dashed from the circle toward the shoreline. Eidyn took one last look at Manfir and Granu then he too raced from the meeting toward the lake. Manfir turned on the giant.

“Perhaps you are right and we should not wait for the stone men to march upon us,” said the Zodrian king to Granu. “But I am sure you can hold long enough to discover what the waves wash upon the shore.”

Granu’s expression remained resolute but he nodded in agreement.

On the balcony above the grounds of Delvi, the Prelate Nostr watched as the flotilla grounded upon his shoreline. Borz, Sprites and Elves poured from the craft and joined the celebration of their arrival. Nostr pondered this development then turned and entered the chamber.

Cefiz stood apart from the celebration. His eyes froze upon a pair locked in a warm embrace.

Her joy was obvious. Her eyes danced in delight at the broad smile of the young man and her laugh at their reunion cascaded upon all about her.  Cefiz’s head reeled and his heart pumped. Truly she was beautiful. More so now than when she flew to him on the cliff’s edge and delivered him from death at the hands of the Ulrog.

Her loss upon Tar Hdjmir nearly broke him and her return filled him with such joy he could scarcely believe how much she meant to him. His love for her was nearly overwhelming.

Cefiz watched as Vieri broke from the arms of the man with a playful push and after a moment fell back into his arms, burying her head in his chest.

The Zodrian’s teeth ground hard against one another. How could he be such a fool? How could he once again fool himself into love with a woman who gave her heart to another? His brow knit tightly and his cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment. Was he doomed to lost love? Why did Avra play with him in such a ....

“She embraces her cousin,” said a calm voice behind Cefiz’s ear.

The Zodrian turned wide-eyed upon Teeg. The Elf stood a foot from Cefiz’s shoulder, smiling at the red-faced man.

“She is overjoyed at reunion with her people just as they are overjoyed that she returns to them safely,” continued the Elf. His smile dropped and he grew serious. “But she is about to hear devastating news and could use the shoulder of one who cares more deeply for her than no other.”

Cefiz turned his eyes back to the reunion.  Viday Shan’s expression grew grave and he held Vieri’s shoulders while he stared deeply into her eyes. The woman looked confused by this sudden seriousness. She muttered a question but her cousin interrupted. His lips moved. Nothing could soften the impact.

Cefiz rushed across the distance.