Upon This World of Stone (The Paladin Trilogy Book 2) (6 page)

“You are Argus’ greatest victim, Father,” he said softly. “He has contaminated you with his hatred. Even if you should destroy him, the thorny seed he planted will ever sprout again within you.”

Rathman paused, his eyes narrowing as he studied Darius’ unflinching face. “You have vision, Paladin. And perhaps some small store of wisdom. But if I am already destroyed, I’ll drag a foe or two of the Church down to hell with me.”

“No, Father,” Darius answered with a shake of his head. “You might kill, but no man can cast another into hell. That is a path a man can choose only for himself.”

* * *

Sixty leagues to the north, the Silver Horde of Alacon Regnar marched steadily southward, the Juggernaut at its front and the Tyrant floating only a few score yards behind on his cloud of green mist.

The forces of the Southland sortie forth from Jalan’s Drift
, the Ohric said in its cold and haunting voice. The green scepter was hovering in the air directly beside its master, its light breaking the gloom beneath the thick canopy overhead.
They come to challenge even as the Juggernaut weakens
.

“They will fare no better than the other fools who dared face us in open combat,” Regnar answered.

He reached out his hand towards a rock goblin warrior who was standing frozen with terror less than a dozen feet away. A twist of the wrist, and the goblin screamed in agony as he exploded into green flames. The burning creature lunged to the left in wild desperation, but Regnar cupped his hands as if capturing the green fire and concentrating it. The blazing sphere grew smaller and smaller, shrinking down with the still living goblin within it, until it was no larger than a fiery green marble. Regnar curled a finger, and the tiny sphere flew through the air towards him, and he caught it in a small black bag whose interior was ablaze with identical green light from a score of similar marbles.

“We have many gifts to bestow on these visitors,” the Tyrant said with a twisted smile as he closed the black bag. “I look forward with pleasure to this meeting.”

These are not the light horse and scattered troops of the plains states
, the Ohric warned.
They are the combined force of the Southlands, who fight upon their native plains. Toys alone will not blunt their blow
.

“They are lead by a half-grown boy who knows nothing of war,” Regnar replied as he sent the green cloud on which he stood racing forward in search of other likely candidates for his black bag. “They have a long history of division and hatred that fester still, and if that is not enough, the traitor Argus will seal the bargain. There will be far fewer to man the walls when we reach the Drift.”

He reached out his hand to a mountain ogre who had wandered across his path, and the process of flame and containment was repeated, the black bag now nearly filled.

“How much time have we until the enemy draws nigh?” Regnar asked.

Three days. Two if they force their march.

“That will be time enough to prepare.”

CHAPTER 5

Secrets in the Castle

Llan Praetor was proving to be much larger and more complicated than Adella had ever imagined.

She stood blinking up at yet another pillared hall, this one lined with columns of a rich gray marble stratified throughout with thin veins of gold and silver. The walls were frescoed with images of bears moving across a wintry, mountainous terrain, and at the very center of the hall was a heavy stone disc about six feet in diameter that was suspended off the floor only a few inches by small stout legs. There were no markings on it of any kind, and Adella couldn’t even guess at its purpose.

She took a deep breath and slowly shook her head. They had been in the castle for two full days now, the thrill of entry and exploration giving way to a growing fear that they were falling deeper and deeper into a hole from which they might never emerge. Over the course of those two days, they had visited at least two hundred rooms, and so far, with the exception of a few candelabras, a large golden basin, and this strange stone disc (all of which were far too heavy to carry off), every single room was empty.

Sooner or later, they were going to find themselves in a room like the entrance where the patterns overlapped, making it impossible to leave by any means other than a standard door. And if that room had no standard door…

She reached out, stroking one of the columns in weary amazement. Marble containing streaks of gold and silver spiraling upwards through the stone, the like of which she had never encountered before, the column surpassing the knowledge of dwarves or the skill of elves to make regardless of cost. Yet there they stood, twenty-four in all. She was becoming accustomed to being astonished by Llan Praetor.

“This whole accursed mountain must be hollow,” she breathed, half in awe, half in annoyance. “We’ve been through enough rooms to fill half a dozen castles, each one the size of a fat merchant’s house.”

“And none of them even close to looking the same,” Jhan replied, his tone matching hers.

Where were the rumored riches of the original occupants? Where were Malcolm’s accumulated treasures from years of careful work and research? Where, for that matter, was Malcolm himself and that stone-headed Paladin?

“This is what being in prison must be like,” muttered Shannon to herself. “Endless walls with no sign of the sky and no hope of escape.”

Adella snorted in answer. “You know little of prison, girl. Rusty bars, old walls, and greedy guards all offer a clear route out. This is like a child lost in an endless, empty market place that even the rats have abandoned.”

“Or a child lost in a forest,” agreed Jhan. “These halls are huge and empty, but never have I felt stone being so…so alive. It almost feels as if the fortress itself is watching us. Maybe even playing with us.”

Adella nodded, the boy’s analogy more accurate than hers, and then she stopped, her eyebrows rising. The stone watching them…aware of them. Could it be…?

She turned to Shannon and remembered the way she had walked right through the barrier of force that surrounded the entire exterior of the castle. Abruptly, she tossed her the dagger they had been using to navigate through the rooms. “Time to try changing horses. Saddle up.”

Shannon looked from the dagger to Adella in open alarm. “Me? But I don’t know anything about magical stone!”

“I think the stone might know a great deal about you,” Adella replied. “You’re the one with the driving purpose. Let us see where Llan Praetor leads you.”

Shannon looked down at the bewildering pattern of stars and lines on the floor, shrugging her hands helplessly.

“Towards the middle,” Adella directed her. “And don’t fret about finding a particular spot. Just be sure to hit a juncture between line and star.”

Reluctantly, Shannon moved to the middle of the pattern, holding the dagger tentatively, clearly nervous she was about to bury all three of them in solid rock. She came to a stop, looked to Adella for assurance, and when she got a nod, knelt down and readied the dagger. Jhan and Adella put their hands on her shoulders, and steadied by their touch, she drove the hilt of the weapon down right into a juncture of line and star.

There was the all-too familiar flash, the sense of movement as if the fortress were in motion and they were stationary, and suddenly, they were in a completely different room, this one unique in that one entire wall was a massive mirror. There was also a huge dais leading up to a gigantic stone seat or throne.

“Well, at least you found us a room with a chair,” Jhan said, looking about.

“The pattern is gone,” Shannon half-whispered, her voice cracking in fear.

“What?”

They all looked down at the floor. The design of stars and lines had vanished, giving way to a plain stone floor.

“What are we to do now?” Shannon asked, looking up at Adella.

But Adella was looking around with a clear smile on her face. “I think the pattern is gone because we no longer need it. We have arrived at the place we seek.”

*

Shannon couldn’t take her eyes off the reflections in the mirror.

Adella had immediately begun checking the three sets of doors in the room, a massive pair beside the mirror-wall which clearly was the main entrance, and two smaller sets at even intervals on the opposite wall. Jhan was intrigued by the steps of the dais that led up to the titan-like throne that dominated the room, but he seemed to be having trouble ascending past even the first step of the stairs.

Shannon was barely aware of their actions. There seemed to be other reflections in the mirror, faint ghosts barely discernable as of previous times and previous people…or things…that had stood where she now stood. She found herself approaching the mirror, trying to get a better look at the phantom images, her eyes narrowed as they focused on the evasive outlines. Without even realizing what she was doing, she reached out and touched the mirror.

Instantly, the surface exploded to show two figures standing before the wall, one a slender man of perhaps forty years in flowing robes of various shades of blue and the other her Father, Darius. Shannon was so shocked that she jumped backwards, removing her hand from the surface, and immediately the image vanished.

“Looks like we may have found a way to locate your Father,” Adella said softly, coming up behind her. “Try again. Think about Darius.”

Slowly, Shannon pressed her hands against the mirror, the surface as cold as glacier ice, and she focused her mind on her Father, tried to conjure his image again upon the wall. The picture that emerged was faint and washed out, but it was still clearly Darius, though he now seemed to be alone and in motion. Shannon thought there might be a problem with the mirror, until she saw land hundreds of feet beneath her Father.

“Ethereal travel!” marveled Adella. “So the Wizard sent him out of here on the ethereal wind! I would have paid a sack of gold to see how he handled that!”

A moment later, and the image showed Darius had emerged from the clouds and stood before a group of seven men seated on thrones of different makes, and while they could hear no sound, it was clear that everyone was closely attending to his words.

“The Council of Lords,” Adella muttered. “So Darius is back in the Southlands.”

Yet even as Shannon began to remove her hand from the bone-numbing cold, the image changed again, this time a breath-taking view of the mountains that could only come from the very pinnacle of Llan Praetor, the picture so clear that they all felt as if they could hear the wind and feel the frigid cold. For only a moment did the image remain, and then it swooped downward as if on the wings of a great eagle, flying off the peaks, down through the mountains with a staggering speed, rushing into the valleys, into the foothills, and out into the plains beyond. The image seemed to actually pick up more speed, sailing across the open prairie at an incredible pace, and Shannon had to watch hard to have any idea of direction. Sun rising to the right, the prairie grass thicker than usual, a few gentle rises that passed for hills on the plains, and she guessed she was seeing the rich lands of the Plains of Alencia. What name had she heard back at Alston’s Fey? Nargosia? That was it! And when a dark structure abruptly arose in the image, she was quite certain they had swept down upon Nargost Castle itself.

The guards on the walls, however, were men dressed in hides, and she caught sight of a greenish face leering out of the shadows. A rock goblin! So the rumors were true. The invaders had indeed taken Nargost Castle.

Her hand was growing numb with the cold and she feared the skin was dying from frostbite, but she grimly endured it, sensing the importance of these images. The wall was suddenly black, but Shannon could feel the power still working, the tremble of magic still as strong as ever, and she frowned as she peered into the darkness, trying to make out what might be there. Suddenly, she found herself staring at a prostrate old woman, lying on a filthy bunk bed, but it was clear from the richness of her clothes that she was a woman of rank. More faces, more despairing expressions and beautiful apparel, old people, a few women, and young children, all of them sitting silently in the dimness. They seemed to be housed in a single large room with only one door shod with iron, but as the image passed over this portal, behind her Adella caught her breath. There were heavy chests in the next room, locked and banned with iron, but it wasn’t clear what lay within them.

Abruptly, the image vanished, the mirror returning, and Adella let out a soft oath. Gratefully, Shannon pulled her hand away and began chaffing the palm and fingers to try to bleed a little life back into them.

“Who were those people?” Shannon asked, breaking in on Adella’s thoughts. “And why did the wall show us them?”

Adella was silent for just a moment, as if weighing her reply.

“The noble folk of the Plains States,” she answered. “Their presence in the dungeon of Nargost Castle means Regnar has taken them as hostages to the good behavior of the Princes who have made peace with the Northings. They daren’t move against them while their loved ones are in the Tyrant’s hands.”

Shannon and Jhan exchanged glances, their eyes widening.

“Are we sure it is Nargost Castle where the hostages are held?” Shannon asked.

“There’s no mistaking that fortress,” said Adella, confirming her first impression. “It’s in the middle of the Plains and twice the size of its nearest rival.”

“We have to go there,” Shannon said immediately. “We have to try to rescue those people.”

“Are you crazed?” cried Jhan, the instant intensity showing he had been anticipating just such a response. “There’re only three of us, and you want to travel across all that distance and try to rescue a bunch of oldsters from a heavily fortified castle? Why, for Mirna’s sake?”

“If we can get those people out, the leaders of the Plains can re-think their alliance with Regnar,” she retorted. “It could mean having an entire army suddenly arise in the invaders rear.”

“But…but…” Jhan sputtered. “But what about Lord Darius?”

“The mirror showed us that my Father is back in the Southlands,” Shannon answered. “But it showed a different path for us. And I would guess we alone have this knowledge.”

She glanced at Adella. “Most people are not sure whether Nargost Castle has even been taken or not, to say nothing that it houses these hostages, correct?”

Adella nodded. “True enough.”

“If we carry this information back with us, the battle for Jalan’s Drift will be over before anyone can even try to free the hostages,” she said. “We are the only ones who have any chance to intervene.”

Jhan just gaped at her. He turned to Adella for help, but she simply shrugged and turned away.

“Jhan, we have to try,” Shannon urged him. “We’re the only ones who…”

*

Adella tuned out the rest, for she had no doubt of their final decision. And she had to do no more than nod her head in agreement to move them in the right direction. She had come to rob a castle, and if this one had proven barren, then the treasure horde of Nargost Castle, augmented by all the booty the barbarians had looted from the plains, would serve nicely as a replacement,now stored conveniently in one spot with hostages and gold piled right next to each other…

The unexpected sight of the treasure chests had been too great a distraction and had prevented her from taking note of the specific location and the defenses of the area. No matter. She could find those rooms with little enough trouble, and no guards, whatever their number, were going to keep her out. Now the issue was to get out of Llan Praetor and find a way to Nargost Castle, whole-heartedly supporting Shannon’s crusade to save the hostages. She left the youngsters to argue it out as she set about her job.

She had already determined that the main doors out of this hall were held by an ancient magic that might well be beyond her ability to open, but these two sets of inner doors were a much simpler puzzle. Both were a triple tumbler conventional lock with a minor holding spell on each, the kind of lock Adella specialized in picking. Whatever else he may have been doing with his time in Llan Praetor, Malcolm hadn’t been perfecting the locksmith’s craft.

She pulled out her picks, held one in her teeth and used two others to work the tumblers, inserting the one from her mouth into the keyhole when she felt the magic begin to activate. The third pick had a deadening spell upon it, negating Malcolm’s hold, and the next moment, there was a soft click as the first tumbler fell into place. She repeated the process two more times, and the door fell open in welcome. She glanced back at her two companions, but Jhan had now begun to experiment with the mirror, his hands calling up woodland images of what must be their home, both of them overwhelmed with homesickness. How touching, thought Adella, trying for sarcasm, as she slipped into the room beyond.

Her heart jumped the moment she entered, even the first glance telling her she had entered into Malcolm’s study room with a single large stone table covered with books and papers, several shelves along the wall also thick with dusty volumes, and a stool before a heavy reading podium with a single tome opened on it. She reached out and gently touched one of the books on the table, but it seemed to be welded to the stone surface and wouldn’t budge. Quickly, she tried lifting each volume of the table, but none of them would budge, not even the loose papers.