Chapter 13
Olyva
The trip back to Avondale was much more rigorous than the trip down the mountain. Olyva and Desyra had found a small stream at the base of the mountain. The weather in the blighted lands was much warmer than on the mountaintop, so they wouldn’t need shelter as much as water and a place where they could stay together until it was safe to return to the city.
Desyra had been full of questions, keeping up a steady stream of conversation until the trek up the mountain forced her to concentrate just on the climb. Mount Avondale wasn’t like Hamill Keep. There were no sheer cliffs to scale, no craggy spines to traverse, just a long, gradually increasing slope that slowly wore them both down.
As they got closer to the mists, Olyva felt a sense of relief. She knew the mists were the final barrier on the climb back up to the city. And even though she relished the warm, almost intoxicating amber sunlight that filtered through the mists, she knew the pure, bright, direct sunlight above them would fill her with a much greater energy.
“You look tired,” Olyva said with a smile as she tried to ignore the burning pain in her legs.
“Exhausted,” Desyra moaned.
“Just think, Rafe carried me up the mountain to Hamill Keep, and that’s a much more difficult ascent than this.”
“I would … have left … you be … hind,” Desyra said between gulps of breath.
“How about we stop for a rest?”
“Yes, please!”
They sat down and ate the last of the rations that Olyva had brought. Olyva nibbled at a piece of bread, while Desyra munched happily on bread and cheese, some dried berries, and a honey cake.
“Why are you wasting your water?” Desyra asked in surprise.
Olyva was pouring the last of the water in her canteen over her feet. Since her encounter with the sentient trees, she preferred to hydrate by soaking up water through her long, root-like toes.
“I’m drinking,” Olyva said.
“You can’t drink like that.”
“I can. My toes are like tree roots. I can soak up water with them and…”
She let the words trail off as her whole body tensed. She could hear something moving toward them. Something was slowly slinking down the mountain, its rough hide scraping on the scrub brush. The sound was barely audible, even to Olyva’s enhanced sense of hearing, but it traveled on the wind, and she recognized it. Something was moving toward them, stalking her. She could read the sounds almost like words on a page.
“What’s wrong?” Desyra asked. “Olyva, are you okay?”
“Something is coming,” Olyva said, focusing on her sister’s pale face. “Get on your feet.”
“What is it?” Desyra said, her voice pinched with fear.
“I don’t know yet, but we’re going to be all right.”
Olyva wished she sounded more convincing. She had a spear and she felt confident using it to defend herself, but she was afraid the creature stalking them would somehow get past her and hurt Desyra.
“You have to stay behind me,” Olyva said. “If I turn, you move behind me. Don’t look at the animal, don’t run away. No matter what happens, you stay right behind me. Do you understand?”
Desyra was trembling, but she nodded her head.
“If something happens to me, you run straight up the mountain. Don’t stop and don’t look back. You run as long and as fast as you can. Get to the city and tell Rafe what happened.”
“I’m scared,” Desyra said.
“Me too,” Olyva admitted. “But I knew this was a possibility. Trust me, I can keep us safe.”
“Are you sure?”
Olyva tightened her grip on the spear. “Yes,” she said, fixing her resolve.
There was a deep-pitched rumble, and Olyva somehow knew that it was the creature taking a deep breath. She also knew it was about to come bounding out of the mists. Her thoughts about the creature were intuitive, as if the knowledge was inside her even though she had no idea how she could know anything about the beast.
She leveled the spear and wished she had another. If Rafe were there, she could tell him where to cast his spear, but she had only one weapon. She couldn’t risk losing it if she missed her throw. As confident as she was about where the creature was gathering itself to attack, she wasn’t sure she could throw her weapon that far.
“It’s coming,” Olyva said quietly. “Keep your eyes on me.”
She felt Desyra take hold of the back of the long shirt Olyva was wearing. Then a shape came flying out of the mist. It was dark, with stiff brown fur that was striped by tapering bands of black. The beast’s head was round, with a thick beard of white whiskers standing out from the bottom jaw up and around the crown of its head. The beast’s mouth was open, and large pointed teeth were clearly visible.
Olyva’s toes dug into the rocky soil, and she leaned forward. She felt a surge of strength flowing up from her feet, as if she were a mighty oak tree facing a winter storm, not a woman with a spear facing a charging beast that was twice her size.
Even though the creature was bounding toward her at incredible speed, Olyva could see the muscles flexing and contracting beneath the beast’s dull coat of fur. A deep growl erupted from its throat and rose to a high-pitched crescendo, but Olyva didn’t move. She kept the spear held straight in front of her, her own muscles tensed and ready to thrust her weapon into the beast’s heart, but at the last minute, the creature veered away.
It raced past, just out of reach of Olyva’s spear. One massive paw came swinging toward them, the curved claws raking nothing but air. It slid on the loose, rocky soil as it tried to stop and turn back. The creature was fast, but its footing was uncertain, and Olyva had more than enough time to turn downhill. Desyra wasn’t as fast. She scrambled around behind her older sister, and Olyva saw the beast’s eyes watching Desyra hungrily. She got the impression that the animal wasn’t interested in her—it wanted Desyra. Olyva didn’t know if that was because Desyra was smaller and weaker or if it was because of the change the Hosscum trees had done to her. But above all else she knew she would die before she let anything happen to her baby sister.
“You can’t have her,” Olyva said, brandishing the spear. “There is nothing here but death.”
The animal screeched again, baring its fangs and swiping at the air with its massive, claw-lined paw. Olyva twirled the spear over her head and then brought the point down in a speeding slash that made the weapon whistle through the air.
The animal’s hind legs gathered beneath its belly, and Olyva knew instinctively that it was going to charge her again. She let one leg slide forward a single pace, then her toes once again burrowed into the ground. The spear rose to shoulder-level, and Olyva held it lightly in one hand. She had seen Rafe throw his spear, and she did her best to mimic him. She let the weapon balance in her palm, while her other arm pointed straight out in front of her. The spear moved back slowly; the metal point balanced so well it didn’t waver or sway.
“Run,” Olyva whispered to her younger sister.
“What?” Desyra asked, her voice a raw croak.
“Run!”
Desyra turned and scrambled up the hill. The animal saw her go and jumped forward at the same instant. It was no longer charging toward Olyva but angled slightly so that it could race past her and run down the little girl. Olyva knew she was taking a horrible chance. If her cast missed or if the spear didn’t kill the beast, it might reach her sister and devour her before Olyva could stop it.
She tracked the bounding creature with her spear, waiting an agonizing moment that seemed to stretch out in a long, dreadful eternity. Then she threw the spear. The animal was barely more than a spear’s length away, and its body was stretched out before Olyva, its front paws reaching out and its rear legs propelling it up the mountain. The spear slammed hard into the animal’s side. Her throw wasn’t perfect. She had been aiming to hit the beast just behind its front shoulder, hoping to drive the spear’s steel tip deep into its chest. But the animal was moving so fast that the spear sank into the beast’s soft belly instead, just below the thick rib cage. The spear tore through the flesh and organs, causing the animal to collapse. The rear legs twitched but couldn’t hold the animal up.
The roar of pain and fury was terrible to hear, and it was so loud that Olyva had to cover her ears with her hands. Blood was pouring into the ground from the wound. The heavy spear was wagging as the animal tried to find an escape. Olyva could see the red fibers of severed muscles and the bloody bulge of intestines being pushed out by the animal’s efforts.
She approached the creature slowly, glancing up the hill at Desyra, who had stopped when she heard the beast’s death cries. She looked pale and terrified, but also relieved. Olyva took hold of the end of the spear and jerked hard to free it from the animal’s body. The creature roared in pain again, but this time the sound was much weaker. Its jaws snapped at Olyva, but she was too far away to be in danger. She raised the spear and drove it down into the animal’s chest. The head dropped onto the ground like a stone, and the long tongue flopped out between the animal’s massive teeth.
Olyva stood frozen for a moment, her hands still on the shaft of the spear, then her emotions took over, and she cried. All the fear that had fled when the creature attacked now seemed to fall on her like a torrential rain. Her hands shook, and her knees felt weak.
“Is it safe?” Desyra asked. “Is it dead?”
Olyva nodded her head, trying to hold back tears that wouldn’t obey.
“Can I come back?” Desyra asked in a shaky voice.
“Yes,” Olyva said, picking up the pack that lay on the ground near her feet. She pulled out a sharp knife and looked back at the creature she had just killed. “We have a lot of work to do.”
Chapter 14
Rafe
His nerves were getting the best of him. It was mid-day, and he paced along the mighty stone wall that surrounded Avondale. His soldiers sensed his mood and gave him a wide berth. Over the last several days, Rafe had made sweeping changes to the city’s defenses. First had been a systematic distribution of the city’s armory. Weapons and armor, most not used in decades, were taken out of the large storehouse and divided among several caches throughout the city. Every squad was on high alert, with some even sleeping at their posts to ensure the war band wasn’t caught off guard.
Then came the changes to the city’s legendary ballistas. The huge weapons were capable of firing bolts that were taller than a man, nearly a thousand feet from their positions on the city walls. The weapons were used to drive back the massive creatures that sometimes wandered too near the city, but Rafe had repositioned the ballistas to fire up into the air. There were several catapults under construction on the city gates, as well, and more on the roof of the earl’s palace.
Another full unit, over 150 men, had been given secret orders. They were gathering weapons and supplies to escort Olyva and the citizens of Avondale if they were forced to flee the city. But Olyva hadn’t returned. She had taken supplies for four days—not that she needed food the way normal people did, but Desyra certainly did. Those rations would have run out the day before, but Olyva and her sister were still missing. He felt both fear and guilt. Rafe wavered between blaming himself for not going with her and blaming himself for not letting her leave with Tiberius the way she’d planned.
He’d sent men to the southern gate, with instructions to report to him as soon as possible if Olyva returned to that side of the city. It was possible that Olyva was already back and the soldiers just hadn’t had time to make the long journey around the city walls to inform him. At a run, a soldier with weapons could cross from one side of the city to the other in just over an hour. Still, even if Olyva was back now, that meant that her mission had run into trouble. Perhaps a pack of graypees had wounded her and even now she was suffering somewhere, hoping he would find her. But he wouldn’t leave the city, even if Olyva never returned. He was where he was needed most, and even though Olyva was now his wife, he couldn’t abandon his post to go in search of her.
“Commander,” said a calm looking member of the earl’s guard. “The earl would like to speak with you.”
“Of course,” Rafe said, holding down the furious tirade of profanity that he wanted to shout at the guard. He didn't want to speak to the earl or see anyone but Olyva. And he wouldn't be satisfied until he knew she was safe.
He followed the man back down off the wall and into the palace. The earl’s residence and the city’s political center was very active. Earl Ageus was not just healthy again; he seemed robust and full of energy. He had met with every single minister, grilling them on the changes that Leonosis had enacted as acting earl in his father’s place. The taxes the city paid to the king were kept mostly on the palace grounds, but those goods—crops, timber, wool, and hylum—had been loaded into wagons and made ready for the city’s evacuation. The citizens of Avondale knew nothing of the earl’s plans, but rumors were buzzing throughout the town. Everyone knew that something was afoot, and the buildup of the earl’s war band meant that whatever was in the works wasn’t good news.
The city’s entire corps of paladins, normally in charge of policing the city, had been conscripted by the earl’s war band. Crops were being harvested early, and servants were busy butchering animals, which were then loaded with salt and packed into barrels. Some of the city’s priests were spreading prophecies about Addoni’s wrath and pointing to the earthquakes, which were now a daily occurrence. Many people saw the frenzied activity at the earl’s palace and guessed that the city’s wealth was being preserved in case something happened to the mountain, but others argued that it didn’t make sense for the war band to be on high alert if the mountain was the earl’s only concern.
The wisest citizens were able to piece together enough facts to understand that Leonosis, the new King of Valana, and his father were not getting along. A feud in the royal family could easily mean war. What no one had considered, at least to Rafe’s knowledge, was that the city might be forced to evacuate to the blighted lands.
Rafe was led to the earl’s audience hall where Ageus was pacing as he listened to the report by one of his many counselors. Rafe waited patiently while the man explained that they were running dangerously low on salt.
“Smoke the meat,” the earl said. “We don’t have time to cure it.”
“But my lord,” the man complained. “We won’t have enough stock to replenish our herds at this rate.”
“Did I ask you about replenishing our herds?” Earl Ageus asked angrily. “I want them slaughtered and preserved! I want your people working day and night. Do you understand? Day and night!”
“Yes, your greatness,” the servant said, bowing. “I will see to it immediately.”
“Excellent,” the earl said. “Rafe, come with me.”
Several of the other ministers looked frustrated, but the earl ignored them. Only Rafe understood the stress that Ageus was under. The attack by Leonosis’ war ships couldn’t be far off, and if Olyva was right about the mountain, even if they survived a war, they would still have to abandon the city.
“My lord, you wanted to see me,” Rafe said once the earl closed the door to his audience hall.
They were in a small anteroom, but a posh one. Rafe guessed it was set up to allow the earl a comfortable place to escape to when the demands on his time grew too stressful. Earl Ageus dropped into a thickly cushioned chair and waved for Rafe to sit in another.
“How are things on the wall?” the earl asked.
“We’re almost ready,” Rafe explained. “The catapults are still being constructed, and stone gathered to serve as ammunition. Timber bolts for the ballistas are coming in regularly, but I still wish we had more. The pitch has been mixed, the men briefed. There’s not much more that can be done at this point.”
“And the unit that will accompany the citizens?”
“It’s half soldiers, half paladins. They don’t know they’ll be leading people down the mountain. I didn’t see the need to tell them that. The rumors are already running rampant.”
“Yes,” the earl said wearily. “I know it. I sincerely hope that people will follow your wife out of the city when the time comes. Has she returned?”
“No,” Rafe said, his voice dropping. “She should be back by now.”
“Have a little faith. Our future is bleak enough without adding undue worry to it.”
“We can beat Leonosis,” Rafe said.
“To what end?” the earl asked. “Even the mountain has turned against us. We need only hold off my son’s attack until the city can be evacuated.”
“And if Olyva doesn’t return?” Rafe asked.
“She will,” the earl said. “She must. The transition will be hard enough, but Olyva can make things easier. I see a bright future for the two of you.”
“I hope you’re right, my lord.”
“I’m the earl,” Ageus said. “I’m always right.”
They laughed, and then the earl turned serious again.
“Rafe, when the fighting begins in earnest, I have no doubt our men will show their quality. I want you to consider leaving the city with your wife. Wait,” he said, holding up a hand to forestall Rafe’s objection. “Hear me out. I can lead the fighting here. This is my city and my duty, but you have a greater destiny. Tiberius will return, and when he does, you should be at his side.”
“I will be,” Rafe said. “But I won’t leave you alone. My father’s duty has fallen to me, and I won’t leave you here. I can’t.”
“You should,” the earl said. “I will be more at ease knowing you are safe.”
“I am honored that you would think of me, but I cannot shirk my duty. Nor would I leave our city’s defenses to anyone else.”
“You don’t think an old man like me can do the job as well as you?”
There was a twinkle in the earl’s eye, and Rafe realized he was joking. He had never heard the earl make a joke. In fact, he’d never seen Tiberius’ father be anything but gruff and demanding.
“There was a time, Rafe, when your father and I were young. We were the best of friends. My father was still earl, and your father was just a soldier. He hadn’t won his reputation yet. We had such dreams, then, such ambitions. Yet somewhere in the middle of life, I managed to lose sight of what was really important. Your father never did that.”
“He was a hard man and a demanding father.”
“He saw greatness in you,” the earl said, wagging a finger at Rafe. “And he was right. I see it, too, now that the blinders of greed and spite have been lifted from me. I would give everything to go back and raise my own children the right way.”
“Tiberius is a good man,” Rafe said.
“He’s a good man in spite of me. And in spite of his mother, I dare say. Your own father was more of a parent to Tiberius than I was. Yet somehow he has managed to have more honor and goodness than the rest of us put together. I was on my deathbed begging to die. I was never religious, Rafe, despite all the years I went to the temple. It was all for show, but in the end I realized how foolish all my pursuits were. Power, wealth, jealousy—did you know I was jealous of your father? His fame with the sword surpassed my renown, as it should have, but all I could see was anger and resentment. I didn’t want to be the nameless earl, the one with the sword master. I let my pettiness destroy our friendship, and yet your father still gave his life for me. How can I ever repay that debt, Rafe? It’s impossible and it weighs on me. I don’t want you to waste your life defending a wretched old man who treated your father so poorly.”
“I don’t know how my father felt about you,” Rafe said. “To be honest, I didn’t know how he felt about me until just before he died. But I do know this—Tiberius loves you. He is fighting to save Avondale and all Valana. I can’t help him on his quest, but I can protect what he loves most. So I will stay. I will do everything in my power to protect you and to give Tiberius the time he needs to destroy the evil that has taken root in Sparlan Citadel. That is how I will honor my friendship and my father.”
The earl nodded.
“So be it.”