They ran to obey. Hardly had they returned with their mounts when a shout fell from above. Just to the north, a small, barely discernible figure was waving frantically atop the wall.
“Hené, Hené!”
“This is Soren! We know of the attack on the dam. Hold your post.”
“My lord!” he cried. “More Hodyn have appeared—east, beyond the wall. Lights are springing up everywhere!”
His words almost doomed Soren to despair, but his hesitation lasted for only a second. Again he toiled up the ramp, three of the Raéni horsemen following close behind.
Like a gathering wake, scores upon scores of fluttering torches less than a half mile away lit up patches of snow along Gegré-Udan. Short, stocky figures marched steadily toward the gate. To the south, another cluster of lights like an evil bivouac sprang up near the river, and five miles father on, a faint glimmer threaded a route along Gegré-Léiff. Meanwhile the line nearby along Gegré-Udan lengthened, torches popping into view as if emerging from a tunnel.
“You!” Soren bellowed at the nearest rider behind him, who like everyone else sat gawking at the approaching Hodyn. “Speed a message south along Krengliné. Remind Hené and Caleb Stenger not to use their lasers before the Hodyn do.”
Soren spoke to the others as the rider spurred his horse and clattered away over the stone. “Sonién is the critical area, my friends. There’s no point saving Krengliné if we lose the city. We must place our trust in the wisdom of those who built the Old Wall!”
They joined with the remainder of the horsemen waiting anxiously at the gate. With Soren in the lead they all charged up the road in the darkness, the crisp sounds of creaking leather and laboring horses filling the air.
The miles passed, each one agony to Soren. A host of enemy torches illuminated the distant slope of the dam, and he knew his soldiers there were terribly outnumbered.
He glanced far to his left. On the other side of the river, which here flowed closest to Gegré-Udan, tiny points of light like flickering stars moved along the lesser roads and through the abandoned villages. They were Raéni, each leader carrying a single torch to assure Soren and those defending Sonién that help was on the way. Yet their progress seemed painfully slow, and he feared they would arrive too late.
At last Sonién neared. Soren veered from the road to rendezvous with the other riders, for it was suicide to attack with only twenty. A few minutes later they met the first company, almost seventy Raéni on horseback. Eager to join the battle at the crest of Sonién, the horsemen charged over the last furlong to the foot of the dam, Soren leading the way.
The Hodyn quickly extinguished their torches at their approach, and Sonién lay dark against the stars. As Soren’s company unhorsed and climbed the steep masonry, they cut down a few straggling Hodyn, who then rolled or slid down the trampled snow all the way to the bottom. But the Hodyn at the top still had the advantage, alert and ready to defend the dam they had nearly captured.
As each group sent by Hené reached the bank, the Hodyn turned to attack. Even in the darkness their deadly arrows felled many Raéni. Soren almost gave in to the impulse to use his laser. Then he gripped his Fetra with a muttered curse, and hoped the others at Krengliné would resist the same temptation.
The last horsed company dismounted and charged up the long bank. Now the advantage in numbers shifted, and the Raéni won a short section of the dam, though at a terrible cost. From there they fought both north and south, or like Soren swung out over the ice to charge the enemy’s flank, forcing the Hodyn to protect themselves on all sides. Few of those who first guarded Sonién remained; most of the survivors had retreated north to defend Wsaytchen. Now they rejoined the battle with cheers of triumph, and the enemy was surrounded.
At close range the Hodyn could not use their bows to their advantage. The old Raén’s Fetra swept in and out, one of many wielded by skilled hands, slaying every soldier it met. The Hodyn fought viciously, fury in their eyes, for this was their long-awaited and perhaps final chance for revenge. But Soren knew that anger often betrayed a soldier’s prowess, and the Hodyn fell by the dozen.
“Lord Soren! Look to Krengliné!”
He never learned who shouted those words. But when he finally got a chance to obey, his heart faltered.
Far away, a thin line of red fire swept through the air above the Old Wall and vanished. Seconds later, just audible over the noise of war close at hand, a low sound like distant thunder trembled in his ears.
Soren had heard the same many times over the last few weeks: stone splintering to the piercing fire of lasers. It was the sign he was waiting for, the sign he had dreaded. He could wait no longer. He sheathed his sword with a slap, and traded the weapon of Ada for the weapon of Earth.
Other Raéni close by had forced a way past him, blocking his line of fire. “Stand free!” he shouted, and one after the other they either ran to one side or dropped to the ice, leaving the Master Raén to himself.
The Hodyn, a short stone’s throw away, stared at the sudden empty space between. Thinking their foes had fled or cowered at the sight of distant laser fire, they plunged forward, shouting
Dorgonan, Dorgonan,
the name of their ancient city.
Soren crouched low to wait for them. As the first man neared he squeezed the trigger. The Hodyn fell with his waist gaping wide, entrails spewing heavily onto the ice, steaming in the frigid air. A second soldier caught a fiery line across his forehead, shearing off the top of his skull. Soren had never quite gotten used to such bizarre technology, despite hours of practice, yet it needed little accuracy to be effective. Again and again the enemy soldiers charged, suddenly realizing the trap set for them, their frustration and wrath filling them until it was a madness. Soren shuddered at the carnage. Within minutes dozens of bodies lay in bloodied heaps on the ice and along the dam, until the last Hodyn slipped on the greased stone and tumbled down the slope before the Master Raén could fire upon him.
With triumphant shouts a half dozen Raéni sprang after to finish him off. Others ran south along the stonework, dispatching any enemy survivors. They had won Sonién.
“Lord Soren!” someone cried. “To your left!”
He dropped to the snow at once, thinking it was another warning. But there was nothing beyond the dark piles of sundered flesh littering the ice. Bile rose to his throat at the stench. Then the soldier who had spoken walked past, reached down to what looked to be a dismembered arm, and returned to crouch in front of Soren.
“There is hope yet,” said a woman’s voice. It was Edai, her sweat-drenched face glistening in the starlight. She brandished a laser in her bloodied hand. “Send me to the Old Wall,” she asked, a fierce eagerness in her voice. “Now I know what to aim for. They can’t use lasers without any hands!”
Soren understood her need for absolution, to shed the blame she still felt for Heradnora’s theft at the armory. What else was left for her to do? Though he still resisted the Overseer’s grim assessment, the least he could give Edai—and every other Raén—was a chance to keep the Oath and end her life with honor.
Another roll of thunder turned their heads to the east. “If you can get there in time,” he answered.
15
The Strength of Stone
You don’t really know a person until the arrows fly.
- Soren, 17
th
Master Raén of Ada
CALEB STENGER
, having seen the points of light along the dam and the approaching lines of torches beyond Krengliné, realized with a chill that he would soon be forced to kill by the hundreds. Dernetondé was a long time ago, an act of desperation. Now the faceless scribe who had written Telai’s message nagged at his conscience. He would not shirk his duty, no matter how unpleasant. But to slice through dozens of them at a time seemed more like the act of a murdering madman than a soldier.
Because he was positioned near the South Gate, some time passed before Hené arrived on horse to apprise him of the situation. The first companies he sent to the dam had already reached far up the valley, and their faint torches from the vantage of the Old Wall crept along like glimmering sparks. Directly after, a soldier riding a horse at a reckless gallop atop Krengliné reminded them of Soren’s strict command about the lasers.
By now many Hodyn had reached the gate nearby, and a score of them plunged forward with a battering ram to smash their way through. But the Adaiani would not allow it. Arrows fell like lashing rain, both from above and through the ironwork of the gate. The surviving Hodyn dropped the ram to the ground and fled.
With the defense under control for now, Hené sped back to the North Gate. Soon afterward the Hodyn began raising tall ladders against the stone, and scores of Raéni archers took up positions along the wall to repel them.
The swordsmen, including Caleb, stood behind as a second line of defense. Yet even without any archers the enemy might never have scaled such a height. The mightiest soldier could never throw a grappling hook so high, and it took the strength of several Hodyn to push on long poles, and at grave risk, to lift the towering ladders against the precipitous stone. Like at Sonién they had flung most of their torches aside, the flames sputtering out as they sank into the trampled snow. Yet the Hodyn suffered heavy losses, for the defenders had amassed a great store of arrows and could afford to shoot freely.
The Hodyn soon abandoned this approach and revitalized their efforts to batter down the gate. Unhindered, they might have achieved it. Even beneath the relentless barrage of arrows they managed to strike twice, sending the harsh clang of iron echoing far and wide over the valley. Yet they caused more bedlam than harm, with dozens of men falling by the minute.
Though the Hodyn were better archers, the high battlement foiled many of their shots. A few Raéni nearby asked Caleb if the enemy would ever bring out their lasers, but he cautioned them not to rely on false hopes. If Heradnora broke through Krengliné using conventional methods, reserving her mightier weapons for future conquests, all the better for her. Bodies dark against the snow lay everywhere, more proof, if any were needed, that the Hodyn were only pawns for her evil purpose, ultimately dispensable.
As if on cue a sudden vibration ran under Caleb’s feet, almost too faint to detect. Shouts followed, some nearby, some off in the distance. Hodyn yelled and danced in the snow, pointing north, but in the rising confusion he could not tell what had caused the excitement.
A red line of fire raced into the sky and vanished among the stars. Shortly after, a rumble shook the stone beneath their feet and rolled through the valley.
Caleb’s hand paused at his side where the laser pistol rested in its holster. Though the wound in his arm still ached a little, his grip was strong enough for accuracy. He pictured Soren sheathing his sword, bringing out his laser without the slightest hesitation. With a burst of defiance and a muttered curse worthy of the Master Raén, he cast off his doubts and drew the weapon free.
The Hodyn had abandoned the gate, running north to help defend those attempting to breach the wall. Caleb, as well as many others eager to join him, raced along the battlement in pursuit. The lack of torches made it hard to see anything until he was on top of it, and he kept bumping into heedless Raéni in his path. He stopped now and then to fire through the stone gaps at the hurrying throng, and managed to drop three or four Hodyn to the snow. Henceforth they changed tactics, spreading farther out from the wall and dodging in and out.
It was a long run to the main assault, three miles and more. Several Raéni ran close behind, cheering at each fiery shot he swept through the enemy. He was grateful for their encouragement, but he cringed inside, feeling like a Roman executioner dispatching victims for an appreciative crowd.
Another boom ran beneath Caleb’s feet, then another. He was halfway there. Though the stars still shone brightly, the first hint of dawn drew a pale line in the east. At first he doubted his eyes; it seemed impossible that so much time had elapsed since the first attack at Sonién.
“Caleb Stenger!” a voice cried. “Take cover!”
There was no decision about it. He dropped against the battlement, bashing his right arm. The laser clattered away over the stone, and he scrambled after it with a curse.
The next instant a splitting crash brought his hands to his ears. When he uncovered them to retrieve the laser, the wall shook with the rumble of falling stone. Shouts and screams followed. He sat against the parapet, recovering from the pain of his arm and the toil of his long run, his entire body drenched in sweat.
Raéni leaped or stumbled over his outstretched legs. Just as he thought to move them out of the way, a thin shaft of red swept across the sky directly over his head.
Another thunderous crash ripped through the air. “Caleb Stenger—your laser!”
Most of the soldiers had taken cover, and it was difficult to locate the voice amidst all the bedlam and confusion. Yet he knew it was close, a woman’s voice, vaguely familiar. She repeated her urgent plea, triggering a vision of her face, or so he imagined: beautiful yet strong, with a mingling of both pride and regret. But her hair was blowing in the wind of a bright summer’s day, and he realized with a shock he was not seeing a stranger but Telai, here atop Krengliné where he had taken the Oath.
He clenched his teeth, rose to his knees, and peered through the nearest crenel at the battle below. Just to the north, dozens of Hodyn had rallied around the leader of this new attack, who was carefully choosing sections of the wall to slice into with his laser. His behavior surprised Caleb, who had expected some reckless fool wielding the gun in all directions. This man employed cool deliberation, a conservation of power.
Caleb ducked as an arrow skipped off the stone near his head. The enemy had not forgotten their old weapons. Raéni archers tried desperately to bring down their leader, but an answering hail of arrows always sent them into cover again. A few Raéni were wounded, but many more fell to the sudden sweep of laser fire, which often sheared away a portion of the battlement in an explosion of dust and splintered rock.