Final Kingdom (3 page)

“You dare speak
that
in my presence?” The Dark Lord leaned forward and half lifted his hand, as if to send a lightning bolt and strike Gnash to the floor.

“Hear me, my dread lord,” Gnash cried quickly,
blinking. “We cannot win by ignoring the problem. We must strike at the Seven Sleepers themselves.”

His words seemed to appease the Dark Lord somewhat. He settled back in his chair, but there was a sneer in his voice as he said, “This is your answer, Gnash? Have you not tried, all of you, time and time again, to crush these accursed Sleepers? And all of you have failed! Seven babies—infants! And all the warriors of my kingdom cannot bring them to bay!
Faugh! You
are the infants and the babies!”

Gnash swallowed hard but managed to hold his ground. “We have failed—I admit it, my liege lord—but I have come to believe that there is more to these Sleepers than flesh and blood.” He waved a hand. “Have we not trapped them again and again? Have we not thrown our forces against them when all hope for them was wiped out—and
still
they escaped?” Gnash shook his head grimly. “This is sorcery, my lord, and we must fight it. And no amount of swords or shields can overcome such protection as they apparently have.”

Again, a murmur of agreement ran around the hall, and the flames in the fireplace leaped. The captains seemed hungry wolves as they leaned forward to hear what the Dark Lord would say.

“I think you may be right,” he said grudgingly. “I have often thought this Goél—blast his name!—is not of this earth. He is no mere man, or he would have been crushed long ago. What is your remedy then, Gnash?”

“I believe we must take the Sleepers not through brute force but through craft and guile.”

For some time the discussion went on. But though it was apparent that Gnash had spoken truth, no practical method of applying his remedy appeared.

The Dark Lord said crushingly, “Is this all of your help, my captains?”

“No, sire.”

A heavy, bulky figure appeared to the Dark Lord's right. This was Morder, the chief of the council. There was a cruelty in the man that made even the brutal captains cringe as they watched him. His eyes were small and keen and had a yellowish tinge, peering out from under heavy brows. His skin was dark, and the hair of his head and beard was lank. Hair grew in tufts over his arms and neck as well. No one doubted his shrewdness.

“What is your word, Morder?” the Dark Lord asked. “You have never failed me. What now shall we do?”

“My lord,” Morder said slowly, his voice as heavy and bulky as his form. “I have good news. We have placed an informer in the House of Goél.”

“This has been tried before!” the Dark Lord said impatiently. “They have always ferreted out those we sent, no matter how clever.”

“Indeed, you speak the truth, my lord—but this time I have succeeded. We now have an opportunity to know the inner secrets of the movements of Goél's people.”

Gnash cried out at once, “If we have done that, then we can lay snares for them and they cannot escape! War is certain. We
must
—we
shall
—destroy the Sleepers!”

Every throat was suddenly filled with screams of anger and hatred for Goél.

The Dark Lord looked down upon the burly forms of his lieutenants. He lifted a hand and in the silence that followed said, “We must not fail. This Goél, despite all of our efforts, grows stronger. More and more of the
free peoples of Nuworld are flocking to his banner. If we do not destroy him now, he will destroy us.”

Morder said confidently, “Do not fear, my lord. We have the strength—and soon we shall have the knowledge—to trap the Seven Sleepers. Believe me, or let my head answer for it. I will have these Sleepers in the dungeons crying for death before long.”

“Your head is pledge, then, Morder. See to it.”

The Dark Lord leaned back and watched as the feast continued. He did not move, but his power seemed to fill the room.

Morder whispered to Gnash, “If we fail, you know the penalty.”

Gnash said nervously, “This informer—is he a reliable spy?”

“Very reliable. No one would suspect. Do not fear —this time we will trap the Sleepers!”

T
he various elements of the army of Goél were busy. Ever since Goél had stated his intention of bringing on the final battle, men and animals and Nuworld creatures had constantly been brought into the camp. Weapons were sharpened and burnished, and supplies were laid in.

This place is like a gigantic beehive!
Josh thought as he looked over the milling soldiers early one morning. He had risen early and breakfasted with the other Sleepers and now stood in the center of the plain, looking for Goél.

He found him in the midst of giving orders to several of his captains. Josh waited patiently, and finally he caught Goél's eye.

Smiling, Goél motioned Josh toward him. “Good morning, Joshua. Are your companions outfitted and ready?”

“Yes, sire,” Josh said. “What is it you would have us to do?”

“Come with me, and I will give you your orders.”

Josh walked alongside the tall form of his leader as they made their way through the teeming camp. Finally they found a fairly secluded spot in a grove of small trees. A little stream ran through the plain here, and Goél motioned to the bank. “Sit down, Joshua.”

For a time they sat quietly, staring into the water that bubbled pleasantly over the stones. From far off
came the faint sound of men practicing with their arms, but here it was still and peaceful.

“I wish every place was as quiet as this one,” Josh said. He reached into the cool water and let it make a small wave over his palm. He caught some then and tasted it. “Good water,” he said. “Cold and clear.”

“You've had a difficult time, my son. I regret that I have used you so hard.”

Josh looked up with some surprise. “That's what we were brought to Nuworld for, Goél. To serve you— to fill your House.”

“Yes, but it is an expensive task,” Goél said slowly. There was deep, almost bottomless, sadness in his eyes as he fixed them on Josh. “No kingdom is built without pain and sweat and blood. It is not easy to send good servants like you into deadly situations. You have been a joy to me, my Joshua.”

The words warmed Josh's heart. As always, his weariness and fears fell away when he was in the presence of Goél. He smiled with pleasure. “We have done little,” he said, shrugging. “Sometimes it seems so hopeless, Goél.”

“I know. The Dark Lord has his armies—his terrible captains—roaming the earth. At times it seems that those of my House are being swallowed by the Dark Lord's dreadful strength.”

“It does seem like that.” Josh nodded. “If it wasn't for you, I would say it was impossible.” He flushed and ducked his head. “As a matter of fact, I
have
said that a time or two.”

“Never take counsel of your fears, Joshua,” Goél said. Then he smiled. “You have come a long way from that callow boy who first came out of a sleep capsule. You have done battle in high places, and you have maintained your honor—and my honor, as well—in
times of stress and danger. No man could have done more.”

Then Goél sighed heavily. “It
is
quiet here. I long for peace, even as you, my son. And that peace will come someday. Can you believe that?”

“I believe it if you say so, Goél.”

“Good!
But before the peace comes the war.” He leaned toward Josh. “I think few recognize what a terrible battle this last one will be. We have not seen the Dark Lord's full strength put forth. His wicked servants have multiplied. They are scattered over the whole earth now, but he will draw them to this place soon. And here we must meet him. Every sword blade will count; every arrow and every club must count also. That is why I am now sending you and your company to bring in three groups that have not yet responded to my call.”

“What are these three armies, sire?”

“I would not call them ‘armies.' They are more like small tribes. But I repeat, it may be that one sword will make the difference as to which way the battle goes. We cannot spare one man, or one horse, or one blade.”

“I understand, sire. Just give me the orders.”

“You must go first to the Land of Ice, where you will speak to the chief of the Aluks. They are a hardy people, and they love me, but they know not of this battle. Give them the summons to come at once to the Plains of Dothan. Second, you must go to the Land of the Centaurs.”

Josh lifted his head. “Centaurs?”

“You have heard of the centaurs?”

“Yes, but I didn't know they were real. You mean the half-horse and half-man people?”

“Exactly, and they are very powerful allies. Not just in their numbers, but they have powers that go
beyond flesh and blood. You must convince them to come at once.”

“And the third group?”

“The third group is more difficult.”

“Are they your people, Goél?”

“Some of them are, but there is an element among them that fights against me. You must go to Celethorn, Land of the Magicians.”

“Magicians?”

“You seem startled at that. Possibly ‘magicians' is not the best word,” Goél said quietly. “Wise men, perhaps. And wise women too. They have deep knowledge and powers, even beyond those of the centaurs. In the end it may be that the special powers they bring will be more important to the success of our battle than any sword of steel.”

Josh repeated the orders. “We're to go to the Land of Ice, to the Centaurs, and to Celethorn, and to bid all to come to the Plains of Dothan.”

“With all haste. It is vital.”

“Do you have a map for us to follow?”

“I have something better than that. I have guides for you. Two of them. Tried and trusted in my service in the past. I will introduce you to them. Then you must be on your way.”

Back in camp, Goél hailed a woman wearing a simple white garment with a belt of gold. It came barely to her knees, and her arms were free. On her back was a quiver, and she held in her hand a beautifully constructed bow.

“This is Glori. She will guide you to the centaurs and then to the Land of the Magicians. That is a difficult place to find, but she has been there before. Glori, this is Joshua Adams, the leader of the Seven Sleepers.”

Glori was a woman of some thirty years, it appeared to Josh. She had striking light blue eyes and blonde hair, bound by a silver clip and hanging down her back. She smiled a greeting and said, “I had not expected one so famous to be so young.”

Josh flushed and felt like kicking at a clod, so embarrassed was he at her praise. He could say nothing at all.

Goél spoke up. “Josh is a modest young man. He will need your help, Glori. Now, both of you come. You will also need a guide to the Land of Ice.”

Josh and Glori followed him closely through the busy throngs to the outskirts of the camp, where some sturdy, swarthy dwarfs were thumping each other with clubs and wooden swords. They stopped their exercises and turned, puffing, to face Goél.

“Beorn!” he called.

One of the dwarfs approached at once. He was no more than four feet high but was as burly as a barrel. His arms and legs were thick with muscle, and his chest was deep. His glittering eyes were almost hidden behind the lank black hair that hung over his forehead.

“Yes, my lord.” His voice was guttural, almost a grunt.

“This is Joshua Adams, who leads the Seven Sleepers. You will guide the Sleepers to the Land of Ice. No one knows the way better than you.”

“It is a hard way,” Beorn said, “and filled with danger, but I will guide them.”

“Good. Afterward Glori will guide the Sleepers to the centaurs, then to Celethorn. You will accompany them. They will have need, perhaps, of your stout battleax.”

“Do I take none of my companions?”

“No, you must travel lightly. Force will not avail.
You must be crafty, and I know you as the most crafty of all dwarfs.”

Beorn looked at Josh, and his nostrils flared. “This one is weak,” he said bluntly. “It will require a stronger than he to get through.”

Josh flushed and almost snapped out an answer but managed to keep his lips tightly closed.

Glori, however, said, “You have not heard of the fame of the Seven Sleepers? They have overcome greater odds than this.” Her tone was disdainful, and it was obvious that she did not care for the dwarf.

Goél smiled at Josh. “You will find Beorn a gifted guide and faithful to me. It would be useless to send more. You have done noble deeds in the past—now this one more time, my Joshua.” He put his hands on Josh's shoulders. “I am putting great faith in you. You will not fail me.”

“I will do my best, sire,” Josh whispered.

When Goél had disappeared into the crowd, Josh turned to his two guides. “Let's go collect what you'll need to take along. We'll leave at once.”

Beorn walked back to the other dwarfs, spoke rapidly to them, then picked up a heavy-looking knapsack and put it on his shoulder. It seemed to have no weight at all, so strong was he. In the other hand he carried a wicked-looking battle-ax with a razor-sharp edge.

Josh nodded approval, and the three left the dwarfs' practice field. They picked up Glori's gear, then Josh took them to the spot where the other Sleepers were waiting.

“This is Glori, who will be one of our guides. She will take us to two of our destinations, and this is Beorn, who will take us to our first task in the Land of Ice.”

The Sleepers stared curiously at the strangers.

What a contrast!
Sarah thought.
She's so beautiful
,
and he's so ugly!
Nevertheless, she stepped forward at once and offered her hand to Glori, saying, “We're grateful to have you.” Then she turned to the dwarf, who was scowling at her. “And you are welcome too, my friend.”