The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard (20 page)

“I know that. But the duchess has commanded it.”

“I do not mean you cannot physically lead them. Anyone can do that. But if you show weakness and doubt, it will infect your forces like a plague.”

Rowan had stared away at the stars overhead for a long time. “You’re right, of course. But it is difficult to exude confidence when you feel none inside.”

“Tell me, do you feel we have no chance to defeat Solek?”

“It will be difficult, but it can be done. I would not have asked the duchess to send our people to certain death.”

“Good. Then the issue is with you. With you giving orders and sending your people into harm’s way.”

“I…” Rowan blew out a tired breath. “What if I make a mistake? The fate of our world could depend on every decision.”

“And how is that different than what we have already been through? We have had a dozen chances to fail already, and yet here we are.”

“Here we are,” Rowan repeated somberly.

“Two of us, at least. What about the third?”

“ ‘The third’?”

“This Savior you used to speak of. It seems you left him back with the duchess.”

The color slowly drained from Rowan’s face. “Ouch,” he finally managed.

“I do not pretend to fully understand your beliefs, but if he watches over this world—and over you—would it not make sense that you were asked to lead the Delvish army because your Savior wished it to be so?”

Rowan pondered this briefly. “Thanks,” he said.

The change in him had been gradual but sure, a light slowly blossoming, first in his soul, then his heart, and then finally visible on his face. By the time they had returned to Delving, he had accepted his assigned task wholly.

They had chosen to march on the road rather than a less conspicuous route in order to draw Solek’s forces out as soon as possible. A gamble, and one that did not sit well with many who had seen the damage the Dead could do—and that when they had defensive walls to overcome. But the time for defense and retreat was past, not that all caution was thrown to the wind. They marched slowly, in tight formations, with mounted scouts ahead and on their flanks.

They reached the intersection of the Bay Road and the High Road, which went west into Corindor’s northern cities, without incident. Rowan paused there, looking down the High Road, a shadow passing over his face.

Tala reined up beside him and saw his expression. “It would have been nice to see them marching up the road,” she said with a smile, “but such a coincidence would be asking a bit much.”

“I know,” he said, returning her grin. “Can always hope, though.”

“Do not forget, we are early and the others have much longer marches.”

He nodded, already knowing everything she said, but glad to be reminded anyway. “Still, I think we might spare a couple of riders to venture down the road a ways. If they are coming, I’m sure they’d like to know we’ve preceded them.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed. “And if they make contact and return to tell us when we can expect more help that would be even better.”

Rowan looked at the setting sun and made a decision. “Let’s get another mile or so past these crossroads, then we’ll camp. If the riders find them and return by morning we can wait, otherwise we’ll stay with our original plan—taking shelter in the Eastern Forest until the time has arrived to begin the assault on Veldoon.”

“I will start spreading the word,” Tala said.

Rowan spared the High Road one last, longing glance, then turned and moved north once more.

*          *          *

The morning brought thin, gray clouds but no news from the west. Rowan was deliberate in his preparations for the day, clearly lingering in hopes the scouts sent west would return.

“They will overtake us soon enough if they are already on the way back,” Tala reasoned. “And if not, we should not tarry here long.”

In answer, Rowan ordered the army to move out.

They turned off the road the next day, as planned, before they reached Humbold. Rowan had no desire to see the ruins of the once great city, nor to allow his forces to be reminded of earlier failure. They had enough doubt already.

The passage cross-country was less conspicuous than traveling by road, but the army naturally became more strung out and their progress slowed. Of greater concern to Rowan was fording the rivers. They often ran high in the spring, and it would split his meager forces while they crossed, making them even more vulnerable to an assault. At least the recent trip to the Eastern Forest and back let him know the rivers
could
be forded at this time of year.

It took them a week to reach the Little River, and a day to get everyone safely across. As the last of the army crossed, Rowan let out a long sigh of relief. “One down, one to go.”

“Three days to the Crystal,” Tala estimated.

Rowan agreed. “And then two or less to the forest once we’re across. This was a lot faster on horse.”

“True. But we are making good time.”

“As long as Solek lets us march unhindered, this will be easy.” His smile was rueful. “Wouldn’t count on it much longer, though.”

The next day they had been moving less than an hour when Tala spied something to the west. “What do you make of that?”

Rowan followed her gaze, squinting to make out anything in the early morning light. Finally something came into view, at the edge of his range of vision. “Fog?”

“Seems it,” Tala said. Her eyes, sharper than any human’s, allowed her to observe the phenomena without strain. “The edges of it are roiling, like it is a storm cloud on the ground. It also seems to be moving this way.”

Rowan watched for a half-minute more, and agreed with his elven companion’s assessment. The “cloud” stretched for miles north and south, out of even Tala’s sight range. “We can hustle east and hope to outrun it.”

“If that thing is a creation of Solek’s magic…”

“I think it is.”

“Then it could do us harm, or it might be meant to drive us east recklessly. We would be pinned between the two rivers, and if we fly at top speed our army will have no chance of quickly assuming battle formations if attacked.”

“Any other good news?” he asked.

“I am fresh out.”

As if summoned by Rowan’s question, a young rider raced up from the rear of the army, a boy of no more than fifteen. “Sir!” he shouted upon spotting Rowan.

“What is it?”

“The cloud—” he sputtered. He was out of breath and struggled to speak.

“Calm down, son. I see it.”

“No. Well, what I mean is, there is another cloud, coming up on our rear from the south. That’s why I was sent up here. Didn’t expect to see that other one to the west.”

“How close?”

“A mile, maybe less. The men were starting to panic. My father is trying to calm them, but—”

“Okay. We march to the northeast, at double time. Pass the word back.”

“Yes, sir,” said the young soldier, his face pale with fear.

“I will go with him,” Tala said.

“Hurry back,” Rowan replied. He ordered the lead group to speed along the new heading, positioning himself between them and the approaching cloud like a mother hen, herding everyone in the right direction. He did his best to be a model of calm composure, and for a time he was able to resist the urge to look back. Finally the wide eyes of the men and women and the pressing weight of some unseen force were too much for him. He turned his horse, and had to soothe it to keep it from bolting. It was coming, and swiftly. The horse might be able to outrun it, but those on foot had little chance of doing so.

“Move!” he shouted, returning his attention to his forces. They did not need to be told twice.

*          *          *

Lucien and Alexis reached the lead elements of the goblin army when they were still two days’ march from the wall. Durst and the Kabrinda were in front, and he listened impassively to the bad news of Duke Fallo’s stubbornness. “So we turn north, to Lorgras,” he said when they were done.

“Yes,” Alexis replied. “But it will cost us precious time.”

“No choice, but best let all leaders have say before we change direction. Nightfall comes soon. We camp here and I send messengers to bring other chiefs forward.”

While they waited, Durst gave them what news he had. “All packs are on move, and Allagon as well. I think we bring 8,000 to field.”

Alexis brightened at this. “Far more than I hoped for.”

“What of Lorgras?”

“6,000, if things go well. I was praying for the same from the Westerland.”

Durst brushed the comment aside. “I hoped for 15,000 goblins, but Solek and this internal strife have depleted our strength, and some do not come that could. Still might have chance if your other friends come through.”

The other goblin leaders were disappointed but not surprised by the news from the Westerland. The idea of storming the wall was briefly entertained, but the risk was too great, and a northward passage was soon agreed to. Durst fed his guests and bade them stay the night and take what rest they could. As the army passed in the morning they could each join with their own packs again.

Dawn brought a new surprise—riders approaching from the east. Their banners were black and orange, the colors of the Westerland. A few hundred yards from the goblin camp the main host stopped, and three riders advanced the rest of the way, each holding up an open hand in greeting.

“Speak to them,” Durst whispered to Alexis.

She stepped forward and greeted the riders. “Hail, men of the Westerland!”

“Hail, Alexis of Lorgras,” the lead rider replied. He removed his helm and leapt from his horse. He was a young man, perhaps twenty years of age, with a handsome face and a noble bearing. He bowed low to those assembled before him. “I come to beg forgiveness for the rash words of the duke, and to give aid, if it is acceptable to you.”

Alexis was taken aback by his words. “It will be gladly taken. But tell me, has the duke changed his mind? We were just about to turn aside, so that we might pass around the wall to the north.”

The young man’s expression darkened. “No, the duke’s heart is set like stone. He will not fight, nor will he allow this army passage through his lands.”

Durst spoke up. “Then who are you to ride forth? Have you broken fealty with your lord?”

“No, I come with the duke’s permission, if not his blessing. As to your first question, I am Zald, the duke’s son and heir.”

“Be welcome, Zald,” Durst said. “Your arms will be joined with ours in battle, as brothers.”

“Thank you. We are honored.”

“You seem to have a good number of followers,” Alexis noted.

Zald glanced back at his men and smiled. “Don’t make the mistake of thinking most of them are here because of me. They, like me, don’t like the idea of waiting around to see whether we die under Solek’s heel or simply starve to death.”

“I’m surprised your father let all of you go.”

“Once he realized he would have that many fewer men and horses to feed, he was more agreeable. Regardless, many would have come even if he had ordered us to stay, and that might have led to some nasty business. I’m glad it did not come to that.”