The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (13 page)

“That is when I initiated my second tactic. I continually moved in on the rear of his stallion and slapped its flank, trying to drive the horse from the circle. Manfir quickly tried to turn his beast to face me every time I executed this maneuver, but his exhausted stallion could not swing about in time. My mare spun and swirled around the prince and I drove him further from the center of the ring toward its edge.

“The Eru cheered and applauded my tactics. I remained supremely patient, adhering strictly to my plan. The strategy nearly rewarded me with victory. We faced off a mere horse’s length from the circle’s edge. I made what I thought would be my final move. I charged hard toward the stallion’s left flank. Manfir’s horse spun from me and faced the circle’s edge.

“But suddenly the big man rose up on his mount’s back and leapt toward me, catching me unprepared. As I have said, the rules state a rider loses when his mount is driven from the circle or he is unseated to the field below. Since, the Eru consider their mounts an extension of themselves, none would ever consider leaping from their horse onto another.

“I sat stunned and in an instant the big man landed behind me upon my own mount. Quickly he threw an arm about my neck and we struggled. I determined not to be unseated and knew as long as I remained conscious even Manfir of Zodra could not do it. I locked my knees into the sides of my mare and gained leverage on the prince. However, he never planned to unseat me.

“ ‘Hold!’ yelled the prince to his own stallion and the beast froze.

“He taught his warhorse this tactic so it would not escape him if he were unseated in battle. Simultaneously, the prince hammered his heels into the flanks of my mare, driving her forward out of the ring. Once again Manfir of Zodra challenged centuries old tradition in our tournament and provided an outcome none were prepared for.”

“But you both left the ring,” stated Kael, “neither of you won the Prize.”

“Many Eru agreed and felt the match ended in a draw,” smiled Hai, “but the Chieftain judges all such matters and Temujen’s decision adhered to the rules clearly. Manfir neither fell to the field below nor allowed his mount to be driven from the ring. My mount, on the other hand, exited the stone circle. I lost and Manfir of Zodra took possession of the Prize.”

Kael bit his lip and looked sidelong at Hai.

“You must have been very angry with the prince,” said Kael.

“On the contrary,” laughed Hai, “the prince’s participation in the Cull taught the people of Eru a valuable lesson. The enemy you face may not always decide to adhere to attributes and rules you apply. We defended ourselves against the same Ulrog raiding parties for many years and might never have recognized the change in their abilities and tactics. Manfir helped us grow as a people. We are indebted to him.”

“But you lost the Prize,” replied Kael.

“True,” returned Hai, “but the prince gave me an open invitation to challenge for the Black at anytime. I’ve not seen him in three years, but the moment I do, that challenge will be given.”

Eru elders socialized and moved about the tent as the children continued to play music on their instruments. Ader and Temujen sat together and discussed all that occurred in the years since their last meeting. Eidyn added what he could, but Ader dominated the discussion.

When talk turned to Kael, Temujen displayed his understanding of the boy’s past and significance. Ader continued the story until recent events at the crossing of the Frizgard. When Ader concluded, Temujen sat pensively for a moment. Finally, he looked up.

 “This business with the Borz concerns me deeply,” stated the Chieftain. “The Eru are stretched thinly already. To the north the Ulrog increase their raids into the Tre. In the East the Derolians and the remnants of Astel call for aid. The Ulrog begin to enter their wood from across the Mirozert. In the West, the Zodrians become weak and the Keltar fail us. Ulrog increasingly slip from the mountains to wreak havoc across the North. My riders do what they can, but cannot cover thousands of leagues alone.

“The South remained our salvation, our means of retreat. News that the people of the great sea of sand align themselves with Amird posits another threat against us. Bleak news indeed.”

“Yes, but as I’ve said. The Toxkri lies between you and this foe and the Toxkri contains the people of Sprite. The Eru must rest in the comfort of that knowledge,” said Ader.

“A comfort I struggle to assess,” frowned Temujen. “ I must take the protection of this mythical people on faith. I have no way of knowing their capabilities. I trust you implicitly Lord Ader, but faith by its very nature leads to a degree of uncertainty.”

“True, but so far the Sprites have impressed the leaders of the other great nations and I believe you too will find them a remarkable and capable ally,” returned Ader as he waved a hand, palm open, toward the children playing music.

Temujen threw a questioning look toward the Seraph then studied the scene before him. The children laughed and sang, strumming instruments and beating drums. There amongst them, leading the tune, was a little man in Eru attire playing a flute. The Chieftain furrowed his brow in concern and waved toward the guards stationed near the tent’s entry. Immediately the little man stood and waved goodbye to the children, who laughed and waved in response. The guards moved toward his position and in a flash Sprig danced between the divans of the tent and disappeared beneath a wall. The guards strode forward and stood before the Chieftain.

“The little man is a guest,” stated Temujen. “When you find him, offer him the typical hospitality of the Eru.”

Ader smiled and shook his head.

“They will not find him,” laughed the Seraph.

CHAPTER 8: FAITH REWARDED

Granu was uncertain how long he slept. Day and evening held no meaning within the mountain. The giant stood and rubbed the stiffness from his muscles. He gathered his belongings, carefully wrapping the ax of Gretcha in his bedroll.

Recent events left him confused and anxious. The matriarch of his people directed him to take up arms against his brother. A command issued across centuries. How? He and the Guardsman were trapped in the tomb of Awoi. To stay meant a slow death by starvation. To depart meant facing three-dozen Hackles in the pass below, as certain a death as if they remained.

Cefiz stirred and slowly woke. Granu smiled. The Guardsman weathered much hardship, but as the Keltaran prince often said, Cefiz was made of stern stuff. Once more he proved it by making the trek up Tar Hdjmir. Granu marveled at how proud he was to call the Guardsman “friend”. He stepped toward Cefiz and helped the man to his feet.

Cefiz brushed the dust from his clothing and ordered his belongings as well. When ready, he stood and slung a pack across his back.

“I suppose it is time for us to contemplate alternatives,” said the giant. “Our choices seem to be limited to death by starvation or an Ulrog cleaver.”

Cefiz smiled in return and worked the kinks from his neck muscles.

“The former holds neither dignity nor glory,” replied Cefiz. “With the latter, at least we may take some of the demons with us.”

The pair shared a smile and reached to gather the remainder of their belongings.

“Again you fail to recognize possibilities,” came the comment from the doorway.

The pair turned to face Nostr as the stone prophet entered the chamber. He quickly surveyed them and moved toward the dais supporting the remains of Awoi.

“Do you think I would lead you here and show you all this just to allow you to die upon the slopes of Hdjmir?” asked the Ulrog scribe as he slowly circled the dais, studying it intently.

Granu and Cefiz did not answer. An answer was not required. Nostr halted and focused on a corner of the great stone block. His huge, rough hands slowly passed along the edges of the dais as he studied the base of the stone.

“No,” continued Nostr. “The Creator has other plans for you, if you are willing. The Malveel are intimately familiar with the mountain and know there is no escape from the slopes of Hdjmir. However, they have never entered this chamber and therefore are unaware of ....”

Nostr locked his stony claws upon the edge of the granite dais and laid a tremendous force into its side. The rock shuddered and slowly pivoted from the center of the room.

“... this,” finished the stone man.

Granu and Cefiz backed away as a gaping hole opened beneath the dais. Nostr removed his hands from the stone and snatched a burning torch from the wall.

“Your path lies there,” said Nostr flipping the torch from his hand into the hole.

The sound of the wood torch clattering and bouncing across stone echoed from the pit and all three men moved forward and peered into the opening. A rough-hewn staircase stretched out beneath them reaching toward the torch burning far below in the darkness. Its faint light stretched toward the tomb and threw dancing shadows across the irregular stone face of the stairway walls.

Granu and Cefiz looked to one another in surprise and Nostr allowed a broad smile to slide across his gray face. Granu raised a questioning eyebrow and a smiling Nostr turned to face him.

“What confuses you?” said Nostr still smiling at the giant.

Granu cleared his throat and appeared uncomfortable.

 “I ... I am confused by your pleasure in this situation,” said Granu. “Why at this of all times do you show such delight?”

Nostr turned, continuing to smile, and collected several torches from the floor of the chamber.

“Do you not think I can feel amusement?” replied Nostr through a deep, grating laugh.

Granu and Cefiz were taken aback by both the sound and the attitude of the stone prophet. He was so expressionless in their previous encounters that this change of character befuddled them. Nostr shook his head and approached the giant, placing a hand on the Keltaran’s shoulder.

“You think of me as some mystical presence,” said Nostr, “full of the answers to questions you cannot conceive. That is where you are mistaken. I am a man like any other. The visions given to me are just that. Do I think they will come true? Yes. Have they always come true? Yes. But that does not eliminate the joy and wonder I experience every time one of them does comes true.

“When I pushed on that stone, I hoped it would move. When I pushed on that stone, I believed it would move. But nothing compares to the elation a man feels when his faith is rewarded with proof.”

Nostr thrust the torches into the hands of Granu and Cefiz. The smile slowly dropped from his face as he addressed the pair.

“Your path lies below. Follow the stairway and you will exit the mountain at its base.”

“What then?” asked Granu.

“That is for you to decide, Prince Granu,” returned Nostr.

“But what of Lilywynn?” asked Cefiz. “What of her rescue?”

“That is not your course,” replied Nostr. “I cannot force you from attempting that undertaking again, but you and I are both aware that any attempt would be fruitless. Her captors are too far ahead of you. Your original plan was adequate. It was composed of two groups, a second group to back the first if they failed. They did.”

Cefiz dropped his head slightly and Granu set his jaw. After a moment the giant turned and stepped into the hole in the floor of the chamber. Cefiz took one last look at the stone prophet, lightly bowed and followed the giant. Granu descended a few dozen steps then stopped at the guttering torch on the granite stairway. He bent and lit a second torch from the first. Cefiz met him and Granu handed the Guardsman the second torch.

A loud grating of stone on stone echoed from above. The faint light from the tomb of Awoi shrank as the Ulrog called down to the pair.

“I know not whether the Hackles will gain access to the tomb now that it is unsealed. I will close this passage and the stone door to prevent you from being followed. May Avra bless your endeavors.”

The grating halted and the tomb above disappeared. Granu and Cefiz stared at one another in the flickering light of the torches.

“You asked me to contemplate alternatives when we woke,” frowned Cefiz, “but I feel as if there were never any choices but those laid out by the scribe.”

Granu pursed his lips and nodded in reply.

“Agreed,” returned the giant, “but I cannot say I am unhappy with the lot he has given us.”

Cefiz nodded in return. The pair spun and slowly descended the dark staircase.

CHAPTER 9: SMOKE OR FIRE?

The wind held steady throughout the Anvil’s march to the East and scouts sighted smoke on the army’s seventh day from the mountain city. At first, Fenrel dismissed it. The haze originated from an area of the Dunmor hills he intended to skirt. The hills would make travel difficult and the giant knew he possessed plenty of time to march to Zodra.

The smoke remained persistent on the Northeast horizon even after a half-day’s march. This fire neither spread nor dissipated. As the Anvil bedded down for the night, talk ran through the camp. Fenrel became perturbed. He did not need the distraction in his men’s minds as they prepared for battle with the Zodrians.

 He had stripped Keltar of nearly all of her fighters, leaving Ramsskull subordinates in charge of a small contingent of Anvil regulars to guard the valley. His men left all they cared for in the valley and would worry over the source of the smoke so close to their borders.

“Fools,” thought Fenrel. “They stand at the threshold of greatness and worry over a Zodrian hunter’s cooking fire.”