Mistress Marna was the next to rise. She dropped the heavy hood that concealed her raven hair and porcelain skin, revealing a stunning woman hidden behind the somber clothing. From a hole in her earlobe, she removed a hanging cross inlaid with tourmaline and diamonds, and deposited it before Robyn.
“If this serves your purpose, my Lord, you are free to utilize it. It is an ancient piece, and the gemstones were taken from the crown of Athalon,” she said, bowing her head gracefully as she raised her hood once more and returned to her seat.
All the others sat down as well and Robyn spoke to them as a group.
“I am moved by your devotion and sacrifice, all of you,” he said, looking for a moment at each member of the council. “I realize that the artifacts you offer have special meaning to each of you, and that they cannot be replaced. It is a difficult decision for me,” Robyn said with reverence as he lifted and examined each of the pieces lying before him.
At the same time, Baladar rose from his chair and walked to the edge of the circle of stones, gazing outward over the city. The ring was burning his chest and he felt compelled to reach inside his shirt and raise it before his eyes. As he did so, he suddenly knew that this was the article that Robyn needed, and he turned abruptly and strode to the table.
Pulling the chain over his head, Baladar walked up behind Robyn and reached his clasped hand forward. Opening his fingers, he let the ring drop to the polished stone, and it spun and turned, dancing on the surface, drawing everyone’s attention until it came to rest before Robyn’s eyes. Robyn reached for it and raised it before him. The ring was hot in his hand and it glowed intensely from within. He examined the inscription inside the delicate band, and he looked at Baladar with the ring now hanging loosely from the chain wrapped around his fingers.
“You’re aware it may not outlast the day, Baladar?” he asked, knowing the answer already.
“It was meant to be used, Robyn, I know it. If it does not survive intact when this is over, then it was not destined to reach Davmiran. This ring has spoken to me in its own way ever since I placed it around my neck, and it speaks to me now. Use it if you can. We both so desire it,” Baladar said somberly, and then he returned to his seat beside Robyn.
“So be it, then!” Robyn exclaimed, as he rose and returned the other offerings respectfully to their owners. “We are more fortunate than I could have ever hoped. This ring harbors a power of its own, greater than anything that I have felt that is not derived from the Lalas themselves. It will help to magnify whatever power we can generate,” he said. Turning to Baladar, he continued. “I will do all that I can to protect it,” Robyn said, and he sat down at the end of the table, closing his eyes and enfolding the ring tightly within his fingers.
Everyone’s eyes focused upon his hand and they could all clearly see a bright, white light escaping through the slits between his long fingers, streaking out in all directions.
A faint drumming could distinctly be heard in the background, and Grogan was the first to call attention to it as he walked to the northern end of the circle of stone and gazed out across the plain.
“The enemy approaches,” he said somberly, and the others turned their heads to confirm what they all knew to be true already.
Baladar walked to Grogan and placed his hand upon the big man’s shoulder.
“Go now, the people need your presence on the wall. I will send for you later. Go, and may the First guide you and protect you,” he said to his Master at Arms.
Grogan bowed deeply to Baladar, saluted the others at the table, turned sharply away and marched briskly out of the circle toward his aides who were waiting to accompany him back to the front.
Chapter Forty-two
Colton chose to send in three of his Valkor at this time, intending for them to weaken the gates with their hellfire, accompanied by five Giants with clubs the size of tree trunks, their tips hardened and covered in a studded, black metal. Behind the huge Valkor and the Giants, the Trolls would descend upon the walls and chip away at the stone with their heavy axes and war hammers.
He knew that the same fate would befall the Trolls, despite their size, as that which befell the Orcs if he did not protect them. So, he assembled a thousand archers on the outskirts of the battlefield, and in front of each one he had stand one of his green skinned, half- humans each holding a shield of burnished copper. The morning sun would reflect off of the shields and blind the bowmen atop the battlements, making it difficult for them to aim. Colton wanted the opportunity to interfere with the men hurling the rocks down from above, and the unhindered archers would do just that. They could pick off the defenders one by one while the assailants below did their work.
A deep sounding horn blew repeatedly over the battlefield as the morning sun rose over the eastern woods. Three huge beasts, snorting and puffing black smoke and steam from gill like openings on the back of their necks, emerged from the darkness of the enemy’s lines. They were no longer being ridden by the red robed riders as they had been when Elion first gazed upon them, but rather, they were being led toward the Noban gate by these skeletal figures, followed closely by five giants who towered over them all.
The human-like Giant’s faces were disfigured and contorted, as were their bodies, as if their appendages grew unevenly and their twin features such as eyes and ears did not mirror one another, but developed independently. One bore a short left arm and a preposterously long right arm. Another had no ears and one very large eye paired with a very small one. All were practically hairless on their heads, and their clothing was made of skins and furs, haphazardly sewn together. They were so massive that the warriors upon the battlements feared that they could almost reach up and grab them without climbing at all.
Surrounding the Giants and scurrying to avoid being trampled by their enormous feet, were thousands of Trolls, much larger than the dark skinned Orcs whose ashes still littered the fields. Their fat bellies hung down before them and they jiggled in a comical manner as they jostled for position around the giants. But they were formidable foes nonetheless, despite their appearance. Smarter than their cousins and much larger, they were relentless in their pursuit of an enemy, and their thick skin protected them from the pain of arrows and rocks to some degree. The Trolls’ job was to swarm the walls and keep the defenders busy while the Valkor burned through the gates. The Giants were going to protect the Valkor from above.
Colton had amassed an army of Trolls that belied counting. They remained behind the first lines, waiting for orders to advance. This time, he was not going to allow the beasts to waste themselves so flagrantly. He would guide them more strategically, and send them out only when their brethren were consumed or dead, thus conserving their numbers. But first, he needed to unsettle his enemy further, to raise the specter of doubt before their eyes and to try and undermine their confidence, as was his way. He rode swiftly and regally to the Noban gate, unaccompanied.
The Dark Lord raised his mouth to the sky and yelled between cupped hands, “People of Pardatha!” he boomed, once again in his persuasive, melodious tone, “Your Lord and liege has chosen to sacrifice all of you, men, women and children, in order to maintain possession of that which is mine, that which was stolen from me some weeks ago,” he shouted, but the shouts seemed to float upon the air, rather than to assault the senses.
His words were soft and seductive, as was his appearance once more. His skin was satiny and blemish free, his clothing was rich and dignified and his long hair was shining in the morning sun. Colton dar Agonthea appeared to be everything a King should be.
“I beg of you to reconsider what you are doing here. I ask only for what is rightfully mine. Why should you suffer for the sins of your leader? Give me the heir and I will leave your lands and your city in peace,” he continued.
The soldiers on the battlements stood fast and sure, never taking their eyes off of the enemy. They had been warned by Baladar and by Grogan that the Dark Lord might try to deceive them with his magic, and they were not going to be fooled, even though many felt the compelling power in his melodious words. Colton’s voice carried over the walls, deep into the city itself, and the common people were just as steadfast and loyal as the warriors on the walls, despite being unsettled and disturbed. They were not going to listen to the lies of the monster who besieged them and caused them to seek shelter behind the stone walls of Pardatha in the first place.
Although Colton tried his best, the Pardathans resisted what had been, to many before them, an irresistible temptation. They held their ground, covered their ears and shielded their children from the menacing utterances. Colton remained calm, and he continued to speak despite the lack of any immediate reaction.
“What would you have me do?” he entreated. “I was appointed as guardian of a young boy by his very own father, and I am being prohibited from carrying out my responsibilities. The boy is practically my son, and your Lord, who claims to be decent and kind, keeps me from him.”
Colton was walking his horse back and forth before the walls, acting the part of the wronged man pleading his case.
“What manner of depravity is this?” he asked, his voice dripping with sadness while he appealed to the people. “All of this is unnecessary,” he said, facing his own troops, and spreading his hands out before him.
The only response he received from Pardatha was total silence, and his frustration was mounting by the minute. It was not the silence borne of fear, but rather of defiance. He was unaccustomed to being ignored, to not having those before him beg and clamor for his favor, and it angered him, but he attempted to maintain his forlorn demeanor and his touching image.
“Do you have no pity for me?” he asked, staring up at the battlements. “Do you not see that it is I who have been wronged?” he pleaded.
Colton remained silent for a few moments, realizing finally that these foolish people would never give in; that he would have to kill them all in order to get what he wanted and needed. He was almost glad that they did not crack and that they refused to relinquish their souls to him so easily. He would enjoy their ultimate destruction even more, he thought,
“Fools!” he shouted in a new and different voice, turning sharply toward the gates, his sable hair flying wildly behind him. “You think you can defy me? Your time is up, little ones! I will see the clocks of Pardatha stilled forever. Your final moments approach!” he thundered, his voice now deep and reverberate, echoing with rage like a cry from the pit of doom itself.
He sat high upon his horse’s back, staring for the final time upon the gates of the city and beyond, and all the illusions of civility and humanity that concealed the true nature of the fiend slowly peeled away like the layers of an onion, revealing what was concealed beneath the entirety of this time. His skin became pock marked and scaled, his eyes were suffused with red, his fingers grew long and pointed and, snapping back and forth from underneath his cape across his horse’s rump, the soldiers above could see a long, snakelike tail. His beautiful steed was transformed as well into a cloven hoofed beast, still resembling the animal it had obviously been at one time, but now hideously different.
Colton dar Agonthea, revealed to the world in all his diabolic and grotesque splendor, turned his animal abruptly around and cantered back to his own, to the perfidious mass of depraved creatures he commanded, and then he signaled the commencement of the attack by emitting a burst of blue fire from his upraised hand that soared high into the sky.
The Valkor moved out of the ranks quickly, anxious to begin their foray, ringed by the five Giants. Grogan readied his troops as the monsters approached, and he gazed momentarily over his shoulder across the city, at the stones that formed the temple mount, praying that Robyn, the Chosen, would be successful in his efforts and that they would all live to fight another day.
Chapter Forty-three
As the blue fire streaked through the sky above, Robyn removed his boots and stockings and placed his naked feet firmly upon the soil beneath the table. He dug his toes into the soft earth and pressed his heels and soles to the dirt. Gently, he placed his left hand on Filaree’s and his right atop Baladar’s. The golden ring lay before him now with the chain removed. All the others clasped their hands together and bowed their heads at Robyn’s instruction.
“Just let go of your feelings. Allow me to enter your thoughts. Have no fear,” he said in a calming, soothing voice. “You will feel a strange push, like a soft breath of air against your forehead. Open to it, allow me in,” he continued. Those sitting at the slab of stone felt what he described, and none resisted.
Robyn could sense the differences among the people, some stronger, while others were even more powerful than he expected. All of them had their eyes tightly shut while Robyn’s were wide open and focused on the talisman, the golden ring. He allowed the flow of power to seep into his mind, flood his senses with white light, and he drew upon it, sucking it into his head.
The energy surged from one to the other, gaining strength as it moved closer to Robyn, feeding upon itself. Robyn could see the white light now rushing around the oval, spinning, undulating as it moved through the members of the group, accelerating as it grew. It felt to him as if he had a large hole in either side of his head and that the light was passing through it at impossible speeds, faster and faster, causing him to feel dizzy and light headed. He forced his eyes to remain open and centered, and he opened himself fully and totally to the light, becoming a vessel for its power, while his eyes became the lens through which he would focus and direct it.
He extracted the life force out of each person, blending it and fusing it together, and then enhancing it as he looked at the ring. When he could contain it no longer within his head, he directed the power through his eyes and out onto the relic, causing it to glow with the intensity of the sun.
The ring rose from the stone, spinning and twirling, humming and resonating with power, completely encircled by the energy. It spun faster and faster, matching the surging circle of light as it passed from one to the other around the table, creating a mesmerizing convergence of motion, light and sound. Robyn moved his feet slightly while never lifting them off of the ground, and he dug his toes even deeper into the soft, pliable earth.
Images flashed brightly through his mind, bringing before his consciousness visions of twigs and branches, seedlings and seeds, webs of tangled roots, and for a brief instant, Promanthea in all his splendor, powerful and good, erupting with power. He channeled the energy through the ring, focused, enhanced and magnified by the talisman, and then he directed it back into the soil beneath him. It spread quickly and silently, rippling beneath the earth, emanating from the temple mount, toward the walls of Pardatha and beyond. It empowered all the living things it encountered, directing and extolling them to defend and protect the earth, urging them forward, animating everything it contacted.
The people in the streets of the city felt a tremor beneath their feet as the power radiated outward, and they all looked down for a moment, wondering what was happening, not frightened, but rather stimulated themselves by the residual energy passing underfoot. Robyn maintained his intense focus, feeling no fatigue, though the intensity of the power passing through him was surely taking its toll upon his physical being. He needed to provide the force with form and direction, and although he could no longer control it, he could guide it still. As it was the very essence of life itself, it thrived on its own presently, and it would perform according to its own design. He knew that he could let go now, that he had done all that he could do, and he was confident that what he had set in motion would continue until its power was spent. He sought now to protect the relic, the ring that burned so brightly before him.
With a valiant effort and tremendous strength of mind, he cushioned the fall of the ring, creating a pillow of soft, cool air beneath it. As it fell from the power, he grasped it in his magic and shielded it with his being, until the heat dissipated harmlessly and it clattered upon the stone intact. Robyn collapsed from fatigue and then fell from his chair to the ground, unable himself to witness the scene about to unfold before the great gates of Pardatha, while the others awoke all around him.
Filaree rushed to his side, and crouched down in order to ascertain his condition, with Elion close behind her. The attention of Baladar and the others was drawn to the plains beneath the walls, and from their vantage point on the mount, the council watched in wonder at what was taking place thereupon.