Alexander rode, feeling the rhythmic motion of his big powerful horse beneath him, and focused on that most basic purpose, survival. He knew he would not win his future with force but with thought. His mind was his only weapon. Everything else was a tool to be wielded by his free will. His ability to choose, to act, was his power.
He discarded his assumptions and looked at the situation facing him with fresh eyes. He knew little of the political reality of the other islands. Since the fall of the Reishi, the Seven Isles had become little more than a collection of disparate territories, each vying for its own interests by whatever means was convenient. There were still areas where the principles of the Old Law held and men could count on justice from their neighbors, but there were many places where the only rule was brute force and intimidation, or worse, a stifling morass of regulation and bureaucracy masquerading as justice. Even on Ruatha, every extreme could be found from the basic fairness and justice enforced in New Ruatha to the endless political machinations of Headwater to the outright rule by force in Kai’Gorn.
He considered the reality of the world and it occurred to him that he would need much more than a sword to bring Ruatha under the rule of the Old Law once again. The Thinblade was the hereditary badge of office of the Island Kings, but in the end, it was just a sword. Those who chose not to respect the authority it represented would have to be persuaded to stand against Phane by other means. A part of him wanted to force it on them, but he knew at a deep and basic level that he could not and would not follow that course. That was the way of Phane. He needed to find another way, one that respected the free will of the people.
They rode through the day staying just minutes ahead of the enemy and slowly losing ground. When Alexander looked back, he thought that the enemy had purchased speed at the cost of numbers. They were pushing their horses beyond their limits and a number of them had fallen by the wayside. Still, there were more than fifty men behind them, more than enough to put an abrupt end to his hopes for the future.
Darkness came slowly but inexorably, bringing a sense of relief as it descended. Alexander slowed their pace. Isabel reported that the horses were tired and thirsty but still healthy. They rode until it was fully dark. Alexander could see the light of the enemy torches in the distance. Their pursuers were farther off than they had been all afternoon but they were still coming. When they came to a little stream, Alexander stopped for a break. He scanned all around while the horses drank their fill and was satisfied with the emptiness of the darkness.
They made slow progress during the night and it seemed that the enemy was gaining on them by the light of their torches, but then it started to rain. It was cold and miserable and Alexander was profoundly grateful for it. It wasn’t long before the torches were no longer visible and all he could see of the enemy was the dull smudge of their living auras off in the distance.
By morning, they were all tired. The horses were exhausted and needed a rest, but Alexander knew that he couldn’t give them one. He held out hope that they wouldn’t lose one to injury even as he urged a faster pace. The rain let up just before dawn and the slate-grey clouds showed signs of breaking up under the morning sun.
The imposing onyx-black silhouette of Blackstone Keep was looming impossibly large in the distance. Details of the battlements and towers started to become visible, but the thing that suddenly struck Alexander like a lightning bolt was the faint outline of an aura that surrounded the entire mountain. He’d heard the story that the mountain itself had been called up out of the ground by the command of some ancient and terrible magic but he hadn’t really believed it until now. The ramifications staggered him. If magic could do this, then what could it not do? There seemed to be virtually no limit in the face of such a magnificent accomplishment.
The morning wore on and the enemy gained ground at the cost of dwindling numbers. Alexander knew he couldn’t keep this pace. The horses were beginning to complain to Isabel of exhaustion and pain. They wouldn’t reach Blackstone Keep before they lost a horse and if they slowed, the enemy would catch up. Either way, they would have to fight too many soldiers.
He agonized over the decision before finally choosing to stop and fight in the belief that it was better to choose the battlefield rather than allow a hobbled horse to do it for him. Then he heard the shriek of a hawk overhead. It was Slyder. He looked to the north and saw a cloud of dust rising in the distance. Erik had received the message.
He whispered, “Not much longer,” to his horse and nudged him into a gallop toward the company of Rangers heading to reinforce him. They would even the odds considerably. If he had to fight, he much preferred a fight he had some chance of winning. Erik and his Rangers gave him that chance.
He just needed to make it a little farther. It was hard to judge distance across the plain. He couldn’t tell who was closer, the enemy or Erik, but it was clear that the horses were spent. His anger boiled over and the decision came to him easily.
“We fight!” he called out.
Anatoly looked over at him, saw his resolve and nodded, reining in his horse and wheeling about. Isabel slowed her horse as well. Alexander slipped off his exhausted horse to face the enemy on firm ground. Isabel sent Slyder to urge her brother to hurry, while Alexander slung his quiver and checked his sword in its scabbard. He stood, arrow nocked, and waited for the enemy to arrive. Only moments ago it felt like they were coming with unyielding speed, now it felt like time itself had slowed down as he counted the heartbeats until the battle was joined.
It was Jack who dismounted next. “This is unwise, Alexander. We’re hopelessly outnumbered. Erik will not arrive in time. We should run.”
Alexander shook his head. “No. The horses are spent. If we keep running it’s only a matter of time before one of them falls. We make our stand here and hope Erik arrives in time to save us.”
Jack looked at him with a strange little grin. “Well, I guess it’ll make for a great verse in my next song.”
Alexander laughed.
“Spread out. Stay mounted as long as possible,” he called out to his companions. He could hear the enemy now, almost feel the thunder of the hoof beats in the ground beneath his feet. Before they were even within the realm of bow range, Abigail sent an arrow toward them in a high arc. It fell well short but still covered more ground than Alexander would have thought possible. When he looked at her, she shrugged.
“I wanted to know the range of my new bow,” she said, nocking another arrow.
The enemy numbered at least forty. Only another minute now. Abigail shot again. This time one of the enemy soldiers toppled off his horse. She smiled fiercely as she smoothly drew, aimed, and released another arrow. Alexander waited until they entered the range of his bow and joined her in the fight. She had three down before he scored his first kill. Isabel was next. They killed a dozen before Alexander tossed his bow to the ground, shrugged off his quiver, and drew his sword.
The enemy hurtled toward him like a wave of flesh and steel intent on grinding his life out of existence. He stood calmly and waited for the charge. Jack tossed up the hood of his cloak and faded out of sight. Lucky threw a glass vial of liquid fire twenty feet out in front of Alexander. It burst into a patch of flame ten feet across that rose eight feet into the air. Still the enemy came. When they reached the fire they split like a wave washing around a tree. Anatoly charged to the right side of the fire, leaving the left side to Alexander. Isabel and Abigail moved off to the sides of the charging enemy and sent a steady stream of arrows into them.
Alexander dodged the first enemy spear. Then he was surrounded and fighting for his life. They passed him quickly, stabbing with their spears, then wheeling to come around for another attack. He dodged and parried, thrust and slashed as they swarmed around him. Anatoly was at his back, still mounted, and swinging in great deadly arcs with his big war axe. Jack was to his side, still less than visible, using the element of surprise that his cloak afforded him to lash out at any enemy that got close enough.
Alexander stabbed a passing soldier. Another charged through the puddle of liquid fire and caught him on the back of his shoulder with the tip of his spear. The strike would have cut deep if it hadn’t been for his armor. The force of it drove him to knees, giving the next horseman an opening. His spear point drove down hard into the middle of Alexander’s back and sent him to the ground, gasping for breath.
A soldier dismounted quickly and approached Alexander for the kill. Alexander was on his knees trying to regain his feet when he looked up at the advancing soldier and saw his face go white in shock and pain from Jack’s knife in his back. Alexander stumbled to his feet and clumsily parried away another attack when a horse crashed into him and sent him tumbling to the ground again. He struggled to gain his breath and shake off the stunned feeling. He was in a fight and needed to act. He could see the enemy closing in from all directions but he couldn’t seem to get his focus back. A soldier came up over him and raised his spear for a kill strike. Alexander saw an arrow point appear in the soldier’s chest and a look of confusion and shock wash over his face before he fell over right on top of him. Alexander struggled to roll the dead man off his chest and regain his feet, when another force crashed into the fight.
Erik had arrived.
The battle ended quickly. The enemy found themselves outnumbered and facing a superior force in both equipment and training. Erik had divided his force into three parts. Half charged into the fray wielding spears while the other half split in two and moved to Abigail’s and Isabel’s positions on either side of the battle to provide archery support. Alexander regained his feet and scanned the battlefield. Many of the enemy had fallen. Anatoly was bruised and battered but not seriously hurt. Jack was next to him and still nearly invisible. Alexander heard the command for retreat. His head snapped to the location of the voice. It was Truss with another man that Alexander had never seen before. He vowed to himself that he would kill Rexius Truss before this war was over but for now it was enough to live through the day.
Erik had just over half of his company left, fifty-seven men in total. He’d left Glen Morillian with a hundred. The ambush meant for Alexander had cost Eric dearly, but he carried out his mission and now stood before Alexander with grime coating his face and blood staining his armor.
“We got here as fast as we could,” he said.
“Your timing was perfect.” Alexander shook his hand. “How are your men and horses? Can you ride?”
“We can. I have nine more horses than men. Your animals look in need of rest.” Erik was all business.
Before Alexander could answer, Isabel crashed into her brother and gave him a big hug. “I was so worried when you ran into that ambush,” she said. “I’m sorry they killed so many of your Rangers, but I’m grateful you’re all right.”
“Me too, on both counts.” He looked off toward the enemy. “Looks like they’ve stopped to regroup. We should be on our way.”
“Agreed,” Alexander said. “Isabel, can you see who’s coming in the distance? I can’t tell if it’s just stragglers or more men.”
She looked through Slyder’s eyes and inhaled sharply. “It’s that giant-sized man and Wizard Rangle with a group of soldiers from Headwater.”
Alexander nodded to himself, rubbing his shoulder. “This is getting a bit old. Sooner or later we’re going to have to stop running and make a stand.”
“Can we do that from a more defensible position?” Anatoly asked pointedly.
Alexander gave him a look and a grin, “Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
One of Erik’s men brought a fresh horse for Alexander and they mounted up. The enemy didn’t try to give chase. Instead they regrouped and consolidated their forces, giving Alexander the time he needed to get to the base of Blackstone Keep.
Chapter 53
It was unlike any mountain he’d ever seen. It jutted abruptly from the grassland in a dull black granite wall and rose nearly straight up from the floor of the plain into the sky. The place radiated power. Alexander could see the magic permeating it and flowing through its ancient foundation.
Erik led them around the base of the artificial mountain to the only road leading up to the entrance. The steeply rising road was only twenty feet wide and had little in the way of a railing. They guided their horses slowly and steadily in single file close to the inside wall. The road wrapped around the enormous base of the mountain once, then again, rising many thousands of feet over the plain below before turning onto a spur that led to a much smaller peak jutting up from the side of the central mountain. The road continued around the smaller peak, wrapping around it again and again, winding steeply toward the top.
They reached the top of the second peak by midafternoon. The view of the plain all around was spectacular. The plateau of the central city in New Ruatha could be seen clearly in the distance. The mountains to the north were visible as well and the southern horizon was tinted green from the Great Forest.
The top of the secondary peak was a square platform, easily a thousand feet across and enclosed on all sides with a four-foot-high stone wall carved out of the black granite of the mountain itself. The road led onto the platform in the middle of the south side. Blackstone Keep loomed over them to the east. The only other exit from the platform appeared to be through an archway on the east side facing the Keep, but there was no bridge.