David Farland - Brotherhood of the Wolf

“It sounds as if his forces are foundering,” Lord Ingris said hopefully. “They can’t run forever.”

“It’s true that Raj Ahten’s men are exhausted,” Gaborn said, “and the mounts he picked up in Fleeds are outworn. He has left behind a ghastly trail of fallen giants, war dogs, and common soldiers, all too weary to match his pace.

“Yet at the moment—Raj Ahten himself eludes us. He has left those four thousand men behind, eighty miles north of Carris. Chancellor Rodderman and I have consulted the maps, and it may be that he himself has gone to rendezvous with his troops at the fortress at Tal Dur, though he may be heading to Castle Crayden or Castle Fells.”

“He won’t run to Fells,” Erin Connal said. “I got news an hour ago. One of our scouts says that Raj Ahten’s troops have all but abandoned Castle Fells. The majority of them seem to be moving toward Carris—over a hundred thousand men out of Fells alone, most of them common soldiers. Raj Ahten will join up with them. Your ‘Huntsman’ Paladane is about to become the hunted!”

Borenson himself had warned Gaborn of this probability. He could not imagine the Wolf Lord retreating to some hill fort like Tal Dur when the mighty Castle Carris beckoned.

Horsesister Connal said, “My mother has ordered the Bayburn Clan to take Fells back for Mystarria.”

Connal’s news obviously surprised Gaborn, for Borenson heard him catch his breath.

“That is well done!” King Orwynne said, while Lord Ingris clapped his hands.

In his mind’s eye, Borenson imagined how Raj Ahten’s troops must be converging. Carris was the strongest fortress in western Mystarria, and of great value, but Raj Ahten had used his Voice to destroy Longmot. Perhaps now he would do the same at Carris. Borenson could only hope he did not.

“If Raj Ahten succeeds in taking Carris,” Borenson warned, “half of Mystarria will fall this winter. We must stop him.”

Jureem folded his hands, elbows on the table; and put his fists under his pudgy chin. Speaking in his thick Taifan accent, he said to Gaborn, “Borenson is right, but I would be cautious, O Great One. Like a wolf, Raj Ahten hopes to strike at your soft underbelly, and that underbelly is Mystarria. He hopes to draw the Earth King into battle, force him to leave the Dunnwood. He will attack Carris.”

Gaborn said softly, “I know, and that fear has preyed much upon my mind. But there is one more threat that Binnesman showed me. Tonight, Raj Ahten’s flameweavers summoned a Darkling Glory from the netherworld.”

Lord Ingris gasped in surprise, while the others took the news quietly. Borenson felt uncertain how to react to such news. He had heard of Glories, of course, creatures of light and goodness that inhabited the netherworld. And he knew vaguely that they had enemies, creatures of darkness with arcane powers. But he knew nothing more about them.

“We have feared assassins,” Chancellor Rodderman said. “It seems inevitable that Raj Ahten will strike at the Earth King. Will the Darkling Glory come here?”

“No,” Jureem ventured. “I think Raj Ahten will use it against Mystarria, against Paladane at Carris.”

“You’re wrong,” Gaborn said. “The Darkling Glory is coming. The Earth has warned me.”

“So be it.” Jureem nodded in acquiescence. “A week ago, I knew Raj Ahten’s strategies, but now the game has changed.”

“We’ll need to fight this creature,” King Orwynne said.

Gaborn shook his head. “No. I’ll have the people flee.”

“Then we’ll notify them at once,” King Orwynne said.

Gaborn shook his head. “If word of this leaks out tonight, there will be blind panic. The plains are dark and full of horses and oxen—and children who would be crushed under their hooves. Half the men camped out there are drunk after Hostenfest. No, as hard as it is to bear, I will wait until first light to issue the warning. The danger is profound, but still distant.”

Erin Connal abruptly asked Gaborn, “Your Highness, can you be sure that the Darkling Glory comes for you, and not against someone else—even Fleeds?” Borenson thought her prudent to be considering her own lands first.

“After I Chose my father,” Gaborn said, “I felt danger around him, a suffocating aura, like a black cloud. He died within hours. Ever since this morning, I have felt that aura growing around each person in this room-indeed, around everyone here at Castle Sylvarresta. For the past week, we have feared that Raj Ahten would send an accomplished assassin to our camp. Now I believe an assassin is coming, although it is something far more fell than any Invincible. And all of us here at Castle Sylvarresta are its targets. Vas, says that I Chose at Longmot—and those on the road north are in little danger. But every one among us here must be on our guard.”

“If you feel our danger,” Lord Ingris said, “then can you not sense Mystarria’s danger, or Lysle’s? Perhaps you could tell us where Raj Ahten plans to strike next?”

Gaborn shook his head sadly. “Until I see a man, I cannot Choose him. And this power is new to me. Aside from a few of my messengers who have been sent to Carris and the Courts of Tide, I haven’t yet Chosen anyone in Mystarria or Lysle, so that I might gauge what is to come. We must therefore consider a plan of action, find a way to defend ourselves against Raj Ahten.”

“You should know,” Lord Ingris said, “that other lords have already moved against Raj Ahten. Upon first hearing of the invasion of Mystarria, we merchant princes struck against him—and we are not alone.”

“How so?” King Orwynne asked.

“While you defend yourselves with arms and men,” Lord Ingris said, “in Lysle our best defense has always been our wealth. We hire mercenaries to fortify our own borders and we pay tribute to our neighbors. Upon hearing of the attack, we sent messages to certain lords in Inkarra, offering bribes if they would send their assassins to slay Raj Ahten’s Dedicates in the Southern Provinces, where he will least expect it.”

“Well done!” King Orwynne said. “I’ve a thousand good force soldiers in Orwynne who can attack from the north!”

Ingris smiled broadly. “The warlords of Toom may beat you to it, from all that I hear...”

Sir Borenson sat and listened in dismay. He himself had slaughtered Raj Ahten’s Dedicates here in, Castle Sylvarresta, in the Dedicates’ Keep not two hundred yards up the road. It had been a grisly deed, one that broke his heart. Though he told himself that he had acted under orders, and it was needful, he could hardly bear to sit here and listen to more talk of such blatant butchery.

He was about to speak when Gaborn himself cried “No!” and looked hard at Ingris and Orwynne. “I reject such a plan!”

“Why?” Ingris asked. He pulled a silk handkerchief from his pocket, dabbed at his nose, and tossed the soiled kerchief to the floor.

“The price is too high,” Gaborn said. “I battle not against Raj Ahten, but for mankind. To send our warriors against one another is folly!”

Lord Ingris said matter-of-factly, “The arrows have already flown. It may be that you cannot save Raj Ahten from his doom.”

Surely, Borenson thought, the man is overconfident. After all, we have been sending assassins for years. But to Borenson’s surprise, Gaborn looked very distraught. Gaborn asked, “Tell me, when did you reach this decision, to hire assassins from Inkarra?”

Lord Ingris considered “It was in the afternoon, about a week ago. The day your father died.”

Gaborn stared hard at Lord Ingris. “On that very afternoon, the wizard Binnesman cursed Raj Ahten to death. Like you, he fears that the curse cannot be recalled. I cannot help but wonder at the timing. You may have been an instrument in the Earth’s hands.”