David Farland - Brotherhood of the Wolf

The Invincible nodded, said, “These sound like the words of an Earth King. He sues for peace. My grandfather always said that if an Earth King were to arise, ‘He will be great in war, but greater in peace.“ ‘

He glanced at the kaifba, and the old man glared at him, angry that the captain did not kill Borenson outright.

“You will deliver your message,” the Invincible said. “But only if you consent to wear manacles while in our land. You must vow not to break our laws. You may not enter into the palace, and you may not look upon a concubine. Also, I will ride at your side at all times. Do you agree?”

Borenson nodded.

In moments, a fellow brought the manacles—huge iron affairs, made especially to bind men who had endowments of brawn—and he locked them onto Borenson’s wrists.

Then he chained the manacles around Borenson’s back, so that he could not lift his hands.

When the fellow was done, Borenson expected him to offer the Invincible a key. But he did not.

Instead, the Invincible took the reins to Borenson’s mount and began walking it down the mountain.

“Do you have the key to the manacles?” Borenson asked.

The Invincible shook his head. “I do not need one. A smith will remove the manacles—if it ever proves necessary ”

Borenson got an uneasy feeling. A new fear took him. Raj Ahten seldom killed men. He did not steal their lives. He stole their endowments.

A man like Borenson would be a prize.

The Invincible smiled coldly when he saw that Borenson had understood.

Borenson had surrendered without a fight.

At dawn, after a night of fitful sleep, Iome wakened to a voice ringing in her mind. “Arise, all you Chosen who reside at Castle Sylvarresta. A Darkling Glory comes, and time is not great. You must prepare to flee into the Dunnwood. Arise.”

The effect was astonishing. Iome had never felt so completely...dominated by the will of another. The voice rang inside her skull like a bell, and every fiber in her sought to obey. Every muscle seemed to react.

Her heart pounded wildly, and she gasped for breath. She leapt from the bed, grabbing only a quilt to throw around her shoulders, scattering the pups that had slept beside her.

All right, I’ve risen! she thought distractedly. Now what?

Run! she decided in a blind panic. The Darkling Glory is coming.

She would have raced away from the castle in that quilt alone but she realized that it was too immodest. She leapt to her wardrobe and threw on a chemise and skirt, along with a traveling robe and her riding boots, while her five yellow pups circled her and yelped and leapt and wagged their tails, wondering what new game this might be.

She thought only of the stables, tried to determine the quickest route to her stables and her mount. She was about to flee the castle with nothing else in hand when she stopped cold.

Wait, she thought, panting. Binnesman had said that the Darkling Glory would not arrive until tonight. Which meant that she had all day to make good her escape.

Yet the Earth King had warned her through his powers, had warned everyone in and around the city to arise and flee. No, not to flee, to “prepare” to flee.

As she considered, she realized what a feat it would be. There were tents to move, and animals, baggage, and stores by the wagonload. Worse than that, people had been traveling to Castle Sylvarresta from all across Heredon and environs beyond. Never had the city hosted more than a hundred thousand people, yet now the fields around the castle were cluttered with seven times that number. If everyone fled at once, every road out of town would be jammed

Gaborn had decided to warn them all now so that he could give them a head start. Instead of running for the forest, as every instinct warned her to do, Iome stooped and stroked each of her pups for a moment. Outside, she heard a few thousand people crying out in dismay, and the sounds of the people camped outside the castle rose to a dull roar. Gaborn had warned them only to prepare, yet it sounded as if the mob were panicking. Iome closed the pups inside her room, and raced to the top of the King’s Keep.

There she found Gaborn staring out over the city: The place was bedlam.

Thousands of people were running for the Dunnwood, screaming and crying, many carrying nothing but the clothes on their backs. Others tore down their pavilions as quickly as possible. Horses bucked and grew frightened, racing from their desperate owners. Yet not everyone did as Gaborn had commanded. Many among the camp had not yet been Chosen, and therefore had not heard Gaborn’s command. Thousands of these raced for the castle, as if to seek verbal orders or possibly defend the keep. Others had decided that running north, away from the Dunnwood, was more sensible. They blindly surged toward the town of Eels, some two and a half miles north of Sylvarresta.

At the far edge of the camp, King Orwynne had mounted some five hundred knights, and another thousand lords of Heredon stood with him, prepared to head south. They included every lord or knight among Gaborn’s retinue who could command a force horse.

It was not a large force to send against Raj Ahten, but a powerful one, comprised only of those warriors who rode force horses capable of traveling two hundred miles a day. The warriors looked eager to ride as they awaited Gaborn, many of them glancing back over the camps.

Yet the Earth King stood on his tower, awestruck, dismayed at he madness he had caused by issuing his warning through the earth powers. Gaborn wore a simple shirt of horseman’s mail beneath his cape, and had put on his riding boots. But he had not yet donned his helm, so that his dark hair hung down to his shoulders.

“What are you doing?” Iome demanded. “You nearly frightened me to death! You nearly frightened all of us to death.” She put one hand over her chest, vainly trying to still her heart, to calm her breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Gaborn said. “I’d hoped it would go better. I’ve been fighting the urge to issue the warning all night. I had to give them as much time as possible to flee, but I dared not have them running blindly in the darkness. I don’t want to panic them.”

His tone was so apologetic that Iome knew he meant it He was concerned only with the welfare of his people.

Suddenly his voice rang through her mind again. “Calm yourselves. You have the whole day. Work together. Save the old and the young and the infirm. Get as far from the castle as you can by nightfall.”

People were still running, though many of them stopped and tried to obey his newest command.

He pointed down to the roiling mass of fling tents and fleeing citizenry. “You see what happened? Many of those people camped by the river came out of West Heredon, and they would have trampled everyone in camp as they dashed for their homes.

“And down there, see that red pavilion where the children are crying? Their mother and father fled without them! I applaud the parents obedience, but I had hoped for a more measured response.

“Yet I Chose the man and woman in the tent next to them, and neither of them have bestirred themselves to get out of their beds at all, as far as I can tell! They must be packing, I think, but what if the danger were more immediate? Should I applaud them for their measured response, or will they someday die because of it?

“And see up there, many people have reached the edge of the Dunnwood already, and now they mill about in confusion, unsure what to do next. And others may not stop running—no matter what I say—until they faint from exhaustion. Who among them is right? Those who follow the very letter of my command, or those who strive too hard?

“And over there, you see that old woman struggling to escape? She must be ninety. She cannot possibly walk more than two miles in a day. Do you think anyone will help her?”