Morigu: Book 01 - The Desecration Page 27

  Quickly she finished her task and banged her hand where she felt there was a wall. She was rewarded with a booming noise and the light was extinguished. She watched in fascination as her thousand selves disappeared one by one. As the last faded, the door opened and she rushed gratefully into the clean sunlight. She looked at the maker who waited for her.

  "Don't tell the warriors of what will happen to them," she said. "They will never enter if they know." The maker laughed and linking her arm with his, led her over to where a hundred feet away--actually ninety-nine feet--the others huddled over several monks. They parted ranks to allow Bronwen a look.

  There, suspended in midair, seemingly floating on the smoke that came from the braziers below, were four mirrors. At least they looked like mirrors. But they were square and the surface was angular, faceted like a jewel. No reflection came from the surface. The maker pointed to the corner of one where a little flaw made a dark spot. Bronwen leaned close and saw it wasn't a flaw, but a tiny figure. She knew who's figure it was. She stood up and shivered.

  "Those things," she pointed at the magic mirrors, "can hold the illusion of the whole army?"

  "Oh yes, easily," said the maker. "Indeed, we made them to hold many more. Unfortunately, things did not turn out as we planned and we must make do."

  The day passed quickly as one by one, warriors and horses took their turn in the pyramid and prepared for the hard ride they knew would start at midnight.

  The four companions sat around a fire on a hill across from the magic pyramid. They stared silently at the fires springing up across the valley.

  "I think it will work," Donal said quietly, as he pushed a small branch into the fire.

  Bronwen looked up at the Warlord's face and said nothing. The Morigu sat still, the palms of his hands resting on the ground, his face grimacing as if in pain. Mearead rocked back and forth on his heals, chanting to himself, the need of the blood rite pounding in his veins.

  "They won't realize we're there until we are within half a mile of them, maybe closer," Donal continued. "Then it's a quick gallop to the city. We'll reach the walls before they can have any sort of chance of breaking the illusion."

  "I don't relish the idea of joining the warriors of Tolan in their death trap." Bronwen's voice was strident. Donal turned to her to answer, but just then a grey shadow covered her.

  "The maker sent me to tell you that the hunter has left." The destroyer's armor merged into the shadows, making him appear larger than he was. "He also requests your presence. Word has reached him that the defenders of Tolan are in graver danger than we thought. We will leave in two hours." Bronwen and Donal looked at one another and jumped to their feet. Mearead got up slowly and followed them. The Morigu did not move. He moaned quietly.

  "Vengeance," he murmured softly, "vengeance and death," then he, too, followed the others into the dark, starless night.

  Two shadow forms looked down upon the valley.

  "You have done well, brother," one said. "These followers of yours are strong and dangerous."

  "They will be my hand in this battle," the Hunter answered. "And do you to have a sword to aid them?" Death was quiet for a moment.

  "Arianrood is not as the demon princes. She knows me well in my many forms," he said at last. "She had seen so many pass." He sighed. "And Apkieran, he, too, is on guard and I cannot face either in open battle." The Hunter said nothing, for he heard the anguish in his brother's voice.

  "I have touched two fomarians in the space of a week." A flame burned in his eyes. "I long for more."

  "The Morigu has done well," answered the Hunter, "as have the others."

  "The Morigu is corrupted by the Night Hag's magic. We must watch him carefully."

  "What of Fealoth?"

  "I have told you, brother, I claim only those that die on this plane. If Fealoth is truly dead it was not my hand that touched him."

  "Unless he makes himself known, none of us may take the battlefield openly." The Hunter growled in fury. "Who of the gods will join us? Which have been corrupted?"

  "None will join. We cannot win this war ourselves," Death answered. "It is up to the people of the land to save themselves."

  "And us," the other added. They both watched the preparations in the valley.

  The Hunter said, "Can you do nothing?"

  "I can withhold my touch for an extra moment from some, grasp others a bit early." He climbed upon his chariot. "Others turn our way, brother. We must leave. Have no doubts, Death shall play his part." The great steeds reared, and he was gone.

  "As must we all," the Hunter whispered, "as must we all."

  All that day the enemy had attacked the walls of Tolan. Nearly was the south wall overrun, but Lonnlarcan held the front gate, and none came to challenge him. Fires spread, warriors died, and when the Dark Ones finally broke off the attack many of the defenders simply collapsed in exhaustion. The temples were full of men and women seeking solace: all knew the next assault would be the last for the city.

  In the evening, the leaders met in council. Fin and the other humans attempted to persuade the elves to try and break out of the siege and save themselves, but Lonnlarcan refused.

  "It is a dark night tonight, but who knows what morning will bring? I didn't ride with the first hosting to return to my people in defeat and disgrace."

  "It won't do your people or ours any good for you to die here,"answered Fin.

  "Perhaps, but I know my fate lies here. We will not leave." With that the council broke up and each of the commaders went to their post to prepare for the last defense.

  Lonnlarcan stood upon the high tower next to the emperor's palace. He stared at the dark mass of his enemy spread before him. Like a black worm, the evil army undulated and moved, rank upon rank of destruction. There was no hope, he knew; they could not possibly win. He took a deep breath and sniffed the air. Extending his senses, he could feel the powers swirling around him, the confluence of death, fear, hope, and fate. Though he felt great upheaval ahead, he could not taste his own death and that surprised him. Was he to be the sole survivor?

  "My lord?" He turned to face one of his lieutenants. "Important news has reached us. The council is convened. They ask that you join them." Lonnlarcan turned quickly and strode through the archway. 'Help?' he wondered, but dared not hope.

  The Hunter stood facing the leaders of Tolan. His leather was torn at the chest and he was covered with blood and gore that was not his. The Ard Riegh stared for a moment and took his seat.

  "Now that we are all here," Fin said, "please deliver your message."

  "I came from the monastery of the Stalkers."

  "Who?" the murmur arose.

  "You do not know of us, but your Emperor was our benefactor." Quickly, the hunter told the tale of Trell'dem's suspicion and plans. He then handed them a scroll sealed with the signet ring of the emperor. Fin opened it and read it quietly, handing it to Lonnlarcan.

  "Let's say this document is true, and you are who you say you are," Fin said, "what message do you have for us?"

  "Hope." He stopped and approached the table. He strode its length back and forth, his head swinging, his nostrils flaring wide. To Fin it was like watching a wolf sniff for his prey. The Hunter stood back.

  "No, Dark One here," he grumbled. "You have users of magic here," he said aloud. "Have one of them protect us from unseen eyes and ears."

  Bairbre, at Lonnlarcan's signal, stood up and raised her hands in a slow motion about her head. A few feet from the wall of the room a thin silk veil of power appeared.

  "We are alone," she said.

  "I, the Stalker Master, called the hunter, bring formal greetings from my brethren," he began. "Also, from Lord Mearead, king of the Crystal Falls; Donal Longsword, Warlord of our army; your son, my lord," he indicated Fin with lifted brows, "Brasil ap Fin; Sean, Baron of Inlit; and the Morigunamachamain." At this, he pulled from a sack at his side a fragile-looking crystalized ball.

  "The signal," he growl
ed, showing overlarge and pointed canines.

  "Signal for what?" asked Fin.

  "For the attack. We bring an army to secure the defenders of Tolan." The room erupted in shouts and cries.

  As the hunter and the others planned for the battle, in a small room Cainhill opened his eyes once more. There were no attendants to see. He sat up and listened to a voice that only he could hear, and began to dress in his armor. Soundlessly, the elf lord left the room, his once purple eyes now shedding a new light of their own. It was red.

  "No we cannot tell any until the moment it is time to assemble," said Ceallac. The others in the council room nodded their heads in agreement.

  "Though I grieve to see the people spend one more hour in hopeless fear," said Fin, "the danger of betrayal is too great. We have at least learned that lesson, if none other."

  "Then we are agreed," said Lonnlarcan, "we will prepare quietly, without any but those now here and a few of the commanders knowing of the plan." Just then, an urgent knocking filled the room.

  "My Lord Lonnlarcan," came a cry from behind the massive door to the council chamber. The elf king signaled to Bairbre and the magic spell was dissipated. Cucullin opened the door and two elves rushed in and bent their knees to the king.

  "My King, the Lord Cainhill is gone." With one quick look at Lonnlarcan, Cucullin sped out of the room.

  "There is treachery here," cried Ceallac.

  "Kianbearac!" Bairbre shouted. With that all the elves ran from the room drawing their weapons.

  At that moment, Cainhill stood outside the door of the room where the spear Kianbearac rested. He licked the blood off his sword, the blood of the two elven guards he had slaughtered moments before. He opened the door and entered. It was a small stone room with no furnishings. Lying in the middle of the room, raised up on a marble pedestal, lay the mighty talisman, the spear of the Ard Riegh.

  A silver pentagram was etched into the floor, but its magics didn't affect Cainhill. Being of the king's family, the magic was not meant to keep him out. He reached with his hand and he grasped the spear. For a moment it glowed silver, and Cainhill could see the bones in his hands. Both palms began to smoke and the smell of burning flesh filled the room but he took no notice. He turned, and with no sound, no word, left the room.

  "The whole city has been searched," said Ceallac, "but he is nowhere and there is no trace of Kianbearac."

  The Ard Riegh said nothing. He sat in a thronelike chair in the audience room given to him for his use by Fin. He stared past his cousin, tapping his fingers gently against the arms of the chair. Cucullin entered the room, and shook his head 'no' to the unasked question. Lonnlarcan sighed and stood up.

  "There is no choice. Get it," he said to Ceallac, who bowed once and left the room.

  "Remember the words of Fiachra. Draw the sword and you unleash doom and salvation," said Cucullin.

  "I remember," said the king in a tired voice, "but without Kianbearac the power of the sword may be necessary."

  "We may still find Kianbearac," said Cucullin with little hope.

  "No, Cu, we have been outwitted. Cainhill has it, therefore the enemy has it. We have a little less than an hour until the signal goes up. We must prepare." Lonnlarcan rose to put on his armor.

  Ceallac came back with the sword of Cather-na-nog in its black and silver sheath. Reverently, he handed it to his king.

  "My lord," Cucullin said, "if there is any truth in Fiachra's words, I think it best that I wield the sword.

  "Nay, my lord," Ceallac answered, "I am the king's cousin, and I am the servant of war. Let me wield it, so that any ill doom shall not touch you." Lonnlarcan smiled on them both.

  "Ah, you two," he shook his head and laughed. "I thought you knew me better. A king does not ask of his people what he will not give."

  "You do not ask," Ceallac said.

  "Nay, lord," Cucullin finished, "we offer."

  "It is well done," the Ard Riegh said, "but if there is doom in this sword then it is for me and no other. You forget there is also salvation in the prophecy. Would you keep that from me, too?" Cucullin and Ceallac looked at one another, realizing their efforts were futile. With no further words-- for what else was there to say?--the two left.

  Lonnlarcan put the sword down and finished buckling on his armor. His mind was a strange place even to him. He haunted the dream paths of all his people. The elf king had no place in his heart for fear, no room to wonder of death. He hooked the sword on his silver girdle.

  'This day,' he thought, 'in this war, we all must be greater than we are. We all must face our own private doom.' And as he left for the battlefield he strove unsuccessfully to forget about Cainhill, who had failed his test.

  C H A P T E R

  Eighteen

  In the faint predawn light, the Dark army moved about restlessly. Arianrood turned to the skeleton standing next to her.

  "Put the Shadow Lord in charge of the army, my lord," she said.

  "I thought you would lead?" Apkieran asked.

  "Something, something is amiss. Those fools don't realize they are already doomed. They are planning something, I can feel it." She faced the city. Even in the murky light it looked defiant, strong. She turned back to him. "And is our 'ally's,'" she said the word with scorn, "true form here yet?"

  "No," he answered, "it should arrive anytime. Do you really think we need him?"

  "We hold him in reserve. I don't wish to reveal him until we must." She felt the demon's hate pressing against her, but it did not frighten her. His power could not touch such as she, even if he had turned the elf lord.

  "I have another surprise if we need it," she said, playing with her dark locks. She rubbed the inside of her thigh with one hand slowly, and smiled to herself, wondering what could be going through the demon's mind. For all his power there was one pleasure forever denied him. She wondered if he ever felt such a desire. Well, now was not the time to find out.

  "Bring the leader of the trolls to me," she said. "I will need them. And, my lord, I wish you to stay here with me and protect the hill with your own legions." He bowed once and strode off.

  'It is strange,' he thought, 'for her not to wish to lead the armies to the victory.' He wondered if she was afraid, but no, Dubh might be the most powerful, but there was no doubt that she was the favorite. He turned his mind to the thought of the battle and casually reached out to grab a goblin that was not fast enough to get out of his way. Carelessly, he twisted its head off and drank deep of its blood, never once losing a beat to his stride.

  In the city, the astonished warriors were running about, their commanders giving them no time to think about the new orders: attack! In the southeast corner of the city, Lonnlarcan, Bairbre, Dermot, and their new ally, the hunter, searched the skies above. Behind them, two thousand elves supported by five hundred heavy human cavalry waited nervously.

  Lonnlarcan's keen elven sight picked out the figures moving around on top of the highest tower of the city. A sparkle of gold danced briefly as one of the figures held aloft the globe the hunter had brought. The sphere rose from the tower moving faster and faster. He ordered the warriors to prepare. They fanned out into three lines, facing the outer wall in front of them. There was a great noise of an explosion and all eyes inside and outside of Tolan looked up to see the globe explode into thousands of tiny shards, glimmering in the predawn darkness.

  As soon as all the motes were gone from the sky, Lonnlarcan raised his hand, and as one the warriors' spears flashed and leveled out, pointing straight ahead. The Ard Riegh's hand fell and Bairbre cried a word of power. In front of them, the wall fell outward.

  The king led the charge, even as the crash reverberated.

  The Dark army had watched the globe burst in the air uncomprehendingly, their leaders completely baffled. They had never seen anything like it, for it was more than a signal: it was a weapon.

  The thousands of motes had drifted over the walls of the city deep into the ranks of the besiegers.
Some of the goblins in curiosity had reached out to catch the flakes of gold, only to scream in pain when the motes burned through their hands.

  The army went mad trying to dodge the gold flakes that now covered the sky. If flake touched wood, it started a blaze. If it touched flesh, it would burn straight through. Metal melted and cloth burned. Fires spread all across the field and the whole army became a confusing montage of fire and pain. Some of the goblins and wolves turned on one another in their agony, striking out randomly. Bolts of power shot out from the Dark Ones destroying the flakes. But even as they stopped falling, and the commanders tried to reorganize their troops, the horns of the elves were heard.

  A weary goblin commander turned at the crashing of the wall. As he stared uncomprehendingly, he heard the cry of vengeance from two thousand elven throats. The dust of the fallen wall swirled and out of it came riders. First, one, the dread Witch King himself, then a few more elf lords, one covered with a red aura holding a great ball of fire in her hand, and then more and more, the silver tips of weapons all leveled at him. With a wail of fear, he turned to run, only to be impaled on an elven spear.

  The elves hit the enemy like a great thunderbolt. The troops were exclusively goblins in that area, and after only light resistance, they turned and fled. Lonnlarcan's men rode over the ill-manned breastworks, while the air resounded with the thudding of hoofbeats. The goblin leaders knew they were as good as dead. But then from the south they saw a great body of horsemen riding toward them. "Reinforcements!" they cried, and turned to face the elven charge.

  The sun broke over the eastern hills, the armor and weapons of the reinforcements glittered. Their numbers blackened the plains. As uneasy whisper flowed through the goblins and then a great cry was taken up.