Morigu: Book 02 - The Dead Page 6

  "You know we cannot, dwarf king."

  "Aye, I know it. I know it."

  "Are you suggesting," Donal said, "that Maeve stay here in the empire?" Mearead just shrugged.

  "Perhaps," Kevin spoke up, "if we consolidated our forces we could take some of the south back, then in the spring see if we can move against Aes Lugh." Meave said nothing, but her flashing eyes were clear evidence of her dislike of that plan. She stood up.

  "I want Aes Lugh. I want a kingdom for my people. I want to free them from Arianrood's embrace. This I want. But I came as an ally; I will do what the council decides." She sat down hard, her scabbard clinking against the stone seat.

  "We could, with the elves' help, take back the mountains of Tivulic," Tara Brightblade said. She was a tall woman with thick, dark tresses. Her hand constantly fluttered against her sword hilt, as if for assurance.

  "And, my lord--" For the first time the Duchess of Conlai spoke. Though she was old, her face lined, she sat straight and bore the weight of her war armor with no sign of discomfort. "--you forget there is still the royal fleet. I could with my mariners establish a beachhead in the south, and draw some of the enemy's might away from the mountains."

  "And if," Anlon spoke, "the dragon fell, unless the enemy brought more of their leaders to the battleground, we could take the mountains back."

  "And," Kevin said excitedly, "we could then use them as a bastion from which to attack the south and free the people there."

  "Some of the people," Bran, the Earl of Althon added.

  "Perhaps even Scaga could be reclaimed," Fin said quietly.

  "Yes, with the powers we have we could do it, though it would be hard fighting." The maker's voice was oddly sad. The humans continued on excitedly for some time, even Cormac joining them. As the plans were fleshed out all realized there was a chance, a real chance, to reverse the losses of the previous spring and summer and hit the enemy hard. But the other elf lords said nothing, and Mearead and Donal just listened. Finally, Donal spoke up.

  "It's not enough," he said. The others quieted down at that. "Even if we succeed we can hardly invade the Dark Siegn. The rest of the south will still be held by the enemy. Next year it will be even harder to dislodge the siege of the Crystal Falls, and I think Aes Lugh will be lost to us permanently."

  "No," Mearead emphasized, "it is not enough. We can free Tolath and lose Aes Lugh and the Crystal Falls, or we can free them and lose the empire. Either way we are doomed." The dwarf s voice fell at the last word and the chamber reverberated with his chilling appraisal. But it was Niall who saw that the dwarfs eyes were still bright and that Donal Longsword had a half smile on his face. Niall turned to Fin; the warlord was looking at the map, carefully stroking his red beard with one hand. He, too, was smiling and both Cucullin and Ceallac looked pleased. Niall surprised himself and everyone else when be began to laugh.

  "Oh aye, I see it now, you short little rogue," he said between laughs. "Oh no, not one or the other, my lords and ladies, not this one or that one. Na, na, the little devil dreams bigger than that." Niall walked down to where Donal and Mearead stood, both smiling at him. The general stood in front of his warlord. "Oh, fine, just stand there beaming, you ruddy giant." For even Niall was towered over by Donal Longsword. "You probably figured this out weeks ago."

  "No other choice, General," Donal answered, "though I admit the addition of Maeve and her army helps considerably."

  "I'm glad you're all so pleased with yourselves," Kevin interrupted, "but how about letting the rest of us in on the secret." He glared at the three. "My lords," he added.

  "Of course." It was the duchess who spoke. "Not one plan or the other, but both."

  "One grand throw," Niall continued, "all or nothing."

  "We either lose the war before winter is out," Crohan, the young Baron of Mathia, said, "or we change the strategic situation totally."

  "I love it," Fin said, a little annoyed with himself that he hadn't seen Donal's plan earlier. "It's madness. No chance in hell. Exactly what we need."

  "It will work," Ceallac said. "We have powers to bear; the enemy does not. It will work."

  "Because it must," Cucullin finished for him.

  It took the rest of the afternoon to decide the final plans. With Maeve would go the High Prince Cucullin and the Shee Dermot. They would add to their force another two thousand of the elves stationed in Tolan, also a thousand human horse, two hundred of the Green Branch knights, and a force from each of the three branches of the Stalkers. The monks would be led by the destroyer and Brownen, the huntress. Kevin, the duke of Tinnafar, would lead the humans and Donal Longsword would be the warlord of the host, for he more than any other knew Aes Lugh.

  It was then that Margawt spoke for the first and only time in the council. All heads turned to face him, some hearing his voice for the first time.

  "I will go to Aes Lugh," he said, looking at the floor, "for that land was once as fair as any and Arianrood's poison must be withdrawn." He did not add that he had another reason for going, for he could not face the camps in the south; the outrage they burned in him was more than he could hear.

  It was then decided that Ceallac would lead an army to the south. It would be made up of all the six thousand remaining elves and some thirty thousand human warriors. With him would go Cormac, Niall, and Bran, Earl of Althon. To offset the power of the dragon would go Lord Anlon and Mearead. The dwarf king did not wish to go, but he had no choice. His help was needed and although the blood price pained in him, Arianrood would have to wait. So, too, would it be up to others to free his people, for the mountains of Tivulic were riddled with dwarven caves and there was the lair of the dragon. Only Mearead could find them.

  With this force the allies would move south and link up there with the Archduke Mannon and his warriors, attack the mountains, seek to destroy the dragon, and capture the dwarven caves.

  The Duchess of Conlai and Baron of Mathia would lead what was left of the empire's fleet and what warriors they could to force a foothold in the south and harass the enemy. Hopefully, this would force the Dark Ones to withdraw some forces from the mountains. With them would go Tara Brightblade and the last two hundred knights of the Green Branch.

  And to Fin was left perhaps the hardest task of all. With little more than twenty thousand troops, he must not only hold the enemy at bay from Comar to the Borderlands, but also convince the enemy that it was he who was leading the main attack. To that end Donal and Maeve's army would first move southwest to make the Dark Ones think they would attack there. Then they would turn into the swamps of the Devastation, hopefully concealing their presence till they came to the Borderlands.

  All knew that this might be their last chance, for this might be the only offensive they could mount for long years. It was now or never.

  C H A P T E R

  Five

  Donal Longsword sat in a near-empty room. On the oaken table before him lay a large pile of manuscripts. Besides the marble chair he sat in, the only other object in the room was a map of Tolan on the far wall. The warlord's great sword lay across the table, for he had sworn to never sheath it until it had pierced the heart of Arianrood. The stone door opened with a boom, and Mearead stood framed in the torch light from the corridor.

  "Don't you ever sleep?" he asked.

  "Sometimes," Donal answered quietly. Mearead marched up to the table and dropped a wine flask on it. He picked up a few of the sheets of paper and looked them over quickly.

  "Trell'dem?" he asked.

  "The emperor's contingency plans." Donal reached gratefully for the flask. "The man was a genius. He had spent years figuring out every possible invasion route and a hundred different responses."

  "Including recapturing the Tivulic mountains?"

  "Yes, but he didn't know of the dwarven caves there." Donal took a long swig of the wine. Mearead waited patiently for the warlord to continue. Donal put the flask down and looked at the dwarven king. "This is the room that Trell
'dem was murdered in."

  "Oh, great," the dwarf answered, "kind of a gloomy place to be at three in the morning, don't you think?"

  "Should be." Donal shrugged his large shoulders. "But for some reason I like it. I feel him here. His confidence, his defiance. I think losing him might have been our greatest loss." Mearead grimaced at that. The dwarf lifted himself up on the table and sat down, swinging his short legs over the side.

  "You're not doing so bad, lad," he said, but Donal did not answer and looked away. "Tell the truth, Donal." Mearead picked up the flask and drank deep. "You've known for a long time that what we are doing now we had to do sooner or later."

  "Yes." Donal smiled. "Lonnlarcan and I figured that out last spring."

  "Well, there you go, boy. It wasn't 'til the summer that I saw it." Mearead laughed. "And I'm no slouch when it comes to war myself, you know."

  "He was a genius, Mearead," Donald said, "a military genius. If he had been here, we would not be in the situation we are."

  "Maybe and maybe not." Mearead answered. "But in strategic planning, you're his match, and maybe I am too. Tactically, Fin and Niall are as good as you get, and you're not bad in that department either. When Ceallac puts his mind to it he can be brilliant, and Cucullin, well, he's Cucullin. It's Lonnlarcan we really need." Donal raised his eyebrow and searched the other's face.

  "It's true," Mearead continued. "Lonnlarcan is the greatest of those left. He could have rallied everybody behind his banner. The enemy was wise to weaken the Ard Riegh; he was their most dangerous threat."

  "And what of you, King Mearead," Donal answered. "You in your own words are no slouch." Mearead laughed.

  "Son, if I had thirty thousand dwarves, I could take the mountains of Tivulic in two weeks. In two months I'd invade the Dark Siegn." Mearead looked away and sighed. "But I I don't have them, and I doubt I'll ever get them. The blood price eats at me, Donal; it chains me and blinds me with visions of death. I can only quench the fire that burns me in Arianrood's blood, and it looks like that will be a while yet." The dwarfs dark eyes studied the map on the wall.

  "My sister Sorcha," he said, "she grows in power and leads the people ably, but even though the caves are once more ours, my people are incapable of breaking the siege that contains them. Even I could not defeat that army." He said no more and the two sat in silence for a while, trading the flask back and forth. Finally, Donal stood up and walked over to the map. He turned to face the dwarf.

  Mearead looked rather silly sitting on the table like a small human child. But his armor was bright and his dark eyes bitter. The dwarf king's beard was pure white and the wrinkles in his skin were etched deeply. That face, Donal thought, it is a map of the world's pain and of its strength. The warlord knew as long as Mearead lived there was hope for them all.

  "Mearead," he said aloud, "can you take the mountains of Tivulic? Can you defeat the dragon?" Mearead looked down at the empty flask on his lap. Though it was Ceallac who would lead the army and there were many others who must contribute in order for there to be a chance and even though Anlon was a demigod, the dwarven king understood the half-elven. Mearead knew, had known since the dragon rose, since he had learned of the dwarven caves in the south, that this was his battle. It was he who must win it.

  "I can, lad," he said quickly, "goddess help me, but I will." Donal nodded and turned to face the map.

  "Then I must retake Aes Lugh and free the dwarves of the Crystal Falls," Donal said quietly. And it seemed to both that Trell'dem was truly there and the walls shook with the dead emperor's war cries.

  It was nearly a week before the two armies were ready to march. Messengers had been sent to all parts of the empire shifting all the troops south to the mountains. Donal's army left in a blaze of war homs in the middle of the night, heading southwest. Mearead, Ceallac, Anlon, and some of the elven troops allotted to them left at the same time. Bran, the Earl of Althon, rode to the east to meet the troops marshaled there and lead them to the war.

  So it was that Niall and Cormac led the march to the south the morning after Donal's departure. Behind them marched nine thousand on foot and a thousand on horse. The two rode side by side, the army following them like some many-footed leviathan. As the city slowly dwindled behind the two commanders, Cormac turned to Niall.

  "How long will it take us to reach our destination?" he asked. Niall faced the elf. Cormac was wearing black and silver mail with no surcoat. The elf's eyes were as purple as his father's, but there was no knowledge to be read in them for the man.

  "Well, let's see now. We have good roads and weather is fine . . . nine days I'd say, my lord." The elf made no comment. "Now, I am supposing to one of the elder people, we humans move awfully damn slow." Cormac again did not answer but turned around and rode back to consult with his officers.

  "Oh aye, my lord," Niall murmured. "Forsooth and 'tis so, my lord. Indeed, Lord General. It is so, good knight. In truth, sir," the general snorted, "pretty they may be, but isn't it the truth that these bloody elves have the manners of a sod?"

  And so it continued for the next days. Cormac spoke only to Niall when his duty demanded it; the rest of the time he kept to his officers. The other elves that followed him were more friendly with the humans and always quick to give a hand if their help was needed for anything. Some nights at camp one or more of the elves would sing--not for the humans necessarily, but still it was a rare treat for those who could hear the music. Having gotten more used to the elves during the long summer, Niall was not angered at their aloof ways, but he was ever the first to pass on a new elf joke making the rounds of the camp.

  The vanguard of the army finally crossed the borders of Ruegal, and that night Niall rode to a low hill. In the distance he could see the shadows of the great Tivulic mountains warring with the starlight, and he thought he could see the haze of light that the city gave off. In his right hand his finger massaged the ring he held there. The Ring of Mannon mac Lir, he thought. The maker had been able to find out that Mannon was a hero long ago, before the great migration of humans over the Tir Dium mountains. But that was all Niall knew of the previous owner of the ring, and no one really had any idea what power resided in the cool metal.

  It was a plain, silver band with a black star sapphire. Along the inner side were faint figures etched in some black metal. Niall could not really make out what they were except that one was of some sort of fish, and another of a man. The ring always felt cool to the touch, but if Niall held it long, he would feel a flush of warmth work up his arm from the metal. He was not afraid of whatever secrets the jewelry contained, but for some reason he could not put in words, he was loath to put it on.

  "Och, it's just a wee bit of metal," he told the night, but still he did not put the ring on. Something caught Niall's eye and he turned to see Cormac walking up the hill toward him. "I wonder what 'His Lordship' wants of me now?" he said aloud.

  The elf came up beside Niall making no sound. Cormac looked even more unearthly than usual, his lean, muscled body was covered in armor that seemed to catch the starlight and reflect it off ten times as strong. Cormac was as beautiful as any of his people and Niall couldn't help but start when that purple gaze turned to regard him.

  "Human," Cormac said.

  "Elf," Niall answered, interrupting the other. For a minute Cormac seemed confused and then abruptly he laughed. It was not such a sound as any human could ever make, for it was jubilant and sad, quiet yet full of passion. It was, Niall thought, quite simply the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

  "Forgive me, my lord general," Cormac said, his laughter gentling and then lost on the night wind. "I have been rude." Niall smiled; he could hardly help himself.

  "Now, my lord, what cretin has told you such a blatant lie?" he answered. The elf replied with a sad smile.

  "I have heard, my lord," Cormac continued, "that you are held in high esteem by my people." Niall had no answer to that; actually he was shocked. He had doubted the elves even knew of
him except as another coarse mortal. Except for Dermot, of course, and that thought surprised him most of all.

  "My lord, did you know my father?" And Cormac looked away at that.

  "I'm--I'm sorry, General." Niall stumbled over his words. "I only saw him briefly and never spoke with him." Cormac bowed his head. The elf's blond hair was long and covered his features.

  "I longed to go with the High Prince Cucullin." Cormac's voice was so soft it was hard for Niall to hear the elf's words. "The prince seeks vengeance on the Undead Lord. For over a hundred years has he sought to destroy the demon prince and it is said that in this war his quest will be fulfilled." For a moment the elf said no more, and Niall just waited patiently.

  "Apkieran destroyed the Lord Cucullin's father in the Dark Siegn war. He ripped Lord Kiernan's soul from his body and shredded it, annihilating the prince. Kiernan is lost to all time, all things, as no elf has ever been. It is a horrific sin that the Undead Lord has committed. Cucullin will see he is punished." Niall had to move closer to catch everything Cormac said, for the elf's voice grew soft and softer still.

  "My father Cainhill," Cormac sighed. "He was one of our great warlords, a match to anyone save the greatest. Do you know of his death?"

  "I know," Niall answered. Though he sought to be kind, his voice was harsh and loud.

  "He was corrupted," Cormac continued as if Niall had said nothing. "His soul was blackened and he committed the greatest desecration that any of the elven kind have ever done."

  "I'm sure, lord, that it is not as bad as all that," Niall said. "He was bitten by Apkieran and he was--"

  "He was corrupted!" Cormac shouted. Niall stepped back at the vehemence in the elf's voice, but still Cormac did not look up. "My father did not die nobly as Cucullin's. His fate should have been Kiernan's, but justice is only a word."