Chapter 11: Sage advice
Ely sat in a cell that was not a cell. They guards had not escorted
him to the dungeons deep in the bowels of the castle, but to a room in one of
the towers. They had not taken his sword, nor latched the lock. Yet guards stood
outside the door in the hall, commanded by the king, making Ely a prisoner none
the less.
He could not close his eyes without seeing the bitter
struggle ongoing in the south, the wall of shields and spears pushing north,
the arch of arrows falling in upon the frail defenders of Taffar.
The black and crimson uniforms of the Htam army flowed largely
unimpeded like the flow of blood.
In his mind, he pictured the tall tower in which Laithia
resided, one of those remaining from before the Wars of Enchantment, endowed
with magic to resist assault from without, and yet, as the wars later proved
not impenetrable. How long could she hold out – if as the Blyord suspected – Htam’s
army had the blessing of the Witches of the Dales?
Magic again magic?
Which was stronger? Did the spirit of Suna still have potency it had to
bring down such towers.
Ely needed to get back there.
A disturbance from the hall drew his attention and a moment
later, the wizard swept in, a gray as a storm cloud.
“Well?” Ely said. “What did my father say.”
“He is of the same mind,” Blyord said, settling into a chair
near the window, the cool air of morning stirring up aspects of his gray robes,
so he resembled more a spirit than a man – if indeed, wizards were men at all. “You
must stay in Amlor or relinquish your claim to the throne.”
“That is harsh justice,” Ely said.
“Yes,” admitted with wizard. “But I did manage to convince
him that you are under no spell but your own.”
“That is small comfort since the one I love may soon die, if
she has not already.”
“I don’t think she’s dead or will be,” Blyord said. “She is
a magical being, even if she is not the witch your father claims her to be.”
“Magic may not be enough to protect her,” Ely said.
“Protect her from attack, no,” Blyord admitted. “But I
suspect even Htam would be reluctant to murder her outright. The Witches in the
Dale would not permit it.”
“What then?”
“Take her hostage, most likely,” Blyord said. “Use her to bargain
a surrender with the future king of Amlor.”
“That’s far worse than even I could have imagined,” Ely said,
rising up, pacing slowly back and forth in front of the wizard. “I need to go south
immediately.”
“Yes, you do,” the wizard said.
“You agree with me then?” Ely said, pausing, the lines of
his face stark with his surprise.
“You should go south and relinquish the crown,” Bylord said.
“Then, they would have no further use of your beloved.”
“And leave the crown to Ajax?”
“An uncomfortable choice, I admit,” Blyord said. “But Ajax would
defend Amlor, and he is nearly as great a warrior as yourself.”
“He would be just like my father only he would bear the
sword.”
“That concerns me as well. But our choices are limited,
especially if you wish to keep Queen Laithia from harm. I feel that your fate
is caught up in that battle to the south, and to interfere with your fate would
be even more perilous.”
“But I would go alone, without army,” Ely said.
“Indeed, neither the King nor Ajax would send Almorian
soldiers abroad,” Blyord said. “By their reckoning, they would be right,
refusing to abandon what is a strong position.”
“I sense some doubt in you on that,” Ely said.
“I have many doubts,” the wizard admitted. “This war is not
like any other war, and I feel falling back on old tried and true defenses will
not withstand the storm that sweeps this way.”
“Then all is folly,” Ely moaned.
“Not completely,” Blyord said. “As I said, your fate is tied
up with that war, and I suspect your going south will have an impact, if not a
predictable one.”
“I need to think this through,” Ely said.
“Yes, but do not tarry long. I believe you are right when
you said we are running out of time.”
**********
Artor stiffened when the captain of the guard approached.
A heavy fog hung over the curved shores of southern Amlor
and the distant shore of northern Clyan. On a clear day, he could almost make
out the ragged tops of Orthan Mountains, and the occasional glow of the light
house outside the city of Cast, brief glimpses of a foreign land that had become
familiar to any of those who stood watch at Cort Tower. But tonight, became a
smear of gray so even the closer shores of Amlor itself vanished into the haze,
leaving much of the watch to the walking patrols and their horn calls to
announce all was well.
“Something troubles you, Artor?” the captain asked, his
silver helm glinting with flickering light from the torch on the battlement.
“The fog for one,” Artor said. “I do not feel comfortable
when I can see so little.”
“Yes,” the captain said, peering out, his dark eyes also
reflecting the torch light, as well as worries of his own. “But it is not just
the fog. Something stirs in the night that I feel deep in my bones, something
dark and dangerous.”
“I have felt that, too,” Artor said. “And I have noticed odd
behavior of birds.”
“Birds?” the captain said, giving Artor a sharp glance. “What
kind of behavior?”
“Flocks of birds have been flying north, even in the fog,
kinds of birds I’ve not seen before, during any of my long watches from this
tower.”
“What might it mean?” the captain asked, looking out into
the fog again, squinting to see birds not there now.
“Trouble to the south, is my guess,” Artor said, “trouble
that is headed our way.”
“Then, it is best we keep good watch,” the captain said. “I
will send a messenger to the capital to alert them. It may be nothing. But these
days, it is better to be wary than to be lax.”
Artor nodded as the captain vanished back into the
battlements, then stiffened again when a strange cry rose out of the fog, not
near, yet not far enough away, and the shadow of something large, bird-like,
but massive, passed over the tower, more shadow than a thing of substance.
Artor gripped his spear, but the aberration vanished as quickly as it had come.
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