Heart of Black Ice Page 17

  Lila had already thought of the answer. “Now that the shroud of eternity is back, Bannon Farmer is the only warrior who remains. In a sense, he is the champion of Ildakar, and he could be useful.”

  Adessa considered that. “One should not discard useful tools or fighters.”

  “Then let us plan a trap together. We will fight the Norukai, and I can free Bannon, as I vowed to do.” The intensity of her gaze caught Adessa’s attention. “Will you help me, morazeth to morazeth?”

  Adessa snapped at the unseen head inside the sack. “I don’t care what you wish, Maxim! I make my own decision.” The flecks of madness in her eyes grew brighter. “Stop laughing, or I’ll submerge your head again and let the fish eat more of your face.”

  Composing herself, Adessa faced Lila across the campfire. “If you and I are the only two morazeth that remain outside the shroud of eternity, then your mission is mine. I will battle the Norukai with you, but you can save the scrawny swordsman on your own.”

  CHAPTER 29

  A thousand soldiers carrying flame-symbol banners pressed toward Orogang. As they gained altitude and the terrain grew more rugged, General Utros recognized the dark crags with patches of snow on their summits. He inhaled the thin, chill air, a refreshing change from the dust of the road, the thick odor of horses, and countless sweating men.

  “Will we see the capital today, beloved Utros?” asked Ruva, riding beside him.

  He lifted his head high, a victorious military commander coming back to report on the lands he had conquered. They were close to the city; he could taste it. “Yes, it will be today.”

  That dawn, while his soldiers broke camp and prepared for another long march, Utros had polished his gold half mask. He studied the burnished metal, the idealized sculpture of his features. When he entered the imperial palace, he wondered if anyone would remember the face of Utros after all these centuries. History recorded large-scale events and political consequences, but rarely preserved the details of a man’s physical appearance. Would anyone know him at all?

  “They will remember your legend,” Ruva said. “History is filled with stories of General Utros. That is what the wizard Nathan said.”

  He gazed along the widening road shadowed by tall mountains. “We shall see for ourselves. I’ll face the man who now sits on the throne in Orogang, and I will determine if he is worthy.”

  He dispatched a pair of scouts to ride ahead to announce their arrival. He selected two men who were originally from Orogang, fighters who had left their homes and loved ones to follow General Utros, long ago. The two scouts proudly shouldered their responsibility.

  “We will bring you news, sir,” said a man with an unfortunately large nose. “And we’ll make sure the people of Orogang prepare a welcome celebration for your returning army.”

  “We’re going home!” the other scout cried with such enthusiasm that his voice cracked like the voice of a boy struggling with puberty. They galloped off.

  Utros kept silent as he rode forward, leading his escort army. The twin sorceresses looked eagerly ahead, their bright eyes searching for the grandeur that Utros had promised them ages ago. He was perplexed and disappointed by the sad state of the main roads. This close to the great city, he expected to see overburdened caravans, farmers with wagons, travelers, military patrols. With Orogang’s population of nearly a million people, even the outlying areas should have seen much activity.

  Dark pines rose all around, and he knew the forests should have been cut for firewood and construction material. The rocky slopes should have shown the stair-stepped gashes of stone quarries. Why were there no fields of grain, no orchards, no grazing sheep or cattle? Where were the people?

  They passed only the foundation stones and crumbling walls of long-collapsed cottages. The twins picked up on his uneasy mood. Ava and Ruva kept glancing at him, wondering how they could help. The mounted army began to display an odd mixture of impatience, joy, and concern.

  By noon the pair of scouts galloped back to the general, and he could already read the grim news on their faces. The large-nosed man had tear tracks through the dust on his cheeks. Both scouts lowered their voices. “We found Orogang, sir. The city…”

  “The whole city is empty and abandoned!” blurted the other scout. “The population is gone, the streets are empty.”

  “Was the city ransacked?” Utros demanded, trying to keep his dismay in check. “Conquered?”

  “I don’t know.” The scout with the big nose had lost his sincere smile. “The buildings don’t look burned or destroyed, just abandoned. The structures are intact, but they’re sealed up.”

  “I will see this myself.” Utros urged his horse forward.

  The scouts turned their mounts about and led the way. “It’s less than half an hour’s ride, sir. Follow us.”

  Utros grasped the reins and kicked the stallion into a gallop. Ava and Ruva raced alongside their general. Behind them, the army let out a cheer and urged their horses faster, rushing toward Orogang like a battlefield charge.

  When they reached the outskirts of the city, Utros suddenly had trouble breathing. Silence loomed like a pestilence in the air. The towering structures were washed by the sun like bleached bones in a desert. Silent and dead.

  Utros trembled as he guided his stallion between imposing monoliths, stone piles that had once formed an awe-inspiring gate. The streets that should have celebrated the glory of the empire were overgrown, the flagstones buckled. Twisted trees reached up from wherever seeds had found cracks or crannies.

  His army crowded behind their general as Utros halted to stare at the vacant gate. Ava and Ruva were silent, dismayed for the general’s sake. “It’s gone,” he said. “My empire is gone. Who leads it now?”

  “He would only be an emperor of dust,” said Ruva.

  Ava said, “The slate has been wiped clean, beloved Utros. This is Orogang. It could be your own capital, and you will rebuild the empire.”

  Ruva agreed, “Your empire.”

  He could not let the men see his crippling disappointment. Still picturing himself as a conquering hero, he proudly rode his stallion through the remains of the grand arch. Behind him, his army flowed into the empty capital.

  As he looked around, he remembered the palace, the observatory pyramid, the tall lookout towers. Utros recognized the ministry building with its line of fluted columns and multiple entrances, all of which were now barricaded shut. The palace had sported myriad multicolored windows, but now he saw only a wall of mortared bricks.

  “Someone turned my city into a tomb.” He had expected bustling streets, crowded bazaars, craftsmen districts, moneylenders, temples, stonecutters. Now there were only ominous silence and shadows, even in the bright afternoon.

  As his army moved through the streets, other scouts came back with good news. “We found storehouses, General! Many sacks of grain, barrels of apples, potatoes, even kegs of wine and ale. Those supplies will help our people.”

  “Seize everything,” Utros said, pleased. Ava and Ruva had worked their spell so the soldiers could not feel the gnawing hunger, but now, thankfully, they had real supplies, enough for a well-deserved feast.

  The clatter of iron-shod horse hooves echoed against the stone walls, but the sound was no substitute for massed crowds and loud cheers. In the central plaza, Utros pulled his stallion to a halt and dismounted. He stood before a colossal statue that had toppled from its base. The massive stone arms were broken, the booted feet still secured to the marble pedestal. The figure sprawled on the ground in several pieces, weathered with age. He looked down at the carved head and recognized the sneering self-important expression as well as the distinctive iron fang. Kurgan’s statue had been brought down when his own people overthrew him.

  “General!” one of the scouts shouted from the other side of the square. “You must see this.”

  The sorceresses slid from their saddles and stood next to him on the ground, ready to fight. He could sense a crackle in the
air as they summoned their gift to defend him. The ominous tension around the city put them all on edge.

  With a brisk stride, Utros went to an adjacent plaza, where he saw a second great statue, this one even taller than Kurgan’s and well maintained, the stone polished. Fresh flowers were strewn around the base. His gaze was drawn upward to look at the stone face, the full beard, the strong jaw, the features that so closely matched the shape of his gold half mask. The base of the statue marked out his name in chiseled letters. UTROS.

  More soldiers filled the open areas, a full army conquering an empty city. Questions rustled among them like breezes in a brewing storm. Utros had no answers for them, but they could draw their own conclusions. The weight of mysteries was oppressive.

  The gigantic statue proved that Utros was indeed remembered, that his legend had survived, but he also sensed that the city wasn’t as empty as he had first thought. Silent threats lurked there. Hidden eyes watched them from shadowed recesses in buildings, no doubt plotting something. All the men were tense, their guard raised.

  Ava and Ruva also looked uneasy. His soldiers drew their weapons, waiting for something to happen. The tableau seemed ready to explode.

  * * *

  General Utros had returned! Cyrus knew it the moment he saw the military leader astride his black horse, wearing armor much as was depicted in the towering statue.

  Nicci had told the Hidden People that Utros still lived, and although Cyrus and his followers had prayed for that all their lives, he had merely hoped to find a worthy successor to Utros, not the legendary general himself, in the flesh. But that was what the prophecy had said. It was true! Now the great commander rode into the city with a thousand well-disciplined soldiers, returning to Orogang just as Cyrus had hoped.

  The general wore an imposing helmet adorned with the curved horns of some massive beast, and half his face was covered with a burnished gold mask that made him look less human, but more terrifying. Two beautiful hairless women rode on either side of him, and Cyrus remembered legends of the fearsome twin sorceresses that accompanied General Utros.

  Huddled in their shadows, the Hidden People were exhausted and battered after helping Nicci contain the zhiss the night before. Many of them were weak from loss of blood, but they had survived the ordeal. Nicci was unconscious, recovering deep inside the palace.

  Because of her efforts to save the Hidden People, Cyrus had begun to forgive her. She had indeed imprisoned the bloodthirsty black cloud, freeing them from their oppressive obligations. But she had also declared that the legendary Utros was an untrustworthy tyrant who meant only to conquer the Old World. Cyrus didn’t believe Nicci. She lied, and her lies uprooted all the beliefs that he and his followers held so dear.

  And now Utros had returned!

  Cyrus looked through the open windows—open windows, even in the daylight! He watched the armored soldiers ride into the great plaza, saw the magnificent uniforms, banners with the flame symbol of the once-great empire. Oh, this was a glorious day in many ways!

  “Hurry!” Cyrus called his followers. “Take your swords and whatever armor we still have. To arms! We must show General Utros that we still remember, that we are worthy of him. Hurry!”

  Twenty of his followers seized weapons from the stockpiles, battered helmets, ragtag breastplates and capes, anything that would make them look impressive. They were pale from living in the shadows, and many had scabs and blood blisters from the attack of the zhiss. Cyrus knew they must look horrific, but they could not wait. Utros was here! There would never be a better chance. He had lived all his days for this moment.

  Cyrus rallied his people. “Our general has returned at last. Run out to meet him!” He grabbed his own sword, raised it, and ran out at the forefront.

  With a triumphant roar, unable to contain their exuberance at seeing the legend proved true at last, Cyrus and his followers surged out into the square.

  * * *

  A door creaked open in a council building and pale figures appeared. They wore sinister, hooded gray robes, and all of them carried gleaming swords, scraps of armor obviously scavenged from elsewhere. “It is Utros!” one of the strangers called.

  Figures rushed out of the building with furtive spiderlike movements like a small, shouting army. They scuttled quickly, swirling their cloaks around them. Nearly a hundred of them ran forward, raising their swords. “General Utros!”

  As soon as the first man charged into the dazzling sunlight, though, he staggered and shielded his eyes, swinging his blade in the air. The bright sun blinded them. The threatening army behind the first man also covered their faces with their hands and cringed from the light, but they blundered forward, all of them armed.

  Ava and Ruva reacted without waiting for orders from Utros. Seeing the danger to the general, they launched a burst of fire that engulfed the leading group of pale, threatening figures. Even as the flames incinerated the front ranks, the twin sorceresses followed with a bolt of lightning that blasted more of the intimidating figures.

  Ava sounded satisfied as the ominous people collapsed. “We will protect you, beloved Utros.”

  Utros frowned at the blackened skeletons. “I wanted to know who they were. Why did they attack me?”

  From inside the ominous buildings, they heard more threatening movement, multiple doors opening. Faces pressed against hidden peepholes, and muttering voices rose with an undertone of anger.

  CHAPTER 30

  When Nathan’s party reached the high pass of Kol Adair, he felt a sense of purpose, if not triumph. With Nicci and Bannon, he had originally climbed the rugged mountains above the lands of the Scar, intent on reaching this singular pass.

  Prelate Verna had ridden beside him up the last rocky switchbacks until the glorious top of the pass unfolded before them. Nathan breathed hard in the thin air, but he couldn’t seem to fill his lungs.

  General Zimmer and his soldiers gathered on the open tundra. A large rock cairn marked the high point of the pass like a monument to fallen kings. By now, they were quite far ahead of the enormous marching army. Zimmer called out, “We rest here for an hour. Eat your food, drink your water. There will be plenty of streams on the other side. We need to keep moving toward Cliffwall.”

  Amber and Peretta mingled with the Sisters of the Light, while Oliver shaded his eyes and squinted into the distance, as if amazed at how far he had come. Rendell hunched his head, the expansive panorama seemingly too much for him to endure.

  Captain Trevor said sadly, “The first time we reached this point, Renn dropped to his knees and kissed the stones, but on our way back I don’t think he paused to admire the view, he was so anxious to get home to Ildakar.” Trevor heaved a sigh. “Now he will never go home.”

  The two morazeth showed no discomfort from the brisk wind. They studied the steep route down the other side of the pass. “It looks like a rugged journey ahead,” Lyesse said.

  Nathan looked down the western slope to where he could see broken glaciers that had tumbled down in a recent avalanche. “It will be a far more difficult route for that giant army. In many places, the soldiers will have to move single file. We’ll pull even farther ahead.”

  He claimed a boulder for his seat and removed the life book from its pouch. With numb fingertips, he traced the leather cover. The book contained a chronicle of history and adventure, everything he had done since leaving the Dark Lands far to the north. He had filled many of the pages, and he could hardly believe all he had done and faced.

  Verna sat next to him on the large rock. “You’ve been here before, Nathan. What drew you to Kol Adair in the first place? Did you know what was on the other side? Were you looking for Ildakar?”

  “Kol Adair was where I hoped to regain my gift,” he said. “But it was just a step in a longer journey.” Now that he had discarded his stained wizard’s robe in favor of more familiar black pants and ruffled shirt, he rested his hand on the ornate hilt of the sword. Nathan stroked his smooth chin. “It was a pr
ophecy, of sorts.”

  “A prophecy?” Verna was surprised. “You of all people know how misleading any prophecy can be, even back when prophecy still worked. All the forked paths, true ones and false ones.”

  “Indeed, my dear prelate. That is why the Sisters of the Light locked me up for a thousand years.” He raised his eyebrows. “And look what good that did you! It only led to the ruin of the Palace of the Prophets and caused great dismay to your entire order.” He sniffed. “Serves you right. You should know what happens to anyone who attempts to thwart prophecy.”

  “Yet you came here yourself following a prophecy. Weren’t you aware of the danger?”

  “A desperate man will grasp at any hope, and a desperate wizard has ways to believe what he wishes to believe. Besides, my dear, I wasn’t attempting to thwart prophecy, but to follow it.”

  He opened the life book, flipped back through the pages, ignoring his neat handwriting. On the very first page he read lines in a different hand. “This is what the witch woman wrote. We didn’t know what it meant at the time.” He ran his fingers along the words as he read them aloud. “‘Future and Fate depend on both the journey and the destination. Kol Adair lies far to the south in the Old World. From there, the Wizard will behold what he needs to make himself whole again. And the Sorceress must save the world.’”

  He paused. “My gift had abandoned me aboard the Wavewalker, you see. I couldn’t perform even the simplest magic, not so much as a spark of flame in the palm of my hand. Red had written those lines while my gift was at full strength, yet she knew somehow I would lose it.”

  “If you’re interpreting the words correctly,” Verna said. “You, Prophet, know that a reader reads the details of a premonition according to his own wishes.”