The adversary the 13th p.., p.26
The Adversary: The 13th Paladin (Final Volume), page 26
The First continued to stand there uncertainly, but as no-one else stood up to make room for him, he sighed and sat down beside Ahren, grabbing a piece of bread and a spicy chunk of cured sausage from Thousand Halls, the smell of which had caused Ahren’s eyes to water.
The First ate his fill in silence, Ahren glancing sideways at him from time to time. There was something about the man in his archaic armour that gave the Forest Guardian goosebumps, and he felt a sudden urge to storm out of the room with his Wind Blade in his hand while yelling the Paladin mantra.
‘You can sense it too, can’t you?’ murmured the First, having washed down his food with a goblet of diluted wine. ‘The Blessing that is tugging at us.’
Ahren nodded. So that was what was moving within him. The gods’ Blessing that lodged in each and every Paladin seemed to be innately aware that there were nine more of its kind in the room. That was why it was surging within Ahren like a tidal wave, ready, willing and able to play its part in overwhelming the Adversary. ‘I have never experienced it as being so…single-minded,’ admitted the Forest Guardian in a whisper.
The First stared at him intently. ‘Then wait until the other Paladins are with us and there are no Charm Circles present to dampen the Blessing.’ He pursed his lips. ‘If the Adversary allows us that opportunity. Our present gathering must already be raging like a tornado in his head.’
Suddenly feeling dizzy, Ahren took a deep breath. Everything was moving so fast now. Only a short time ago, the Paladins had been keeping their distance from each other as they tiptoed around various locations in different parts of the world, but not now the vast majority of them were gathered together in the one room.
‘Where are the other three?’ he asked anxiously.
The First pointed down to the floor. ‘Aluna is in the Heart Hall. She was grazed by a Bane Curse on the way over here, which caused a complication to her pregnancy. She needs plenty of rest.’ The First glanced over at Sleeps-in-Treetop. ‘Our riddling Ancient claims that Aluna will recover – all she needs is time.’
Ahren flinched. Time was a sensitive topic – as he knew only too well. It was possible that they might have considerably more of it than any of them would want. ‘And Trimm?’
‘He is keeping his mercenaries in check.’ The First sounded impressed despite himself. ‘Our cowardly brother recruited anyone and everyone capable of holding a weapon who was willing to fight for gold. Soon, the Ring will be twice as well fortified as it was a moon ago – and will remain so at least until Cape Verstaad runs out of funds to pay the mercenaries.’
Ahren nodded. Trimm had, after all, kept his word and arrived. That he had also brought with him an army of hirelings who would beat a way clear for the cowardly Paladin until he was finally forced to face the Dark god was, on the other hand, not in the least surprising. ‘What about the Father of the Mountain?’ pressed Ahren, wanting to learn more about the final Paladin, whose whereabouts he was in ignorance of.
‘He’s motivating the troops at the Ring,’ muttered the First, unable – or unwilling – to hide his disdain for their absent comrade. ‘If he could, he would gently hold the hand of each person currently on duty at the front.’
Ahren frowned. ‘You would prefer it if his old, bloodthirsty self was back, would you?’
The First guffawed. It was a harsh, barking sound. ‘Of course, I would prefer to have Darkan present. The time of mild and friendly banter is almost over. And he was one of the best when it came to shedding the blood of others.’
‘I am glad that I only got to know the Father of the Mountain, then,’ countered Ahren energetically. Then he placed a hand on the First’s shoulder. The veteran’s metal armour felt cold to the touch. ‘Be careful that you don’t revert to your old ways,’ he said in a low voice. ‘The Eternal Ice should have taught you what suffering ensues when taking a fanatical, narrow-minded approach.’
The First and Ahren stared at one another for an extended period before the old man said: ‘The gods have created us very differently. You fulfil your role – I will fulfil mine in my way – as I have always done.’ With that, he got to his feet and strode to the door where he paused to glance back at the laughing Paladins before shouting in a hard voice: ‘The council of war will start forthwith. Get yourselves ready!’ Then he marched out of the dining hall, leaving a wave of disenchantment in his wake.
‘Well, I certainly won’t miss that old spoilsport once we’ve slain the Adversary,’ announced Fisker, trying to sound humorous.
‘What you’ve said sounds so weird,’ interjected Bergen as he looked at the others. ‘I mean, talking about the time afterwards.’ A heavy silence descended on the room.
‘I’m off, then,’ grunted Falk, getting to his feet. ‘The First has managed to put us all in a foul humour again. Anyone else in the mood for a council of war?’ Then he stomped out of the room without waiting for an answer, the others following in dribs and drabs until only Ahren, Hakanu and Khara were left.
‘Master?’ asked the apprentice, looking repeatedly at the doorway. ‘Why aren’t we going as well?’
‘Stubbornness,’ muttered Ahren, Khara shaking her head and laughing in disbelief. ‘I refuse to simply dance to the First’s tune.’ He picked up a piece of bread from the table and chewed on it grumpily. ‘The approaching battle is clearly bringing out the worst in the First. I had better remind him that he no longer commands the Paladins.’ He swallowed both the food and, metaphorically, the anger that had been rising within him. ‘Now we can go,’ he said, Hakanu breathing a sigh of relief.
As the Thirteenth followed his protégé under Khara’s critical eye, the boy trying hard not to rush forward enthusiastically, Ahren pondered over the possibility that the imminent discussion might well be the last such that he would ever be involved in.
The war would soon reach its conclusion.
One way or the other.
The council chamber was a veritable hive of activity when Ahren entered the round room of the castle’s eastern tower. It seemed considerably more impressive and livelier in daylight now that it was full of attendees. The other nine Paladins from the dining hall were present as were the four Ancients, Kamkanzakur, Falagarda, Likis, Yantilla, Ahren’s other companions and quite a few adjutants, who were busily sharpening their quill pens and straightening their piles of parchments which they would use to write dispatches and to record any decisions that the council of war was going to reach.
‘At least there are no bards present to mangle whatever is discussed here into heroic lays for the troops,’ muttered Ahren grimly.
‘Here you are at last,’ growled the First, beckoning the Thirteenth to sit. The Forest Guardian picked a chair directly opposite the veteran, the latter acknowledging his younger counterpart’s decision with a curt nod.
‘Are the two of you involved in another private battle?’ asked Falk in a low voice, as he and Khara sat down beside Ahren.
‘I don’t know yet,’ muttered his former apprentice. ‘But I am ready to call a halt to his gallop if he starts suggesting sacrificing entire kingdoms in pursuit of his aims.’
‘The First is so close to his goal,’ interjected Khara, ‘which he has been pursuing since time immemorial. It will hardly be a surprise if he falls into his old habits.’
‘Perhaps you are right,’ countered Ahren coolly. ‘But it will be regrettable and highly dangerous.’
By now, all the participants had taken their places, the First then nodding towards the heavy double doors, which were then slammed shut from the outside by the sentries – a combination of Fox Guards and Night Soldiers.
Sleeps-in-Treetop leaned in over the council table and placed one hand on the dark wooden surface, whereupon hundreds of runes were suddenly illuminated, decorating the entire room for a glorious heartbeat before fading away as quickly as they had appeared. ‘The council chamber is secure,’ she announced in a scratchy voice before firmly closing her eyes. Clearly, the Ancient would use her sorcerous powers to guard over the room while crucial strategy was being discussed.
Quin-Wa got to her feet. ‘Before we begin, I would like to announce that I shall be speaking not only on my own behalf but also on behalf of my husband, the Sun Emperor.’ Immediately, four of the adjutants set about recording the information on their parchments.
Quin-Wa having sat down, Likis immediately stood up. ‘And it is my honour to represent King Blueground, the Green Sea and Cape Verstaad.’
The First nodded. ‘Most of the Jorathian rulers are hereby represented in one form or another. Please take note of the following as well – ten Champions of the gods are present in their function as generals of the army, as is Chief Marshall Falagarda, who at the start of winter was unanimously entrusted with overall military authority of the Ring.’
Ahren smiled appreciatively at the tall woman, who made a striking impression in her navy-blue uniform, and with her chest decorated with medals. She stood up with a determined look on her face.
‘Enough of the formalities,’ she began, the others in the room nodding their approval. ‘If we prove victorious, no-one will give a fiddler’s curse as to how many titles were assembled in this chamber on this day.’
Fisker laughed loudly, while Ahren bit his lips in an effort to contain his amusement.
‘I think it would be best if I give you all a quick overview of the situation regarding the Ring and our troops.’ Not meeting with any objections, she began to go into details while the adjutants picked up wooden toothpicks with coloured pennants, which they placed in the little holes that had already been bored into the representation of the Ring, which was situated on the council table. The woman listed off dozens of units as well as the strength of each one, pointing confidently at different locations without ever hesitating for a heartbeat to gather her thoughts. Ahren was impressed not only by the number of soldiers now guarding the Ring, but even more by the way in which Falagarda was exhibiting her competence.
Once all the pennants were in position, Falagarda looked confidently at her audience before coming to the core of her report. ‘As can clearly be seen, the Ring is controlled by a large variety of troops from all the allied countries. Dwarfish siege experts are busily constructing catapults and battering rams under the shelter of the Ring, close to the gates of the Obsidian Fortress, while cavalry from the Green Sea and the armoured cavalry of the Knight Marshes are controlling the hinterland of the Ring and guarding our supply lines. Elves, dwarfs and humans are watching every inch of the Ring, with even several giants having only now joined our forces. I took the liberty of assigning them special duties as they have had difficulty adapting to the local military doctrine.’
Bergen raised a hand. ‘In other words – we are as ready as we can possibly be?’
The Chief Marshall nodded.
‘That’s enough of the good news and the self-congratulatory tone,’ snarled Uldini. ‘What about the enemy?’
Falagarda signalled to the adjutants, other pennants being then placed at various points within the Obsidian Fortress. This time, the woman waited until the last marking had been positioned.
‘Please take a close look at the structure of the Obsidian Fortress, which we have been able to recreate thanks to Sun Shimmer’s overflights during the last few moons.’ She pointed at the middle of the table, Ahren then examining the model in detail, but the sheer number of towers, walls and bulwarks rising up from the wood made for a confusing sight.
‘An analysis would be helpful,’ suggested Bergen, breaking the silence that had fallen over the room, Falagarda nodding in response – as if she had expected just such a proposal.
‘I, too, was confused initially. Let us begin in the centre – or rather, in the heart of the stronghold.’ She pointed at a shape resembling a palace, not in the middle of the Obsidian Fortress but rising in its eastern third. ‘If you look closely, you will see that the core of the citadel is surrounded by twenty walls that are elliptical rather than circular. In the east they are closest together, while the distances between them vary, seemingly indiscriminately, in the north, south and west.’
‘Why?’ exclaimed Hakanu, Ahren nodding at his protégé approvingly. ‘Who would build a fortress so asymmetrically?’
The First leaned forward. ‘It is a mistaken belief that all strongholds are built in a uniform manner. Every military fortification is designed according to the lay of the land on which it stands. A mountain fortress is completely different to a castle in a valley, for example.’
‘But we are talking about level ground here,’ muttered Khara, toying with her Warrior Pin before straightening it again with an impatient grunt. ‘Why did the Adversary pick the eastern part of the former Borderlands to situate his…palace?’
‘Magic,’ said Akkad quickly. ‘Creating the Obsidian Fortress took an enormous effort. I suspect that He needed all the hidden force lines that are present in the land to…well…to anchor the fortress, so to speak.’
Ahren chewed his lower lip for a heartbeat before speaking. ‘In other words, when He built the fortress, He followed the mystical Power Lines are only visible to those with sorcerous abilities?’
Akkad nodded. ‘And he would have tapped into every source of magical power that can be found in the Borderlands.’ The portly sorcerer pointed at several bulwarks to the east, north and south. ‘Hence the structures that you see here. They are situated directly above those focal points of concentrated magic.’
‘The palace, too?’ asked Fisker, all ears.
Akkad shrugged his shoulders. ‘I suspect that is the case. But the Adversary is shielding His centre of power from enemy sorcery quite successfully – so, I cannot confirm it.’
The First pointed at the boundaries of the Obsidian Fortress. ‘The Adversary not only has those magical resources at His disposal, but He has also taken care of his military strategy. It seems that He particularly fears possible attacks from the Knight Marshes, the Green Sea, the Forest of Ire, the Eternal Empire and the Sunplains.’
‘Or to put it more simply – the only country He does not fear is Hjalgar,’ added Likis, smiling self-deprecatingly.
Falagarda shook her head. ‘It is true that the smallest distances between the defensive walls are to the east, but that is where the most dangerous Dark Ones are stationed. Age-old Blood Wolves for example, enormous Glower Bears, Horde Bulls – and let us not forget Hate, the last remaining child of the Dark god.’ She tapped on the grooves representing the twenty ramparts. ‘Furthermore, the eastern walls are the tallest and thickest. In other words, approaching from Deepstone would be short but onerous.’
The First had been studying the map thoughtfully. ‘An attack from the north-east – from the Knight Marshes – would probably be our best option. The journey to the centre of the fortress would not take too long. There is no river directly beyond the Ring to hinder us. And we could put more soldiers in position there than here in Hjalgar.’
Falagarda nodded. ‘I agree. But let us now come to the strength of the enemy troops. According to our calculations, there are over forty thousand Low Fangs, one thousand High Fangs and ten thousand other Dark Ones within the Obsidian Fortress. Furthermore, there is an unknown number of Swarm Claws, but I think we can safely assume that there is a ratio of five of the deadly birds to each of the Adversary’s foot soldiers.’
The mood in the room darkened as the heavens would before a gathering storm.
‘But this is good news, isn’t it?!’ exclaimed Hakanu, taken aback by the general reaction of the others. ‘If I was calculating correctly, then we possess more troops than the enemy.’
‘Only just,’ countered Falk. ‘And you aren’t taking the fortress walls into account. Should we need to scale them, we will only successfully do so if we have thrice the number behind us for us to have any chance of achieving our goal.’
‘And you can hardly say that one foot soldier carries the same strength as a Glower Bear,’ interjected Quin-Wa curtly.
‘Never mind the fact that the Low- and High Fangs are equipped with both armour and weaponry,’ added Trogadon, ‘even if no self-respecting blacksmith would stand over the shoddy workmanship involved.’
Sunju got to her feet and walked around the table, her eyes fixed on the many grooves. ‘The good news is this – if the Adversary wants to break through the Ring, then He will have the same problem as us – namely, an insufficient number of troops.’
‘Which means that the stalemate continues,’ said Lanlion glumly, summarising the situation accurately.
‘How are things on the sorcery front?’ asked the First, looking at Quin-Wa, who promptly nodded towards Akkad.
‘I have been somewhat distracted over the past few weeks,’ said the Empress, touching her belly. ‘Our tinkerer has a better overview than I do.’
The much-beloved Ancient waved his hand, an irregular grille of glowing lines suddenly connecting the carved symbols of the Wizardly Domes. ‘The Arcane Walls are helping to deflect the Bane Curses being hurled over from the heart of the Obsidian Fortress,’ he said. ‘Losses among our soldiers has fallen within the last moon from one hundred and fifty per day to less than ten.’
Ahren gasped. He had already heard how the Ring had been suffering under the attacks from the Adversary, but the sheer number of those slain caused him to shake his head in disbelief. ‘So much senseless death,’ he murmured.
Khara squeezed his hand in silent commiseration.
Akkad waved his hand a second time, whereupon some of the Arcane Walls immediately dimmed, the other ones shining more powerfully. ‘Experience has shown that some of the Ancients work better in pairs than others. Then there are their varying levels of skill when it comes to using the charms, and their individual reservoirs of inner strength. What you are looking at here are the most powerful and effective Arcane Walls that are currently operating.’
