‘Yes, I know. And talking of being disappointed, I’m beginning to lose faith in this great firework display of Will’s.’ He turned to where Will was standing, hands on hips, a few yards away. ‘Hey, Will, any danger of this event of yours actually happening?’
Will tensed and shot him a sharp glance. ‘Patience,’ he said.
‘Smoke!’ said Jandyr immediately, pointing and standing up.
‘Where?’ asked Ilkar.
‘Front door, all around the cracks.’
‘Got it,’ said Ilkar.
‘Where?’ And as Hirad strained to see what was visible only to elven eyes, the front door and surrounding walls blew out. A huge tongue of flame lashed into the courtyard, bringing with it a cloud of debris and smoke, causing him to shudder at the unwelcome reminder of his escape from Sha-Kaan.
The muffled thump of the first detonation reached them seconds later, moments before the two towers exploded in perfect synchronisation. One tore itself apart, collapsing inwards. The other’s force was concentrated upwards, its ornately pointed top section spinning lazily into the air atop a plume of powdered masonry. Will shouted, delighted. Erienne burst into tears. Denser moved to her, held her and wiped dry her damp cheeks. She looked up at him and smiled.
And then, with the castle wreathed in flames and smoke, Hirad patted Will on the back and hurried them on their way under Denser’s anxious gaze.
Understone.
Once the focal point of trade and travel both east and west of the pass, the town had fallen first to disuse, then to disrepair, following the surrender of the pass to the Wesmen. All that remained was a poorly provisioned garrison of first-tour career soldiers paid for by the Korina Trade Alliance, though the parlous state of that organisation scarcely warranted the name, such was its fading reputation.
Seventy-five men made up the total defence against incursion from the west, an incursion that none in the KTA believed would happen after the first five years of quiet.
How times change. In the aftermath of Travers’ extraordinarily brave but ultimately doomed defence of the pass, Understone was fortified and garrisoned with three thousand men. With the entire eastern part of Balaia deemed under threat, no cost was too much in ensuring the Wesmen got no further than daylight the other side of the pass. Temporary accommodation was built, and traders, prostitutes, entertainers and innkeepers saw their best-ever years. But it didn’t last. The Wesmen never attacked again. It seemed, after five years, that control of the pass and the tolls Tessaya could exact was the limit of their ambition.
Why they took the pass was a question left unanswered at the time. In the years before the series of battles that led to Travers’ defeat, an uneasy peace had been maintained, allowing trade from the richer east to flow west, opening up new markets and developing new industries. But now nine years after the fall of the pass, the situation was unfortunately clear. The Wesmen had taken the pass as a precursor to the eventual return of the Wytch Lords.
The town of Understone stood no more than four hundred yards from the thirty-feet-high by twenty-five-feet-wide open black arch that was the entrance to Understone Pass. To either side, the mountains spread up and away, rolling into hills and scrubland which stretched as far as the eye could see, north, east and south. It was a bleak but beautiful sight, the town standing squarely in the middle of a carved wagon trail, its tumbledown houses littering neighbouring hills or jostling for position on the inadequate flatter spaces away from the main street.
It was bleaker still when the rains came, as they often did, clouds sweeping over the mountains on the prevailing wind to disgorge their contents on the hapless inhabitants below.
Flooding, mudslides, subsidence, all had left their scars on the town, whose solution to the rains was a lattice of drainage trenches probing in all downhill directions. They had worked well but disrepair now limited their effectiveness and the floods had returned. The main street was ankle deep in a thick, clogging mud, its stench rising with the sun.
The unannounced arrival of more than five hundred men and elves from the four Colleges caused panic in the small garrison. While a few stood in the way of the mounted force, most disappeared into buildings or ran shouting for their commanding officer. By the time he had dragged his way from an old inn, buttoning his tunic over his ample belly as he came thrashing through the mud, only twelve conscripts remained. It was pitiable.
The garrison commander looked past General Ry Darrick at the long line of horsemen who filled his town’s main street almost end to end. He looked at those of his men who had chosen to stand their ground and nodded his thanks before facing Darrick, who leaned forward in his saddle, not even honouring the man by dismounting.
‘And this is how you would face those who would take our lands,’ said Darrick.
The commander smiled. ‘No,’ he replied. ‘Because those who would take our lands would hardly draw breath while slaughtering so small a garrison. Whom do I address?’
‘I am Darrick, General, Lystern cavalry. And you are Kerus, commander of the garrison standing at the gates of hell.’
For a second time, Kerus frowned, gauging the meaning both of Darrick’s words and of the weight of numbers behind him. Choosing to keep the rest of the conversation private, he walked through the mud to stand by Darrick’s chestnut-brown mare.
‘General Darrick. What I have here are seventy-five men, none of whom is above nineteen. They have been sent here to patrol the area outside the pass and to deal with any raiders who might come through. They were never expected to repel an invading army because no army will ever come through the pass. And now, I must ask you, what is your business in Understone?’
‘Preparing to repel the invading army that you say doesn’t exist. I have five thousand foot two days behind me.’
‘Perhaps we had better talk in my quarters,’ said Kerus.
‘Perhaps we had.’
Chapter 19
It was late afternoon. Will had the wood burner firing and a pot of water bubbled on top of it. No light could be seen.
‘I’m astonished, frankly,’ said Denser. ‘We didn’t meet another soul. How likely is that?’ He, Ilkar and Hirad had walked away a few yards to talk. Jandyr and Thraun were seeing to the horses and Erienne had already put her head down to sleep.
‘He’s a good tracker, I’ll give him that,’ said Hirad.
‘Good! It’s hardly desolate out here. We didn’t even hear anyone. It’s extraordinary.’
‘Not only that, half the time we didn’t hear him ourselves,’ agreed Ilkar.
‘All right. Meeting of the Thraun appreciation society closed,’ said Hirad. ‘What about Dordover?’
Denser gestured for Ilkar to speak.
‘It’s the largest of the College Cities. It is more closely linked to Xetesk than Julatsa and has a history of allegiance with Denser’s lot, although they now barely talk. It wouldn’t make our job any easier if they did. One thing you have to understand is that the colleges guard their lore more jealously than any other possession. What we are about to steal is part of Dordover’s lore.’
‘So it’ll be protected.’
‘Yes, but not by people. Spells,’ said Ilkar. ‘That’s our problem. Wards, alarms, traps, all coded. If the wrong person moves in their sphere, they’ll be triggered.’
‘So how?’ asked Hirad.
‘Our only choice, unfortunately, is Erienne,’ said Denser.
‘Why unfortunately?’
‘Because we shouldn’t be asking her to take such a direct part in this theft. She’s already torn apart by losing her sons. I wonder whether this might not be one thing too many for her to take.’
‘I know,’ said Hirad. ‘But if she’s only telling us what to do . . .’