A Dream of Mortals (Book #15 in the Sorcerer's Ring) (9 page)

From the back lines of the army there slowly
rolled forward a long line of catapults, dozens of them, smaller than the
others. In each of these was a bale of hay, and as Volusia watched, the elite
of her soldiers mounted the hay and strapped the bales to their stomachs,
holding onto the catapult.

“My lady,” said Gibvin, the commander of her
armies, rushing up to her, panic in his eyes, “this is a foolhardy plan. You
will kill good men. It cannot work. All of these men will die.”

She stared coldly back at him.

“Some will die,” she said, “but the valiant
will live. Myself among them.”

He stared back, unbelieving.

“You?” he said. “You do not mean to join them?”

She smiled back.

“I will go first,” she replied.

“You will die,” he gasped.

She smiled wider.

“And since when have I feared death?”

Volusia ran to the catapults, strapped herself
to a bale of hay with a long cord, and stood on a catapult. She looked left and
right and saw dozens of other soldiers strapped to hay, each on their own
catapult, each staring back at her with a terrified look, waiting. She looked
high up, a hundred feet, and knew how crazy this was. Yet if she were to die,
she could think of no better way.

“FIRE!” she commanded.

There came the sudden noise of a cutting rope, a
creaking of wooden gears, and Volusia lost her breath as she suddenly felt herself
rocketed up in the air, shooting up in an arc like a shooting star, up higher
and higher into the sky, alongside dozens of her other men, all strapped to the
huge bales of hay. Volusia, overwhelmed by the sensation, could hardly breathe,
squinting into the wind, feeling her stomach drop. She had never felt so
reckless. So alive. She felt free, for the first time in her life. Free of all
fear of death.

Volusia rocketed up, over the walls, clearing
them by a good twenty feet, and she looked down at the amazed look on the
Empire general’s face, as he watched her soar over his head, over the wall.

She, though, was one of the lucky ones: many of
her men on the catapults did not clear it, but smashed right into the wall, screaming
as they plummeted straight down on the wrong side of it, to their deaths.

As Volusia cleared the wall and began to fall
back down the other side, she looked down below to see the streets of the Empire
capital far below her. As her speed slowed, the rising sensation stopped, but
as it did, she suddenly felt a plummeting sensation, her stomach rising into
her throat, as she began to fall straight down the other side.

She flailed as she did, the bale of hay still strapped
to her chest, and she tried to position herself so that she landed on the hay.
She prayed that the bale held, that her plan worked, that she landed on it stomach
first. All around her, her soldiers screamed as they flailed on the way down,
too.

As she fell, the cobblestone streets loomed,
coming closer and closer…

Her men weighed more than she, and many landed
before her. The ones she saw were not so lucky. Most did not land properly on
the hay, spinning around awkwardly and landing on stone, breaking their backs
instantly. The sickening sound of cracking bones filled the air. It would have
caused terror in her, if only there was time to fear.

Moments later, Volusia braced herself, and hit
the ground with the impact of an asteroid falling to earth. She turned at the
last second and managed to position the hay between her and the ground. The bale
of hay exploded, and she hit the ground right through it, it cushioning her
fall.

Volusia lay there, her head spinning, winded,
slowly crawling to her hands and knees. She shook her head and it took her
several moments to realize that she was alive.

She had made it.

She looked around and saw a dozen of her men
had made it, too.

Volusia, hearing the cries of Empire soldiers
rallying in the streets, wasted no time. She untied her cords, scrambled to her
feet, and she led the way, sprinting for the capital doors. Her men, gaining
their feet one at a time, fell in behind her.

Before her, in her sights, were a half dozen Empire
soldiers, their backs to her, standing guard at the golden doors. It was a
light formation because, of course, the Empire never expected the doors to
give. And their backs were to her because they never expected a threat from
inside.

Volusia sprinted as fast as she could,
narrowing the gap, and she managed to lodge a knife in one of the soldiers’
backs before any of the others reacted.

The others, though, spun, and an Empire soldier
raised his sword and brought it down for Volusia’s exposed neck; she realized
she could not react quickly enough, and braced herself for the blow.

A spear whizzed through the air and pierced the
soldier and pinned him to the door. Then there came several more, and Volusia
turned to see her men rushing up to join her. They attacked the guards in a
rush, and the guards, not knowing what was happening and unprepared, were soon
all killed, spears and swords and maces descending on them in a hail of death.

Volusia looked out with satisfaction to see
that all the men guarding the doors were dead. She turned and spotted the
ancient, huge, golden crank that controlled the opening of the doors.

“THE CRANK!” she yelled.

Volusia ran to the huge crank, reached up, and
with all her might yanked on it—to no avail. It was too heavy for her.

Her men joined in, and together, they all began
to pull on it—and slowly, it began to move.

There came a great creaking noise and slowly,
one foot at a time, Volusia watched with delight as the doors began to open.
First it was but a crack of sunlight, just a few inches wide—but then it widened.
And widened.

Behind her, dozens of Empire soldiers within
the city caught onto her presence and charged to kill her. They were perhaps
thirty yards off and closing in.

But as the doors opened there came a great
shout and Volusia watched with ecstasy as her army flooded in. The Empire
soldiers stopped in their tracks, turned, and ran.

Her army poured into the capital, through doors
that were increasingly widening, and she watched them run by like a stampede of
elephants, right into this ancient city’s sacred streets.

The air was soon filled with the sound of
Empire soldiers and citizens being slaughtered, of their blood filling the
streets, and Volusia threw back her head and roared with laughter.

The capital, finally, was hers.

Gwendolyn took a long drink from the sack of water,
this time handed to her by one of the knights, who bent over her, his armor
shining in the sun. He gave her more to drink than those nomads had, and she
drank greedily, gulping until it ran down her cheeks.

Coughing, Gwen sat up for the first time, feeling
energized. She opened her eyes, squinting into the sun, raising one hand, and realized
she was on a boat, a long, narrow boat. On it were a half-dozen of these knights,
accompanying her, and sprawled out were all her men, all spilled out in various
positions of recovery, all being handed sacks of water. They glided calmly on
the bluest waters she’d ever seen, and ever her long trek through the arid
desert, this all felt like a dream.

Gwen was filled with relief to see they were
all alive, all recovering, some of them even eating small morsels of bread. She
looked up to see a knight handing her a piece of bread, and she took a small
bite, she felt her strength returning. The knight, squatting beside her, also
held out a small plate of honey, and as she dipped the bread in the honey and
tasted it, it was the greatest thing she’d ever eaten. She felt her spirits
coming back to her.

Gwen heard whining, and she looked down to see Krohn
curled up in her lap, and she immediately remembered him, feeling guilty. she held
out the rest of her bread to him, and he snatched it up, gulping it down and
whining for more. He licked the honey off her fingers.

Gwen wanted to thank the knight as he got up to
leave, but she was still too exhausted, her throat too parched, for the words
to come out. She wondered if she would ever speak again.

As the knight left and went about attending the
others, Gwen, stroking Krohn’s head, looked out at the vista before her. Gentle
lake breezes caressed her face as they glided through the lake, as big as an
ocean, the boat gently rocking. The knights rowed in harmony, and as they went,
the lake shimmered, the most beautiful color blue she’d ever seen. Even more
shocking was what lay on the horizon: a land overflowing with bounty, a green
so lush it put the waters to shame. It didn’t seem possible.

Gwen was even more surprised to see so many sailboats
in the water, close to the far shore, so many people living an idle life of
leisure, of joy, sailing in harmony and security. Life in the Ring had been
bountiful, yet always on guard, hardened by combat, by threats; here, there
appeared to be no threats. It discombobulated her to see such freedom in the midst
of a hostile Empire, and such bounty in the midst of a cruel, lifeless desert. Gwen
could tell at a glance that this society, whatever it was, was clearly rich,
clearly well-established, safe and secure behind the ridge which framed it,
stretching in a massive circle around it, on the horizon, in much the same way
the Canyon had framed the Ring. And yet this land, with all its bounty, put
even the Ring to shame.

Gwendolyn wanted desperately to talk, to know
more. So many questions raced through her mind. She reached out and grabbed the
arm of a knight passing by, and he kneeled turned and looked at her. She tried
to speak, but the words wouldn’t come out; she became exhausted from the
effort.

“Rest now,” he said gently. “You need it.”

He left, and Gwen tried to look out, to see
more; yet the calm water breezes, heavy with moisture, lulled her to sleep,
made her feel relaxed, utterly at ease, for the first time in she did not know
how long, and despite her efforts, in no time she was fast asleep.

*

Gwendolyn slowly opened her eyes, squinting at
the brightness, sat up, and could hardly believe what she saw. It at first
appeared to be an illusion. She looked up at two immense golden statues, each a
hundred feet high, arms raised high in an odd salute and crossed with each
other. One was a statue of a knight, torso muscular, exposed, and the other was
of a woman, smaller, but equally muscular. They each held out swords, and as
Gwen looked down, she saw that beneath them was a huge arch, through which the
water ran between their legs, heralding the entrance to the land and flowing
into a massive harbor. Light reflected off of them and shined down onto
everything, making the harbor’s waters shimmer as if they were alive.

As their boat passed through Gwen sat up
straighter, taking in her surroundings, rapt with attention. She had expected
to find a quiet, forested lonely place and she was amazed to find them entering
a sophisticated, bustling city harbor, filled with tall ships, with all sorts
of masts and sails, its shores lined with storefronts, houses, streets of a
smooth, well-worn cobblestone and bustling with horses, carriages, and people.
The facades all looked well-established, and it was clear at a glance that this
society had been here for centuries. Traffic crisscrossed the harbor in every
direction, and the place oozed wealth and luxury. She wondered if all this
could be real.

The others, too, began to rouse as they soon touched
down at a dock, coming to a gentle stop; they had barely docked when the knights
accompanying them hurried to help each one, taking Gwen’s arms, helping her up
and toward the pier. It was the first time Gwen had walked since the ordeal,
and it felt good to be on her feet again, though a bit unsteady. She needed the
help as she took her first steps. She felt a rubbing at her leg and was
reassured to look down and see that Krohn was still there, beside her.

Gwen was elated to see Kendrick, Steffen, and
all the others walking, too, and as she reached the pier, Kendrick and Steffen
each took an arm and helped her up onto dry land. They each looked as if they’d
been through an ordeal, much more gaunt than they had been, and yet they each
smiled back warmly; she could tell they were, as was she, relieved to have a
second chance at life.

The knights led them all down the pier and
toward a gleaming golden open-air carriage, large enough to hold them all. She
let the others pass first, and she watched with relief as she saw all of her
people—Illepra and the baby, Stara, Kendrick, Sandara, Steffen, Aberthol,
Brandt, Atme, and a half dozen Silver—board. Gwen was thrilled to see Argon
still alive, too, carried by the knights, in a weakened state, still
unconscious, yet alive all the same. He was placed on the cart gingerly, and she
prayed that they could find a cure for him here in this place.

At least she had salvaged some of the Ring, and
at least she had gotten them this far.

One of the knights helped her up the three
golden steps, and as he turned to go, Gwen reached out and grabbed his wrist.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

The knight looked at her, surprised.

“Why, to the castle, my lady,” he replied, as
if it were the most natural thing in the world. “To meet our King. It will be
in his right to decide what shall become of you, whether he shall let you stay.”

Gwen felt a flush of fear.

“What sort of King is he?” she asked.

The knight smiled.

“A good and fair King. A wise King. I pray he
allows you to stay.”

There came the crack of a whip, and the
horses—four gorgeous white mares, with long flowing hair, the most beautiful
she had ever seen—suddenly broke into action. They took off at a fast walk, and
Gwen was surprised to feel no bumps. She looked down and saw the carriage was
of a superior construction, one she had never seen, and the roads were so
smooth, it was like riding on air. She was impressed, once again, by these
people, whoever they were.

They passed through immaculate streets as they
traversed the harbor town, filled with people dressed in elaborate outfits. The
streets were overflowing with people peddling wares, sampling foods, walking
about in a hurry, all walking about freely with no sense of danger. Gwen was
amazed by all the fashions, the brightly colored outfits cut in unusual designs
on all the women, and by the hairstyles of the men; they all seemed to have
shaved heads and bright blond beards. It appeared to be the custom here.

All the people seemed relaxed and friendly,
many leaning back and laughing aloud good-naturedly. They appeared to be an open
and friendly people, quick to laugh, the men and women tall and broad-shouldered,
well-tanned and relaxed, children running and giggling at their feet. It
reminded her of King’s Court in its heyday.

Gwen studied the buildings for any sign of a
castle, taking in this whole place with fascination, and saw no sight of it.
The roads, in fact, soon twisted and turned their way out of the town, and
before her she saw it leading to open country and sky, leading to gently
rolling green hills. She was surprised to see they were leaving the city.

The castle, she realized, must be someplace
else—perhaps more inland.

Gwen leaned forward, closer to the cart driver,
who was holding the horses’ reins, his back to her.

“Where is the castle?” Gwen asked him.

He looked back over his shoulder good-naturedly
and shook his head.

“Not for quite a while, my dear,” he said. “It’s
on the far end of the Ridge. Could take most of the day to get there. Just sit
back and relax and enjoy our land.”

The road led to another road as one land
shifted to another, more rural, lush trees lining the path. They traveled up
and down smooth, rolling hills, gently twisting and turning, birds singing, passing
orchards and vineyards and farms the likes of which she’d never seen. Gwen saw
entire fields filled with glowing red fruits, dripping juice. She saw other fields
filled with blueberries the size of her hand. She saw vineyards heavy with grapes,
saw happy farmers pushing carts, whistling; she saw lush grass fields and an
entire horizon filled with cattle, horses, and goats grazing freely beneath the
glowing suns, which were a softer orange here.

This was a land of splendor.

“Have you ever seen anything like it?” came a voice
beside her.

She saw Kendrick sitting beside her, looking at
it all, as were the others, equally amazed.

Gwen shook her head.

“I almost don’t think it’s real,” said Illepra,
sitting on her other side, still holding the baby, who, Gwen was elated to see,
looked well again.

“And what if this King should not allow us to
stay?” Steffen asked.

It was the very questions burning on Gwen’s
mind.

“We have been graced with a second chance at life,”
she said. “Whatever god brings us, that we shall accept.”

Gwen turned to Aberthol, who studied the land
with his meaningful eyes.

“Is this the Second Ring?” she asked him.

He sighed.

“I cannot say for sure, my lady,” he said. “If
the second ring exists, surely this must be it.”

Gwendolyn turned and looked at Argon, dying for
answers. She was burning more than ever to ask him, for him to tell her
everything about this place, about their destiny, about what would be. Yet he
still lay there, breathing but unconscious.

There were passed around sacks water, left for
them by the knights, and Gwen felt one placed in her hand by Steffen, nice and
cold. She drank and it was a sweet taste, perhaps mixed with honey, and she felt
a wave of relief. She also felt sleepy.

The gentle breezes of this place got to her,
and she lay back, despite herself, and found herself closing her eyes, each
step of the horse lulling her more and more deeply to sleep.

*

When Gwen finally opened her eyes again, she
did not know how many hours later, she saw the two suns low in the sky, a soft
reddish glow cast over the lands. She looked around and saw the others were all
fast asleep as well. She slowly shook her dreams from her mind, dreams of
Thorgrin, of Guwayne, both of them reaching out to her on some faraway sea. A
heaviness sat in her heart as she thought of them. She felt consumed by sadness
as she looked all around, searching for them, wishing more than anything that
they were here now, by her side.

Gwendolyn heard a whine, looked down, and
stroked Krohn’s head in her lap. She looked out and saw the carriage still
moving, and realized they’d been traveling all day. How big was this land? she
wondered. She marveled at how it never seemed to end, at how such abundance
could cover such a broad area.

Gwen looked up, the only one awake, as the
carriage slowly crested a hill and then came to a stop at its peak. As they
rounded it, Gwen leaned forward, stunned at the sight before her: there, on the
horizon, lay the most beautiful city she had ever seen, everything built of
silver, shiny silver spires rising high into the sky, reflected in the late sun
of the afternoon. It all sparkled, and looked positively magical. It was the most
beautiful place she had ever seen.

The city, sprawling forever, was ringed by low,
stone walls, by a series of moats with bridges spanning them, and interspersed
with grazing meadows and fields. And at its center, rising above it all, was a
gleaming silver castle, replete with spires, parapets, a drawbridge, and
hundreds of knights standing guard.

Her heart beat faster as she took it all in.
Who were these people? she wondered. Would they find a new home here?