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Despite the protection of the high rock walls, the narrow canyon entrance, and the isolation of the plateau, Zimmer didn’t let himself relax. He had explored up and down the main canyon, studied the tributaries of streams and side canyons through the high desert. He insisted that his fifty D’Haran soldiers keep their swords sharpened, their armor clean, their eyes alert. He did not intend to be caught unawares.
General Zimmer was young to hold such a high rank, but harsh experiences had aged him well beyond his years. He’d been promoted only because so many superior officers had been slain in the brutal battles against the ravenous undead armies that surged across the Dark Lands, driven by the resurrected Emperor Sulachan. Zimmer had faced death himself, been splashed with the blood of countless enemies, and he had also led vicious commando strikes down in the Old World against the army of the Imperial Order. He recalled his previous commanders, his brave mentors who had fallen under the gnashing teeth of a horrific enemy no one should have had to face.
Now, in the bucolic setting of the Cliffwall canyon, birds chirped in the orchards, and the sun shone in a blue sky. It was easy to be lulled into forgetting the true dangers of the world, but Zimmer never let down his guard.
Trevor, the captain of the Ildakaran escort, stepped up to him, still wearing his chest armor, short sword, and high boots. “My men are rested, General—and restless. Although this is a peaceful place, as we hoped, I don’t want my guards to get fat. They were unprepared for the journey from Ildakar. That’s why I lost three of my men.” He cleared his throat, ashamed. “I’d like to keep the other nine men sharp. Would you allow them to train with your troops? Spar with them? Maybe we could learn from your men, and vice versa.”
Zimmer looked skeptically at him. “It seems to me, Captain Trevor, that only a week ago, your handful of men were intent on conquering Cliffwall.”
The other commander looked away, embarrassed. Trevor appeared much younger now that the mud and dust of travel had been washed away, the stubble shaved from his cheeks. “There’s not much chance of that, General, as you know full well.” He lowered his voice in a conspiratorial tone. “Renn is a wizard of Ildakar, and they tend to begin a conversation with bluster, but that’s all it is.”
Zimmer remained wary. “And by training with your men, you want us to teach you our D’Haran fighting techniques? What if you turn them against us?”
Trevor shrugged. “I could say the same. My men would also teach you our methods of fighting. Surely there’s something we could learn from one another?” He frowned as a thought occurred to him. “Are my nine men prisoners? Are we being held here?”
Instead of answering immediately, Zimmer considered his words. “If you left Cliffwall, I suppose I could let you aimlessly wander the wilderness again.” He raised his eyebrows. “If that’s what you’d really like?”
Trevor coughed and fidgeted. “No, I don’t think that would be necessary. I’d rather make friends than enemies. Ildakar has faced enough enemies in the past.”
Zimmer kept his voice stern. “Then maybe your wizards should learn about diplomacy. It would be remarkably beneficial for both sides.” He looked at the young captain’s face, saw true earnestness there. The other nine Ildakaran guards were relieved to have been welcomed in Cliffwall. He relented and said, “I, too, would rather have Ildakar as an ally than as an enemy. Even I have heard legends of the city, and I’d like to see it someday. Lord Rahl wants to consolidate the Old World.” He clapped a hand on Trevor’s shoulder. “Your city can have its independence, so long as you don’t become aggressive invaders.”
“That doesn’t seem too much to ask for a strong empire and a life of peace,” said Trevor.
Zimmer walked alongside the captain as they went to the line of D’Haran soldiers. “In that case, let’s include your men in today’s drills. Show us your techniques, and we’ll forge a bond that will make us all stronger.”
CHAPTER 24
Captain Norcross was pleased with how rapidly the defenses of Renda Bay were improving. The people in the seaside town were fishermen, boatbuilders, weavers, farmers, and tradesmen, and they had been preyed upon by the Norukai for far too long.
Thanks to the fortifications the D’Haran soldiers were installing, Renda Bay was now less vulnerable, but the village was not a garrison. These people would fight to defend their homes, but they were not a hardened army. They bore plenty of scars, however, and after Nicci and Nathan had fought with them to drive off the hideous slavers during the last raid, the town’s heart had changed. The people decided to stop letting themselves be victims. Renda Bay had increased lookouts, sent out coastal patrols, rebuilt their town, and added defenses.
Then the D’Haran expeditionary force arrived, and Norcross had stricter orders from General Zimmer. The young captain and his soldiers stayed behind while the others went to Cliffwall. They swore to protect the fishing village against threats, but Norcross knew that even fifty brave soldiers wouldn’t be enough to fight against the violent Norukai.
He stood at the harbor’s edge in midmorning, after the day’s mist had burned off and the fishing boats had gone out for their catch. The seasonal redfin run was nearly over, and the people were busy salting and smoking their catch for the cold months. The flocks of sheep and goats that grazed in the hills were growing fat for the winter slaughter, while others provided wool, milk, and cheese.
The people of Renda Bay worked day and night with Norcross’s men, building towers and defensive walls so the town would be ready whenever the raiders returned. From his training, Norcross understood siege defenses, battle tactics, offensive weapons. Though he was not an engineer himself, three of his officers knew how to construct catapults and spiked archery towers, along with some surprises that could be used against raiders from the sea.
The young captain would not let his people rest until the town was safe. Even though the morning was peaceful and sunny, with a salty chill in the air, every person in Renda Bay knew that any day, rain or shine, could bring an attack from the ominous serpent ships.
Thaddeus, the town leader since his predecessor had been slain in the last Norukai raid, joined Captain Norcross to inspect the construction of the new towers that rose high above the harbor, one on each side of the river mouth. Built out of stone blocks brought from quarries down the coast, the massive guard towers weren’t pretty, but they were nearly finished, with wooden platforms behind defensive crenellations, so that the guardians of Renda Bay could fire upon invading ships that attempted to enter the harbor. Three large cargo ships remained just outside the bay, like large guard dogs.
“How soon will we be ready?” Thaddeus asked, wiping his brow. “I’ll lose sleep every night until our defenses are finished.”
“We will be ready the moment we have to be,” Norcross said. “We’re ready now, and we will fight back if we are attacked. Each day’s efforts simply make us more prepared.”
Thaddeus nodded slowly. He was a broad-faced man with a reddish-brown beard and facial worry lines that hadn’t been there a month ago. “We can’t stop until the Norukai learn to leave us alone.”
The young captain continued to reassure him. “My men belong to the D’Haran army, and that means something, but if it comes to a battle, we’ll need everyone from Renda Bay to do their part, from a teenage farm boy swinging a rake to a grandmother striking with a cast-iron pan. Don’t underestimate anyone fighting for their home and for freedom.”
Thaddeus turned to look across the mouth of the river to a nearby hillside, and his expression grew sad. “If we had learned how to fight earlier, there wouldn’t be so many wooden markers in our graveyard.”
On the day after General Zimmer, Prelate Verna, and the other half of the expeditionary force departed for Cliffwall, young Norcross had accompanied the town leader to Renda Bay’s cemetery. Permanent stone markers memorialized the fallen over the years, but an even greater number of wooden posts, each carved with a name, signified a loved one who was not d
ead but captured by the Norukai slavers, clubbed senseless and dragged aboard the serpent ships.
Norcross had said, “Your cemetery should be a place for old, contented grandparents who died fat in their beds, surrounded by family. Not this.”
Thaddeus let out a wistful sigh. “Yes, that would be best.”
Amid the construction noises of bricklayers and carpenters in the lookout towers, blacksmiths continued their work, producing loud clangs as they fashioned sword blades, spearheads, and metal spikes. Norcross perked up as he heard a different sort of clang in the distance. He shaded his eyes to look beyond the shore wall and out toward the open sea. One of the stonemasons on top of the southern tower began waving, shouting down to those below. “There’s a boat coming back. Seems to be in a hurry.”
Norcross and Thaddeus hurried up the tower steps to the top platform. Even though the construction wasn’t yet finished, the defenders had stocked the towers with baskets of pitch-tipped arrows, piles of large round stones, rows of unstrung bows. On each side of the river, a large siege engine stood in place, giant catapults made with beams from whole tree trunks, strung with thick ropes, fastened with heavy iron springs. Baskets at the end of the throwing arms could hold boulders covered in pitch and set aflame.
From the tower platform, Norcross spotted a lone fishing boat tacking back and forth at full sail as it raced into Renda Bay. A distant tinny sound rang through the air, the fisherman aboard the boat banging on a metal pot to sound an alarm.
Norcross frowned, wishing the boat could sail more swiftly. “Alert the townspeople. We should get ready. There’s something not right about this.”
Thaddeus gave the orders, and runners raced down the tower steps and sent out a call through the streets of Renda Bay. The D’Haran soldiers pulled back from the work sites and gathered their armor and weapons, pulling on thick leather shirts and donning swords. More townspeople came running in from the hills and outlying homes.
Though the fishing boat raced toward the harbor as swiftly as the errant winds could bring it, Thaddeus identified the broad-beamed and sturdy fishing vessel long before it came to shore. “That’s the Daisy. Kenneth looks like he’s running from a storm.”
