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Renn’s eyebrows shot up; he looked uncomfortable. “I found both of them most impressive, but…” He hesitated, scratched his cheek again.
“We’re going,” Oliver insisted, touching his young companion’s arm, “both Peretta and I. Nicci and Nathan might need us.”
The memmer girl didn’t even glance at him. “Of course we are. We can help find the path, even though we’ve never gone there before. We’re good at it.”
Renn was startled, thinking hard. “It will be a difficult trek back over the mountains. We aren’t prepared—”
“We’ll be better supplied this time,” Verna said. “General Zimmer can accompany us with a contingent of his troops, and of course Captain Trevor knows the way now. It will be a much easier expedition.”
Seeing the eager audience in the room, Renn let his shoulders sag. “I suppose I’m ready to go back, too, so long as we have a well-equipped expedition. Couldn’t we rest and recover for just a few more days?”
“A few more days,” Verna agreed. “We have plans to make and supplies to pack. We’ll gather whatever maps remain in Cliffwall, so we can find the best route.” She looked forward to seeing the legendary city and to reuniting with Nicci and Nathan. In times past, she had chased Nathan all over the land after he escaped from the Palace of the Prophets. Before that she had spent years searching for Richard Rahl, knowing that a new war wizard had been born in the world. A trip from Cliffwall to Ildakar didn’t seem like such an arduous journey. In fact, Verna felt confident.
She looked around the room, sensing the excitement among the scholars. She nodded at Renn. “We will all go see this city of wizards.”
CHAPTER 33
As he led his hundred handpicked soldiers into the hills beyond Ildakar, First Commander Enoch thought of the early days when he had marched with General Utros. They had carried Iron Fang’s banner, but every soldier knew they were really fighting for Utros. The imperial palace in Orogang was far away, and Emperor Kurgan had little bearing on their lives. Utros, though, was always with them.
Enoch had met the emperor only once, at a military gala with bright pennants and bold fanfares. General Utros had vowed to make the unruly lands bow to Iron Fang, and Enoch had promised to help his commander succeed. He and his loyal men would give their sweat, their strength, their skill, and even their lives to make that happen.
During that brief celebration, Enoch had not been impressed with Kurgan as a person. The emperor valued affectations—gaudy clothes, jewels, and monuments—more than leading his people. Enoch had wondered how such a man could rule the lands Utros intended to conquer for him, but the first commander would follow the orders of his general, one mission at a time.
Such as this one.
Utros told him the vital resource his sorceresses required to create a lens that could see through the veil to the underworld. The very thought sent a chill down Enoch’s spine. He had listened and nodded, but offered no opinion. His team would obtain what Ava and Ruva needed, as his general ordered.
Now Enoch and a hundred soldiers moved at a steady pace through the forested hills to the north. Because the half-petrified warriors needed neither food, water, nor rest, they could march at a constant pace. They searched the untracked woods for paths that would lead them to the mountain town of Stravera.
Scouting parties had already combed the vicinity and ransacked a few isolated homes they found, but now Enoch and his company needed to find a large town that would have enough children to fulfill the general’s demand.
His troops wound through the forest of oak and pine, picking their way among the deadfall. The company came upon a swath of downed trees on a hillside, dead pines toppled by a windstorm. Such an obstacle would have been an impenetrable barrier for a normal army, the protruding branches like spears to gut or castrate an unwary man. But Enoch’s hardened troops simply marched through the debris, crushing the dry wood into splinters, grinding the deadfall underfoot.
The marching soldiers passed into a sparser forest, then climbed a ridge from which they could look back at the hills that enclosed the broad valley. Enoch’s scouts found a clear footpath, and he ordered the soldiers to follow the trail single file into the mountains. Soon, the path widened and became a discernible road that surely led to a large settlement.
As they continued along the road, they spotted a man far ahead, leading an old nag by a halter rope. The man shaded his eyes to stare at them and seemed unable to understand the presence of so many armed men marching down the road. Pressing his straw hat to his head, the man ran, yanking on the halter and forcing the stubborn old nag to trot after him.
First Commander Enoch nodded to his troops. “That’s the direction we go. Follow that man.”
The soldiers marched forward at a brisker pace. Their footfalls became synchronized even without a drummer to call them into a formal rhythm. As they continued, roads converged in the forested hills, leading to the town.
Stravera had several hundred homes, shops, and a smithy near a stream that ran out of the hills. A sawmill had been built on the creek, powered by a waterwheel. The blacksmith’s forge sent smoke into the air. In the center of town, an open market had tables and stalls displaying fabrics, fruits, vegetables, meats, a wicker basket filled with eggs. Many had abandoned their homes and run from the approach of the company, but more than a hundred villagers stood in the marketplace with makeshift weapons, already alerted by the man with the old nag. Enoch saw, though, that they posed no threat.
He strode up to the nervous but defiant villagers. Behind him, the column marched in perfect formation and stopped in place when the first commander raised his hand. Without speaking, he looked at the people of Stravera, noticing the hodgepodge of clothing styles, hair colors, pale freckled skin or dark skin. The town was a mix of peoples from many lands.
One man with olive skin and blue-black twists of hair seemed to be their leader. He was broad-shouldered and well muscled from a life of hard work. To give his arms freedom of movement, he had cut the sleeves from his brown shirt. From the smear of soot on his face and arms, his blunt fingers and dark-stained nails, Enoch suspected he was the town’s blacksmith.
“Is this Stravera?” he asked.
The villagers held their breath as the blacksmith took a step forward. “Yes, this is the free town we built with our own hands. My name is Garth, and I will speak for these people today.” His brow was hooded. “Most of our people are slaves who escaped from Ildakar. But you aren’t from Ildakar. Your uniforms, the whole look of you … you’re from somewhere else.”
“I am First Commander Enoch of the army of General Utros. We laid siege to the city in the name of Emperor Kurgan, to make Ildakar swear allegiance to him. Surely you’ve heard of us?”
The people muttered in astonishment.
“That was centuries ago. The stone army awakened?” Garth seemed excited. “I recognize your armor now. Then you’re also enemies of Ildakar, as we are? That city needed to be humbled.” Garth looked to his fellow villagers. “We are no friends of those people. The nobles enslaved us, tortured us, killed our families.” He walked forward to greet Enoch, who hadn’t moved. “You awakened from the stone spell, yet you still look pale. How can you move?”
“The spell faded enough, and our entire army is ready to bring down the walls of Ildakar.”
Garth looked insistent, fighting hard not to show his fear. “We are not your enemy, none of us. After the shroud dissipated, we built our own sanctuary here in Stravera. We should be allies. I would like nothing more than to see the wizards’ duma and those gifted nobles fall. Perhaps we can help you in the fight?”
“We came to Stravera because we needed assistance,” Enoch said. “Over the course of time, most of our supplies and equipment crumbled into dust, and when we awakened we had nothing left.” He turned slowly, narrowing his eyes as he studied the stalls, the smithy, the merchant shops. “Stravera has certain things that we require.”
Garth gave a ner
vous nod. “We will help as we can, but we don’t have much.” He regretted his words the moment he spoke them. “I saw the size of your stone army when I ran away from Ildakar. We can’t possibly feed such a force. All those thousands! We have barely enough—”
Enoch raised his hand. “We don’t require your food. What I need—what General Utros needs—are some basic supplies. To start, we could use several wagons, perhaps four.”
“That can be done,” Garth said, relieved as he barked orders to the villagers. He was trying hard to be cooperative, anxious about the armed force that could easily take whatever they wanted anyway.
“And barrels,” Enoch said. “Empty barrels. Six will do.”
“We … we have barrels of wine, if you need that. And kegs of beer, brewed right here in the town.”
“No wine or beer. Just the empty barrels. We need them to contain something else.”
“Of course, of course.” Garth wiped sweat from his brow. His long blue-black locks hung down over his face. “In the name of the spirits, we’ll help you bring freedom to Ildakar.”
Townspeople brought four empty wagons from the stables, and Enoch approved of their sturdy wheels. A mule had been hitched to the front of each one. Other villagers rolled large barrels out into the town square to be loaded into the wagon beds.
All this time Enoch’s soldiers hadn’t so much as stirred, as if they had turned to stone again. They just waited, intimidating by their very presence.
