The Pillars of Creation

Chapter 46

From atop Rusty, the chill, gusty breeze ruffling her hair, Jennsen gazed off at the splendor of the Confessors’ Palace crowning a distance rise. Sebastian sat beside her on a nervous Pete. Emperor Jagang, his magnificent dappled gray stallion pawing the road, waited on the other side of Sebastian, a cadre of officers and advisors huddled close, but silent. Jagang’s forbidding scowl was fixed on the palace. Dark, menacing shapes, like a gathering storm, drifted across the surface of his black eyes.

The advance into Aydindril had, so far, been unlike anything anyone had expected, leaving everyone tense and on edge.

Arrayed behind was a contingent of Sisters of the Light who kept to themselves, apparently concentrating on matters of magic. Although none of the Sisters, as of yet, had had the chance to speak to Jennsen, they were all acutely aware of her, and kept a close eye on her. Yet more of them had ridden off in various directions as the emperor had led the detachment of Imperial Order cavalry, like some dark floodwater, across farms, roads, and hills, around buildings and barns, ever onward up roads and then in around buildings, to seep into the outermost fringes of Aydindril. The great city now lay spread out before them, silent and still.

The night before, Sebastian had slept fitfully. Jennsen knew, because, on the eve of such a momentous battle, she had slept hardly at all. Yet, with the thought of finally being able to use the knife sheathed at her belt, she was wide awake.

Behind the Sisters, more than forty thousand of the Imperial Order’s elite cavalry waited, some with pikes and lances poised at the ready, some with swords or axes in hand. Each wore a ring through his left nostril. While most wore beards, and some had long, dark, greasy hair, with good luck charms tied in, there were quite a few with shaved heads, apparently out of open fealty to Emperor Jagang. They were all a tightly coiled spring, destroyers, poised to storm into the city.

Besides being elite members of the cavalry, trusted officers, or Sisters of the Light, every person there, except Jennsen and Sebastian, had one essential thing in common: they knew the Mother Confessor by sight. From what Jennsen was able to gather, the Mother Confessor had led raids on the Order’s camp and had been at battles where she had been seen by a number of the men, as well as the Sisters. All those chosen to ride into Aydindril with the emperor had to know the Mother Confessor by sight. Jagang didn’t want her slipping out of their snare by hiding in crowds of people, or escaping by pretending to be a lowly washwoman. Such a worry had evaporated in the light of what they had so far found.

Chilled not only by the breeze, but by the lust for battle gleaming in the soldiers’ eyes, Jennsen gripped the horn of her saddle tight in an attempt to make her hands stop trembling.

Jennsen.

For the hundredth time that morning, she checked that her knife was clear in its scabbard. After reassuring herself, she pressed it back down, feeling the satisfying metallic click as it seated. She was there with the army because she was a part of this, with a job to do.

Surrender.

She thought about the irony of how this was the very knife that Lord Rahl had given a man he sent to kill her, and now she was bringing that same knife, a thing close to him, back to defeat him.

At last, she was the hunter, and not the hunted.

Whenever she felt her courage waver, she had but to think of her mother, or Althea and Friedrich, or Althea’s sister, Lathea, or even Jennsen’s unknown half brother, the Raug’Moss healer, Drefan. So many lives had been ruined or forfeit because of the House of Rahl, because of Lord Rahl—first her father, Darken Rahl, and now her half brother, Richard Rahl.

Surrender your will, Jennsen. Surrender your flesh.

“Leave me be,” she snapped, annoyed that the voice wouldn’t leave her alone and at having to repeat it so often when she had important things on her mind.

Sebastian frowned over at her. “What?”

Chagrined that she had inadvertently said it aloud this time, Jennsen simply shook her head as if to say it was nothing. He turned back to his own thoughts as he watched the city spread out before them, studying the imposing maze of tight buildings, streets, and alleyways. There was only one thing missing from the city, and that had everyone tense and jumpy.

From the corner of her eye, Jennsen saw the Sisters all whispering among themselves. All except one, Sister Perdita, the one in the dark gray dress and the salt and pepper hair loosely tied back. When their eyes met, the woman smiled in that knowing, self-satisfied smirk of hers that seemed able to look right into Jennsen’s soul. Jennsen thought that it probably looked different to her than the woman intended, so she bowed her head slightly in acknowledgment and smiled all the smile she could muster before turning away.

Along with everyone else, Jennsen watched the palace in the distance, on a hill overlooking the city. It was hard not to look at it, the way it stood out against the gray walls of mountains like snow on slate. Tall windows fronted the building between towering white marble columns topped with gold capitals. To the rear, at the center, a domed roof with a belt of windows rose up well clear of the high walls. Jennsen had trouble reconciling the splendor of such a beautiful building with the wicked rule of the Mother Confessor.

The sinister specter of the Wizard’s Keep, high up on a mountain behind the palace, seemed like it would be more fitting for the Mother Confessor. Jennsen noticed that no one liked looking up at that baleful place; their eyes were always quick to turn to less unnerving sights.

The Keep watching down on them was larger than any man-made thing Jennsen had ever seen, save the People’s Palace in D’Hara. Ragged gray clouds floated past dark stone exterior walls that soared to staggering heights. The Keep itself, behind those lofty walls, appeared to be a complex collection of battlements, ramparts, crenellated walls, towers, spires, and connecting bridges and walkways. Jennsen had never imagined that anything made of stone could look so alive with menace.

In the quiet, her gaze sought solace in Sebastian’s spikes of white hair, his knowing eyes, the familiar contours of his face. His handsome features were comforting to her, even if he didn’t look her way. What woman wouldn’t be honored to have the love of a man like him? If not for him being there with her since her mother’s death, Jennsen didn’t know what she would have done, how she would have gotten by.

Sebastian wore his cloak laid back to expose some of his weapons. He surveyed the scene with studied calm. She wished she could feel so calm. It frightened her, unexpectedly, to contemplate him having to draw those weapons, of him having to fight for his life.

“What do you think?” she whispered as she leaned closer to him. “What could it mean?”

He gave her a brief shake of his head along with a harsh glance. He didn’t want to discuss it. That curt gesture told her that she was supposed to be quiet. She had known, of course, by the silence of tens of thousands of men right behind her that she was supposed to be quiet, but the anxiety was twisting her insides into a knot. She had only wanted a small token of reassurance. Instead, his abrupt snub cut her down, making her feel like a small nobody.

She knew that he had important things on his mind, but his brusque dismissal still stung like a slap, especially after the night before when he had so desperately wanted her comfort, wanted her as fiercely as he had ever wanted her. She had understood. She hadn’t turned him away, even though she found it distressing that they weren’t alone, but had guards standing right outside who she suspected could hear everything.

Of course, she knew that this was not the time or place he could afford to give her comfort; they were all on the brink of battle. Still, it hurt.

Over the sound of the wind moaning through the bare branches of majestic, mature maple trees lining the road, she picked up the sound of hooves at a gallop. All eyes turned to watch bearded, long-haired men, streamers of fur and hides trailing out behind as they hunched forward over their horses’ withers, charging in from the road on the right. Jennsen recognized them by the lead horse’s patchy white, pied coloration. They were one of the small reconnoitering parties the emperor had sent ahead hours before. In the distance to the west, their counterpart was returning from the opposite direction, but they were yet tiny specks riding down out of the far foothills.

As the first group of horsemen came storming in before the emperor and his advisors, Jennsen covered her mouth with the edge of her cloak to mask her coughing on the cloud of dust.

The husky man at the lead of the riders pulled his pied horse around.

His greasy strings of hair whipped around like the horse’s white tail. “Nothing, Excellency.”

Jagang, looking in a foul mood and near the end of patience, shifted his weight in his saddle. “Nothing.”

“No, Excellency, nothing. No sign of troops anywhere to the east, or on the far side of the city, or all the way up the slopes of the mountains. Nothing. The roads, the trails—all deserted. No people, no tracks, no horse dung, no wagon ruts . . . nothing. We could find no sign that anyone has been here for a good long time.”

The man went on with a detailed account of where they had looked, but without result, as the other knot of men thundered in from the west, their horses lathered and in a high state of excitement.

“No one!” the man at the front called out as he hauled in on the reins, laying his horse’s head over. The horse, eyes wild and keyed up from the hard ride, pivoted around to a halt before the emperor, snorting through flared nostrils. “Excellency, there are no troops—or anyone—to the west.”

Jagang glared at the Confessors’ Palace. “What about the road up to the Keep?” he asked in a quiet growl. “Or are you going to tell me that my scouts and patrols were ambushed by the ghosts of all the vanished people!”

The brawny man, layered in hides, looked as fierce as anyone Jennsen had ever seen. His top teeth were missing, adding to his savage aspect. He cast a cautious look back up at the wide ribbon of road that wound its way up from the city toward the Wizard’s Keep. He turned back to the emperor.

“Excellency, there were no tracks on the road up to the Keep, either.”

“Did you go all the way up to the Keep to check?” he asked, his dark gaze turning on the man.

The man swallowed under the hot scrutiny of Jagang’s glower. “There is a stone bridge, not far from the top, that crosses a great crevasse. We went that far, Excellency, but still saw no one, nor any tracks. The portcullis was lowered. Beyond, the Keep showed no sign of life.”

“That means nothing,” a woman not far behind scoffed.

Jennsen turned, along with Sebastian, most of the advisors, officers, and Jagang, to look at her. It was Sister Perdita who had spoken. At least she managed to keep most of the superior smirk off her face as everyone stared at her.

“It means nothing,” she repeated. “I’m telling you, Excellency, I don’t like this one bit. Something is wrong.”

“Something? Like what?” Jagang asked, his voice low and surly.

Sister Perdita left the company of several dozen Sisters of the Light and walked her horse forward to speak more privately to the emperor.

“Excellency,” she said only after she was close, “have you ever walked into a wood, and realized that there were no sounds, when there should be? That it had suddenly gone quiet?”

Jennsen had. She was struck by how accurately the Sister had hit upon the peculiar, uneasy feeling she was having—a kind of portent to doom, yet without definable cause, that made the fine hairs at the back of her neck stand on end like when she would be lying in her bedroll, almost asleep, and every insect, all at once, went silent.

Jagang glared at Sister Perdita. “When I walk into a wood, or anywhere, it always goes silent.”

The Sister didn’t argue, but simply started over. “Excellency, we have fought these people long and hard. Those of us with the gift know their tricks with magic. We know when they are using their gift. We’ve learned to know if they’ve used magic to set traps, even if those traps are not themselves magic. But this is different. Something is wrong.”

“You still have not told me what,” Jagang said with restrained, impatient irritation, as if he didn’t have time for someone who wouldn’t come to the point.

The woman, noting his annoyance, bowed her head. “Excellency, I would tell you if I knew. It is my duty to advise you of what I know. We can detect no magic being used—none. We sense no traps that have ever been touched by the gift.

“But that knowledge still does not set my mind at ease. Something is wrong. I’m telling you, now, my warning, even though I admit that I don’t know the cause of my concern. You have but to search my mind for yourself and you will see I’m speaking the truth.”

Jennsen had no idea what the Sister meant, but after staring at her for a moment, Jagang visibly cooled. He grunted dismissively as he looked back toward the palace. “I think you’re just nervous after a long idle winter, Sister. As you said, you know their tactics and tricks with magic, so if it was something real, you and your Sisters would know it and know the cause.”

“I’m not sure that’s true,” Sister Perdita pressed. She cast a quick, troubled glance at the Wizard’s Keep up on the mountain. “Excellency, we know a great deal about magic. But the Keep is thousands of years old. Being from the Old World, that place is outside my experience. I know next to nothing about the specific kinds of magic which are likely to be kept in that place, except that whatever magic is kept there will be dangerous in the extreme. That is one purpose of a Keep—to safeguard such things.”

“That’s why I want the Keep taken,” Jagang shot back. “Those dangerous things must not be left in the enemy’s hands to later deal us murder.”

With her fingertips, Sister Perdita patiently rubbed the creases in her brow. “The Keep is strongly warded. I can’t tell how; the wards were set by wizards, not sorceresses. Such wards could easily have been left untended—no one needs stand guard. Such wards can be triggered by simple trespass—much as with any trap without magic. Such wards can be cautionary, but, just as likely, they can be deadly. Even if the place is deserted, those wards could easily kill anyone—anyone—who so much as tries to get close, much less take the place. Such defensive measures are timeless; they do not wear away. They are just as effective whether they’ve been there for a month or a millennia. The attempt to take a place so warded could deal us the murder we are trying to avoid.”

Jagang nodded as he listened. “We still must untangle those wards so we can gain the Keep.”

Sister Perdita glanced over her shoulder at the dark stone Keep far up on the mountainside before she spoke. “Excellency, as I have often tried to explain, our degree of ability and aggregate power doesn’t mean we can untangle or defeat those wards. Such a thing is not directly relational. A bear, strong as he is, can’t open a lock on a strongbox. Strength isn’t necessarily the key to such things. I’m telling you that I don’t like this, that something is wrong.”

“You have told me only that you are afraid. Of all those with magic, the Sisters are exceptionally well armed. That is the reason you’re here.” Jagang leaned toward the woman, his patience appearing to be at an end. “I expect the Sisters to stop any threat from magic. Must I make it any more clear?”

Sister Perdita paled. “No, Excellency.” After a bow from her saddle, she pulled her horse around to rejoin her Sisters.

“Sister Perdita,” Jagang called after her. He waited until she turned back. “As I’ve told you before, we must gain the Wizard’s Keep. I don’t care how many of you it takes, only that it gets done.”

As she returned to her Sisters to discuss the matter, Jagang, along with everyone else, caught sight of a lone rider racing toward them from the city. Something about the look on the man’s face had everyone checking their weapons. They all waited in tense silence until his horse skidded to a stop before the emperor. The man was drenched in sweat and his narrow-set eyes were wide with excitement, but he kept his voice under control.

“Excellency, I saw no one—no one—in the city. But I smelled horses.”

Jennsen saw apprehension etched on the faces of the officers at this further confirmation of their disbelief of the preposterous notion that the city was deserted. The Order had driven the enemy forces to Aydindril as winter had descended, trapping not only the army but the people of the city as well. How a place this large could be evacuated—in the dead of winter—was beyond their imagination. Yet no one seemed willing to voice that conviction too strongly to the emperor as he stared out upon an empty city.

“Horses?” Jagang frowned. “Maybe it was a stable.”

“No, Excellency. I could not find them, nor hear them, but I could smell them. It was not the smell of a stable, but horses. There are horses there.”

“Then the enemy is here, just as we thought,” one of the officers said to Jagang. “They’re hiding, but they’re here.”

Jagang said nothing as he waited for the man to go on.

“Excellency, there is more,” the burly soldier said, nearly bursting with excitement. “As I searched, I could not find the horses anywhere, so I decided to return for more men to help ferret out the cowardly enemy.

“As I was returning, I saw someone in a window of the palace.”

Jagang’s gaze abruptly turned to the man. “What?”

The soldier pointed. “In the white palace, Excellency. As I rode out from behind a wall at the edge of the city, before the palace grounds, I saw someone on the second floor move away from a window.”

With an angry yank on the reins, Jagang checked his stallion’s impatient sidesteps. “Are you sure?”

The man nodded vigorously. “Yes, Excellency. The windows there are tall. On my life, just as I came out from behind the wall and looked up, someone saw me and moved back from a window.”

The emperor peered intently up the road lined with maple trees, toward the palace, as he considered this new development.

“Man or woman?” Sebastian asked.

The rider paused to wipe sweat from his eyes and to swallow in an effort to catch his breath. “It was the briefest look, but I believe it was a woman.”

Jagang turned his dark glare on the man. “Was it her?”

The maple branches clattered together in the gusts as all eyes watched the man.

“Excellency, I could not tell for certain. It might have been a reflection of the light on the window, but in that brief look, I thought I saw that she was wearing a long white dress.”

The Mother Confessor wore a white dress. Jennsen thought it was pretty far-fetched to believe it could be a coincidence that there would be a reflection on the glass right as a person moved away from the window, a reflection that made it look like they were wearing the white dress of the Mother Confessor.

Yet, it made no sense to Jennsen. Why would the Mother Confessor be alone in her palace? Making a last stand was one thing. Making it alone was quite another. Could it be, as the man suggested, that the enemy was cowardly and hiding?

Sebastian idly tapped a finger against his thigh. “I wonder what they’re up to.”

Jagang drew his sword. “I guess we’ll find out.” He looked, then, at Jennsen. “Keep that knife of yours handy, girl. This may be the day you’ve been praying for.”

“But Excellency, how could it possibly—”

The emperor stood in his stirrups and flashed a wicked grin back to his cavalry. He circled his sword high in the air.

The coiled spring was unleashed.

With a deafening roar, forty thousand men loosed a pent-up battle cry as they charged away. Jennsen gasped and held on to Rusty for dear life as the horse leaped into a gallop ahead of the cavalry racing toward the palace.