“But at last I was forced to take a stand here in the Garden, and my powers were limited. I could not quite reach the city, for there I have means to augment some of my powers with clever devices. So, we battled to a standstill, until my powers were stripped from me and the trap was set. Then the Enemy destroyed the bridges and left. So I was forced to wait until you arrived.”
“Then why didn’t you say something in your last message?” asked Pug. “We could have come sooner.”
“I couldn’t have you two coming after me before it was time. Tomas, you needed to come to terms with yourself, and, Pug, you needed the training only the eldar could give. And I’ve used the time to some purpose. I’ve healed some wounds and” - he pointed to his staff - “I’ve even taken up wood carving. Though I don’t recommend using rocks as tools. No, everything had to move at its proper pace. Now you are fit weapons for the coming battle.” He looked about. “If we can manage to escape this trap.”
Pug regarded the glowing shell above their heads. Through it they could see the stars, but there was something odd in the way they appeared, as if they flickered in odd rhythms. “What sort of trap have we encountered?”
“The most clever sort,” said Macros. “A time trap. The moment you set foot upon the Garden, it was activated. Those who set it are sending us backward in time, at the rate of one day’s movement backward for each true day’s passing. Right about now, you two are sitting upon the dragon looking for me, I should think. In about five minutes, you’ll be battling the black dragon. So on and so forth.”
Tomas said, “What must we do?”
Macros seemed amused. “Do? At present, we are isolated and rendered helpless, for those who oppose us know we did not defeat them in the past, for nature puts limits on such paradox, so our only hope is to break free somehow and return to our proper time . . . before it is too late.”
“How do we do that?” asked Pug.
Sitting again upon the rock, Macros rubbed his beard. “That’s the problem. I don’t know, Pug. I just don’t know.”
TWELVE - Messengers
Arutha watched the horizon.
Companies of horsemen galloped toward the gate, while behind them the sky was thick with dust. Murmandamus’s army was marching on Armengar. The last of those coming from the kraals and steadings were reaching the gates, with herds of cattle and sheep, wagons loaded with crops, all lumbering into the city. With the decline in population over the years there was ample housing for everyone, even space for livestock.
For three days Guy, Amos, Armand de Sevigny, and the other commanders had been leading skirmish parties to slow the advancing columns while those called to Armengar reached the city. Arutha and the others had ridden out with them from time to time, lending aid when possible.
At Arutha’s side, Baru and Roald watched as the last company of horsemen to quit the field before Murmandamus’s host came thundering out of the dust. Baru said, “The Protector.”
“One-eye’s cutting it close this time,” said Roald. Behind the dashing horsemen, goblins on foot and moredhel cavalry followed closely. The dark elves quickly left their goblin allies behind as they chased Guy’s company. But just as they overtook the last rider, archers from another company wheeled and began shooting over Guy’s men, raining arrows down upon the moredhel. They broke and retreated and both Armengarian companies were again dashing for the gate.
Arutha spoke quietly. “Martin was with them.”
Jimmy and Locklear came hurrying along, Amos a short distance behind. The former sea captain said, “De Sevigny says that if anyone is going to make the run to Yabon, they have to leave tonight. After that, all the patrols in the hills will fall back to the redoubts upon the cliff tops. By midday tomorrow there will be only Dark Brothers and goblins in the hills out there.”
Arutha had at last agreed with Baru’s plan to carry word south. “All right, but I want some last words with Guy before we send anyone.”
“If I know One-eye,” said Amos, “and I do, he’ll be standing by your side within minutes of the gate’s closing.”
True to Amos’s prediction, as soon as the last stragglers were safely through the gates, Guy was up on the wall studying the approaching army.
He signalled and the bridge across the moat was retracted, slowly disappearing into the foundation of the wall. Looking down, Roald said, “I was wondering how that would be taken care of.”
Guy motioned toward the now unbroken moat. “A drawbridge can be lowered from the outside. This one has a winch below the gatehouse which can be operated only from there.” He said to Arutha, “We have miscalculated. I thought we’d face only twenty-five thousand or perhaps thirty.”
“How many do you judge?” asked Arutha.
Martin and Briana came up the stairs as Guy said, “Closer to fifty.”
Arutha looked at his brother as Martin said, “Yes, I’ve never seen so many goblins and moredhel, Arutha. They’re coming down the slopes and out of the woods like a flood. And that’s not all. Mountain trolls, entire companies. And giants.”
Locklear’s eyes widened. “Giants!” He threw Jimmy a black look as the older boy elbowed him quiet.