Ringwall's Doom. Wolf Awert

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СКАЧАТЬ older brother was called Sijem the Pale. But he was rather small and did not live long. Then I came. When my mother saw me she cursed my father and denied him any more children. Now I am the only Sijem. But brown is a strong color, the best of them all.” The little man was bursting with confidence.

      Auran-San realized to his horror that soon none of his lickspittles would be in the direct company of the king, and began to worry in earnest.

      “The Fire Kingdom will unite iron and magic to an alliance the likes we have not seen since the days of the First Kings. Sorcerers and warriors will ride side-by-side and ensure that our home achieves its old glory. I enter the throne room as Prince Sergor-Don. I shall leave it as king.”

      For the second time that day, Auran-San and Haltern-kin-Eben stepped forward to crown the prince, and for the second time Sergor-Don stopped them.

      “Marshal Astergrise,” the prince called into the hall. Several nobles held their breath. None in the Fire Kingdom enjoyed regard equal to that of the old rider. Even Auran-San, with all his power as an advisor and the force behind the court sorcerers, never dared speak an open word against the white-haired old man, quite apart from fear of his still impressive use of a saber. What folly awaited the man who had served the old king with such unwavering devotion?

      “Tell me, do you know the old Rockvice?” The relief in the crowd’s collective sigh was immediately undermined by tension at this new turn.

      Astergrise gave a short nod before breaking the silence that usually surrounded him. “Yes, your Majesty. An old fortification at the borders of our kingdom. It was abandoned when your grandfather pushed our borders further towards Woodhold. Two days’ ride from Rockvice will find you at our current border. On the other side, closer to the capital, lies the land of the tribes, until the mountains cut it off. Follow the water to Ringwall; it can be reached in less than a day at a hard gallop. There are no troops in Rockvice, but some have settled in the old buildings.”

      Astergrise knew the land well. Sergor-Don seemed satisfied.

      “I would have Rockvice rebuilt. Three strong walls will surround it. The innermost will have a gate small enough to allow a single warrior through – no riders will pass. Within this ring there will be chambers for me and my councilors. The second wall will have gates large enough to allow riders, but no wagons. Within this wall the townsfolk will live. The gate in the outer wall will be wide enough to allow two troops to ride through without touching each other. This part will house our new garrisons. On the fire side of Rockvice there is a plateau of black glass, too smooth for sand and plant life. There you will build a tower with a winding stair and five rooms at the top. The highest platform will be open to all sides. You will have the time it takes for a foal to be born from the moment the stallion meets the mare. Can you have it done?”

      Another short nod. “The fortifications can be made. Without haste, brick by brick. Give me the people to do it and it will be done exactly as you wish. The cisterns must be expanded and the water reservoirs improved. This too will happen, even if the rock does not give in willingly. Your chambers will be small and simple, and we may have to renew them in time. If the sorcerers help, there should be no problems in rebuilding Rockvice in the time you have given. But there will be no luxuries, no pomp. No decorations around the gates and windows. Not even a sorcerer’s magic could spur an artist’s mind to work in such time. Rockvice will be the town of a warrior. Traders will avoid it, unless they bring water.

      “The tower is a different matter. It can not be built so readily. The black glass is not only too smooth for sand, but also stone. No builder could immediately build there, least of all a tower that could withstand the wind and storms.”

      Astergrise returned his gaze to the prince questioningly, and found a smiling face.

      “Very well, for the tower I will have to be my own builder. I can live without comforts. The more important thing is that the citizens are well protected, because there, near Ringwall, is where our new capital will lie. It shall be called Worldbrand.”

      The uproar was immense. Gulffir had been the center of the kingdom for uncounted generations. Through steady trade with the other kingdoms the city had grown from a small hamlet to what it was today. The wooden huts had given way to mighty stone buildings. Many of the traveling nomads had found their home here and put up their tents around the town, later to be replaced by real houses. Streets had been laid and widened. The councilors, court sorcerers and magistrates had built themselves and their families small palaces, filled with luxuries and costly artwork.

      Rockvice, on the other hand, was little more than a fortified village. The only stone structure there was the central command house, where each commander had lived and done his duty until the last soldier had left the place. These days it was commonly used by female donkeys as a refuge in which to give birth.

      The roads were barely more than paths, trodden by men and horses over many years. The planned fortifications would be easy to overcome by any reasonably armed army. But nobody dared ask why. It took a long time for the uproar to settle and Sergor-Don to resume his speech.

      “Send a messenger to the Magon of Ringwall. Inform him of our new location and of our wish to strengthen the bond between Ringwall and the Fire Kingdom.”

      “What is the fool doing?” Haltern-kin-Eben hissed at Auran-San. “Does he honestly believe anyone will happily leave Gulffir to live in the middle of nowhere? I think it’s time we took action.”

      “Let us wait until he’s done with his nonsensical commands. His fate lies waiting for him in the crowning ceremony. Have a little more patience.”

      “Astergrise,” Sergor-Don again addressed the old marshal. “You will be accompanied by the palace guard and the warriors I have taken into my family. The defense of Worldbrand and the people who will raise it to glory is my first priority.

      “Grand General Sarch will take a small troop to the foot of the Mistmountain range and set up camp where nobody is quite sure of the exact nature of the border between the Fire Kingdom and Woodhold. You have my leave to be a little generous when redrawing it.

      “The other generals will take small contingents to the border towns and forts. I request particular care that peace is upheld on the border to Earthland.”

      “Your Majesty,” Auran-San’s smooth voice rang out like a bell. “Perhaps some of these arrangements might wait until you are crowned king.”

      The genially smiling face did not hint in the slightest at how the councilor felt inside. He had banished all thoughts from his mind and focused entirely on the magical band between himself and the crown, ready to unleash the magic of Earth to crush anything beneath it. Haltern-kin-Eben had stepped forward as well and bent over to pick up the crown.

      “Very well!” the prince called out. “Let us dally no longer; but Haltern-kin-Eben, Auran-San, you have made a mistake. The thing you hold in your hands is a false crown. The future king’s true crown lies right here next to my throne.”

      Auran-San stopped dead. With some effort he freed his mind from the Metal that had protected it. He stared in disbelief at the prince, as though he had not quite heard the words he had spoken. Haltern-kin-Eben straightened up and looked rather lost between the two thrones, the treasure of gold and gems useless in his hands.

      “Here beside me, in the shadow of the throne.”

      The councilor and the Keeper of Traditions stood between the prince and the household. Nobody could make out what was happening.

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