“He locked you up?” Melissa’s eyes widened in shock. “He has no right to do that! You’re right about his power-he goes too far!”
“That’s what I’m telling you about him. He doesn’t need a right-he makes his own rights and expects the rest of the world to fall into line. Please-can’t you help me?”
“I will try to help you but not in the manner you request. I understand that your husband, the man who calls himself ‘emperor,’ has much to answer for. What I suggest is we go, together, to talk to him, to confront him with these truths.”
“What good will that do?” protested the princess.
“We have to try. Will you come with me?”
Selinda nodded. “But Vingaard is across the mountains, a week’s ride.”
Melissa nodded at the golden ring on the other woman’s finger. “You have the means to make the journey, right there on your hand. And teleportation magic is not unknown to those in our order. We could travel together, through the ether. I need some hours to prepare the spell, so let us plan to leave in the morning.”
Selinda thought about the journey. She felt nothing but anguish; there didn’t seem much hope of gaining anything from confronting her husband. But she had to try something.
“All right,” she said. “Let’s go see him together.”
Blayne Kerrigan lashed his horse and led his triumphant column across the Stonebridge. The men whooped and cheered as they approached Vingaard Keep, stirring equally enthusiastic cries from the many citizens lining the walls of the lofty castle. The three tall spires all flew the banner of the Blue Sturgeon, the keep’s ancient sigil, and trumpets brayed a fanfare as the young lord and his warriors galloped into the central courtyard and dismounted in the midst of the frenzied populace.
The walls loomed high all around, white and pure and ancient. The three great spires lofted overhead, serene, aloof, grandiose. In the flush of Blayne’s victory, those towers seemed as permanent as the rugged mountains on the western horizon.
“The emperor’s great weapons have been destroyed!” boasted the young captain. “Make ready to hold the Stonebridge!”
Confetti rained from the high ramparts, and ladies-dressed in gowns and jewelry, as if for a ball-waltzed with each other and embraced each of the sooty, sweaty riders as they dismounted from their blown, lathered steeds.
Amid the commotion, Blayne found his sister, Marrinys. She was less exuberant than some of the women, and he understood why. Placing his hands on her shoulders, he looked into her worried eyes. “You heard about Father?”
“Is it true he was killed by the emperor’s men, taken at the parley?”
“Yes.” The young nobleman didn’t try to hide his bitterness. “And he will be avenged. For now, you should know the castle is safe-the emperor’s great weapons have been destroyed!”
“I’m proud of you, Blayne,” she said, hugging him. He held her tightly, felt the tremors of her grief. Forcibly he broke away, reminding himself that the first blows of vengeance had already been struck.
“We won’t let Father be forgotten. But know this, my sister: the emperor’s bombards will not destroy our home! And we did it, we attacked brilliantly, without losing a man!”
“I’m happy about that, Blayne. Really, I am. But I fear for the future. Even if he can’t destroy this place from across the river, how long can we hold out here against his army?”
“I don’t know, Marrinys. Not for sure. But I think we can hold out for most of the summer, if need be. We can cover the Stonebridge from these walls, and our catapults and archers will pound any force he dares to send across. And the longer we hold our defense, word of our courage and success will spread across Solamnia. In a matter of weeks, I expect rebellions to arise in other parts of the nation. We have an ally in Thelgaard, where Captain Franz- the son of the ruling lord-despises the emperor, and works on his father’s loyalty. There will be unrest in Caergoth and perhaps even Solanthus. When fires of rebellion burn on all sides of him, the emperor will be forced to withdraw and alter his plans.”
“I hope you’re right, my brother. But even so, I’m afraid.”
Blayne had no time for her concern; he was too busy sharing the sparkling wine of victory, pouring bottles from both hands. “Let’s at least relish a moment of victory today! We can have hope for the future, finally.”
She let him go, but her eyes remained troubled. She watched as his riders were toasted, and hoisted onto the shoulders of the castle’s men-at-arms, and in more than one instance hustled off into the stables by pretty girls for more personal rewards. The scene brought a reluctant smile to her face.
Meanwhile the young lord found himself borne into the keep’s great hall on a swelling tide of victorious Vingaard. Only when he was seated at the great table, still sharing drinks, waiting for the triumphal banquet to be prepared, was he reminded of a grim reality. He felt a gentle touch on his shoulder and looked up to see the red- robed figure of his-and his father’s-closest advisor.
“You’d better come with me, my lord,” said Red Wallace, his tone and demeanor sobering the other man’s excitement.
“What is it?” asked Blayne, rising and following the wizard out of the hall when Wallace made no move to reply. In silence they climbed the winding stairs within the keep’s tallest tower. The young lord’s stomach grew queasy. Even the spectacular leaded glass windows, whose beautiful panes were known throughout Solamnia, could not ease the growing heaviness in his heart.
When they were about halfway up the lofty tower, Wallace led Blayne out onto a small balcony, a walled perch on the side of the spire that offered an unimpeded view to the south. Already the emperor’s army was marching into view, great columns breaking off the road, forming camps along the ridge to the south of Apple Creek.
“That’s no surprise,” he informed Wallace confidently. “We knew they would come this far, and we’ll hold them at Stonebridge, if need be.”
“That’s not what I wanted you to see,” the red wizard declared grimly. He pointed to the west, where the road wound out of sight along the shallow valley of the creek.
Blayne saw it immediately: the long, trunklike shape rising from the bed of the wagon, trundled along by its team of eight massive oxen. He couldn’t believe his eyes.
“One of the bombards survived?” he asked finally, his voice hollow.
“It would appear so,” Wallace replied.
“But… but we destroyed them all! All three! They were burning as we retreated!” Even as he blurted out those words, Blayne realized how foolish they were. He could see with his own eyes that one of the great weapons had survived. Wallace said nothing.
“What do we do now?” the younger man asked, after a long time.
“It seems we have little choice. He can attack and probably destroy the keep from the safety of the far side of the bridge. I think you must submit, throw yourself on his mercy. Send a courier!”
Word of the bombard’s appearance had spread to the great hall by the time Blayne and the wizard returned. The mood was somber and quiet, the crowd having thinned from hundreds to a few dozen loyal supporters. They listened with grim faces while the son of Lord Kerrigan dictated a note, specifying the castle’s surrender, and pleading for the emperor’s mercy. Within a few moments, a courier raced out of the gates, across the Stonebridge, and up to the army’s initial picket line.
Blayne made his way to the gatehouse, intending to wait there for the courier’s return. He was startled to see the man come galloping back, even before the young nobleman had made his way to the top of the wall. Hurrying back down the stone stairs, he accosted the rider as soon as the man dismounted.
“Did you speak to the emperor? What did he say?”
“He wouldn’t see me,” the courier replied flatly. “Instead, his guards told me to come back here, and to stay here. He said that our decision had been made, earlier in the day, when we chose to offer battle instead of acknowledge his right of rule.”
“That was his answer?” demanded Blayne, appalled.
In the next instant, a sound thrummed through the ground, a powerful crunch that could be felt in the ground even before Blayne heard it in the air. Immediately after, he heard another sound-something exploding overhead. Looking up, Blayne saw a gaping hole in the side of the keep’s loftiest tower. The colored glass, which he had been busy admiring just a few hours before, rained down from the shattered windows.
