The Hidden City by David Eddings

Kring came galloping back around the wall. ‘Friend Bergsten’s

preparing to assault the north gate,’ he reported.

‘Send word to him to be careful, friend Kring,’ Betuana

advised. ‘The Trolls are already inside the city – and they’re

hungry. It might be better if he delayed his attack just a

little.’

Kring nodded his agreement. ‘Working with Trolls changes

the complexion of things, doesn’t it, Betuana-Queen? They’re

very good allies in a fight, but you don’t want to let them get

hungry.’ About ten minutes later, Khalad and a few dozen knights

dragged a large log into place before the gate, suspended it on

ropes attached to several makeshift tripods, and began to pound

, on the rotting timbers. The gate shuddered out billows of powdery

red dust and began to crumble and fall apart.

‘Let’s go.’ Vanion called tersely to his oddly assorted army

and led the way into the city. At Sephrenia’s insistence, the

knights went straight to the pens, freed the shackled slaves, and

escorted them to safety.outside the walls. Then Vanion’s force

moved directly to the inner wall that protected the steep hill

rising in the middle of Cyrga.

‘How long is that likely to last, Sir Ulath?’ Vanion said, gesturing

toward a cluster of ravening Trolls.

‘It’s a little hard to say, Lord Vanion,’ Ulath replied. ‘I don’t

think we’ll get much co-operation from them as long as there are

still Cynesgans running up and down the streets here in the

outer city, though.’

‘Maybe it’s just as well,’ Vanion decided. ‘I think we want to

get to Sparhawk and the others before the Trolls do.’ He looked

around. ‘Khalad,’ he called, ‘tell your men to drag that battering

ram up here. Let’s pound down the gate to the inner city and

go find Sparhawk.’

‘Yes, my Lord,’ Khalad replied.

The gates to the inner wall were more substantial, and

Khalad’s ram was pounding out great booming sounds when

Patriarch Bergsten came riding along the wall, accompanied by

the veteran Pandion, Sir Heldin, a Peloi whom Vanion did not

recognize, and a tall, lithe Atan girl. Vanion was a bit startled

to see that the Styric God Setras was also with them. ‘What do

you think you’re doing, Vanion?’ Bergsten roared.

‘Knocking down this gate, your Grace,’ Vanion replied.

That’s not what I’m talking about. What in God’s name possessed

you to let the Trolls make the initial assault?’

‘It wasn’t really a question of “let”, your Grace. They didn’t

exactly ask for permission.’

‘We’ve got absolute chaos here in the outer city. My knights

can’t concentrate on this inner wall because they keep running

into Trolls. They’re in a feeding-frenzy, you know. Right now

they’ll eat anything that moves.’

‘Must you?’ Sephrenia murmured with a shudder.

‘Hello, Sephrenia,’ Bergsten said. ‘You’re looking well. How

much longer are you going to be with this gate, Vanion? Let’s

get our people into the inner city where all we have to worry

about are the Cyrgai. Your allies are making my men very

nervous.’ He looked up at the top of the inner wall, sharply

outlined against the dawn sky. ‘I thought the Cyrgai were supposed

to be soldiers. Why aren’t they manning this wall?’

‘They’re a little demoralized right now,’ Sephrenia explained.

‘Sparhawk just killed their God.’

‘He did? I thought Bhelliom was going to do that.’

She sighed. ‘In a certain sense it did,’ she said. ‘It’s a little

hard to separate the two of them at this point. Aphrael isn’t

entirely sure where Bhelliom leaves off and Sparhawk begins

right now.’

Bergsten shuddered. ‘I don’t think I want to know about that,’

he confessed. ‘i’m in enough theological trouble already. What

about klael?’

‘He’s gone. He was banished as soon as Sparhawk killed

Cyrgon.’

‘Oh, fine, Vanion,’ Bergsten said with heavy sarcasm. ‘You

make me ride a thousand leagues in the dead of winter, and the

fighting’s all over before I even get here.’

‘The exercise was probably good for you, your Grace.’ Vanion

raised his voice. ‘How much longer, Khalad?’ he called.

“Just a few more minutes, my Lord,’ Sparhawk’s squire

replied. ‘The timbers are starting to crack.’

‘Good,’ Vanion said bleakly. ‘I want to locate Zalasta. He and

I have some things to talk about – at great length.’

‘They’ve all bolted, Sparhawk,’ Talen reported, returning from

his quick survey of the ruined palace. ‘The gates are standing

wide open, and we’re the only people up here.’

Sparhawk nodded wearily. It had been a long night, and he

was emotionally as well as physically drained. He could still,

however, feel that enormous calm that had settled over him

when he had at last understood the true significance of his

strange relationship with Bhelliom. There were some fleeting

temptations – curiosity perhaps more than anything else – a

desire to experiment and test the limits of newly-recognized

capabilities. He deliberately repressed them.

‘Go ahead, Sparhawk,’ Flute’s voice in his mind had a slight

challenge in it. He turned his head to look quizzically at the

ageless child, standing beside his wife. Ehlana’s face was serene

as she ran her fingers through her long, pale-blonde hair. ‘What

did you want me to do?’ he sent the thought back.

‘Anythi’ng that comes into your mind.

‘Why?’

‘Aren’t you just the least bit curious.? Wouldn’t you like to find out

if you can turn a mountain inside out?’

‘I can,’ he replied. ‘I don’t see any reason to do something like that,

though.’

‘You’re hateful, Sparhawk!’ she suddenly flared.

‘What’s your problem, Aphrael?’

‘You’re such a lump!’

He smiled gently at her. ‘I know, but you love me anyway, don’t

you?’

‘Sparhawk,’ Kalten called from the ornate bronze gate,

‘Vanion’s coming up the hill. He’s got Bergsten with him.’

Vanion had known Sparhawk since his novitiate, but the weary-looking

man in black armor seemed to be almost a stranger.

There was something about his face and in his eyes that had

never been there before. The Preceptor approached his old

frend with Patriarch Bergsten and Sephrenia with a sense of

something very close to awe.

As soon as Ehlana saw Sephrenia, she ran to her with a low

cry and embraced her fiercely.

‘I see that you’ve wrecked another city, Sparhawk,’ Bergsten

said with a broad grin. ‘That’s getting to be a habit, you

know.’

‘Good morning, your Grace,’ Sparhawk replied. ‘It’s good to

see you again.’

‘Did you do all this?’ Bergsten gestured at the ruined temple

and the half-collapsed palace.

‘klael did most of it, your Grace.’

The hulking churchman squared his shoulders. ‘i’ve got

orders for you from Dolmant,’ he said. ‘You’re supposed to turn

the Bhelliom over to me. Why don’t you do that now – before

we both forget?’

‘i’m afraid that isn’t possible, your Grace,’ Sparhawk sighed.

‘I don’t have it any more.’

‘What did you do with it?’

‘It no longer exists – at least not in the shape it was before.

Its been freed from its confinement to continue its journey.’

‘You released it without consulting the Church? You’re in

trouble, Sparhawk.’

‘Oh, do be serious, Bergsten,’ Aphrael told him. ‘Sparhawk

did what had to be done. I’ll explain to Dolmant later.’

Vanion, however, had something else on his mind. ‘This is

all very interesting,’ he said bleakly, ‘but right now I’m far more

concerned about finding Zalasta. Does anybody have any idea

of where I might find him?’

‘He might be under all that, Vanion,’ Ehlana told him,

pointing at the ruined temple. ‘He and Ekatas were going there

when they discovered that Sparhawk was here inside the walls

of Cyrga. Ekatas escaped, and Mirtai killed him, but Zalasta

might have been crushed when Klael exploded the place.

‘No,’ Aphrael said shortly. ‘He’s nowhere in the city.’

‘I really want to find him, Divine One,’ Vanion said.

‘Setras, dear,’ Aphrael said sweetly to her cousin, ‘would you

see if you can find Zalasta for me? He has a great deal to answer

for.’

‘i’ll see what I can do, Aphrael,’ the handsome God promised,

‘but I really ought to get back to my studio. I’ve been letting my

own work slide during all this.’

‘Please, Setras,’ she wheedled, unleashing that devastating

little smile.

He laughed helplessly. ‘Do you see what I was talking about,

Bergsten?’ he said to the towering Patriarch. ‘She’s the most

dangerous creature in the universe.’

‘So I’ve heard,’ Bergsten replied. ‘You’d probably better go

ahead and do as she asks, Setras. You’ll do it in the end anyway.’

‘Ah, there you are, Itagne-Ambassador,’ Vanion heard Atana

Mans say in a deceptively pleasant tone of voice. He turned and

saw the lithe young commander of the garrison at Cynestra

descending on the clearly apprehensive Tamul diplomat. ‘i’ve

been looking all over for you,’ she continued. ‘We have a great

deal to talk about. Somehow, not one of your letters reached

me. I think you should reprimand your messenger.’

Itagne’s face took on a trapped expression.