The Hidden City by David Eddings

He sank back into his saddle. ‘Oh, I almost forgot. I talked with

friend Oscagne about the possibility of a bounty on Cynesgan

ears. He said no.’

‘That’s a shame. Men fight better if they’ve got an incentive

of some kind.’

‘It even gets to be a habit. We had a fight with the Trolls up

in northern Atan, and I had a dead Troll’s ear half sawed-off

before I remembered nobody was around to buy it from me.

That’s a funny-looking hill up there, isn’t it?’ He pointed ahead

at an almost perfectly shaped dome rearing up out of the desert

floor.

‘It is a little odd,’ Tikume agreed. ‘There aren’t any rocks on

its sides – just dust.’

‘Probably some kind of dust-dune. They have sand-dunes

down in Render that look like that. The wind whirls the sand

around and leaves it in round hills.’

‘Would dust behave like sand?’

‘Evidently so. There’s the proof just up ahead.’

And then, even as they watched, the hill split down the

middle and its sides fanned out. They stared at the triangular

face of Klael as he rose ponderously to his feet, shedding great

waterfalls of dust from his gleaming black wings.

Kring reined in sharply. ‘I knew something wasn’t right about

that hill!’ he exclaimed, cursing his own inattention, as their

men surged around them.

‘He didn’t come alone this time!’ Tikume shouted. ‘He had

soldiers hidden under his wings. cold!’

‘Big devils, aren’t they?’ Kring squinted at the armored warriors

rushing toward them. ‘Big or little, though, they’re still

infantry, and that’s all the advantage we need, isn’t it?’

‘Right!’ Tikume chortled. ‘This should be more fun than chasing

Cynesgans.

‘I wonder if they’ve got ears,’ Kring said, drawing his saber.

“If they do, we might just want to gather them up. I haven’t

given up on friend Oscagne yet.’

‘There’s one way to find out,’ Tikume said, hefting his javelin

and leading the charge.

The standard Peloi tactics seemed to baffle Klael’s soldiers.

The superb horses of the nomads were as swift as deer, and the

eastern Peloi’s preference for the javelin over the saber was an

additional advantage. The horsemen split up into small groups

and began their attack. They slashed forward in long files, each

group concentrating on one of the steel-masked monsters and

each Peloi hurling his javelin into the huge bodies at close range

and then swerving away to safety. After a few such attacks, the

front ranks of the enemy warriors bristled like hedgehogs with

the short spears protruding from their bodies.

The armored soldiers grew increasingly desperate, and they

flailed ineffectually at their swift-charging tormentors with their

brutal maces, savaging the unoffending air and almost never

striking a solid blow.

‘Good fight!’ Kring panted to his friend after several charges.

They’re big, but they’re not quite fast enough.’

‘And not in very good condition either,’ Tikume added. ‘That

last one I skewered was puffing and wheezing like a leaky

bellows.’

They do seem to be having some trouble getting their breath,

don’t they?’ Kring agreed. His eyes suddenly narrowed. ‘Wait

a minute, let’s try something. Tell your children to just ride

in and then wheel and ride out again. Don’t waste any more

javelins.’

‘I don’t quite follow, Domi.’

‘Have you ever gone up into the high mountains?’

‘A few times. Why?’

“do you remember how hard it was to get your breath?’

‘Right at first, I suppose. I remember getting a little lightheaded.”

“exactly. I don’t know where Klael went to recruit these soldiers,

but it wasn’t from around here. I think they’re used to

thicker air. Let’s make them chase us. Why go to all the trouble

of hilling somebody if the air’s going to do the job for you?’

‘It’s worth a try.’ Tikume shrugged. ‘It takes a lot of the fun

out of it, though.’

‘We can have fun with the Cynesgans later,’ Kring told him.

‘Let’s run Klael’s infantry to death first. Then we can go slaughter

Cyrgon’s cavalry.’

‘Sort of follow my lead on this,’ Stragen told Talen as the two

mounted the rickety stairs leading up to the loft. ‘i’ve gotten to

know Valash fairly well, so I can gauge his reactions a little

better than you can.’

‘All right,’ Talen shrugged. ‘He’s your fish. I’ll let you play

him. ‘

Stragen opened the door to the stale-smelling loft, and the

two of them threaded their way through the clutter to Valash’s

corner.

The bony Dacite in the brocade jacket was not alone. A gaunt

Styric with open, seeping sores on his face slumped in a chair

at the table. The Styric’s right arm hung limply at his side,

the right side of his ulcerated face sagged, and his right

eyelid drooped down to almost totally cover the eye. He was

mumbling to himself, evidently completely unaware of his

surroundings. ‘This isn’t a good time, Vymer,’ Valash said.

‘It’s quite important, Master Valash,’ Stragen said quickly.

‘All right, but don’t take too long.’

As they approached the table, Talen’s stomach suddenly

churned. An overpowering odor of putrefying flesh emanated

from the comatose Styric.

‘This is my master,’ Valash said shortly.

‘Ogerajin?’ Stragen asked.

‘How did you know his name?’

‘You mentioned it to me once, I think – or maybe it was one

of your friends. Isn’t he a little sick to be out and about?’

‘That’s none of your concern, Vymer. What’s this important

information you have for me?’

‘Not me, Master Valash. Reldin here picked up something.

‘Speak up then, boy.’

‘Yes, Master Valash,’ Talen said, ducking his head in a sort

of half-bow. ‘I went into a waterfront tavern earlier today, and

I heard a couple of Edomish sailors talking. They seemed very

excited about something, so I slipped a little closer to find out

why they were so worked up. Well, you know how Edomishmen

feel about the Church of Chyrellos.’

“Get on with it, Reldin.’

“yes, sir. I was only trying to explain. Anyway, one of the

sailors had just reached port, and he was telling the other one

to get word to somebody in Edam – Rebal, I think his name is.

It seems that the first sailor had just come in from Valesia, and

when he’d been leaving port there, his ship passed a fleet

coming into the harbor at Valesia.”

“What’s so significant about that?’ Valash demanded.

‘I was just coming to that. What made the first sailor so excited

was the fact that the ships he saw were all flying the banners

of the Church of Chyrellos and the rails were lined with

men wearing armor. He kept babbling something about

Church Knights coming to impose heresies on the people of

Tamuli. ‘

Valash was staring at him in open-mouthed horror.

‘As soon as I heard that part, I slipped away. Vymer here

thought you might want to know about it, but I wasn’t so sure.

What difference should it make to us that the Elenes are arguing

about religion? It doesn’t involve us, does it?’

‘How many ships?’ Valash demanded in a half-strangled tone.

his eyes were bulging.

The sailor wasn’t too specific, Master Valash.’ Talen smiled.

I sort of got the impression that he ran out of the numbers that

he knew the names of. I guess that fleet stretched from horizon

to horizon. If those men in armor are Church Knights, I’d say

that all of them are on board these ships. I’ve heard things about

those people. I certainly wouldn’t want to be the one they’re

coming after. How much would you say this information’s

worth, Master Valash?’

Valash reached for his purse without any protest.

‘Have any messengers from those camps out in the woods

gone by lately, Master Valash?’ Stragen asked suddenly.

That’s none of your concern, Vymer.’

Whatever you say, Master Valash. All I was getting at is that

you ought to warn them about talking in public. I came across

a couple of men who looked as if they’ve been living in the

woods. One of them was telling the other that they couldn’t do

anything until Scarpa got instructions from Cyrga.

Who’s Cyrga? I’ve never heard of him.’

‘It’s not a who, Vymer,’ Talen said. ‘It’s a where. Cyrga’s a

town over in Cynesga.’

‘Really?’ Stragen’s expression grew curious. ‘This is the first

time I’ve ever heard the name. Where is it? What route would

you take to get to Cyrga?’

‘The pathway lies close by the Well of Vigay,’ the diseased

Ogerajin announced in a loud, declamatory voice.

Valash made a slightly strangled noise and ineffectually tried

to wave his hands warningly in front of his master’s face, but

Ogerajin brushed him aside. ‘Keep morning at thy back,’ the

Styric continued.

‘Master Ogerajin,’ Valash protested in a squeaky tone.

‘Silence, knave,’ Ogerajin thundered at him. ‘I will answer

this traveler’s question. If it is his intent to present himself and

bow down to Cyrgon, he must know the way. Proceed, traveler,

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