The First King of Shannara - Terry Brooks [167]
His anger was understandable. One of those lost already was his eldest son. Wyrik had fallen four days earlier, killed by a stray arrow. They had been in retreat across the Anar and into the Ravenshorn, intent on reaching the fortress at Stedden Keep. The arrow had gone through his throat and into his brain. He had died instantly, virtually before anyone had even noticed he was struck Raybur had been next to him when it had happened, and had caught him in his arms as he fell.
The two men stood looking at each other in the damp shadow of the entry, both of them thinking of the boy’s death, reading it in each other’s eyes.
Raybur looked away, disgusted. “If we just had some word, some assurance that help is coming...” He shook his head once more.
“Bremen would never desert us,” Risca declared quietly, firmly. “Whatever else happens, he will come.”
Raybur’s eyes narrowed. “If he’s still alive.”
The words hung there, blade-sharp in the silence, accusatory, bleak and despairing.
Then a terrible wrenching sound shattered their momentary consideration of the prospect of the old man’s death, a horrifying groan of metal fastenings coming apart and wooden timbers giving way. Both men knew at once what it was, but Raybur said it first.
“The gates!”
They sprinted from the doorway into the rain-soaked night. A flash of lightning split the dark ceiling of the clouds. Ahead, the main gates had buckled under the onslaught of the battering ram.
Already hinges were snapped and the crossbar splintered. The Dwarves were trying to shore up the sagging barrier with additional timbers, but it was only a matter of time now before everything collapsed. The pounding of the ram had intensified, and the cries of the attackers had risen in response. On the walls, the Dwarves drew back uncertainly from their defensive positions.
Fleer came running up to his father, his long hair flying. “We have to get everyone out!” he shouted, his face pale and stricken.
“Do so!” snapped Raybur in reply, his voice cold and harsh “Withdraw from the walls, through the fortress corridors, and into the tunnels! I have had enough of this!”
Fleer raced away, and an enraged Raybur wheeled about and strode toward the gates, his rugged face flushed and set. Seeing what he intended, Risca went after him, grabbed his arm, and spun him about.
“No, Raybur,” he declared. “I will stand against this rush, not you!”
“Alone?” the king snapped, shaking free of the other’s hand.
“How many were you planning on asking to stand with you?” Risca’s retort was sharp and brittle. “Now go! Lead the army out!”
Rain ran down into their eyes, forcing them to blink rapidly, two solitary figures locked in confrontation. “This is madness!” the king hissed.
Risca shook his head. “You are king, and you must keep yourself safe. What happens to the Dwarves if you fall? Besides, I have the Druid magic to protect me, which is more than you can say. Go, Raybur!”
The right gate collapsed, splintering, then crumbling into rubble. Dark forms surged toward the opening, weapons glinting.
Risca brought up his hands, fingers crooked, the Druid magic summoned. Raybur hesitated, then darted away, calling his commanders to come to him, giving them their orders for a retreat. The Dwarves scrambled down from the battlements and raced for the tower doors and the safety of the corridors beyond. Already the men at the gates had fled. Risca stood alone in the rain, waiting calmly. It had been an easy enough decision. He was tired of running, of being chased. He was ready to stand and fight. He wanted this chance.
When the first wave of attackers was at the opening, he sent the Druid fire into them. He burned everything in sight. Flames climbed across the rubble and consumed the front ranks of Northlanders before they could even think to flee. In the darkness beyond, the others fell back, unable to withstand the heat. Risca held the fire in place, then let it die. The magic ran through him in an exhilarating rush that swept aside fear and doubt, weariness and pain. It became for him, as