A Tide of Bones

by Ben Stovall

  It had been days since she had been in the company of her comrades, and she looked forward to the meeting for that reason alone. She was entirely too bored of the war talk that had been consuming the city wholesale the last few days. Ellaria wondered how Fanrinn could keep at it without a complaint, as he often complained about anything.

  A frown crossed her face as they passed an old shop called the Steady Shield. The doors and windows were boarded over, done quickly and without care. The owner had been an elf from Aelindaas, a talented woodworker that made shields harder than steel, but as light as a dagger. Many of the stores on the road were derelict. Scores of citizens had abandoned Souhal completely, uprooting their families and anything their hands could carry and running for Daralton, Aelindaas, or any of the numerous small villages nearby as quickly as they were able. She wished it had never come to such a situation that leaving everything behind was more desirable than staying.

  Ellaria spied Lytha as she and her brother turned a corner, and she jogged to catch up to her. Fanrinn sighed, keeping pace as they joined the vainyri woman. Lytha smiled at the siblings as they fell in step with her.

  “Haven’t seen you two around lately,” Lytha mused.

  Fanrinn said, “We’ve been at the elven general’s side constantly. Our knowledge of the city and surrounding area made us vital to the planning of the elves’ deployment.” Fanrinn looked aside. “General Ranuiin has been hesitant to have any elves stationed in areas we expect to see the bulk of the necromancer forces.”

  Ellaria scowled. “He needs to commit. We have to work together to make it through this.”

  “Will he be at the meeting?” Lytha asked.

  Fanrinn nodded.

  “Do you know who else will be there?”

  “King Andor Thorstan is commanding the dwarves, a woman named Tayna from Daralton, and a scaleskin called Graal Wylan represents the Torgashin,” Fanrinn said.

  After a moment of consideration, Lytha asked, “What of the orcs? Do they not send Uldrik or another warchief?”

  Ellaria shook her head. “Inaru will oversee delegating the information to the orcs.”

  Lytha frowned, brow furrowing. “I thought Uldrik would want to represent a slightly more, ah … orc-centric view to the proceedings. What else could he be doing right now?”

  They neared the palace. Ellaria shrugged. “Who knows.”

  The guards at the doors waved them inside, leading them down the halls. As they spied Joravyn, the guard took his leave. The mage welcomed them with a small smile, and they stepped into the room. The others were gathered around the table, a map of the city spread across its surface. Standing at the right end of the desk were Ulthan and Tayna, who had been discussing the deployment of the Daralton forces. On their right, stood Graal Wylan and General Ranuiin, both silently observing the pair at the end, which looked to be to King Aldariak’s unspoken pleasure. On the king’s right stood Inaru, Tyrdun, King Andor Thorstan, and Torvaas. Tyrdun whispered a joke to Thorstan who had to strain to stifle a chuckle. They all smiled as the three of them entered with Joravyn, happy to have new eyes to discuss the deployment.

  Atop the map were figurines, coded by color. Red for Souhal, green for the orcs, dwarves – brown, blue for Daralton, gray for the elves, so black for the Torgashin.

  The figures were all set in the center of the table in a large grouping. Only a few of the red and blue statuettes had been moved near the western wall, where Tayna and Ulthan stood, and undoubtedly many of them would be near that wall before the council departed.

  Noticing her eyes locked on the end of the table, Ulthan smiled at her. She scoffed before moving toward the table.

  “Welcome to the war room,” Joravyn said beside them. The assorted group nodded as the three newcomers stepped toward the table with the mage. “Want to give them a quick rundown, Your Grace?”

  Aldariak nodded, rising from his chair, and explained, “We’re most concerned with these five gates here.” The king moved his hand over the map, pointing to the details that signified the entryways. “The gate to King’s Way, of course, where we will commit most our forces, no doubt. Then, there are smaller gates on both the north and south side of it along the west wall. There is a small gate here that leads to the docks, on the southern wall. The western side of the docks are unfortunately an addition and not covered by the partition. I would expect trouble to find its way there. Lastly, along the northern wall is this small gate. It would be surprising if the necromancers commit forces to it, but I would rather not take the chance. Along the other entrances, we should station a token force with a courier on the off chance they are attacked as well.”

  Glad to be done with his explanation, King Aldariak lowered into his chair again. Everyone’s eyes shifted to Tayna, who was particularly exultant. “Ulthan and I were discussing the entryway by the docks. We decided I would station a small force of two hundred men from Daralton there, with three hundred of the Torgashin soldiers. I would also accompany them alongside Graal Wylan and Torvaas.”

  The two scaleskin men nodded in response. “It will be our honor, Tayna,” Graal Wylan said. Ellaria frowned at Torvaas’s unmistakable dismay and wondered how his time with the Torgashin had been.

  Tayna continued, “The rest of Daralton’s troops will be spread amongst the western gates, with a good number on the northwestern gate. Ulthan volunteered to lead them there.” The paladin nodded.

  Clearly done, the gathered men and women looked toward General Ranuiin. “Some of the elves,” the general began, “will be stationed on the walls. I have six hundred trained archers with me. I will fight with a force of four hundred elves at the northern entrance. My remaining sixteen hundred will stand at King’s Way.” When he finished his explanation, he moved the gray statues around to the spots he requested. “If it pleases you, Your Majesty.” The general bowed to King Aldariak.

  “Your proposition makes sense, General Ranuiin. I agree,” King Aldariak said thoughtfully. Ellaria was glad to hear General Ranuiin was committing so many to the main gate.

  “Yer Majesty.” King Andor Thorstan was next to speak. King Aldariak turned in his chair to regard him. “My generals think that six hundred dwarves will have no problem holding the southwestern gate, but I would prefer to commit more.”

  “How many would you be comfortable with?”

  Andor hesitated. “Eight hundred, with two hundred more able to leave King’s Way should we require it.”

  “Do you really believe you need that many for one gate?” General Ranuiin asked.

  “My men aren’t sitting on the walls and standing at the gate expecting the least trouble,” Andor growled. “I would prefer to ensure it is not lost.”

  “But one thousand men? Along with Tyrdun? The northwestern gate doesn’t even have the six hundred you worry will not be enough,” Ranuiin argued.

  “How many dwarves are here, Andor?” Aldariak asked, his voice smooth and comforting.

  “All that can fight,” Thorstan deflected.

  Ranuiin pressed. “A number, please.”

  Andor looked at the brown effigies on the table, and removed some of them, until seventeen remained. “One thousand seven hundred men. That’s all you could bring?” Ranuiin asked.

  “Aljorn got hit by these bastards already. A herald or scout or some such. The city is in ruins. They are the last of my soldiers.”

  “It’s true,” Ellaria said. “I journeyed with Tyrdun to Aljorn and witnessed it firsthand. The dwarves know what we’re up against, they faced it alone and suffered. We are lucky Aljorn had any men to spare at all, general.”

  Ranuiin shifted his gaze downward. “I was unaware, Your Majesty.”

  “Six hundred,” Graal Wylan suddenly spoke. “Additionally, you will have three hundred of my scaleskins at your back, Thorstan.” Graal Wylan silently moved three black figurines to the southwestern wall, and moved the brown figures until six remained, placing the rest at the main gate. Then, the Torgashin warrior placed
the rest of the black statuettes there as well, though he only had three left.

  Tayna, realizing she hadn’t moved her statues, placed two at all the gates, except for King’s Way and the northwestern, where she set four down. “There,” she offered, “eleven hundred at the southwestern.”

  “Thirteen,” Inaru placed two of his green figures down, then continued to do so, until he had placed two figures at each gate. “With all the clans here, we have plenty of orcs to spare,” Inaru smirked, placing his twenty-seven remaining statues at the main gate.

  “There are three thousand and five hundred orcs here?” Andor asked. Ellaria shared his surprise.

  Aldariak smiled, “There are. This land is their home too.” The king sat forward in his chair and began spreading his red figurines. He placed seven at the northwestern gate, where Ulthan would be. The king then moved all his other statuettes, an impressive thirty-seven, to the main gate, before removing one of every color from it. He set one down at each of the unassigned entryways, where he mentioned he had wanted a small force to ensure there was no flanking. “Rough estimates, of course, but we seem to have just shy of ten thousand men stationed at King’s Way.”

  Ellaria fidgeted slightly. She couldn’t ignore there were only ninety-eight statues. But she suppressed the impulse to point it out.

  “Wait,” Joravyn said. “Souhal isn’t known for its magical prowess, but there are still several mages here. We have one hundred and thirty ready to fight. I recommend putting them along the walls with the rangers, and maybe another five at each gate.”

  King Aldariak nodded. “I trust you will inform them?” Joravyn bowed his assent. “Additionally, I did not have any models made, but Frost Hearth has sent a small group of soldiers—the largest that could navigate the pass this time of year. We’ll put them on King’s Way as well,” Aldariak said, and the king gave one last look around the room, searching for anything that still needed to be discussed. “Are we in agreement?” he asked.

  “What about … us?” Ellaria asked, indicating the group that had worked so hard for Souhal.

  “You, Fanrinn, and Lytha will be on the wall. I have heard you are all quite gifted with a bow, or crossbow, in our vainyri friend’s case,” Aldariak said. “I hope Joravyn will be helping Ulthan at the northwestern gate or moving wherever he feels he is needed. Lastly, I suppose Inaru will be wherever Warchief Uldrik asks.”

  “Where is Uldrik? Should he not have been here for this?” General Ranuiin asked.

  “Warchief Uldrik had an important matter to attend to, and sent me in his stead,” Inaru replied.

  “What was it? How could it have been more important than this?” Thorstan questioned.

  “I do not know; he would not say. I will be informing him of the decisions here before the night ends.”

  The assorted generals seemed wary, and Ellaria couldn’t blame them. While all assembled trusted Inaru and even had grown to be less suspicious of the orcs in the past few days, none of them could say the same for Uldrik.

  “Very well,” Aldariak said, cutting the tension. “Joravyn, do you know how close the army is now?”

  “The scryers you had scouting have reported no sign of them in the Gray Sands. It seems they’ve exited the wasteland and will be here within the next three days. At a guess, at least,” the mage answered.

  “I think that’s everything,” General Ranuiin said. He glanced around the war room quickly as most of the assembled gathered their things, except for a few who merely looked despondently at the others.

  “Wait,” King Aldariak held up a hand. “There’s one more thing. I’ve been informed Joravyn spotted a … spotted a colossal dragon in his scrying.”

  Ranuiin looked at the king, baffled. “A dragon?” he asked. Most of the assembled looked clueless. Ellaria shot a glance toward her brother, and noticed he was one of the only three not completely ignorant of this news beforehand.

  “If it’s truly as large as you said,” King Aldariak began, looking to the mage, “then I don’t know how we can stop it. I don’t even know where to begin planning for a dragon so large.”

  “How big is it?” Tyrdun asked, fear in his eyes. Ellaria could not fault him for it. The red they’d encountered was a relatively small beast, and it still nearly killed their whole force in Aljorn.

  “I … when I saw it, it was bigger than Daralton. As tall as the mountain Aljorn resides within. But … that’s impossible. Scrying can be messy with perception. My gaze is formless while using the magic, I had little to compare it to. Its appearance was … unsettling,” Joravyn explained. “I’ve been working with the senior mages here in Souhal – we might have a spell that can ground it long enough to defeat it, if we commit enough forces to it,” Joravyn offered.

  “If it shows,” Thorstan mumbled with hope.

  “If it shows,” Joravyn amended. “I say we have a force of two or three hundred prepared to leave the main gate at the first sign of the dragon, and another five hundred prepared to leave it if need be. And in addition to them, Ulthan, Tyrdun, Ellaria, and I will accompany the first group.”

  Fanrinn’s eyebrows twisted into a scowl. “My sister?” he asked with concern heavy on his voice.

  “We need a skilled archer – if it gets back into the air, swords won’t be worth a damn,” the mage said. He eyed Tyrdun. “And it won’t be her first.”

  “What?” Fanrinn asked, eyes going wide.

  Tyrdun grimaced. “We fought one. In Aljorn. Even with blunt arrows she was invaluable.”

  Fanrinn pressed his lips into a line. He shared a glance with Ellaria. She nodded. “I’ll be okay, brother.”

  His gaze turned away. “Alright.”

  “That spell you and the mages are working on must work,” Inaru said. “If that dragon gets over the city, all of this won’t matter.”

  “It will. I promise.” Joravyn’s words hung in the air without a syllable following them. The assembly looked each other over, searching hopelessly for some other plan for such a titanic beast. Ellaria found herself unable to conceive a dragon larger than a city and hoped Joravyn was right about it being impossible. Inaru’s observation echoed in her mind. If that dragon made it to the very gates they were fighting to hold, Souhal was finished. The defenses would be scorched in an instant and the skeletons and necromancers would flood the streets and paint the stones red. “I also have reason to believe the dragon is the ‘Dark One’ Aldayn mentioned,” Joravyn finally added. “If what he said was true about it, it could have powers we don’t know how to prepare for.”

  “Then we better hope we’ve done enough,” Thorstan advised. “That’s all we can do. Hope.” No more words came, and after a few minutes, the assembly dissolved. Ellaria stared at the map for a moment longer, before realizing only she remained.

  “They won’t have Souhal,” she whispered to herself.

  ✽ ✽ ✽

  Tyrdun stared at the ceiling in his room at the Unruly Pony. He found himself involuntarily scrutinizing its every detail. While his eyes were heavy, they seemed more intent on the ceiling than they did closing. He sighed. Turning onto his right he eyed the large bed that lie empty. He wondered how Uldrik reacted to Inaru’s news of the orc’s deployment and hoped he would see Inaru before the night’s end.

  The dwarf shifted a little and found no comfort. Scowling at the futility of his actions, he rose from the bed. He dressed in some heavy linens and furs and grabbed his mace, gingerly tucking it in to his belt.

  Tyrdun navigated the crowd inside the Unruly Pony and arrived at the door, where he slipped out into the night. Clutching his cloak around him for warmth, he made his way to the western wall of the city. He had walked the battlements on other such restless nights. Gazing into the moonlit trees and grasslands calmed him. And seeing the city from the walls was a thing to behold.

  The streets themselves were still this evening. Most of what Tyrdun saw walking were soldiers enjoying the nights of freedom from their commanders. No doubt thei
r antics would be regretted in the morning, but they didn’t care about that—or anything—right now.

  He arrived at the tower that housed the steps leading to the battlements, just south of the central gate. The spire remained warm due to a crackling fire that burned in a small alcove just across the room from the entrance. A guard sat in front of it holding a poker, pushing a log causing sparks to shoot up the chimney. Tyrdun closed the door causing the man to turn around.

  “Oh, I didn’t hear you come in, Tyrdun. Can’t sleep?” the guard asked.

  “Not a wink, laddie,” Tyrdun said. “How’s the wife, Higgins?”

  “She’s right worried about all this war talk. Wanted to go to her sister’s in Daralton until it ends, but I told her that with you here there was no way anything bad could happen,” Higgins replied.

  Tyrdun smiled insincerely. He caught a look at Higgins’ left arm. A large burn dominated it, his hair singed off completely, and leaving a ghastly scar. Tyrdun’s smile waned into a frown, and Higgins looked at his arm upon noticing. “Tyrdun … it really isn’t that bad,” he offered.

  Tyrdun looked at him, confused. He opened his mouth to reply but found no words.

  “Really, friend,” Higgins began, “the wife loves it. I fought a dragon with Red Watch! The best heroes Souhal’s ever seen! Sure, it’s still warm, but that just makes the winters easier. I know we didn’t all make it back, but … I mean isn’t that how it always is? You saved a lot of people killing that dragon, is all I mean.”

  Tyrdun considered the words. He shook his head. “Those men that died … your arm … it’s all my fault. You all trusted me, and I let you down. I was supposed to protect you all. I failed.”

  “The fact that any of us came back is proof that isn’t true.” The statement hung in between them, the silence stretching on. “I won’t keep you any longer, Tyrdun. Enjoy your walk, okay?”

  The dwarf closed his eyes and nodded. “Thank you, Higgins.” With that, he climbed the steps to the top of the wall. He pushed open the door and stepped back out into the biting chill of the night. He looked to his left, out onto the leafless trees and the evergreens that shone in the moonlight, hardened with both ice and snow. He thought on the guard’s words, and those Lytha left him with weeks before. As the branches danced in the wind, he frowned at the memories he held onto. I can let this go, he thought, hoping it was true. I need to let this go, Souhal needs me at my best. A tear rolled down his face, running into his beard.