“What is going on?” Maarja asked in awe.
“No time,” Faeoris said, her voice shaky and eyes wide. “Hurry!”
They rode forward, but at a gallop instead of full swifen speed. Despite all Aerella’s travels throughout the millennia, she couldn’t imagine anything more horrific than what lay before her. It was, indeed, a dragon nest. Blood-red shards of crystal rose from the ground, randomly jutting out like stakes shoved in sand. The group approached from behind. The sounds of battle were gone, and smoke billowed from the center of the nest like a signal fire. They rode around it cautiously. The red shards appeared cloudy at first, and then cracked and singed. As they neared the other side, the remaining crystals were melted away or entirely gone.
The air was thick with soot, making it hard to see. She finally remembered the spell and summoned her will, clearing the air around them. Her heart skipped beats, and she forced herself to breathe. How was this even possible? This half of the nest was entirely gone, blown away from the inside. Bodies were everywhere, some human, most dragon. Almost all the wyrms were horse-sized. Babies. And in the distance, the silhouette of a frighteningly large, decapitated dragon. Black smoke rose from its shuddering figure as it collapsed in on itself, melting away in its own dragonfire.
“Angst?” Faeoris asked in wonder and worry.
He shouldn’t have been menacing. He was short, and stubby, and old. Edges of his red cloak had burned away. One arm hung limp at his side, the armor torn away and blood flowing from deep wounds. Frightening gashes had split his leg armor like ripped paper. Angst’s face was a mess, his wide eyes and bared teeth practically glowing white beneath a thick layer of dirt and blood. With his good arm, he held Chryslaenor high. Lightning surrounded the enormous blade, flowing down his arm in streams that danced on the ground all around him. Angst took a step forward, and the hundred men he faced took a step back. There was a loud thud, and the ground shuddered as the dragon’s head landed nearby. The men took another step back.
Faeoris landed beside him, the earth shaking on impact. She placed a concerned hand on his shoulder, but he said nothing. Aerella dismounted her swifen and approached with the others. Without a word, she grabbed his arm and began healing what she could of the mess. Angst didn’t wince, or say anything to her, so focused was he on the men before him. He grimaced, taking another step forward. Aerella followed, grunting in concentration as she tried to continue her healing, but there was so much damage. She glanced up to see the small army of men he faced shuffle anxiously. He pulled his hand free from her grasp.
“I think I could do more,” she said.
“It’s enough,” he said, wiggling his fingers. “Save your strength.”
She didn’t agree, but this wasn’t the time to argue. Angst had to be exhausted after that fight; his chest was heaving, and his gray hair matted with sweat, but he showed no sign of weakness. It was hard to tell through the haze how many bare-chested warriors stood before them, but they looked dangerous. Not only that—they were perfect, every one of them tall and muscular, all holding long two-bladed staves.
“The tribes,” Faeoris said in surprise, her voice quavering. “What are they doing this far east?”
The mass of Vex’steppe tribesmen parted, making room for a dark man who led a dragon larger than Scar. The man’s head wasn’t right, half of it caved in over his right eye. It was hard to believe he was even alive. His left eye glared at Angst, fierce and full of danger. Scar growled deeply, and many of the tribesmen took another step back. Angst raised his healed hand to keep the enormous dog at bay.
“ANduaut!” Faeoris said, shocked.
“Yes,” ANduaut said with a malicious smile.
“You’re dead.” Faeoris shook her head.
“I died a long time ago.” He held up a hand bearing a ruby ring.
“ANduaut,” Angst said. “What have you done?”
“Welcome to my new world, champion,” the tribesman said, turning around with a flourish as if presenting all of Rohjek.
“You destroyed a nation. You’re feeding people to dragons. You’re helping the bad guys win!” Angst said, trying to make sense of it. “This is madness!”
“Fire is going to win this time, Angst. You’ve seen how strong he is,” ANduaut said. “When the world is reborn in fire, I will rule it, and the tribes will win the prize!”
The Vex’steppe tribesmen cheered as if ANduaut’s claim was significant. What prize was he talking about? Something nagged at the back of Aerella’s memories, and it was important. If she only had more time.
“A prize?” Angst shouted back. “Have you lost your mind?”
ANduaut roared like a crazy man, shouting and stomping around.
“A little sensitive about that, isn’t he?” Angst whispered to his friends before calling out again. “You realize I’m going to have to kill you. You can’t just destroy a nation and get away with it. Crazy or not.”
“I get to kill ANduaut,” Faeoris growled.
“Fine,” Angst said, the lightning around Chryslaenor growing to a frenzy. “I get the rest.”
“And you think you can do battle with us?” ANduaut taunted. “With your giant, and your midget, and your child. Maybe I will keep the child when you are all dead.”
“Can I kill him, Mr. Angst?” Kala asked.
Angst smirked but didn’t reply. He seemed unmoved by ANduaut’s taunt, as if this were a game. It was far from a game, and yet, they remained still as if each waiting for the next move. Aerella didn’t understand. They were completely outnumbered. What could Angst possibly gain by threatening them? Was this bravado? Did he have a plan?
“What are you doing?” she whispered, shaking her head in frustration. There had to be a way out of this.
“They’re already afraid,” Angst said quietly. “The more they fear, the worse they’ll fight. Hector taught me that.”
“That’s it?” Aerella said in disbelief. “You’re posturing.”
“Trust me,” he said with a wink. “I’ve got this.”
“Oh, that’s not good at all,” Jintorich said.
“Before we get started,” Angst shouted, his voice mocking, “I have one question.”
“Oh?” ANduaut asked.
“What happened to your head?” Angst asked, circling the corner of his forehead with a finger. “Is that why you've gone crazy? Because your brains are mush?”
In a fury, ANduaut cried for his troops to attack, but didn’t move. None of them moved. They all looked at their feet. The dragon looked around as if waiting for something to happen. It didn’t. Angst had anchored their bones to the ground, and Aerella shuddered in awe of the raw power that must’ve taken. The strain showed in his pale face, and he was gasping for breath as if being chased, but that didn’t seem to dent his confidence.
“See?” he said with a self-satisfied smile.
“Angst?” Faeoris pointed into the sky. “Dragons!”
“Bring it!” Angst said through gritted teeth.
“Are you the one who’s crazy?” Aerella asked.
“Like a silver fox,” Angst said, pointing forward. “Gamlin! Get some!”
Horting noises came from everywhere even before the dragons could land. Dozens of gamlin, large and small, leaped up as if flung from the ground. They dove into the dragons like fingers shoved into a plum. Liquid fire poured out of the dragons as they crashed to the ground.
“Faeoris,” Angst called out. “Kill ANduaut!”
“Yes!” she cried, flying forward.
“Aww,” Kala said.
“Sorry, kid,” Angst said. “She called dibs before you.”
Commanding the gamlin to attack was enough of a distraction that he’d released the tribesmen. They raced towards them, screaming an annoying battle-whine that made him wince.
“Maarja, to the right,” he commanded, pointing at the charge with his long blade. “Scar, to the left. Kala, keep him safe!”
“Affirmative!” she said as the l
arge dog launched into the air.
“Me?” Aerella said, sucking in her lip.
“You didn’t come with to fight,” Angst said. “Keep your eyes open, let me know if someone is in trouble...well, more trouble than they can handle.”
“I can wield magic you can’t even fathom!” she snapped defensively.
“As a teenager?” he asked. She was too young right now, maybe only five years older than Kala, who was protected by Scar. Aerella held way too much knowledge to be injured in a battle he knew they would win. He placed a hand on her shoulder and looked into her eyes. “Our survival may hinge on what you know. Let’s save your power and use it as a last resort. That’s an order.”
Her grimace became a pout as she crossed her arms and stared at the ground. He sighed. This was not the time to think Aerella was cute, and he was glad she wasn’t reading his mind like Victoria.
“Not to mention,” Angst let go and pointed to the battlefield. “Look around, they’re already doing great.”
Faeoris’s broad grin was visible, even from this distance. ANduaut’s attacks were quick, but it was obvious she was toying with him. Every time he lunged, she slapped him across the mouth, her sword held high and away. He swung wildly, and she leaped into the air, hovered, and landed again, giving ANduaut a shove. Angst smiled until ANduaut made a quick cut across her ribcage with his double-bladed staff. Angst fought the instinct to blur to them and hero the crap out of him, but she deserved the kill. If things got too rough, Maarja was nearby.
A dozen tribesmen surrounded the Nordruaut in a wide ring, wary to approach. Angst tapped Aerella’s shoulder and pointed at them.
“Wow,” Aerella said. “I knew she was strong...”
Tucked neatly under Maarja’s giant arm was the diamond shaped head of a young dragon. It reminded Angst of a dog that had gotten its head stuck in a fence, except the dragon was continuously being punched in the face. While these dragons weren’t the largest Angst had ever seen, by far, it could have eaten him in a mere bite or three. Every time Maarja’s punching bag drew in breath, she would point its mouth at the nearest tribesman. Right before the dragon spewed flame, Jintorich would leap up from behind the target and strike him with his staff. In spite of his size, it was just enough momentum to move the man into the line of fire. Jintorich would bounce away to safety, leaving another toasted body to squirm and smolder with the rest.
“Yaaaah,” squealed Kala from the other side of the battle, her little war cry followed closely by a bone-rattling bark.
Scar picked up men like chew toys, shaking them ruthlessly before tossing them into the air. Most remained still when they finally landed; the unfortunate ones who tried moving were crushed by the giant dog’s enormous paw. Several were peed on—territorially, of course. The tribesmen were deft enough to avoid Scar’s three wagging tails covered in steel blades. Occasionally, one would try attacking from the sides, only to be knocked away. Small bolts of darkness shot out from Kala’s hands, something she must’ve picked up from her mother. The blasts were just strong enough to strike approaching tribesmen down. New chew toys for his dog.
“This can’t be healthy for a young girl to see,” Aerella admonished, still flustered. “You should be out there instead of her. What are you doing?”
“Catching my breath.” Had he been that belligerent as a teen? He mopped sweat from his forehead, his chest still heaving from his own battle with dragons, which had been as rough as any he remembered. There were no friends, no time to summon an army of gamlin, just him and his beatstick. It had been close.
“Don’t you dare get old on me now,” she snapped.
“Not today,” he said, pointing his sword at a dozen tribesmen who’d decided to rush them. It didn’t matter. He could do this. One more breath, that was all he needed. After two, he blurred forward. This wouldn’t take a minute, and then he could get back to the breathing thing...
“Angst, watch out!” Aerella cried.
Crushing, wet jaws lifted him off the ground. Hot breath like falling on a campfire cooked the side of his body. He couldn’t breathe. His chest felt like he was wedged between two cliff walls, but these walls had very large teeth. The dragon landed, spitting him out like he was bad food. He stood slower than he normally would’ve. Everything hurt. His joints creaked, his muscles strained, and his chest felt dented inward. He was shaking from exhaustion. Maybe a third breath would’ve been wise. The dragon took a step back, and then another, giving him just enough time to gather power from Chryslaenor.
The sword didn’t sing, it screamed and cursed a song that made Angst turn his head. His eyes went wide, and his heart suddenly bounced around the inside of his chest as panic took over. A ball of flame from nowhere, far too large to be dragonfire, was heading straight toward him. He froze. There was no time. His mind raced, but it was too much and too fast. He thought of Heather, and he thought of his kids, and he wished he could’ve held them again.
The tiniest of shadows leaped before him, squeaking a cry that pierced his ears. The enormous ball of flame engulfed Jintorich. There was a high-pitched scream and a blinding flash of bright white. When Angst could see again, he found Jintorich at his feet, lying still. The fireball was gone. The Meldusian’s small body was smoldering, but miraculously seemed untouched. His tiny, white robes hadn’t even been burned, and he clutched the little staff like a beggar would bread. Angst’s senses hesitantly returned as if peeking out from under covers one at a time. His heart slowed to a race. He could see the battle around him. He could once again hear sounds other than the foci song. He breathed.
“I don’t know how you did it, but thank you,” Angst said, kneeling beside Jintorich. With two fingers on the Meldusian’s shoulder, he gently shook the tiny man. “Wake up, buddy, we’re not done yet.” Jintorich didn’t move. Angst placed a hand on his chest. “Jintorich?”
“Wake up, my friend,” Maarja said, suddenly beside them. Her white furs were scarred with black singe marks, and she held her side. Maarja brushed Angst’s hand aside and pressed a finger to Jintorich’s unmoving chest. A moment passed, and then another. Her eyes squeezed shut.
“Jintorich, no,” Angst said, his throat tightening. Angst gripped the man’s tiny wrist but felt no life. “I’m so sorry,” Angst said, shutting the Meldusian’s eyes.
Maarja roared.
38
Eastern border of Unsel
“Going over there may’ve been a mistake!” Simon shook Andec’s shoulder. “Sean says they’re coming!”
He already knew. In spite of collapsing to the ground in panic and exhaustion, Andec heard the distant battle cries and felt the ground vibrate. Nikkola and Simon helped him to stand so he had a much better view of their onrushing slaughter. The horde of Fulk’han gray men and brightly colored women charged across the wide battlefield in a V formation, like a flock of geese. Lurp lumbered forward slowly, staying far behind at the center of the V.
“I thought you were here to help,” Captain Kyle said sharply as he mounted a great white stallion. He rode off shouting, “To arms, soldiers of Unsel! Archers at the ready! Pikemen, brace for impact!”
“What do we do?” a young, dark-haired wielder in homespun asked.
“We wait, Jace,” Andec said, struggling to keep his voice steady.
They only had minutes, and he couldn’t imagine surviving this. There were so many Fulk’han, a sea of gray rushing toward them, roaring in challenge. He licked salty anticipation from his lips and hoped his face was braver than his heart.
“We should fight!” a heavyset woman shouted, a deep purple hue glowing around both hands.
“Hold, Misty.” He pointed out to the battlefield. “We don’t even know where to go yet.”
As the Fulk’han closed in, the two ends of the V shape came together to form a double-file line. They shouldn’t have been able to move this fast on foot; it was as if someone had shot an arrow of Fulk’han at the Unsel army. Guldrich stood atop his building with legs as th
ey raced alongside the new formation, all the while shouting orders and directing them.
“Now! Go to the middle of our soldiers, we face this head on,” Andec shouted. “Keep track of your partner, protect the soldiers, and try not to get blood on your armor.”
They all looked at him in surprise. This was why he rarely joked—nobody appreciated his humor. He summoned his swifen, and raced to the center.
Unsel soldiers had been standing in rows along the field, making them too spread out to face the attack that would puncture the heart of their formation. Both ends of the Unsel's long line rushed toward the middle, but they would never make it in time. The sparkly captain and his knights would be long gone before backup arrived. The charging arrow of Fulk'han would slice through them like an apple. Even if Unsel soldiers managed to kill one or two, or a dozen, the thin line would only last moments.
“Fire!” Kyle called out.
A thick volley of arrows screamed through the air, each made solid thwipping sounds as they struck their targets. Not a single Fulk’han fell.
“Fire!” Kyle called out again, his voice strained.
More arrows flew like migrating birds, most connecting with their target to no avail. The two Fulk’han lines split into four as the arrow widened. Andec didn’t understand what they were doing, and from the look on Captain Kyle’s face, neither did he.
A dark, vertical circle appeared with a loud pop a mere hundred yards away from them. It grew, spinning faster and faster like a hungry cyclone forming on a mirror. The Fulk’han army raced toward it as if it were merely a cloud.
“Stay away from that!” Andec called as loudly as he could. “It’s a portal!”
“One of yours?” Nikkola asked.
“Are you kidding?” he asked. “I don’t have that sort of power. Nobody does!”
“Fall back!” Captain Kyle shouted. Soldiers down the line echoed his command.
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