A Clash of Fates: The Echoes Saga: Book Nine

by Quaintrell, Philip C.

  That in itself was a daunting thought that would see most run away, never to return. Fortunately, the old ranger in him knew exactly how to tackle such a fight: the knights of Erador were just monsters. He had fought and slain more monsters than he had eaten hot meals. That’s all this was. Just another day killing monsters.

  With that thought underlying his determination, he kept Pig on a straight heading and ploughed deeper into the mountains. Overhead, the dragons deliberately double-backed on themselves again and again to stay close to the army until they reached The Bastion. The valley, however, was mile upon mile of mounting snow, so thick in parts that the Warhogs struggled to move through it. Costing them vital energy and resolve, their journey went on and on, hour after hour, until the sun was hidden behind the western mountains.

  “Camping in this is going to be hellish,” Sir Ruban called out against the wind.

  Doran was about to agree when he noticed the dragons fading away into an evening sky. They were angling into the north, to the dwarf’s right, and heading for the top of the nearest mountain.

  “I don’ think we’ll be campin’!” the king replied, returning his gaze to the open valley before them. He held up a balled fist and orders were immediately called out to halt their incessant march.

  Faylen’s horse approached to bring the High Guardian over. “The Bastion must be up there,” she reasoned.

  Kassian Kantaris came up from behind Doran, having left his horse with his Keepers. “If The Bastion is up there,” he posed, “where are all the Reavers guarding the passage?” The young mage surveyed the valley as they all had. “It’s just… more snow.”

  “And the sun is dropping fast,” Sir Ruban added, as the wind whipped snow about them. “It will be dark soon.”

  The son of Dorain scowled at the setting. “I don’ like it.”

  “Perhaps our assessment was wrong,” the captain continued.

  “Alijah must have ordered his forces up to The Bastion,” Kassian said gravely. “If we don’t find that path before nightfall we’ll never get up there.”

  Doran shook his head, his eye never wandering from the valley. “We’re dealin’ with a necromancer,” he reminded them. “He’s not playin’ by our tactics.” The dwarf climbed down from his Warhog and was dismayed by the deep snow he discovered.

  “What are you thinking?” Faylen enquired.

  Doran squared his jaw and frowned. “What am I thinkin’?” he echoed. Unable to answer the question, he started forward, through the snow. Thaligg and Thraal naturally made to follow but the king stopped them with a gesture. Instead, he looked back at Kassian. “Bring yer wand, lad.”

  With the Keeper beside him, Doran broke away from The Rebellion forces. Together they walked further into the valley, though no further than their ability to call back. As light faded from the world, Kassian brought his wand to bear with a glowing light shining from the tip.

  “What are we looking for, Doran?” he asked.

  The dwarven king ran a hand through his blond beard, taking some of the snow out of it as he did. “Somethin’ ain’ right,” he muttered, though the wind snatched it from the air before the words could reach the Keeper.

  Standing still, his sight battling with the feeling in his gut, Doran let some of the tension go in his hand, allowing Andaljor’s hammer end to dip into the snow beside him.

  Doran froze and not from the plummeting temperature.

  He looked down at where the end of his hammer would be, where he had just heard the familiar sound of steel knocking against steel. Kassian had heard it too and quickly turned on the dwarf, his wand pointed down at the pile of snow. Now that the light was directed at the ground, they could see the definition in place of the white out. The ground was covered in piles of snow similar to the one Doran was standing beside.

  The king looked up to meet Kassian’s eyes and found the same cold dread of realisation that lived in him. Without wasting another second, Doran turned back to The Rebellion and cried, “SHIELDS!”

  At the same moment, thousands of Reavers sprouted from the valley floor, their numbers curling around the edges of the rebel forces, at the foot of the mountainside. The Reaver beneath Doran’s hammer shot up from the snow only to receive a destructive blast to the face from Kassian’s wand, the tip ignited with a devastating spell.

  Enemies rising left and right, the son of Dorain had no choice but to heft Andaljor and swing with all his might. After hammering the closest Reaver in the chest, he took the opportunity to unclip the two halves of the ancient weapon. By the time he was wielding both axe and hammer, Kassian had unleashed a torrent of colourful spells and sent undead fiends back to the afterlife.

  Not far away, Faylen and Sir Ruban gave the order to close ranks and organise a shield wall - they had only seconds before the Reavers were upon them. Doran glimpsed Thaligg and Thraal darting away from the formation and riding towards him on their Warhogs, and Pig close behind them. Inevitably, the Reavers swelled between them, cutting the brothers off from their king.

  Now, with Kassian already disappearing behind a wall of Reavers, the son of Dorain faced the battle of his life, alone.

  56

  Where it all Began

  Alijah’s maniacal laughter echoed through the halls of The Bastion. The Rebellion had entered The Vrost Mountains with all the finesse of a Troll and wandered into a fight they couldn’t possibly win. Even now, he watched through the dead eyes of his knights as they fell upon Doran Heavybelly with sword and spear. The mettle of dwarves would be tested this night, their arrogance laid bare.

  The elves, however, were already proving themselves a wicked foe. Their magic tore through the ranks of his Reavers, lighting up the darkness as they cast numerous bodies into the air. It only bolstered Alijah’s resolve to extinguish their entire race. With the death of magic, they could have experienced full and rich lives, but they had taken that option away with their reckless action.

  It was with reckless action in mind that Alijah turned to the eyes of his Dragon Rider, Vilyra. Through her, he saw a small band of rebels who believed they alone could defeat him in his own fortress. They were brought to his door on the backs of Athis, Ilargo, and a third dragon he couldn’t name.

  Is that Asher I see? he queried through his bond.

  Malliath, who was also watching events unfold via their connection with Vilyra, replied, It is of no consequence. His dragon is a youngling - their scales will not stand up to my bite.

  A pity, Alijah mused. In another life, Asher would have made an excellent Dragon Rider.

  Soon, Malliath purred, he won’t even have this life.

  As the dragons neared and Godrad acquired a better look at their passengers, Alijah rose to his feet, knocking the chair out from behind him. Inara was always going to challenge him, chained to her duty as she was, but she had brought their parents along to aid in killing him.

  I told you, Malliath said. They have chosen their side.

  Alijah’s fists balled into tight knots until his knuckles cracked. This was it, the day The Crow had warned him about so many years ago, the day when those who claimed to love him would challenge him.

  Sacrifice without hesitation.

  Now he truly understood what that lesson meant. Tonight, he was going to spill his family’s blood for the sake of the realm, sacrificing any hope of rekindling what they had lost. And he knew there were none who could ever love him as Inara and his parents had, but he would find a way to live without it - what other choice did a good king have?

  The northman is among them, Malliath informed him, bringing Alijah back to the present. I would taste his flesh.

  He is protected by that wretched Golem, Alijah remarked. They are notoriously difficult to destroy.

  I have slaughtered my kin by the score, Malliath boasted. I pay no mind to the likes of a Golem.

  Indeed, Alijah could feel his companion’s appetite coming alive at the thought of it all. Rather than comment on the dragon’s desir
es, the king returned his gaze to the mountain tops. Vilyra and Godrad were following closely from behind, using the encroaching clouds as cover. Sharpening Godrad’s reptilian eyes, Alijah quickly spotted Galanör and Aenwyn astride Ilargo. Though he was to be attacked by the few, The Rebellion had brought together the realm’s fiercest warriors.

  Let us begin, Malliath declared with hungry glee.

  Wait, Alijah cautioned. They are a menacing group to be sure, but their real strength is drawn from their belief that together, they can overcome anything. I would break them first, and let them see the end, before that final blow.

  Hmm. Malliath mulled it over with growing anticipation. Fear does make the meat sweeter.

  Alijah couldn’t attest to that but, in their fear, he hoped his enemies - those who had been so close to him - reflected on their misjudgement of him and the error of their ways before they died. Let us divide and conquer, he suggested.

  * * *

  Vighon narrowed his eyes at the black stone of The Bastion. As dark clouds rolled in, dimming any light from the moon, the ancient fortress almost disappeared entirely into the mountain. He had never seen the desolate place before but, seeing it now, he decided that none of the accounts had given its aura of malevolence enough credit. From Atilan, to The Crow, and now Alijah, The Bastion had provided shelter to naught but evil.

  Before Athis touched down on the wide steps that led up to the main doors, the red dragon released its grip of Sir Borin. The Golem landed on his feet and required only the slightest bend in the knees to absorb the bone-breaking drop.

  Along with Reyna and Nathaniel, the king climbed down and joined Sir Borin on the icy steps. Inara remained in her new saddle for the moment, surveying the walls that stretched high into the mountain rock.

  The ground shuddered when Ilargo came down on the snowy slope beside the steps. Galanör and Aenwyn practically glided down the dragon’s side. Like Vighon and the others, they quickly, without the dragon’s radiating warmth, adjusted their hoods and cloaks to protect them against the vicious winds that battered the mountain side.

  Being smaller, Avandriell was able to land on the hewn stone between the steps and main doors. With his green hood up, Asher cut a formidable figure astride the bronze dragon, his silvyr blade and quiver over his back and his broadsword on his hip.

  “What’s wrong?” Reyna shouted up to Inara.

  “Malliath’s scent is in the wind!” Inara yelled down.

  No sooner had she said his name than the black behemoth thundered onto the steps behind them. His purple eyes appeared to almost flare as he lowered his head to reveal Alijah astride the base of his neck. Vighon braced both his stance and his courage as he stared the pair down. From his back, he retrieved the rounded enchanted shield and, from his belt, the flaming sword of the north, its flames a gift of elven magic.

  “As king of these lands,” Alijah boomed, “I sentence every man, elf, and dwarf in that valley to death!” A wicked grin spoiled his features. “Death by fire!”

  With that decree, Malliath launched back into the air and curled his body round to take them into the mountains. Vilyra and Godrad swiftly dived out of the clouds, summoned by their masters to join in the fiery carnage.

  Athis and Ilargo didn’t hesitate to leap back into the air and give pursuit. Not to be left behind, Avandriell pounced towards the lip of the steps and beat her wings, taking Asher into the chase.

  “Wait!” Vighon called after them.

  “That’s not our fight!” Galanör shouted over the wind.

  “We can’t stay out here!” Nathaniel warned them. “Get inside!”

  Vighon followed them to the doorway but hesitated on the threshold. “All of our forces are down there,” he agonised.

  “The path down to the valley would doom us all before we got there,” Reyna cautioned. “We have no choice now.”

  Vighon entered The Bastion and watched the outside world narrow until Galanör and Aenwyn sealed the doors shut. The northman turned around and pulled back his hood to take in the cold and empty void of the fortress’s throne room, its ceiling oppressively low.

  “You’ve been here before,” he stated, talking to the Galfreys.

  “Yes,” Reyna answered. “And we had hoped to never return.”

  Another question parted Vighon’s lips but the words never left his mouth. Instead, he held his breath and listened. It had been a distant sound that had caught his attention, but there was something to it that had given him pause - something insidious. The noise continued to grow, echoing through the passages and filling the throne room.

  “What is that?” the king whispered.

  Aenwyn slowly removed an arrow from her quiver. “It sounds like… claws.”

  Nathaniel groaned. “Some things never change.” The old knight removed his sword cleanly from the scabbard and brandished it in both hands.

  “What is it?” Vighon asked again, preferring to visualise his enemy before actually seeing them.

  Reyna nocked an arrow onto her enchanted bow and pulled the string taut. “Darklings,” she uttered.

  * * *

  The wind howled as it rushed past Gideon’s ears. Ilargo had the lead in their pursuit, his wings closing the gap to Godrad and Vilyra. Ahead of them, Alijah and Malliath buffeted the air like a hurricane, a force of nature that none could withstand.

  We have to get ahead of them! Inara commanded across their bond of three. Even one attack from Malliath will devastate our forces!

  Gideon failed to see how they would achieve such a feat - Ilargo was flying as fast as he could. Before they could begin to strategise, the mountains fell away and the valley floor was revealed below. Like a ravenous maw, the Reavers were slowly devouring The Rebellion, engulfing the bulk of the army while closing in from the sides. Brilliant colours flashed across the battlefield as elven spells pushed Alijah’s fiends back.

  Above it all, Godrad closed his ragged wings and plummeted towards the chaos. Gideon and Ilargo hesitated when Malliath not only continued his flight but began to climb even higher.

  What’s he doing? Inara questioned.

  No time! Gideon’s response came as Ilargo imitated Godrad and dived after the powerful Reavers.

  They’re dividing us! Asher growled.

  Just keep him away from the battle! Gideon instructed them.

  To preserve their focus, Ilargo closed off his mind to Athis and Avandriell. Gideon kept himself flat to his saddle, his hands fixed around the handles. The ground rushed up to meet them, bringing the battle into more detail. Godrad had positioned himself to approach from the east, allowing him to fly over the majority of The Rebellion’s forces.

  Hold on! Ilargo warned with fierce determination.

  The green dragon twisted his body mid-dive and brought his claws into Godrad’s back leg. The collision interfered with their dive as claws and gnashing fangs lashed out. The attack run completely ruined, Godrad fanned his wings, leaving Ilargo to continue downward until he corrected his fall and glided over the top of the battle. Gideon looked up to discover that Vilyra was already instructing her dragon to renew their attack on the rebels.

  They’re lining up for another attempt! Gideon warned.

  As soon as Ilargo was free of the western tip of the battle, he beat his wings and ascended the valley. A quick banking roll brought him around to face Godrad, who was now only moments from bringing his fiery breath within range of the rebels. Ilargo dipped low and then hammered his wings to soar up into the ravaged beast. Again, the dragons slammed into each other with feral abandon, spinning and flipping out of their flight pattern.

  Gideon held on through it all. He could feel the blows that Godrad’s claws brought to Ilargo’s body, but the pain was his alone. Enraged by the pain, Ilargo roared with defiance and dropped Godrad into the side of the nearest mountain, all the while their claws raking at each other.

  In a daring move - the likes of which Gideon had never seen - Vilyra avoided being crushed betwe
en Godrad and the rocks by leaping and skipping through the chaos of the dragons’ attacks. Her movements seemed effortless as she darted across their scales and found her way onto the bony frame of Ilargo’s wing. From there, she dashed across his back and even took a swipe at Gideon with one of her twin blades. The old master parried the flash of steel with Mournblade and turned his head to watch Vilyra continue her journey and jump over the other side. It was all coordinated perfectly with Godrad, who detached himself from the vicious grapple with Ilargo and returned to flight as his companion came down on his neck once more.

  Did you see that? Gideon asked, bewildered.

  I was a little busy! Ilargo replied, pushing off from the rock in pursuit.

  Gideon quickly came to the conclusion that he had wildly underestimated the prowess of Dragon Riders when it came to aerial combat. Vilyra had practically glided over Ilargo, having navigated the rough contours of both his and Godrad’s body, and even found time to lash out at him.

  Don’t be impressed, Ilargo told him, his fangs gritting against the pain. Be better.

  Gideon took on his companion’s words as well as his grit and maintained Mournblade in one hand. Ilargo relayed an image across their bond, informing Gideon of his intentions. The old master shifted his body to one side, his muscles braced for the manoeuvre. The green dragon came down at Godrad from an angle and an orientation that gave Gideon a clean opening to attack Vilyra.

  Cutting across the valley, Ilargo flew over Godrad’s back. To Gideon, upside down, the enemy was above him and well within the reach of his sword arm. Vilyra, however, raised one of her swords and parried the swift strike in a clash of sparks. Shooting straight over the undead dragon, Ilargo quickly corrected his orientation and banked to the left, bringing them back in line with Godrad.