His friends called out to him but he couldn’t hear them as the ridge they clung to became farther away. A whirlwind of memories flashed through his mind so quickly he hadn’t time to concentrate on just one.
Wind ruffled his hair, curling his beard around his face. He thanked the gods for blessing such a lucky Kraidic whoreson—even if his luck had only lasted for a day. The grateful whelp of a tart.
Unlikely Allies
“TYGRA!” Silurian shouted after the flailing body of the Kraidic warrior. He almost slipped over the edge himself watching Tygra drop away.
Silurian dropped to a crouch. Up the slope, a hooded wraith stood over Melody, her staff held in its clawed hands. Beneath its cowl, grey skin differentiated it from the other demons. Similar to the one he’d seen in Wizard’s Gibbet.
He recalled the Kraidic Emperor’s words to the wraith but they didn’t make any sense. “Release her, demon, or I’ll split your skull.”
The relevance of Tygra’s actions slammed into him. Had he been wrong about the Kraidic warriors all this time? He shook his head. They had made no effort to hide their desire to kill Melody in the Serpent’s Nest, and more recently after she had survived her ordeal inside the earth wyrm.
He had been through so much lately. Everything was a confusing mess of deception and betrayal. Except for Melody, he didn’t dare trust anyone.
Karvus circled warily above the gaping hole in the mountainside, eyeing two creatures Silurian estimated to be Pollard’s size, if not bigger. Karvus’ bulk was diminutive in the face of the horned demons.
Silurian swallowed as the wraith’s focus fell on him.
Dagan growled something incoherent and brought the staff to life.
Standing precariously on the brink, Silurian couldn’t move without fear of sliding to his death.
“It’s time for you to die, Mintaka.” The staff flared brightly.
Silurian threw himself to the ground, fully expecting to bear the brunt of a fireball. He heard a surprised grunt as the staff discharged a flaming orb into the sky.
Dagan fell to his backside in a flurry of dark robes, sneering at Melody as she ran down the slope.
“Mel, stop!” Silurian called out. Her momentum would carry her over the edge.
She dug in her heels but the ice beneath the snow had her sliding out of control. She dropped to her backside and dug in her palms, a long squeal escaping her mouth.
Silurian jammed the edge of his boots into the snow and scrambled to intercept her—his first sliding steps almost taking him over the edge before his boots regained purchase.
Beyond Melody, Karvus engaged the red beasts, his massive battle-axe a swirling blade of death. One of the demons bled profusely against a snow drift.
Melody slowed enough for Silurian to dive at her. He latched onto her cloak as she drove her fingers, elbows and heels into the ground, pushing a wall of snow ahead of her.
Silurian lay fully outstretched, one hand entangled in her clothing, his other clinging to his sword, digging a quillon into the ice.
The hem of his tunic lifted over his belt but he had no time to worry about the scraping cold. Melody slid past him, dragging him toward the ledge head first. He forced the toes of his boots into the frozen ground. Their combined efforts slowed their demise but it wasn’t enough.
Melody’s feet slid over the edge. She screamed and Silurian shouted. He wrenched on her cloak, “Mel!”
They suddenly stopped, but not because of anything he’d done.
His breeches tugged at his hips. Karvus stood over him, clutching a pant leg in one hand while his other hand hung onto the end of his battle-axe, driven into the ice.
Karvus grunted under the strain—his gloved fingers slipping dangerously close to the end of his axe handle.
Melody cried out, her feet dangling in thin air.
Silurian dragged her out of danger, his shoulder aching under the strain.
Karvus gritted his teeth. “I can’t hold on much longer.”
Silurian gave Melody a huge tug, the strain causing Karvus to lose his grip on the axe. He slipped and fell across Silurian’s legs as another fireball sizzled past where he’d just been standing.
Silurian reefed on Melody’s clothing and brought her within reach of Karvus. “Take her!”
As soon as Karvus grabbed onto Melody, Silurian spun around in the snow and pulled on his sword, the glowing blade had frozen itself into the ice. He willed the earth blood to life, infusing the blade with heat. The sword slid free in time for him to intercept the next discharge from Melody’s staff. The flaming orb shattered off his blade into a harmless spray of fizzling fire.
The wraith bared black fangs, clearly angry at the turn of events.
Silurian spotted the other demon that had stood by Dagan, the creature desperately trying to keep its entrails from spilling through bloody claws.
It wasn’t lost on Silurian how hard the emperor and his aide had fought to rescue him and his sister. Glancing up the slope, he couldn’t help wonder why.
With the wraith in possession of Melody’s staff, Silurian knew he was their only hope of getting off the mountain alive. The earth blood enchanted sword felt oddly familiar with the magical presence the blade had once possessed, yet it was different. He strode toward the demon with his sword held before him, careful to keep himself between Dagan and Melody.
Dagan released two more blasts, one of fire and a second of ice. Silurian parried, his sword absorbing them both.
The wraith sneered. Without warning it charged around Silurian’s reach, running toward the drop-off.
Silurian tried to give chase but his boots slipped out from underneath him and he fell to his knees.
Dagan jumped in the air, holding his cloak out to either side.
“Nooo!” Silurian cried out. The wraith was going to glide down to the forest far below with Melody’s staff in hand.
A whirling battle-axe whistled through the air, embedding itself between Dagan’s shoulder blades.
The wraith screeched. His robes crumpled in the up-rushing air as he plummeted to the forest below.
Dangling Angels
Pollard nearly lost his fingers as the northern span of the bridge fell away. He had put Larina down and foolishly grasped a limp handrail hawser in a futile effort to do something in the face of his friends’ death—anything.
Beside him, Larina screamed continuously. If not for Sadyra and Alhena holding onto her, he was sure she would have jumped onto the falling bridge.
What remained of the bridge spun wildly. Dozens of demons fell, following Rook and Olmar into the abyss.
It was as if a battering ram had taken Pollard in the stomach. His mind struggled to comprehend the loss. Olmar, a man who cared for everyone he met, even though life had been anything but kind to him. And Rook Bowman, the former leader of the Group of Five. Husband of the Wizard of the North and, according to Alhena, vital to any chance they had of defeating Helleden. With Silurian’s demise in the Under Realm, both of the legendary heroes were now lost.
Tears streaked his face. He pulled his fingers free of the hawser as it snapped tight against the edge of the cliff at his feet.
Larina fell to her knees, hands clutching the first deck plank and stared out into the gorge. “Oh, Olmar, what have you done? You can’t leave me. Olmar, please!” Her voice cracked and she nearly followed him to her death.
Sadyra grasped Larina’s sword belt and buried her face into the small of her back, crying and pleading with her to move away from the brink.
Pollard dropped down beside them, afraid they were both about to slip over the edge.
A biting wind swirled down from the snow-capped peak above. He didn’t care.
A surreal sensation of weightlessness, followed by an impression of what he thought flying must feel like, washed over him as the bridge let go. Entangled in a length of rope and bridge decking, he swung toward the grey cliff face of the northern summit.
He fell for
what seemed like a long time. Impacting the unforgiving rock face left him senseless.
He was certain he’d blacked-out. Pain pierced his skull and exploded through his left shoulder. The reality of the recent events hit him with jarring clarity. He hung suspended by his left wrist, his hand twisted between two deck planks and one of the dangling deck hawsers. He couldn’t feel his arm.
He hazarded a look up. Hundreds of mangled deck planks rose out of sight, the entire structure banging gently against the cliff in the wind.
Below him, a dozen planks clung to the severed hawsers, the only thing separating him from a fourteen-thousand-foot drop. Of Rook, there was no sign.
“Bless your heart, Rook. You did good.” He winced. The rope around his wrist tightened—the fiery pain in his separated shoulder, unbearable. All he wanted was to free himself from the agony. “I’m sure to be followin’ ya soon, me friend.”
Gritting his teeth, he reached up with his free hand to lessen the pull of his body weight on his damaged shoulder. The ensuing pain jolted him. Bellowing his misery, his throaty growl mocked him as it echoed back and forth between the cliffs.
There was no way he’d be able to haul his bulk high enough to wiggle his left hand free. Gritting his teeth to keep from crying in the face of the incredible pain, blackness claimed him.
“Don’t you leave me, Lunkhead. You hear me? Olmar! Wake up!”
An angelic voice disturbed his dream, drawing him away from the sweet embrace of dear Larina. He snuggled in closer, careful not to suffocate her beneath his massive bulk. She lay asleep in the crook of his arm, her beautiful face peaceful. He reached out to ever so gently stroke her soft cheek, careful not to wake her.
If only he could stop that damn noise from disturbing the tranquility of the forest glade. It was relentless—begging him to leave his sweet dream.
Something slapped him. Repeatedly. He jerked his head back. An intense pain seized him, pulling him away from the blissful glade and back into consciousness.
Comprehension of his predicament slammed into him—tangled hopelessly amongst the remains of the bridge he vowed never to cross.
He grinned despite the hopelessness. He had conquered his fear and saved Larina. He was going to die content, albeit, in an agonizingly slow fashion. His grin widened. What a sight his carcass would be to whoever stumbled across the grisly scene.
He stared at the clouds drifting below, beckoning him to drop into their false embrace. If only. His ensnared arm had gone totally numb. He wished his damaged shoulder would be so kind.
“Olmar! You’re alive! Oh, my sweet man. Hang on.”
“Rina?” he croaked looking around.
“Don’t talk, dearest Lunky. We’re here.”
He spied the face of an angel clinging to the broken bridge just above his snagged wrist. Fear seized him, but not for himself.
Larina flashed a heart-melting smile and looked up the cliff face, her words almost inaudible in his bleary state. “Hurry, Sadie, hurry!”
Sadie? She was here too? He had formed a familial bond with the cheeky lassie over the last few months. He would do anything for her.
“Rina, no,” he tried to say but his words wouldn’t pass his thick tongue.
Sadyra’s lithe form appeared above Larina, a length of thick rope in one hand.
Olmar wanted to plead with the dangling angels to leave him to his fate. He couldn’t bear the thought of being responsible for their deaths as well.
He frowned. How did Sadie manage to cling to the bridge with only one hand, swaying over a drop that took his breath away? One slip and she was gone.
He shook his head, trying to tell them not to. At least he thought he shook it. He couldn’t tell. Maybe he was dreaming. Perhaps he’d already died.
And then he knew pain like he’d never experienced before. Sadyra and Larina pulled on his jerkin. His body, all five hundred pounds of it, began to move up the cliff in fits of starts and stops.
It didn’t make sense. Neither woman weighed more than one of his legs, and yet, they lifted him out of the gorge. He tried to listen to their strained voices, hear their snippets of conversation, but the words were lost on him. One moment Larina was close to his face; the next it was Sadyra. And then…Pollard? Nothing made sense anymore.
Alhena’s face took over from Pollard. The compassion in the old man’s face filled him with a pleasant warmth. He released himself to the blackness lingering along the fringes of his confusion.
Wizard’s Spike
Melody turned her head to keep Silurian’s hair from flying in her eyes. Five days had passed since they buried Tygra at the base of the cliff below Gimcrack. After removing Karvus’ axe from Dagan’s back and locating Melody’s staff nearby, they had burned the grisly remains of Helleden’s wraith and the demons who’d accompanied him.
Seated behind Silurian on a saddle built for one proved an uncomfortable ride, but there was little to be done about it. The Kraidic Emperor had saved their lives. They couldn’t leave him to fend for himself.
In all that time, Karvus Kraken hadn’t said more than a dozen words after reassuring them he no longer answered to Helleden. Tygra’s death had affected him deeply.
The midmorning sun shone brightly above, basking them in a pleasant winter’s warmth, a nice change from the cold of the last few days.
Karvus chose to ride far ahead, barely visible down Redfire Path. He claimed he wanted to scout the area to ensure Silurian and Melody weren’t taken unaware by wandering troops. He had been certain that they would encounter patrols the closer they got to Carillon, but so far, they hadn’t encountered anyone. The blowing ash drifting over the roadway showed no sign of recent activity.
“I still don’t know how I missed sensing the wraith until it was too late,” Silurian commented. “It was like the one in Wizard’s Gibbet.”
“The same one?”
Silurian didn’t respond at first. Finally, he shook his head. “I don’t think so.”
“Hmm. Perhaps the residual magic of the entrance wards shielded it from you. I’m not sure. I still find it peculiar you sense these things at all.”
“Do you trust him?”
Melody blinked a couple of times. “Karvus? After what he and Tygra did for us against the wraith, how could I not?”
She felt him shrug.
“You don’t?”
“I’m undecided.”
“But Tygra died for you.”
“Yes,” Silurian said slowly, a hint of skepticism in his tone. “He died. For me? Hard to say. He was a Kraidic warrior. If his emperor commanded him to protect me at all costs in order to further the emperor’s grand scheme, he wouldn’t have thought twice about his duty.”
Melody frowned. “That’s a cold thing to say. If not for Tygra’s sacrifice, we’d all be dead. Why the sudden suspicion?”
She felt him shrug again. “Just cautious. The emperor’s men fight for Helleden. How do we know he isn’t taking us into the sorcerer’s grasp?”
“We don’t, I guess.”
“Doesn’t it trouble you he rides so far ahead?”
“He said he’s trying to prevent us from being taken unaware.”
“Exactly. Taken unaware by troops he can signal before we know they’re there.”
A cold feeling tingled her skin. She searched the countryside, seeing nothing but ruin.
Silurian tensed in her grasp and sat up straighter. “He’s seen something.”
She leaned sideways. Karvus sat stationary across Redfire Path, his attention focused on something beyond the next rise. “Helleden’s army?”
“We’ll find out soon enough. If I’m not mistaken, Carillon lies beyond that hill.”
Silurian’s response unsettled her. She knew the land around Zephyr’s capital. She’d spent most of her teenage life there. The devastated landscape appeared profoundly different than she remembered. Staring closely at the contours, she nodded her head. He was right.
Silurian broug
ht their horse alongside Karvus’ and they stared at the expansive mesa unfolding below. Redfire Path gradually descended toward a large body of water. To the right of the lake, the walls of Carillon stretched westward, away from Ring Lake and a solitary tower—the ivory pinnacle resplendent in the sun.
Melody swallowed her unease. Even from this distance the walls didn’t look the way she remembered them. She’d been away for over two decades and many things may have changed, but the thick city walls shouldn’t appear less significant.
She had expected to see vast encampments of Helleden’s army. There were tell-tale signs that such a camp had occupied the fields around the capitol recently, but it wasn’t there now.
Her gaze settled on the Wizard’s Spike. It stood defiant above what her brain slowly realized were the ruins of the most venerated seat in the five realms. Several smaller towers that should’ve made up Castle Svelte were missing.
Silurian heeled their mount into action, forcing her to hang on to his cloak to keep from falling off.
“Mintaka!” Karvus called after them. “You can’t go charging in, they’ll cut you down.”
If Silurian heard the warning, he ignored it.
This was crazy. If Helleden had set a trap for them, Silurian was about to spring it. She calmed herself as best she could. She knew her brother. His mind was made up. Whatever reason possessed him, he wouldn’t stop until he reached the castle, no matter what stood in his way.
She funnelled her energy into her staff. The signs of recent troop movement were evident the closer they got to the city walls—the frozen tundra trampled.
It took Karvus a while but he overtook them before the roadway split. Redfire Path continued east around Ring Lake while the approach to the northern gatehouse branched off to the right.
Karvus pulled up at what remained of a broken hitching post and dismounted, his battle-axe in hand. He stepped into the city and listened before kneeling down to study the marks in the blackened dirt. He rose and waited for them.
Soul Forge Saga Box Set Page 92