by Ben Hale
The wall cracked from the battlements to the foundation, water pouring from the crack and flooding inward, washing away crates and weapon stands. A pair of elves were caught in the flood and carried forty feet.
“Retreat!” Captain Horn bellowed, and the entire group raced away from the wall.
Shadow and Light reached the breach as the others departed. Shadow gave Captain Horn a mock salute, and noticed the female elf fighting at his side. Was that Princess Serania? The captain clenched his stomach with his free hand.
“I hope you know what you’re doing,” he called.
“We do,” Shadow said.
Horn nodded and then barked an order before retreating with the rest of his forces. Alone, Shadow and Light stood in the center of the breach as the remainder of the wall section cracked again—and then shattered. The entire wall collapsed, flooding in both directions. One ballistae was crushed as another crate fell from the battlements above. Krakas appeared and hacked at the wall, expanding the breach, but one figure stood in their midst.
Famine.
“Shadow and Light,” she sneered. “I did hope I would get to kill you.”
“I know,” Shadow said. “But sadly, you won’t get the chance.”
“Greetings, Lady Dentis!” Light waved, and then squinted. “It’s still you in there, right?”
Famine pointed to them and clenched her fist, and Shadow grimaced as his hunger spiked. Even in shadow form, the woman’s power was tremendous. The woman began to advance, and by unspoken accord Light and Shadow retreated, stumbling backwards from the powerful general.
“You think your brotherhood can stop us?” Famine asked, her voice rising. “That you can survive what Draeken and Serak have built?”
Light tripped and Shadow caught his arm, dragging him down the street. “Did Draeken tell you he was going to make you ugly?” he taunted. “Or was that just a surprise?”
The woman’s eyes flared with anger and she pointed to them. Light groaned, and Shadow pulled him harder, down the street and away from the breach. Soldiers circled behind Famine and filled the gap, rushing to erect temporary fortifications. She didn’t spare them a look, and continued to advance on Shadow and Light.
“I am more powerful than you can imagine,” she said. “And everything strong in you was taken when Draeken came into being.”
At the perimeter of Famine’s power, Queen Rynda raised her bow and fired, the arrow splintering apart, the splinter arrows arcing for Famine. The woman picked up a shield and held it aloft, catching the bolts before pointing to Rynda. She clenched a fist, and the powerful rock troll queen collapsed, gasping for breath.
“When I’m done with you,” she said, turning back to Shadow and Light. “I’m going to watch your entire alliance wither and die.”
Light was slowing, so Shadow pulled his brother into an overgrown yard. Kicking the door into an abandoned home, he shoved Light into the interior and hurried him towards the back exit. Famine ascended the steps, the wood beginning to rot beneath her feet.
“You think to escape?” she called. “There is nowhere for you to go.”
Shadow leaned against the wall, gasping for breath. Light whimpered at his side, holding his stomach. Famine advanced across the space and raised her hands, a smile spreading on her sunken features.
“When I touch you, every bit of flesh in your bodies will die, and your magic will have nothing left. Two of the five fragments will be dead, and Mimic will deal with the others.”
Shadow managed a smile and raised his voice. “Lorica?”
From outside the house—Elenyr’s house, to be exact—Lorica and Dothlore pulled a lever the dwarves had installed. The floor dropped out from under Famine, and she fell into the ascender shaft.
She screamed as she fell, and the farther she went, the better Shadow felt. He rose to his feet and pulled Light to his. Light smiled weakly, and the pair stepped to the edge. Shadow peered into the dark abyss. Lorica reached the doorway and breathed a sigh of relief.
“You cut it a little close,” Shadow said.
“I almost died just being that close to her,” Lorica said.
“Do you think she survived the fall?” Light asked.
“Of course,” Shadow said, and then listened for the distant snarls. “But I left a few hundred shadow creatures for her to play with. I doubt she’ll make it out before noon.”
Light chuckled. “I love your plans. They are always so devious.”
Shadow clapped him on the back. “And Mind said our plan would never work.”
“He said it was dangerous,” Lorica corrected him. “Not that it would never work.”
Snarls erupted from the dark shaft, followed by a shout of anger, sweet sounds of a foe being assaulted by a wealth of shadow creatures. Satisfied that the Raven would be occupied for a while, Shadow caught his brothers arm and jerked a thumb back to the city.
“We still have three more generals to deal with.”
“Make that two,” Elenyr said, entering through the wall.
She turned corporeal and leaned against the wall. Blood stained her clothing from a host of wounds but her features were fixed and determined. She peered down into the dark shaft and nodded in satisfaction.
“Gendor is temporarily on our side,” she said.
“No,” Lorica scowled and jerked her head. “You cannot trust him.”
“For now, we can,” she said. “And we need all the help we can get.”
“Are you certain?” Shadow asked.
“As much as I can be,” she said. “We just need to find Mimic. Last I saw, Mind was in the Titan fighting Bartoth.”
I could use some help out here. Mind’s words entered Shadow’s consciousness, rushed and annoyed. He gave an image of his current situation, of Tardoq and the Bonebreaker in a frenzied duel with Bartoth, and Mind half carrying Moren toward the city gates. He managed to force a riderless horse to him and loaded the wounded mind mage into the saddle before helping the girl up as well.
“Looks like Mind has a girlfriend,” Shadow crowed.
“Shadow,” Elenyr warned. “Can we please focus?”
“I am focused,” Shadow said as they raced out of the house and back towards the conflict. “I’m focused on his girlfriend.”
Light began to laugh. “Shadow’s not wrong.”
“I’ll meet you there,” Elenyr said. “There’s one thing I need to do first.”
She leapt away in another direction, while Shadow, Light, and Lorica sprinted toward Mind. A dragon rose over the wall and roared. As he sought to fly, a kraka on his back plunged his sword into the beast’s spine. It crumpled, another dragon pouncing and engulfing the killer in dragon fire.
Arrows, catapult stones, and skorpian bolts filled the haze of smoke. Fiends shrieked and snarled as men shouted, the clang of swords and cracking glass a sharp counterpoint to the meaty thud of large bodies. Nowhere was the fighting more fierce than at the breach, where fiends and alliance fought for dominance. Shadow then looked skyward and spotted Water astride the great golden beast, and wondered why he was the one that got to ride a dragon . . .
Chapter 40: Defiance
Astride his dragon, Water surveyed the battlefield. The arrival of the dragons and Mind’s Titan had thrown everything into chaos, and the fiend charge had stalled. Aside from the one breach in the Ilumidora city walls, there had been no more breaks. Some of the walls were even repairing.
His dragon, Kinselithen, spoke into Water’s thought. I’m sending the reds to strike the north ranks of skorpians.
“A wise tactic.”
Water watched a dozen red dragons rise into the air before descending toward a group of thousands of skorpians. Sweeping above the giant creatures, the dragons rained dragonfire upon the fiends. Skorpians deeper in the fiend army retaliated, and the bolts darkened the air. The attack forced the dragons upward, but one was not so lucky, and a host of black spears pierced his scales. He landed hard, and fought with teeth and claws
against the horde of fiends that swarmed his body.
I do not see Gorewrathian, Kinselithen rumbled, the anger evident in his voice. You promised me a chance to slay the coward king.
“He should be here,” Water said.
Do not make me regret my choice to join your war, the dragon growled.
“You joined us because it was the only smart choice,” Water said. “We both know that after Draeken finished with us, he would come for you. Our only chance was to fight together. And do not forget that your father was already killed because of this war.”
The throne is mine by right, Kinselithen said, his voice as hot as his fire.
“And if we survive, you have the oath of the Hauntress and the oracle that you will regain what belongs to you.”
We are allies of circumstance, the dragon replied. When the circumstance changes . . .
The implication was clear, but Water had known the danger when he’d agreed to speak to the dragons. Elenyr had wisely seen them as allies, if they could be convinced of the threat. It turned out that Draeken had done what no other in history had accomplished, and taught the dragons to fear. And that was why they had come, not because they wanted to conquer, but because they wanted to retain their freedom.
“Then let’s make sure we win,” Water replied.
Flames kindled in the dragon’s throat as he dropped from the sky, unleashing his breath on a charge of krakas. Water poured his own magic into the fight, deflecting skorpian bolts and striking at fiends attacking the dragon’s flanks.
He coughed in the smoke and haze that covered the battlefield, cringing when the shatter of glass indicated another section of wall had fallen. At the breaches, the fighting was the most intense, with blood spilled on both sides. But the fiends had blood to spare and gradually pushed their way into the city. Talinorian cavalry rushed into the breach, charging into the field of dead outside the wall before retreating.
The orb around the castle was cracked and broken, the abundance of black spears protruding from its surface. Fire had broken out inside, the flames licking at the limbs of Urindilial. Elves fought to extinguish the flames and save the castle, but Queen Alosia sent them to the defenses, abandoning the castle to its fate.
A skorpian bolt grazed Water’s side and he grimaced before raising a wave of water from a nearby stream, forcing the fiends into a funnel. His mount unleashed his fire, burning the focal point to a deadly inferno.
Elenyr appeared below. As the Hauntress, she passed through fiend and friend, turning to flesh just long enough to slice deep. Where the fighting was fiercest she burst from the earth, her blows so strong that even krakas died in fear. Many sought to kill her, their claws reaching for her body, but she leapt and twisted, avoiding attacks and somehow avoiding the bulk of the damage.
Water caught glimpses of Mind, Tardoq, and the Bonebreaker battling with War but could not offer aid. He and Kinselithen led the dragon charge, dropping into the thickest knots of fighting, and then flying into the air to search for more. Each conflict left them bloodied, but the city survived for a little longer.
He cast his gaze to the sky. Hours had passed, and the city looked on the verge of collapse. A third of the walls were destroyed, the people retreating into the upper boughs of the city. Could they last another hour? And where was Mimic? The thoughts were fleeting, his attention focused on survival and his brothers.
***
Tardoq flanked Bartoth and lunged, driving the heavy sword for the rock troll’s back. With impossible reflexes, the armored behemoth whirled and deflected the blade before spinning back and striking at Belrisa.
The woman danced out of reach and then charged. She swung her hammer upward and then flipped it over, the shaft striking Bartoth in the chin. The blow rocked his head backwards, and would have killed a human. But the troll recovered and swung his sword, cutting a chip from the bone on her thigh.
“Who are you?” he demanded.
“One who breaks bones,” she said.
She feinted, and took advantage of Tardoq’s swing, which forced the general up a slope. He bared a savage smile as she reversed her motion and stepped on a fallen log, leaping high. Her hammer came down on Bartoth’s arm, the weapon striking so hard that even nearby fiends flinched. Bartoth bellowed in pain, the arm twisted at an awkward angle, obviously broken.
“You’ll pay for that,” Bartoth hissed.
“How many more bones can I break?”
Tardoq grinned and leapt at the rock troll’s unprotected flank. He swung his sword in an overhand blow, but even wounded, War managed to deflect the attack. Then Tardoq lightened the weapon, allowing him to spin at impossible speed. At the last moment, he raised the weight again, driving the sword into War’s waist. The armor split, and the sword cut into flesh. Bartoth snarled and kicked Tardoq in the chest, forcing him back.
Bartoth raised his good hand and clenched a fist, and fiends charged their position. Belrisa withdrew pulsing orbs and tossed them into a ring around them. The orbs detonated in plumes of fire, earth, and broken bodies. Other fiends rushed into the breach, but the orbs pulsed again, the explosions turning into fountains of fire.
“You are alone,” Tardoq said, ignoring the sting from his own wounds. “And your fiends cannot help you.”
“You think you are great warriors?” Bartoth snarled. “Victory of two against one is no victory, it is cowardice. If you are truly great, fight me alone, and prove your might.”
Belrisa laughed and darted in, driving Bartoth towards the fallen Titan. “My proof is victory.”
Tardoq attacked the other flank, lightening the sword and allowing him to unleash a blistering volley of blows. Bartoth growled as he fought to keep him at bay, but with one arm broken he could not withstand the assault. Belrisa attacked the opposite side, and together, the two dakorians battered the general of War.
Tardoq grimaced as a wave of weakness washed over him, and noticed a matching look on Belrisa. She fought through the attack, but the weakness mounted. Tardoq spun, and then spotted a figure striding into one of the gaps between the pulsing explosions.
Plague.
Tardoq’s perfect body could not suffer disease, but Mimic’s power was no normal illness. She advanced, her hands outstretched towards Belrisa and Tardoq. He sucked in his breath, willing himself to stand even as spots appeared in his vision.
“You think yourself so perfect,” Mimic said mildly. “But your body is still made of flesh, and all flesh can wither.”
Nearby fiends groaned and collapsed, but Tardoq and Belrisa kept their feet. The weakness was strong but not overpowering, and Tardoq focused on breathing. He turned away from Bartoth to face Plague.
“You were right about magic,” Belrisa said, her voice strained. “It is more powerful than I thought.”
Bartoth tried to attack Belrisa when she was distracted, but she ducked and spun, and used her hammer on War’s knee. He cried out when his knee buckled, and Tardoq bared a savage smile. He spun his sword and advanced on Plague. The woman reached a hand outward, and yellow liquid flowed from within her flesh. Shimmering green and black, it shaped into curved blades that extended from her fingernails.
He swung his sword, carving a deep line across her chest. She did not flinch or retreat, and the mottled flesh began to reknit. She swung her arm, the tip of the poisoned nails grazing his waist as he retreated.
The cuts were hardly a scratch, but they quickly turned red and infected. A fever spread through his body. He had not felt physical weakness since becoming a Bloodwall, and he stumbled back, snarling at his foe.
“Weapons do not harm one like me,” she said, stalking forward. “And there is nothing you can do to stop me.”
She slashed again, the attack almost lazy. Normally he would have evaded with ease, but in his weakened state he only managed to prevent the worst of the damage. His fever mounted, and it was all he could do to keep his stomach from ejecting its contents. He shivered and retreated, his vision cloudy, his
body spiking aches from within his organs.
“You’re going to die here,” Mimic said softly. “Alone and far from home.”
“I’m not alone,” he said as he caught a glimpse of a swirl of green smoke rising at his side . . .
***
Elenyr burst from the ground and turned to flesh long enough to slash her sword across Mimic’s body. The impact drove her back, forcing her away from Tardoq. It also exposed her to Plague’s magic. She grimaced and returned to ethereal.
Flickering to flesh and back, she attacked Mimic with a flurry of blows. Each time she turned corporeal she felt the sting of the disease magic, but Elenyr succeeded in pushing her back to the edge of the clearing, granting Tardoq space. As she did, Light, Willow and Shadow leapt over the fallen Titan and charged, sending bursts of magic at Mimic.
She growled as beams of light plunged into her body, followed by a knife hurled by Water. Shadow then conjured a bow that looked remarkably like Rynda’s splinter bow, the haze and smoke granting him enough power to craft the weapon. He fired, the splinters parting and then plunging into Mimic’s body like a thousand needles. Willow pulled a whip from her waist and attached the ink from a dagger. She snapped it, slicing deep across Plague’s forearm. Mind appeared last and joined Elenyr, the two striking on both sides.
Pride filled Elenyr’s chest as she fought beside her sons. They fought together, battering Plague and driving her back. Even her vaunted magic could not stand against the bond of brotherhood. But before they could press the assault, the ring of explosive geysers died, the flames extinguishing and crumbling. In the ensuing haze and smoke, Elenyr braced for a new fiend charge, but only one figure appeared.
Draeken.
The fragment of Power advanced into the group, and Elenyr called an order. Her sons retreated, joining Belrisa and Tardoq against the Titan’s side. War and Plague stumbled to Draeken’s flanks.
Fiends appeared and formed a new circle, krakas at the front. A hundred soldiers deep, their obsidian swords held high, they stood ready to descend upon Elenyr and her family. Gendor glided at Draeken’s side, his scythe low, his burning eyes glowing. Elenyr retreated from the wounded Mimic and Mind followed, the two retreating to join the others.