The Three Charms

by Brian Spielbauer

  The masked attack from behind was completely unnoticed, even as the much larger drakes began picking off the slower gargoyles at the back of the formation who were still carrying harpies. The dragons swallowed them whole, flying through them. The victim gargoyles and harpies didn’t even have time to scream as the wicked jaws of the drakes snatched them out of the air midflight. The gulps didn’t cause the dragons to slow in the slightest and no warning of the attack carried forth as it continued.

  An eager, but ill-advised, giggling shriek of excitement from one of the dragons tipped off the remaining gargoyles and harpies of their regrettable position. The targets of the hunters began their evasive tactics, desperately trying to cheat their death. The massacre became more difficult but for the long-bored drakes of the mountains, the added challenge became all the more exciting. They longed for the thrill of the hunt, gleefully partaking in the chase of the worthy foe.

  The harpies finally were low enough to fly again as they shook the ice from their wings. They took to the air themselves, at first darting back and forth in a zig zag fashion to avoid the predators.

  Sandor ordered, “Turn and fight, we can’t outrun them!” Their leader laying the plan, the gargoyles regrouped mid-flight and set forth on their counter attack.

  Coral also regrouped her harpies, “Warriors, flee no more!” The battling women peeled off their course, heeding the call of their general. They also went into the attack formation, seeking furious revenge for their friends just lost.

  The drakes owned the edge in size but the gargoyles and harpies held the advantage in agility. The dragon’s swooped here and there, their tremendous silhouette shadows racing across the starry backdrop. The wind from their massive wings shoved the smaller gargoyles and harpies through the freezing air with every monsoon-like beat. The smaller foe darted nastily about, dodging the dragons prodding moves. The gargoyles and harpies were able to do little more than keep the beasts occupied, the thick hides of the dragons impossible to penetrate with their spears and arrows. Only the most direct of hits broke the scaly skin.

  The air combat was fierce, with more than a few gargoyles and harpies losing their lives. The dragons had giant fish-like gills on the sides of their heads, which allowed the dragons to slurp massive amounts of air through their mouths. It enabled the flying demons to suck their prey right out of the wind. Any gargoyle or harpy caught in the wicked vacuum of air was unable to escape.

  The battle occurred high up in the mountains, too far away for anyone in the valley to notice the fight. The sounds reverberated through the night, but sounded as an oncoming thunderstorm. Far below, alongside the fortress of Herrog, Skyler and Taylor were stopping the trolls before the walls of the watchtower. They then readied to charge back to the waiting cavalry of centaurs and horses, marking the thunder rolling down from high above.

  Coral aimed her spear at the largest dragon, letting loose a fated heave that found its triumphant mark, whizzing into the open eye of the drake. The infuriated dragon changed his course and shot after her, seeking quick revenge. She flew with all her might and skill, leading him on a chase that whirled up and down through the air, this way and that. Try as she might, she could not shake the vengeful dragon that closed ever in on her. At last, within range, the dragon opened its mouth, allowing the sword-like fangs to emit. The gills on either side hung wide as the wind gushed through the creases, opening the wind tunnel that pulled at Coral, sucking her back.

  The passionate but reckless pursuit offered the gargoyles a chance to line up their shots against the distracted dragon. As Coral was at the end of the chase, she prepared for her death, planning to fly sword first into the gapping mouth. At the last, she saw the gargoyles lined up, and with her final burst of effort, she cut hard to the right. Coral seduced the infatuated worm, hell bent on killing her, to fly across a shooting gamut the gargoyles had set. The gargoyles hurled many tridents into the thick hide of the dragon, each one piercing through the armor like skin. Their chance to fire from close range allowed the weapons of the gargoyles to drive deep into the dragon, causing him to lose control of his flight.

  The drake shrieked, sounding his agony and embarrassment. The punctured dragon’s carcass slammed full force into the frozen side of the rocky mountain. The sound of the braking boulders from above cracked the wind like thunder. Unable to endure the blow, the rocky face that dutifully stood watch for millions of years over the small valley finally gave way. The boulders crashed down on the ruined body of the magnificently evil beast below.

  The sight of the first dragon’s deceased body burned into his brother’s eyes. The other two halted their attack momentarily, marking the rueful moment. Thinking better of their strategy, at first, they kept their distance from their aware and prepared foe. Then they aborted it altogether and quickly retreated down toward the castle below. Once they arrived at the ramparts, they informed their master of the attack from the mountain peaks. There was nothing the gargoyles or harpies could do to stop them as they went. Herrog knew of the imminent assault.

  Coral and Sandor descended to the start of the tree line, landing next to the corpse of the dragon. Coral retrieved her spear from the fallen dragon’s eye. Only the head of the beast remained unburied by the angry boulders from above, whose only desire was to remain high on the mountain. The harpies and gargoyles looked to their wounded and mourned the dead. Almost thirty of their flyers were gone and all mourned for those lost. The soldiers knew the cost of war, however, and quickly moved on from the battle. As every soldier knew that those who mourned the dead too long risked joining their ranks sooner than they desired.

  “There will be no surprise, not from our direction. We need to go quickly if we are to reach the battlefield before they come back. We need to bring the fight to them at the castle walls, only then will our diversion be of use to Tegan,” Sandor explained, advising his troops to ready.

  “Yes, we need to go. There will be no rest when we arrive. We will follow your lead Sandor, hopefully Cergon and the others are ready too. If they are not in position, this attack will be thwarted without Herrog so much as lifting a finger.” Coral was sad for the lives of her ladies that were lost but knew there could be many more before the day was over. It was time to push on.

  Sandor led them back into the air. The unexpected attack in the high passes cost them both in time and numbers. The direct attack on the fortress began, but their hope for victory seeming to plunge as fast as they did through the dim early morning light to the evil castle below.

  Chapter 27: Evil’s Depth

  Quelna briskly hobbled to his tent, as briskly as a two-hundred-year-old wizard can. His body rhythmically wobbled side to side, the old hips and knees that carried him long ago adjusting to the gait that caused him the least pain. The love of the dwarves he cherished was second only to one other thing, which was his need to save the land they called home.

  The knowledge of what he needed to do did little to lessen the pain of its execution. He was well aware the dwarves would vilify him for eternity, should any survive to do so. These thoughts tore at his mind while he drew ever closer to the tent and his getaway plan.

  Quelna mumbled to himself, “Do not rush, we do not need interference.” He feared the dwarves thwarting his intentions. His many tears were wiped clean as soon as they developed, masking the pain that threatened to erupt from within him. It was vitally important, for the sake of everyone, that the dwarves not stop, question, or detain him. His plan would fall to ruin should he be unable to get away. If his assumptions were correct, the land of Lemuria would follow soon after. For the price of Lemuria’s safety, he would perish if needed. By every definition, he would die a martyr.

  Though Quelna spent much of his life in Tunder Bin and then the Ring Mountains, he grew accustomed to coming and going as he pleased. He traveled on the most meager of provisions, which enabled him the luxury of being able to depart in a moment’s notice. The time had come for him to leave the dwarves, taking
the Stone of Doom and Ruin far from them and from Tegan’s intent to destroy it.

  His troubled mind was set. As soon as possible, he would be delivering it to the only one who could save Lemuria from destruction. The wizard hastily gathered his things, placed them in his pack and prepared to leave. He checked the Stone once again, which hung safely from his neck. It would be his bartering chip to save everyone and everything he loved.

  Quelna peeked out of the tent. Many of the troops were busy and the leaders were a ways off, preparing to meet. There were few soldiers walking about to mark his movements. Quelna intentionally picked a tent toward the edge of camp, thinking he might need a fast exit at some point. He slipped out and took the pony Skyler was riding and walked slowly off into the woods. Only after getting out of sight did he get the pony to kneel so he could get astride. Quelna was going to see his former master, the one he worked with for many years. He hoped he could reason with Herrog and compel him to have pity on the dwarves. In the process, he would attempt to save the entire land of Lemuria.

  As he traveled through the cold and barren woods, he was careful to stay off the main paths so as to remain unseen. The thoughts carried through his mind of the many deeds he was part of over his life. He started as a young apprentice to Herrog in Tunder Bin many years before. His short stature led people to think Quelna was a dwarf, but he actually was a human man. He worked hard to learn everything he could of magic and the land, two things in which Herrog was extremely well-versed. Herrog was a powerful wizard, the most powerful in all Lemuria.

  While at first, he was content to give wise and sought-for counsel, eventually Herrog desired power to rule. His desires coveted greater influence, which led to his banning from the city of Tunder Bin. The blame for that fell squarely on the shoulders of Quelna, who the King banished along with Herrog. Soon after, Herrog moved north alone to be free of the ‘leech’ that he considered Quelna had become. Their friendship ended, mostly due to Herrog learning of the role Quelna played in getting Herrog thrown out. Quelna felt it was a wizard’s role to provide counsel only, while Herrog had grander aspirations. The two became enemies and worked diligently toward different outcomes since.

  Quelna hoped there was still time to mend their differences, to ensure the survival of all. To this end, he sought to barter the Stone of Doom and Ruin for the land. It was a risky venture and one he wished he could avoid. Having spent many years considering this, it was the best plan he could devise.

  He traveled deep into the evening before stopping, his pony worn thin. They somehow survived a bitterly cold night, hidden in a cave alone. The next morning, he rose and followed the trail left by Erol and others with Gulac, trekking ever on toward Herrog’s fortress. After eating the few seeds and bread he brought with him, he mounted his pony, who continued to struggle in the deep snow. He soon noticed Erol, Kyrie, Cergon, Bryon and Gulac leaving the woods from the other side of the valley. He stayed hidden in the trees and watched as the five cautiously entered the low cavern that went under the mountain, disappearing from sight.

  Quelna prepared to follow, but a sight appeared before him that stopped him quick. Pouring out of the mountain above the cavern, like ants rushing from a mound, were legions of trolls, goblins and Tolltier. Quelna’s heart churned at what awaited his friends. While it did not seem to take long, they finally emerged back from under the tunnel. Quelna pained what awaited them on their return, a valley full of the staunch enemy.

  He anxiously watched in safe cover, not knowing whether to show himself. If he challenged Herrog on the open field there would be no chance for barter and he would lose in every way. He witnessed their desperate fight to get free of their foe. Quelna did his best to protect them without giving up his hidden position. Many an arrow, spear and Tolltier he stopped or averted from reaching their target. He was worried to do too much, afraid to give away his own hiding place. He felt like a coward for not doing more, but he came too far to risk his self-imposed mission, not for any prize.

  Quelna aided Cergon in breaking loose from the trolls and then tried to help Erol. He caused several of his enemy to fall, as their aims at Erol he redirected into other trolls. Quelna frantically weaved a spell to stop the arrow fired by Herrog. A net of protection he weaved to protect Gulac, but his master’s magic was too strong as the arrow passed his invisible shield and struck Gulac. At that moment, he feared his presence known, but the enemy did not come for him.

  Forgetting his secrecy, he stood in despair when the Tolltier took Kyrie to the ground. There were far too many of the winged beast for either Kyrie or Quelna to stop. He witnessed Herrog turn from the battle, heading back to his castle and wondered why he allowed the others to leave.

  Cergon, Bryon and Erol made off with Gulac. Quelna hoped Gulac would survive but doubted it would happen. It seemed that as quickly as they appeared, the enemy was gone as Herrog’s forces to fell back inside the mountains that protected and hid his fortress. Quelna quickly rode across the trampled and blood-stained battle field, littered with many goblins and trolls. As he got closer to Kyrie’s body, Quelna also encountered maimed and wriggling Tolltier Kyrie injured during the fight. They reached for him, trying to kill to the last. A spell from the wizard slid the Tolltier away, opening a clean path for him to Kyrie. He would not kill the Tolltier, not wanting to end the suffering the delayed death would play on them over the rest of the day.

  He dismounted and ambled to Kyrie’s still breathing body. The Tolltier ripped his wings off and his body lay wrecked on the ground. It took all the strength he had, but Quelna rolled the gargoyle’s massive body over. He looked in Kyrie’s eyes, seeing his apprentice still living.

  “Old friend,” Kyrie whispered, “why are you here?” He was troubled at Quelna’s presence, guessing at what he might be doing.

  “I am going to save us all,” Quelna answered. He tried to heal some of Kyrie’s many wounds. Kyrie winced as Quelna applied some of his salve to the gashes received from the Tolltier. It took the strongest of his magic to delay Kyrie’s death and Quelna was still unsure if it would be enough to save the gargoyle king.

  Kyrie’s eyes grew as the Stone dangled out of Quelna’s cloak. He quickly concluded Quelna’s plan, “You are making a mistake. He will not trade with you.” He began coughing, blood coming up with each forced breath.

  “I must try,” Quelna replied. He tried to encourage himself as much as Kyrie. The wizard used his horse to pull the giant gargoyle to the edge of the valley. He provided Kyrie a small fire, giving over to him all the food and water he carried. Quelna took his blanket and wrapped Kyrie in it, who kept slipping in and out of consciousness. He left Kyrie with his best chance at life and ordered his pony, “You will stay with the gargoyle king. Keep him safe at all costs and get help when you can.”

  The pony nodded his agreement, knowing the intentions of the wizard and the importance of keeping the mighty gargoyle warrior alive.

  Quelna started to walk away, when Kyrie tried to speak to him one more time, his words choppy and weak. “He is not… who you think… he is.”

  Quelna stopped but did not turn around. He reached up, placed the Stone inside his cloak once more, and meticulously maneuvered the body littered battlefield toward the entrance of tunnel. He bore the weight of the world and he leaned heavily on his wooden staff for support.

  He carefully entered the cavern, sloshing through the cold rushing water that soon found entry into his worn boots. Though it was not far, every step he took seemed as if a lifetime, so heavy were his thoughts racing. The battle within his mind did far more damage than the wreckage left behind him on the field. Eventually he emerged from the other side, determined his path was the right one. He deemed his intended end worth the risk.

  The sight of the fortress rising before him was even greater than he ever considered. The towers seemed to prick the very bottom of the clouds. Many trolls and goblins were scurrying around outside the moat and wall, feverishly preparing for the expected battle
. Seeing the size of Herrog’s forces, Quelna became more resolute in his endeavor. He knew full well the slaughter that awaited Tegan and his army, should his mission fail.

  Quelna continued his burdensome trek. His resolve hardened, and he emitted an air of confidence. He held no concern about the enemy he was walking upon, his focus set only on one. The watch guards thought they heard him whistling, as if he was strolling through a summer meadow picking flowers. The enemy, however, became very concerned about him. Herrog made certain all his forces knew of Quelna and the power he wielded. A company of trolls rushed out to surround the little man. They were unwilling to allow his appearance to underwhelm them.

  “Halt!” the leader commanded, his men raising their swords to Quelna.

  The wizard, who was watching his step so as not to fall, kicked through the dead grass protruding through the trampled snow. He looked up as if he had not noticed them coming toward him, but did not show surprise or fear, as he had neither. Though in good spirits, he was in no mood for bantering with the lower forms. “Take me to Herrog!” he plainly stated. He would not waste eloquent speech on slugs.

  The troll started to take a defiant stance, for which Quelna had no time. The vision on the battlefield exhausted the last of his patience. He would deal with this swiftly. He merely lifted a finger and the trolls on both sides of the leader shot back as if punched by Erol, the leader frantically grasped at something that wasn’t there, as if an invisible noose was crushing his throat.

  Quelna released the hold, allowing the troll a breath. His fellow soldiers knew not what to do. They stood there, nervous but steady, shields up. “I will say this once more, take me to Herrog!” The sternness of his voice prompted the troll to action.