by Chad Corrie
Along with a gladius, each elf carried a large rectangular shield with the crest of Colloni over a red background. Behind these shields each man wore a cuirass of segmented plate armor with matching pauldrons. A skirt made of leather strips, mimicking brigandine armor, flowed from the waist, and iron greaves were attached to the front of tall leather boots.
All wore the same open-faced helmet, save Adicus, whose helmet possessed a nose guard and bill at the back above the neck for added protection and distinction. Finally, each carried a brown cloth backpack with basic supplies. These had seen good use and notable depletion as a result of their numerous encounters.
“Savages,” Yornicus muttered. He resembled the rest of the elves in all ways save for his round shield sporting the same crest. Even the gladius he tightly gripped was the same found in all the legions. He’d never adopted the custom of wearing robes like most wizards. He preferred the attire of the common elf over what he felt was too grandiose and impractical—not to mention restrictive—for his current endeavors.
“Feel free to help at any time.” Adicus’ sarcasm was rich and more than a little pointed. Yornicus kept his attention shifting from point to point, keeping track of the battle as best he could.
“I’m trying.” It was hard seeing where he could step in and make any difference. There was too much going on, and Yornicus didn’t know how much more he had left within, given all they’d already endured. He wasn’t sent to fight battles, rather to relay messages and secure—and ultimately, take possession of—the lost knowledge they’d been sent to find. But since they’d entered the marshes, he’d increasingly been called upon to do little else but fight.
A few more lizardmen tumbled into the marsh with a splash but so too did a few more elves. This wasn’t looking good at all. Yornicus sheathed his sword as he considered a possible option. It might not be the best, but given the circumstances, they really didn’t have much choice.
“Keep your formation,” Yornicus shouted. “Vestis mekola agris labrin . . .” As he cast his spell, a violet light rose from the soggy earth and covered the elves in a protective globe. Outside, the lizardmen snarled and snapped their jaws as they futilely banged away with club and spear at something that seemed harder than stone, though looked as thin and transparent as a fading mist.
“How long will that hold?” asked Adicus.
“Long enough to form a plan, I hope.” He did his best to sound more confident than he really was.
“The men are exhausted, sir,” Ibrin informed Adicus. “If we stay here to fight—”
“We fled before and look where that got us,” Adicus snapped back. “They came after us, and in greater numbers.”
“But, Captain”—this was Sabin, the youngest of the sergeants—“this isn’t the best place to make a stand. We need solid ground to have a prayer. We’re close to the jungle. If we—”
“Enough!” Adicus’ shout silenced the men. “Are you soldiers of the first cohort or whiny children? We were chosen by the emperor to carry out this mission, and by Aero, we shall do it. We are soldiers of the Republic of Colloni—men of the Tenth Legion—and will act accordingly. Do I make myself clear?”
“Yes, sir,” all the elves shouted in unison. All except Yornicus, watching the events while keeping an eye on the spell. He wasn’t a soldier as his parents had wanted, but he’d found a means to serve in his own way when he studied magic at the Remolosic Academy. And it was a good thing he did—if these men’s lives were worth anything.
The dome was holding despite the lizardmen’s wild attempts to break it. But he knew it wouldn’t hold for long. The spell was really meant for his own protection; he’d never cast it for so many people before. This was reaching into the depths of his training, pressing into what might lie beyond. And while in theory such efforts could be a worthwhile endeavor for growing one’s skill, you didn’t want to attempt such things while fighting for your life. His thoughts were interrupted by a rock-and-bast-rope bola slamming into the top portion of the dome, followed by a hollow cracking sound like broken glass or eggshell.
“Tripton’s bow!” Adicus cursed and craned his head toward the sight, freezing everyone’s blood. One of the stones managed to jab itself into the barrier and even beyond it, sending out a web of cracks in the process.
“I thought you said it would hold,” Adicus growled.
“It is—or will for a little while longer.” He tried his best to sound reassuring. “As long as they don’t escalate their attacks, we should—”
“Captain!” Sejanus, the shaven-headed third sergeant of their cohort, directed everyone’s attention to where he was pointing.
“Aero, be merciful,” Ibrin grimly replied as he and the rest all spied a new group of lizardmen joining the others on their left flank.
“There has to be at least another fifty,” said Sejanus.
“One hundred,” Sabin said, pointing out their right flank, where another fresh group of lizardmen was swelling the enemy ranks—these about the same size as the first. As they joined, the fighting stopped; the lizardmen previously pounding away at the barrier were ebbing back, like a tidal wave gaining strength before its terrible return.
Adicus grabbed hold of Yornicus’ shoulder with a painful grip. “You need to get a message to Claudina.”
“There isn’t any time.”
“We’ll give you time,” Adicus said, releasing the mage with a shove. “You just get them a message. Tell them what happened and not to send any more men short of two legions if the emperor wants that knowledge.” Yornicus found himself frozen as everything rushed at him at once. Adicus was putting everything on his shoulders. All these men. The mission. Everything rested on him.
“Can you do that?”
He searched the others’ faces, each visage showing a resignation to the fate that lay ahead. “Yes.” He gave a solemn nod. He couldn’t stand by and do nothing. Even if he should join them in death, at least he’d die doing what he could to honor them and their mission.
“Listen up.” Adicus returned to his men, who faced him with as much courage and dedication as they could muster. “We’re going to buy Yornicus enough time to make one last report. We’ve done our best to honor the emperor. We’ve fought well, and I’ve no doubt, if not for this battle, we would have found what we sought.
“But fate has found us here, and Asorlok has come calling for our spirits. May we not be found wanting, but instead find ourselves in New Remolos before the day is done in a place of honor beside Aero and the heroes of old.”
The reptilian wave outside the barrier rushed forward with a tumultuous roar. As one, they collided with the magical structure. Cracks and groaning creaks echoed in the elves’ pointed ears as each one took a solemn stand beside their comrades in arms, awaiting the inevitable.
There was one more spell Yornicus thought he could try . . . but it didn’t come without a few complications. Had their superiors been expecting more challenges, General Gallo would have sent a more skilled mage, someone better equipped for battle—not Yornicus. But that die was cast and now he and the others would have to do their best with what was left at their disposal. If they were about to give their lives for him, Yornicus could at least do his all for them.
“I have one more spell that could help,” he said. “But it will take the barrier down with it.”
“Do it,” Adicus replied flatly.
Wasting no time, Yornicus began his spell.
“Eyes forward. Shields high,” Adicus ordered. As one, the last of the first cohort of the Tenth Legion raised their shields and brought their gladii to attention.
“For Aero and Colloni!” Adicus raised his gladius in salute.
“Aero and Colloni!” The others took to beating their swords upon their shields. The thumping clap mixed with the crackling dome and snarling lizardmen, creating a frightful cacophony. As Yornicus finished his spell, the dome shifted from a violet light to a canopy of writhing flame, which exploded into the liz
ardmen with enough force to send them back a good ten feet. Many were severely burned or set on fire with the rest toppled by the jarring impact of having the others shoved into them.
“Run!” Adicus shouted at Yornicus as the elves pressed into their fallen foe, taking what advantage they could in the moment. Yornicus didn’t look back, pounding his feet into the waterlogged earth for all he was worth, trying not to think of the duty he’d been given and how much blood would be paid to accomplish it.
He couldn’t fail.
Yornicus ran without thinking under the darkening sky. The terrain eventually rose into more solid ground, but he scarcely paid these changes any mind. He was focused on just one thing: running. The dense undergrowth sought to hinder his movement at almost every turn; roots entangled his feet, branches slapped his face and limbs. The humid air added to his plight, making it harder to breathe the longer he pressed on. But it didn’t matter. He had to press on.
His legs felt like jelly, his lungs and throat burned in agony, yet he continued slaughtering his body with the effort. There were no other options left. He had to get as far from the marshes as possible. The thought to stop and send off his message would poke through his fear now and then, but he quickly shoved it aside. As much as Yornicus had a duty to perform, he had a tremendously strong drive to live.
Eventually he came to a stop against a tree. Sweat gushed from his pores, flooding his forehead and face, stinging his eyes, and dripping onto his lips. Catching his breath, the mage strained his ears for the sound of his pursuers. All he could hear was the pounding of his heart and his haggard breathing. Maybe he’d run far enough. Maybe the others were able to send the lizardmen to Mortis instead. He knew that was just wishful thinking. No, by now they were all dead. The first cohort of the Tenth Legion was no more. Their bodies would never be recovered, and their memory lost if he didn’t complete his final duty.
Standing upright, the mage hurriedly started digging in his backpack as he let his gladius fall to his side. Pulling out a sheet of parchment, he awkwardly put it in his left hand, still holding his shield as he fished out a small vial of ink and a quill. Laying his shield down on the ground so that its concave surface faced him, he flattened the parchment sheet upon it. He unstopped the vial of ink, dipped in the tip of his quill, and started writing.
Yornicus Alcaran Ithiani to General Gallo:
It is with heavy heart I record that the first cohort has failed to complete their mission. I bear witness to them having made their way into the Marshes of Gondad, but the marshes have shown they wished to keep us back for as long as possible.
Lizardmen, Celetors, and the very terrain itself have taken their toll; I am all that remains. It has been advised if you do send more men that a greater number will be needed. For if we have only made it part of the way and failed already, then surely more will be required to complete the emperor’s command.
He stopped. He thought he heard something behind him. Straining his ears, he waited a moment before resuming his work, only to stop again when the sound of a cracking twig brought him to his feet. Hurriedly, he brought to mind the spell needed to send the writing on its way to Claudina. As he spoke its words, Yornicus watched the text he’d just written turn a glistening bronze before fading back into the still-drying black ink. Breathing a small sigh of relief at having gotten the message off, he froze when another snapping twig—one much nearer than the last—filled the now silent area around him.
He threw the parchment, ink vial, and quill into the backpack, then slung it over his shoulder and picked up his sword and shield just as he saw the first lizardman make his way through the underbrush. Panicked, he cast the best spell he had for defense, sending a burst of lightning from his hand and down his sword, pointed at his reptilian aggressor. The creature flew back from the shock, but Yornicus knew nothing else.
Finding what reserves he had left, the mage pressed forward as fast as his sore legs could take him. While dodging short trees and low branches, he failed to notice a thick tree root that quickly ensnared him by the ankle. He tumbled to the damp soil with a huff.
Taking a deep draft of what reserves he had left, Yornicus madly leapt up from the moist earth. Steadying his weakened body, he continued his frantic run.
He ran on and on; his feet lost all feeling. His legs were powered by a heart he thought might burst with the next beat. Sweat flooded his eyes, continually blurring his vision. If he could survive long enough, he might be afforded some better options. He might be able to fully discover the others’ fate, make his way back to Claudina, or maybe even continue on toward the ruins to try to complete the mission on his own. This was all predicated, however, on him making it through the night and staying out of the lizardmen’s hands.
But though his will was strong, his body couldn’t keep pace, and his weary frame fell. As he collapsed, Yornicus could hear his pursuers crashing through the jungle. At least he had gotten the message to Claudina. One hundred men would get the honor they deserved for such brave and total service to the emperor and the republic.
“Aero, have mercy,” Yornicus prayed before rolling to his side just in time for his face to collide with a wooden club.
CHAPTER 21
No matter how far or how long one walks the
path of knowledge, the temptation of power
stalks them, seeking to leap out and devour
them when they least expect it.
—Sagarin Vonal, dwarven wizard king
Reigned 670 BV–500 BV
Cadrissa’s chest heaved. Cold sweat poured down her forehead as she hurriedly sought refuge. Fear chased her down the halls she’d been running through for what seemed like hours, hounding her every step. But it wasn’t just the fear nipping at her ankles . . . It was something else—someone else. She never dared look back, but she knew something was there and it was getting closer, and when it did . . .
She found an open door to her left and ducked inside. Slamming it shut, she did her best to latch it, then rested her back against it for added measure. Alone in the dark room, she tried recovering her strength. After so long a chase, she wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep standing. She prayed the door would hold and allow her some peace, even for just a little while.
She felt a chill seep in from the thick wood at her back and slide up her ankles. An icy mist passed through the door and seemed to melt right into her bones. Shivering, she backed away from the door. As the moments passed, an azure light manifested, tracing the door’s outline . . . and then the individual planks composing it. The light grew more intense, eating away at the wood. Cadrissa backed up further but knew it was no use. She was trapped.
As more of the doorway was dissolved by the azure light, a black mist poured into the room. It seemed alive, eagerly reaching out for her as she continued inching backward. Finally, the door faded away altogether, leaving her completely exposed. The bright light dimmed, separating into two small azure flames floating in the midst of the swirling dark mist. As the tongues of flame came closer, she realized they were flickering inside the empty sockets of an evil-looking skull.
“Cadrissa . . .”
Cadrissa woke with a start, bolting up from her makeshift bed like a freshly triggered trap. For a moment, something blazed in her memory like a white-hot iron yanked from the fire. It was important. She had to remember something. There was something she had to do. But what? In the ensuing heartbeats, that brilliant, urgent memory faded until she was left staring blankly around the camp with only the sounds of chirping crickets and the crackling fire rising over the swaying grass.
Once she’d gotten her bearings, she found herself staring at Dugan, who was eyeing her. “Just a bad dream,” she explained. Though why she thought he’d be interested, she had no idea. He was sitting exactly opposite her, the fire between them—the lone sentinel watching as they slept. To her right were Gilban and Alara. On her left lay Vinder and Rowan. All slumbered soundly in their trampled-grass beds.
The horses were resting just on the edge of the fire’s light, having taken their fill of grass before tomorrow’s journey into the Marshes of Gondad. The grasses had nearly been taller than horse and rider when they’d first set out but had become shorter as the ground grew more moist and the air more humid. The journey thus far had been a safe and easy one. Of course, they weren’t traveling in the marsh yet—which would have its own unique challenges. She was glad she wasn’t lugging any extra weight and was enjoying the benefits of having the horses for as long as she could.
“Must be boring keeping watch all the time.” She decided to strike up a conversation instead of letting the silence grow any more awkward.
“Boring can be good.”
“Still. It must be hard trying to stay awake.”
“Not really.” Dugan poked the fire with the same stick he’d been using for the last four nights. “I’ll get enough sleep once Vinder takes next watch.”
“I’ve noticed Alara doesn’t have Rowan joining you.” She took in the knight with a casual gaze. He was close enough to the fire for light and warmth but far enough from the rest to allow a sense of independence.
“Or you.” Dugan’s reply brought a flash of crimson to her cheeks.
“I-I’d do it if asked. It’s just—”
“You don’t trust him.” Dugan remained focused on the fire.
“I don’t know if I’d go that far.” Cadrissa sought for the right amount of shade to cover over the naked truth. “I’m just not sure why he’s traveling with us. Frankly, I’m surprised he came along at all after the argument in the inn.” She found her gaze drifting over Dugan’s strong shoulders as she spoke, following them down the contours of his body. Though he was wearing his tunic it wasn’t hard seeing things through it. He’d shed his mail shirt in the evenings, claiming it helped with his sleep—and apparently in keeping watch too.