by Ben Hale
He clenched his jaw and the images burned. Elsin had destroyed their life together, to heal what was already whole. She’d robbed him of everything, destroying their home, their family, and their son.
“Where are we going?” Galathon growled.
“We’re here,” he said.
He stepped through a pair of trees and looked up. They stood at the southern edge of the Evermist, where the swamp ascended to a vast mountain range. The Dragon’s Teeth were home to most of dragonkind, and those that ventured into the untamed lands rarely survived. Those who did shared wild tales of fearsome dragons, reavers, and giant bones.
A solitary mountain stood between the Dragon’s Teeth and the Evermist, a place of solitude between two deadly regions. A thousand feet off the ground a small structure was visible, its placement providing a stunning view of the glittering sea.
“Whose home is that?” Galathon asked.
“Mine,” Toron said.
Galathon cast him a measuring look. “You make your home between reavers and dragons? And they call me mad.”
Toron led the way to the base of the hill, to a boulder resting against the cliff. At their approach the boulder cracked and opened, allowing them to step onto a platform. The mind reaver growled when the boulder began to ascend. Elsin and Toron had built the ascender together, using their magic to shape and carve the boulder. But it was intended for two, and with a rock troll and a mind reaver he could barely breathe. Then they ascended above the swamp and the full landscape came into view.
Galathon whistled. “You certainly picked a nice refuge.”
“You can have it,” Toron said.
Galathon rumbled a laugh. “I prefer a region where I’m the one that inspires fear.”
The reaver coughed, the sound resembling a snort of amusement. Toron shielded his eyes from the blinding sea and struggled with his emotions. He’d sworn never to return to their home, and had kept his oath until now.
“Severon says she isn’t here.”
“She won’t be,” Toron said.
I can find her, the reaver growled.
Toron flinched at the mental contact. “I know,” he replied. “But it won’t be enough to find her. She sent Mal to the ancient outpost for a reason, and we need to know why.”
The boulder slowed to a halt, bringing them to the ledge that contained the house. It was large and ensconced in the mountainside. Great windows lined the front wall, providing a view into the interior. The structure was built of trees grown from the rock, the branches shaped into arching beams and graceful supports. The trees had long since perished but their limbs remained, intertwined in a perpetual embrace.
A small garden separated the drop from the house, the trees overgrown, the fruit rotting on the ground. Picking their way through the trees, they reached the door and Toron placed a palm against the handle, sending shadow into the locks. With a faint click the door swung open.
The interior of the house was vaulted and open, great limbs supporting the curved roof. Elsin had pulled stone from the cliff and threaded it around the wood, filling in the gaps to create a stunning tapestry of wood and stone. Toron had added flames, scorching the wood and stone, adding patterns of shadow and darkness.
Light flooded through the windows, illuminating the couches and tables, and the bed at the back. Without post or pillar, the great hall contained the entire home, allowing an unbroken view from the bed to the kitchen.
“You don’t believe in walls?” Galathon asked.
“Not in a marriage,” he said, his memories flooding back. “This was our home until Mal was born.”
Galathon gave him a moment before grunting in irritation. “I didn’t join this endeavor to listen to you wallow. What are we doing here?”
Toron advanced across the room to the cliff at the back, and touched a curl of green in the stone. The cliff opened, swinging inward to reveal a secret staircase. Light blossomed across the ceiling as he led the way down. At the base of the stairs a door blocked the way.
Encased in anti-magic, the door was steel and stone, a formidable barrier. Toron stepped to it and touched the rune at the center, but it flickered and went dim. He tried again, but his attempt had the same affect.
“Don’t worry,” Galathon said. “I have a key.” He gestured to Severon and the mind reaver surged forward.
Toron raised a hand. “Wait—”
But the reaver charged the door, slamming its armored skull into the barrier. Built to stop magic and might, the door cracked from the assault by the mind reaver. It retreated and slammed into the door again, blasting it open to allow them entry.
“Fool!” Toron growled. “You just activated the defenses!”
“You should have said there were defenses,” Galathon said.
“I didn’t think you’d go bashing through the walls!” Toron snapped. “Now you’ve activated Unity!”
They leapt through the opening and Toron’s gaze swept the secret chamber. Lining the exterior, reservoirs of magic contained all nine of Elsin’s magics, while strategically placed tables served as a workspace. In one corner was a small basin with a reservoir of boiling magic above—a forge for a guardian.
The floor at the heart of the room began to rise, hands and arms appearing, followed by jaws and a large torso. The sentient was a combination of various magics, the light, air, stone, and water flowing together, merging and separating in complicated patterns. The spell was unique, crafted with great care by Elsin’s own hand, a supreme guard for her secret chamber.
“We are Unity,” it said, the combined voices giving it a sense of malice. “Your deaths have been ordered by Guildmaster Elsin.”
“Keep it busy!” Toron growled. “I’ll find what we came for.”
Unity sent a blast of light hot enough to sear through steel, but the troll spun his axe, catching the light and deflecting it into the ceiling. Then he surged forward, sweeping his weapon across Unity’s arm. Unity swiveled and aimed at the rock troll’s back—just as the reaver slammed into its body.
The reaver’s jaws snapped shut on Unity’s torso, its teeth rending the magic. But the sentient ignored the biting jaws, its head swiveling backwards upon its body, its arms catching the triangular bone, forcing it upward to expose the jugular. Then Unity mouth shaped into long jaws and clamped onto the reaver’s throat.
The beast snarled and rolled, fighting to dislodge Unity. Galathon bellowed in fury and swung his axe, managing to strike the sentient as the two titans fought. Toron paused and gathered his magic. Drawing on the source of fire in the room, he aimed a torrent of flames to strike Unity, burning its back. It released a screech of pain that sent a shudder down Toron’s spine.
It relinquished its hold on the reaver’s neck and flowed away, reshaping onto its feet a short distance from Toron. The reaver stumbled back, blood dripping from the wound on its neck. It snarled but the sound was tinged with pain.
Unity turned on Toron with a vengeance, sucking the air from his lungs with a burst of magic. Toron dropped to his knees, his jaw working as he fought for breath. Unity stalked forward but Galathon reached it first, leveling a blow onto its skull that sent it into the source of fire, cracking the sphere and spilling flames onto the floor.
The impact extinguished Unity’s hold on Toron, who sucked in a grateful breath. As the sentient rose to its feet Toron stepped to a rack of enchanted weapons—blades and hammers Elsin and Toron had crafted. Covered in dust, the weapons had never been used, but their enchantments remained bright and lethal.
“You need magic to harm it!” he shouted, grabbing the largest sword and throwing it to Galathon.
The rock troll caught the blade and turned on Unity, attacking with both weapons. As they closed again Toron sprinted to the tables and began to search, desperately pushing papers aside, hunting for any indication of where Elsin had gone.
He flinched as fire blasted behind him, followed by a wounded snarl from the reaver and a roar from Galathon. A gust of a
ir slammed into the neighboring table, sending it shattering against the wall. Toron dived behind the rubble and sifted through parchment and books.
“Can you be any slower?” Galathon roared.
“I’m not the one that broke the door!” he shouted back.
Toron leapt to another table, and then another. Half the papers were burning, the fires spreading across the room from the broken source. Toron growled his frustration and kept searching. Then he noticed a map half buried in rubble. Yanking it free, he scanned it for answers, and realized what it displayed.
It showed the kingdoms surrounding Blue Lake, but the coastlines were not accurate. It looked old, the leather worn and faded. The cities were not familiar, but a few he recognized from his study of history. Then he noticed the parchment attached to the map.
The notes were written in Elsin’s hand. They indicated the map was a copy of one created by the ancients, and that Elsin had sought one of their cities. But not just any city, the capital of the ancient civilization.
The City of Dawn.
“I’ve got it!” he shouted.
He rose to his feet in time to see Galathon fly across the room and slam into the wall with bone-crushing impact. The reaver charged the sentient again but the guardian caught the teeth with its bare hands and brought it to a halt. Then it began to force the reaver to its knees. The reaver snarled and writhed, fighting to break free. A blade of light extended from the sentient’s chest and touched the reaver’s skull.
Toron gathered the fire from the room, raising it up the walls and onto the ceiling. With so much fire even Unity felt the heat, and it finally looked up. Toron sneered and turned the whole of the fire upon the guardian. Churning into a tidal wave of flames, it smashed into the guardian’s flank and sent it across the wall, pinning it to the sphere of water.
“Go!” Toron roared.
He leapt for the stairs, reaching it only seconds ahead of Galathon and Severon. He glanced back and saw the fire wrapping around the sphere of water, tendrils of heat digging through the protection charms. Unity was already forcing its way through the trap, but the fire was only seconds from breaching the water’s surface.
Toron sprinted up the stairs and across the room, charging out the front door and diving onto the ascender. He slammed his hand on the rune as Galathon leapt to him, his reaver only a step behind. The boulder descended an inch, and then a foot. Toron cast a fire shield above the boulder and held his breath, counting the seconds . . .
The fire pierced the water sphere just as Unity broke free, the two magics fusing together, the fire turning the entire sphere to superheated steam in an instant. The detonation filled the secret chamber and exploded up the stairs, obliterating the refuge in a fireball.
The magic binding the ascender shattered and they began to accelerate. With fire and burning stones raining down around them, they plummeted down the cliff. Toron clawed his way to the broken mechanism and sent fire into the gap, the heat distorting the wheels until they rubbed against the stone. The air filled with the acrid scent of burning stone but they gradually slowed, stopping just a few feet from the ground.
Toron dropped from the edge. He stumbled down the slope and slumped against the trees, his eyes lifting to the burning hole in the cliff. Galathon and Severon joined him, and the troll abruptly slapped Toron’s back, knocking him into the mud.
“You certainly like powerful foes,” he said. He grinned and licked blood from his lip.
“At least we know where we’re going,” Toron said, rising to his feet and removing the map from his pouch. “And where we’ll find Elsin.”
Chapter 19: Ethereal
The Griffin army marched at dawn. At their head, Alydian rode a white horse beside her mother. General Astin, Princess Ora, Duke Senin, and General Shalric rode with her. Backed by forty thousand troops comprised of a smattering of races, they worked their way through the forest on their way southeast.
Hundreds of supply wagons followed the army. Loaded with a thin layer of dirt, the wagons contained elven water and plant mages. As the army advanced, the mages planted wheat and corn, bringing the crops to harvest each afternoon so the cooks could make bread.
The air was almost festive as the troops pushed through the bright trees, but when they reached the river that marked the border to the Empire the army grew silent. Men and women cast wary eyes on the opposite shore. The scattering of trees was insufficient to hide even a small force, and the region was disturbingly empty.
“No ambush awaits us,” Alydian called, and her words spread among the army.
“We’ll camp on our shore for the night,” General Astin said.
Duke Senin scowled. “We should cross the river tonight and press the advantage.”
Astin ignored him. “General Shalric, can your dwarves build a bridge we can use to cross?”
“As you order,” the dwarf said, a smile appearing behind his beard. “It will be done by morning.”
Senin scowled and wheeled his horse away, barking the order to set up camp. Word of their arrival spread into Empire lands and within an hour people assembled on the opposite bank. Women waved cloth in the air while children raced about. Men assembled themselves with weapons in hand, the camp swelling as darkness fell.
Princess Ora crossed with a number of guards and the people received her like a queen, many of the women breaking into tears. Alydian dipped into her farsight but saw no sign of danger for the princess.
“They see our arrival as their salvation,” Elenyr said.
“The people wish to be free,” Alydian said.
“How many will join our army?”
“A great deal,” Alydian said. Alydian watched them gather on the opposite bank. “Word of what Elsin did to Mal has spread. The people know the Verinai turned a child into a guardian, and they’re angry.”
“Did the Verinai use such a curse on other children?” Devkin asked. When Alydian nodded he growled and looked away. “Blasted Verinai.”
“The people finally know the truth about the Verinai,” Alydian said. “And our forces will continue to grow as we cross the Empire.”
“The Verinai deserve their fate,” Elenyr said with uncharacteristic vehemence.
Devkin stabbed a finger across the river. “But the smart strategy would have been to keep us from gathering strength—or even better—strike Seascape before we could gather. They’re all but giving us a victory.”
Elenyr turned pensive. “Teriah would never concede defeat so readily.”
“But what is her plan?” Alydian asked, and gestured to the force on the opposite side of the river. “If we are permitted to gain strength from within Empire lands, we’ll be strong enough to stand against the Empire’s army.”
“What do you foresee?” Elenyr asked.
“Very little,” Alydian admitted, lowering her tone. “We march east and then nothing. Perhaps if I had more time to focus . . .”
Elenyr shook her head. “I suspect Teriah is guarding her plans carefully. We should retire to your training.”
“And our army?” Alydian asked, gesturing behind her.
“General Astin has things well in hand,” Devkin said.
Alydian spotted Astin speaking to one of his captains. The man had a quiet charisma that inspired obedience. Coupled with a creative and tactical mind, he’d kept an army of thousands in order. Even the planting wagons had been his idea. With Princess Ora at his side, who matched him talent for talent, even Duke Senin had complained less.
The growing affection between Ora and Astin was impossible to ignore, and further inspired the people, with some whispering that Astin would make a fine king. Alydian did her best to keep those rumors to a minimum, not wanting the people to get distracted.
Alydian retreated to a clearing outside the army camp with Devkin and Elenyr. There she trained with her mother until night had fallen, but the previous barrier remained unbroken. Whenever Devkin or Elenyr accelerated she could not foresee their future. Fru
strated and tired, Alydian returned to her bedroll but sleep was slow in coming. Deep into the night she wrestled with the mystery of Teriah’s plan.
Elenyr woke her early and Alydian rubbed sleep from her eyes. She fought her lingering fatigue as she ate her morning meal and hurried to inspect the bridge. To her delight the dwarves had worked through the night to complete an epic bridge that spanned the gap. The river was hundreds of feet wide, but the dwarven army had thousands of stone mages, and all had worked to shape the great span.
“It’s a wonder,” Alydian exclaimed.
General Shalric scowled. “Another day and we’d have walls and such, but I’m guessing you don’t want to wait.”
“Will it support us?”
“Aye.”
“Then we should march,” Alydian said, turning as General Astin joined them. He’d been examining the bridge with a critical eye.
“General,” he said. “Your people never cease to amaze.”
General Astin signaled one of his captains and the army broke camp, preparing for the march. Alydian took a small party across to greet the gathering on the opposite bank. Thousands had flocked to the river during the night and many bore weapons. Astin had wisely asked Duke Senin and Princess Ora to lead the way, and the sight of a former Griffin Duke standing with their princess smoothed any doubt as to their purpose.
In short order the entire army began to advance across the bridge. Even as dwarves called on the stone to flow into walls that bordered the bridge, soldiers marched across its surface. Alydian stepped into the Empire, a chill prickling her skin. The last time she’d been in the Empire had been her escape from Dawnskeep, and now she was returning with an army.
“What is your plan, Teriah?” she murmured, her eyes turning east.
Throughout the day they advanced across the plains of the eastern Empire. Villagers from every corner of the region flocked to them, the atmosphere filled with excitement as word continued to spread of their invasion. Shortly after midday a lightcast bird soared down to them. At first Alydian thought it was a Verinai watching their forces, but a moment later it hovered next to her to deliver a message in Raiden’s voice.