by RG Long
Paterus smiled.
It was a twisted type of smile. One that could make a beautiful sunny day turn dark and cold.
“It is your blood we yearn for,” he said just barely over the wind. “And it is time for you to see how we might put it to good use!”
As soon as his words left his mouth, Paterus lifted his hands into the air. Dark blue auras of light surrounded his arms. The elks of the Shivians began to back up from him, trained to be ever watchful for an attack.
Sleek tendrils of light came from each of Paterus' hands and, like snakes moving through water, twisted and twirled through the air.
Then at once, the light dove down into the ground and vanished.
For a breath, the air around the two delegations seemed to hang as the winds died down.
Even the snow stood still, frozen in place.
Tory took a look at Holve, who was no longer staring at Paterus as he had been doing before, but was studying the ground with intensity.
The old man's eyes widened as the ground below them began to rumble.
“Back!” he shouted.
Obediently, the elk turned and bounded away from Paterus and his own delegation. As they did, the earth gave way just where they had been standing.
The ground was slowly forming an opening like a cave beneath Paterus, who still wore a devilish grin.
From inside the cave, a dark blue light emanated.
Tory turned around, though he was holding onto his beast for dear life, and gasped.
Marching out from the cave came tall and slender figures clothed in rusted and dented armor, as well as black rags that barely seemed to be clinging to whatever they could.
An entire army of elven skeletons from generations of war was shambling from the cave and coming straight for the elves of Shiv. Their eye sockets glowed with the same dark blue light that had come from Paterus' own hands.
“And I thought humans were trouble,” Tory said out loud, before his beast leaped high into the air and forced him to grab hold of whatever he could to stay on.
Today was going to be worse than he had first thought.
“ANY ADVICE FOR KILLING undead elves?” Tory shouted as they rejoined the lines of Shiv elves. The events unfolding in front of them seemed to have done little to deter the warriors mounted on elks and dressed in black.
“They're already dead,” Holve said dryly as he unsheathed a sword from his belt. “Don't waste your time on them. Find Paterus.”
He then looked down at his weapon and sighed. It was a long and slender blade, similar to the two Lote fought with.
“I'm not used to these elvish weapons. I suppose it'll do.”
Tory drew his own sword, a similar blade given to him from the storehouse of Shiv. Though it was not his own blade, it felt familiar in his hands.
“Elves aren't much for spears, huh?” he asked, glad to be fighting with something that he was comfortable using.
Pella shouted to the army at her command.
“Shiv!” she yelled above the roar of the wind. After riding back from the mouth of the newly formed cave, the wind had increased in earnest.
“Commanders! Do not fear those who have already died! Seek out the leader of Yule! Crush him and his army will fall with him! Today, we exact revenge for our fallen comrades and for years of shame! Today, we become a nation to be reckoned with!”
A shout rang from the warriors.
“For Shiv!” yelled Pella.
“Shiv!” came the response.
Tory looked over at Lote. She sat upon her own mount, bow and arrow drawn and ready. Her swords were still sheathed on her back.
“What are you fighting for, then?” Tory asked her.
She continued to stare ahead, not returning Tory's glance.
“Both of you,” Holve began, interrupting whatever thoughts might have been swirling in Lote's mind. “Our battle doesn't conclude after today. Fight like the Swords you are. We have much to do after this ends.”
Tory positioned himself on his elk, one hand grasping his blade and the other holding onto a patch of fur. He knew what the next command would bring and wanted to be focused.
Over the rush of snow and ice and wind, Pella shouted to the sky and pointed her own blade forward at the advancing horde of undead.
“Charge!”
17: Against One's Will
“It will be you that ensures humanity's survival, young Speaker,” Androlion Fellgate said as she rode beside him on a horse that had been provided for her. The parade of generals, commanders, and other advisers that followed Androlion through the hundreds of tent rows was dressed in full regalia. Some would have pined for her good looks and good fortune to have everything she might ever have needed provided for her.
She hated everything about her current state.
The green robes she wore around her reminded her of those who had stolen so much from her. They had killed her family, torched her town, and decimated what peaceful life she had known.
More recently they had forced her to work in an orphanage making the sails that would carry the ships full of troops off to destroy more people. She had been forced to work on one of those as well.
The people this army hated had done nothing wrong. They were just a different race. Two of them in particular were on her mind at the moment. It was only a matter of time before they were discovered as a dwarf and an elf. A headband and a lie about one's age could only go so far.
It was a miracle they had survived for so long as it was.
The hatred for any other race that was not a human was so strong in the Southern Republic that every elf, dwarf, and other creature had either fled the lower peninsula or had been killed.
But Blume Dearcrest refused to give in to the hate.
Even if it did mean the end of the world, as Androlion had promised.
She had long decided such an end would be well earned if it meant she could protect those she loved and rebel against the cowards who called their cause just and good.
But that didn't stop Androlion from preaching to her every waking moment she was forced to ride beside him.
For two days, the troops had been spilling out of their ships and lining the riverbed with tents, equipment, siege vehicles, and other instruments of war.
Androlion had not moved from his ship's quarters. Blume had never seen a more beautiful and crisp living space in her entire life. Though she had spent most of her life in a medium sized city, she had recently been in castles and capitals.
Her horizons were widening.
This most recent change was not one she wished for, nor was it one she did willingly.
Her cooperation was based solely on the promise that her friends would be treated well.
Unfortunately, she only had the promise of a power hungry dictator who had ordered the killing of untold thousands of elves and dwarves alike to go on.
Not the best of circumstances.
But Blume had survived worse. She told herself she would get through this as well.
No matter the cost.
She glanced nervously at the box being carried by the man in front of her. Inside it was the necklace that so often hung around her neck. She felt naked without it on. It had been her father's greatest treasure.
Once, he had told her it was the most valuable thing in the world to him, next to her and her brother. Having neither of them left, she alone was left to hold and bear the burden of her father's most prized possession.
It had actually saved her life recently.
The stone inside the necklace was a very crude piece of green Rimstone. Blume had thought it quite ugly growing up.
Until she discovered she could use it to Speak to the elements of nature and bend them to her will. It was an exciting discovery. With her understanding of the stone, she could call a fire out of wet wood, or turn a large stone over to see what lay underneath.
She could even heal the wounds of those who were desperately injured.
But her stone was unl
ike other pieces of Rimstone. Most other pieces cared little about who was Speaking through them. They simply reacted as told.
Not hers.
Several supposedly powerful and learned Speakers had been called out to put Blume's stone to good use for the army of the Southern Republic.
It would listen to none of them.
Only Blume's voice could cause the stone to react how Rimstone should.
This discovery was very strange to Blume and very new. She had seen her own family use the stone to some extent. But the thought had never crossed her mind to allow someone else to try. The necklace was too precious to her to lend it out.
And now, apparently, her skills in using it were too precious to allow any harm to come to her.
The necklace was too valuable to be carried around the neck of a teenager. Blume had already earned herself a reputation of being a rebel, and so it was deemed that it being around her neck was too dangerous for most of the army as well. Thus the box was never too far from either Blume, the Speaker who could control the powers of the necklace, or Androlion, the one who wielded the key to the box the magical amulet resided in.
It jingled beside him as he rode along.
Though she didn't know why her stone, her necklace, was so important to everyone, she was thankful for the ability it gave her to exchange her cooperation for the safety of her friends.
For now.
Androlion was stopping at every few rows of tents to advise a commander here or reprimand a soldier there.
Lots of preparations went into a siege, Blume was discovering. Especially when it was supposed to take place tomorrow morning.
“If that siege tower isn't in its rightful place in the next hour, I will personally oversee your execution,” Androlion told a shaking commander, who did his best to salute his leader and general.
The effect was a sweat drenched gesture and a quick about-face towards his men. Orders were shouted with a new intensity and several words Blume hadn't heard in civilized company were used.
War caused even civilized men to behave like barbarians, if it meant the difference between life and death.
At last they arrived back at the last row of tents next to the river. Several warships were within walking distance, with several more spread out north and south.
Blume had heard about how these were to be used in the assault tomorrow and she greatly wished there were some way to stop the carnage they would cause to the city of Beaton.
Other friends of hers may well still be inside the city.
Any plot to undermine the Southern Republic's battle plans were put out of her mind as soon as she saw two men she hated above all others.
Save for Androlion himself of course.
The first man was the smaller of the two and came walking down the ship's ramp first. He was handsome but not tall. He saluted Androlion and reported.
“All preparations for the warships up ahead are complete, My Lord.”
Just the sound of Cory Greenwall's voice sent waves of rage flowing all over Blume's body. She desired nothing more than to steal her necklace from the wretched box and obliterate the man.
It was probably for that reason that it remained locked away.
Because of Cory, her necklace had been taken from her. Because of him, her friends were in shackles at the bottom of a ship. Blume felt that, because of this betrayer and murderer of friends, the entire continent of Ruyn would go up in flames.
Cory was an embodiment of all that Androlion could do with a man who was supposedly good. He was turned into a lying, murderous slug of a man.
She did her best to burn a hole into his head with her stare.
He seemed very little bothered by her.
If Cory was able to make her blood boil, the second man who walked behind him could turn her cold just as quickly.
Rayg.
Blume didn't know him by any other name and she doubted that he had ever needed another. He was Androlion's most famous general.
And the most evil man Blume had ever met, perhaps including Androlion.
The stories of Rayg's deeds were legend, and not the kind one would tell to their children. His stories were of nightmares come to life.
Her first time meeting Rayg had ended in the death of one of the few who protected her and the near death of another.
The only reason she had escaped unscathed was due to the bravery of others. And the fact that they hadn't known that it was her necklace that they had been seeking.
Now Blume had no one to defend her but herself and no amulet around her neck to use in her defense.
She felt powerless.
Especially when Rayg was anywhere near her. He was huge when compared to any normal fully grown adult. Next to her, a short teenager, he was a giant.
His thigh muscles were bigger around than she was.
When it came to strength alone, he could match anyone who had ever come against him twice over.
Rayg stared at Blume. His gaze was less like an adult contemplating the movements of a child and more akin to a wolf eyeing its breakfast.
Blume looked away, too taken with fear to look him in the eyes.
She had once considered herself very brave. Maybe it was because of the powers that she was given when she wore the necklace. Without it, what was she?
Just a scared teenage girl trying to stay alive.
All of that would change the moment she put on her necklace. They could take away her power for the time being, but when they handed her back the key to her ability to bend nature to her will, Blume had already purposed to make good use of her skill.
Androlion Fellgate would see just how rebellious she could be.
Although Blume had never used her talents to take someone's life, she had been considering the consequences of killing someone she hated.
Whatever part of her might die along with him, it would be worth it.
“The troops are ready as well,” Rayg said to Androlion, offering no salute or title.
Blume looked at the man who was always so well kept and put together. He remained unmoved by this lack of respect, but Blume had seen him punish other commanders for much smaller offenses than forgetting to salute him.
He sat high on his horse, but made no move or command to reprimand Rayg. He simply nodded.
What things might be going on under the surface between him and his commanders? Blume wondered as she watched carefully.
Many other officials and commanders came over to surround the army's general and the scene shifted.
Androlion dismounted from his horse and looked up to Blume, offering her his hand.
Knowing that the lives of her friends depended on her obedience and willingness to go along with the mad man she so loathed, she took his hand and allowed him to help her off her horse.
Her feet hit the ground and she attempted to free herself, but Androlion held her tight.
“Come with me, Blume,” he said as he led her away from solid ground and up the ship's ramp.
“There is much you need to know about tomorrow and your part in it.”
He didn't look at her. She was glad she didn't have to meet his eyes. But Blume longed to have her hand back from his tight and sweaty grip.
Both Cory and Rayg fell in line behind them as they led the way up the ramp and into the flagship of the Southern Republic. Cory looked at Blume with a smile, Rayg with a sneer.
I hope the both of you are standing close by when I get my necklace back, Blume thought as the twin suns of Gilia disappeared underneath the roof of the warship and the procession entered in to have its final discussion for invading the Glorious City of Beaton.
18: Thuda's Pride
The halls of the mountain dwarves were overwhelmed by marching warriors clad in thick metal plate armor and rumbling war machines being pushed or rolled into position.
"I'm sorry I can't send you on your way with an army behind you," King Thuda told Gorplin, Jurgon and Jurrin as he was being suited up for
battle. "But we have our own territory to defend against relentless attacks."
Several attendants rushed around the leader of the dwarves even as he stayed in constant motion. It was no small wonder that they were able to dress him in his armor.
Gorplin wanted nothing more than to argue with the king, but found himself unable to speak his mind. Something in him was driving him to a level of politeness he was unfamiliar with.
Jurrin and Jurgon both shifted uncomfortably next to him. They had been able to voice their frustrations with the king's unwillingness to help. Even Jurgon, who barely put two words together at the same time, had shown the king that his hesitation to act on their behalf was less than appreciated.
Why couldn't he, a dwarf and a warrior?
Thuda was now speaking with several advisers at once. "What is it we are up against this time? More goblins? Who sounded the alarm?"
The horn of alarm had caused a great uproar in the mountain. As soon as Thuda had heard it, he had led them away from the forges and the heart of the mountain, up to a series of balconies and upper chambers. The work of the dwarves was just as stunning here as it was in the main halls.
Gorplin was sure they were in the room where the king discussed military tactics and the defense of the realm.
In the center of a great room, with tall ceilings and columns carved of stone, lay a hexagonal table. Inside of it, a large replica of the kingdom of the dwarves was made out of iron.
Only recently it had been set for the defense against a goblin horde, Gorplin observed. Some gray markers were still laid out before the great mountain that must have been Grandun-Krator.
King Thuda rested his hands on the edge of the masterpiece and looked down upon the sculpture, as if expecting the advisers to have already laid out the enemy positions and suggested countermeasures.
It didn't appear that any had been made for either setting. The dwarven advisers and commanders of troops just stood at attention at the table.
No one moved.
In the war room only the sounds of dwarven warriors marching towards their posts and the rumbling of weaponry used in defending the mountain were heard faintly through solid doors.