by RG Long
News of Androlion's downfall spread quickly, along with the tidings that the other generals had met their demise at Rayg's hand as well. Anders cared little for it all now. He worked tirelessly at his forge, attempting to sharpen blade after blade. His own weapon lay close by, just in case he needed it to persuade any of the soldiers walking around now waiting on orders to give him space.
Many soldiers walked throughout the camp now, their armor clinking as they walked and their spears pounding the ground. They had either awoken early or not been able to sleep due to the gathering cold. Anders thought Androlion was mad to invade a city on the eve of winter, but obviously the former leader thought that a siege of Beaton wouldn't take long.
For all intents, it seemed like he was right.
Anders did his best to work without making eye contact with the sleep deprived or newly awoken troops. He wasn't much of one for company, save for his horse. It was to Felipe he talked now and with great vigor as he sharpened and hammered a blade that was nearly past saving.
But he would try.
"It's all in the technique," he told his horse, who stood by, flicking the errant fly away with her tail. The cold weather had driven most of the bugs away, but a few held on and were now doing their best to annoy the proud horse. "One wrong swing and the blade is warped and twisted. A good hit and it'll be back to its old self, maybe even better."
Though the cold was biting through most everyone else in the camp, Anders felt warm and was sweating with his work. Heat the blade in the flame. Hammer the metal. Douse it in the water. Repeat.
Over and over he beat and hit the blade until it looked like something he would wield himself.
He had worked long into the night and was sure the dawn would be approaching soon. There wasn't much use in sleeping around these soldiers with all of his precious instruments and weapons strewn about. Anders didn't trust these men as far as he could throw them, though he was certainly strong enough to give any of them a good toss at least.
Anders looked up to see a pacing soldier eyeing him as he worked. It took a minute, but he finally recognized him as the one who had requested his sword sharpened.
He gave the blade back to the water for a moment before drawing it out. The suns had just begun to rise over the horizon.
"This has been through it," he said loudly, not looking at the soldier, but instead looking at his reflection in the steel. Beads of sweat covered his forehead and little bags were beginning to form under his eyes. He'd need to eat something soon.
"Just give me back my sword," the soldier said curtly, holding out his hand to him.
Anders frowned.
"I believe we had settled on a price?" he said, taking the blade away from his face and looking at the soldier. He was blonde headed and scar faced. This was a man who had seen many battles in what appeared to be fewer winters than Anders would have guessed at first.
He could be no more than twenty.
"The sword first," he said, putting his hand out further to Anders. "Then your gold."
Anders clicked his tongue.
"That won't do," he said, stepping over to the man. He was at least a head taller than the soldier and, conveniently, holding a now quite sharp blade.
It looked like the man was about to say some very choice words to Anders, when a loud horn broke through the morning light. Anders looked to the east, in the direction the horns had come from. He knew those sounds didn't normally come from human instruments.
"What army is this? Has Thoran come from the south?" the soldier with blonde hair asked, turning in the direction of the noise.
"No they haven't," Anders said as he went to pick up his own weapon, a halberd of his own forging. "Those are elves."
Anders thrust the blade he had sharpened into the soldier's hand.
“Take your blade,” he said gruffly as he began to close up the chests around his workspace. “You'll need it soon enough.”
Captains were throwing Rayg's orders to stay put out of mind and were now frantically shouting at their men to get into formation. A good deal of them were obeying and attempted to drop spears in a defensive position. Hundreds of them were putting their backs to the city, preparing to defend their comrades inside. Anders could tell that the captains had never expected an attack from the outside. They were scrambling to get ready.
Observing the hill the elves stood on, Anders did his best to estimate how many elves there might be. A hundred or so rode upon great northern beasts. These were the cavalry and advance of the army. Who knew how many lay behind them out of sight? The second wave of soldiers left outside the city was ten thousand strong. With luck and a little daring, they may be able to repel whatever came to them.
Anders carried his halberd high and was beginning to run over to the side the elves were beginning to run down the hill and make their first attack when he heard yet another noise.
This one came from the west.
The sound wasn't that of more horns. These sounds were drums. Dwarven drums.
He spun around to see them. From the plains to the west marched a host of dwarves, their armor glittering in the morning sun. At the head of their army, in the sky above them, flew a massive red dragon.
“They didn't pay me enough for this,” Anders said, looking right to see elves charging down the hill towards them and left to see a dwarf army approaching steadily.
Officers were frantic now. Some commanded their men to retreat into the city, others were ordering them to fight on two fronts. The first was to the east and prepared to receive the elves who were marching down the hill there. The second front was forming at the foot of a huge bridge that led from one side of the river of Beaton to the other. Many soldiers ran to either of these places. Anders saw one simply run into his tent and stay there.
He knew what his course was going to be.
Anders was just about to his horse, preparing Felipe to ride south and abandon all, when he saw her.
A girl.
No more than sixteen.
At first, he thought the children they had been using to serve them were being taken away from the fighting. The last he had seen, most of them were preparing food toward the rear. Now, with the advancing armies, they were in danger of being overrun. But as he looked around, there were no other youths close by.
She stood on top of a barrel marked “dry goods” and looked from east to west. Her robes were those typically worn by Speakers.
“Hey!” Anders shouted at her. “Get down from there and run! Or you'll be swallowed up in this madness!”
The girl turned and looked at him. Around her neck, she wore a crude necklace, a green gem rested in a setting that resembled a creature's claw. It glowed with a soft green light.
“Running?” she asked him, turning to look at him for the first time. Her eyes gave off a faint glow, mirroring the light of her Rimstone. “We're past running now.”
Anders saw that she was right. The elves had crested the hill and were easily in the thousands. They began to form a line that would cut off any attempt to flee. Felipe flicked her tail and trotted nervously. Anders patted her, steeling himself for what lay ahead.
She began to Speak words of magic and the hair on Anders' neck stood on end. The air was full of energy now. Four swords and three shields rose into the air, surrounded by green energy, all tethered to the girl who stood on a barrel by tendrils of light.
Anders looked around, impressed. He had not expected someone so young to be so adept at Speaking.
Some soldiers from within the walls of Beaton began to pour back out onto the plains, coming to aid their brothers in arms. The fields swelled with numbers as soldiers ran to either fronts, leveling their spears or pressing their shields before them.
“What do you think they're fighting for?” Anders asked the girl who stood on the barrel. “Honor? Morals? I doubt they're doing much more than trying to save their own skin.”
He looked up at her again and saw that both swords and shields
that she had magicked were now slowly rotating around her. It was a menacing sight to behold.
“I'm fighting for friends,” said the girl, not looking down at Anders, but back to one of the ships. He followed her gaze and saw that several of the windows and rails of the ship were filled with the youth servants that had been brought from the south to aid the army.
He also recognized that they now stood in-between the ship and any who would approach it.
Anders laughed. One young Speaker against an army or three. It was hopelessly noble.
“Fight for whatever or whoever you like,” he said, readying his resolve as well as his weapon. “I'll fight to live another day.”
There was a flash of light from above. Anders wondered if the dragon had already swooped down upon them.
But it wasn't a dragon's fire that had lit up the sky. These flames were the deepest violet. Looking up, Anders saw that the Dark Comet, that thing that had filled the sky for so long and caused men to argue about whether it be an omen or glad tidings, was now much larger than he had ever seen it.
And, moment by moment, it grew in the sky. Anders could see that it was steadily coming closer.
He only just realized that it appeared to be falling slowly toward the earth, when the combined armies of the elves and the dwarves smashed into the Southern Republic's lines.
Then the fighting began.
37: Reinforcements
Ealrin hurled another rock down at one of the soldiers who were attempting to break into the upper district. Beside him, Silverwolf was fending off several who had managed to hoist a ladder onto the side of the walls. Not one had yet made it to the top. Yet they didn't stop. The Southern Republic soldiers continued to press on and cover the ground below. Ealrin was sure the rising water motivated some of them down below. It was nearly to their thighs now.
The suns were now rising well above the horizon. He couldn't remember when he last ate, though he had gratefully taken a drink from a jug that had passed along his section of the wall. The blood smeared on the outside of the container did not prevent him from partaking.
Yet even as he picked up another stone to throw down at the gathering troops, Ealrin noticed something happening at the back of their ranks. Hundreds of the rear soldiers were now fighting the waters and heading back up the main street. It looked like they were leaving the battle and going back to the field.
“Are they so confident that we'll be defeated that they're drawing back?” Ealrin said as he managed the stone over the wall and saw that he had hit someone who had just gotten a foot on the ladder below. The soldier cried out in pain.
“Still pretty thick, huh?” Silverwolf said, withdrawing her blade from its last victim and pushing the dead man back onto his fellows climbing the ladder. A grunt and a splash told Ealrin more than one had fallen to the ground with him. "Look out past the outer walls."
Ealrin took a moment to look to where the light of the sun was now shining. There was a great cloud forming outside the city. He looked and saw that dust was gathering and being thrown into the air. Something outside the city was drawing the soldiers of the Southern Republic back out.
"What's going on?" he asked, looking to see if any more were climbing the ladder and trying his best to dislodge it. Others along the wall had managed to throw down the ones that had been placed against their section and many were pointing to the retreating attackers. A few even cheered.
"We need a better view!" Ealrin said, looking over to a tower that was down the wall a bit.
"What are you waiting for, then?" Silverwolf asked, cutting down another soldier who had nearly climbed the wall. "Let's go!"
They ran down the wall to the tower and quickly climbed the spiral stairs. A few Red Guard soldiers were in the top, firing arrows down below.
The troops there were talking wildly with one another, slapping each other on the back and looking relieved.
Ealrin reached the top first. He stared out to the field outside and saw, to his great relief, armies from the west and the east converging on the city of Beaton.
"Well then," Silverwolf said from behind him, sounding impressed. "I suppose your friends have made allies after all."
He beamed at her.
"It looks like more of the Southern Republic is going back to the outer wall. I bet we could drive the rest of them out with a great push."
At that moment, Silverwolf gasped and pointed out.
"Woah," she said in awe.
Ealrin followed her finger and saw a great red dragon swooping down to the wall. It blew dragon fire in several directions on the field outside. Smoke rose from where it must have blackened the ground and scorched anyone in its path. It then tore at the wall with its mighty claws, throwing rock and stone away in several directions.
"It's undamming the river," Ealrin said. Water began to rush out from the spot the dragon stood at. A great rushing sound was coming from the wall. From their vantage point, they could see huge channels of water emptying out of the portion of the city it had flooded.
"Dwarves from the west and elves from the north, plus all of us here in Beaton," he said beginning to descend the stairs. "I think we can win this after all."
As they exited the tower, Ealrin was beginning to feel relieved and the darkness in his heart felt like it was lifting with the rising suns. They may well survive. He began looking around for the Red Guard commander to ask him if they could arrange an offensive attack on the retreating army when it happened.
A great flash of purple light came from the sky. Ealrin looked up to see where it had come from. There were no clouds that could have caused a lightning strike. He saw no Speakers working their skill on the walls.
In the middle of the city, on the same fountain that Bryne had stood just a day before and declared herself and the Silver Suns the rulers of Beaton, Ealrin saw someone standing on the top of the basin, arms raised to the heavens, a purple light surrounding them.
The person was covered in black, as if clad in dark armor.
"Rayg," Ealrin said, staring at the lone figure. Another flash of purple light came and nearly blinded Ealrin. He shut his eyes to stop them from burning painfully. Someone who stood close by was shaking his shoulder vigorously.
"You'll want to see this," Silverwolf said, her voice hard and cold.
Ealrin risked opening his eyes and found himself in a nightmare.
Though the suns had been rising steadily and the day should have been coming on in full, a growing black shadow was now beginning to fall all around them. He looked up and, to his horror, saw what looked like a giant round shaped mountain coming down on top of them from above. After a few moments, comprehension dawned on him.
"The dark comet," he said. It filled the sky, blotting out the suns and casting the city of Beaton into darkness. Another, less bright flash of purple light connected the fountain and the man on it to the comet in the sky. Bright purple lights shot down from the sky. Ealrin counted as they fell.
"Three, four, five, six," he said as each came to rest on the city.
"Was that nine or more?" he asked.
"More," Silverwolf replied.
"What are they?" he asked again.
As if in answer to his question, a burning trail of purple flame shot over them and landed within the walls of the upper district. It flattened the governor's mansion with the force of a mighty explosion as it landed right in the middle of the great house.
From the ruin and debris rose a demon clutching a sword longer than a tree in one hand and a ball and chain the size of a small house in the other. Like the one he had seen in Thoran, the demon looked to be half bull, half man, and all demon, clothed in black armor and purple flame. A long tail whipped dangerously behind it. A helm with wicked looking horns covered whatever face may lay behind it.
"Great suns of light," Ealrin said.
Silverwolf swore. Understanding had come on them both.
Each purple light had been a demon from the comet above. No les
s than twelve were now in and around the city of Beaton. And every one of them, as one, let out a mad wailing cry of war before beginning to charge into whoever stood before them.
The real battle for Beaton had begun.
38: Saving the World
It wasn't long before the gates of the upper district were broken open from the inside and many had fled, trying to escape the demon as it charged and wreaked havoc on any who dared come near it. With every swing of the great ball and chain it wielded, the grand houses of the city were demolished and reduced to rubble.
Ealrin and Silverwolf had fled with the others. Ealrin looked back to see the demon crashing through the walls they had just spent hours defending with ease. The streets were still covered in water, though a haze of fog was filling the city. Once the demon took a step into the main road, Ealrin could see why. Every time one of its massive hoofs touched the ground, all water around it evaporated into the air.
No one fought, except to get as far away from the demon that approached as quickly as possible. Southern Republic soldiers looked as surprised and terrified as those from Beaton. All sped in whatever direction they could to escape the approaching monster. Attempting to get out of harm's way, the crowd turned down a side street and most people pelted into alleyways or else sprinted straight ahead. As they did, another demon smashed through a building. A giant mace was in its enormous hand and the demon swung it threateningly at the other side of the street. Debris filled the area and rained down on them. Ealrin pulled Silverwolf through an alley and into another area. They ran through this until it let out at another street and he directed them back to the main thoroughfare. They were getting close to the city square and the fountain he had seen Rayg standing on. He felt in his gut that the demons were all making their way towards this central plaza.