by Toni Cox
Almost there.
They passed over another patch of snow-covered forest below, before the battlefield came into sight in the distance. Thick, black pillars of smoke rose into the air, interrupted only by the passing flights of the dragons, interspersed by Lava Bats.
As they neared, Maia could hear the screams, feel the fear and pain, smell the blood and putrification. Midnight circled out of reach of the Vampyre’s weapons, waiting for Maia to let him know where to go.
Maia stared at the carnage below. She could barely tell the difference between Vampyre and Elf, lying dead and dirty in the quagmire of the battlefield. Wolves and Werewolves. Dragons and Lava Bats. Dirty, dead, and broken; they all looked the same.
She thought about this horror happening at all other Gates on Elveron; saw more and more Vampyres coming through the Gate; saw her people fall before the onslaught; nothing could stop this; and she could do nothing but cry.
Their combined wail of sorrow brought Midnight to the ground. Flapping and stumbling, he crushed an injured Lava Bat as he crashed.
Drawing their weapons in unison, they ran down Midnight’s leg and straight into battle. A plan formed at the back of their minds as they slashed mercilessly, slicing their way through the enemy line towards the main battle, towards Lord Longshadow, a plan to alter the outcome not only of this battle, but the the widespread war.
Midnight rose again, shook off the dirt, and then took off to do as the Primes asked of him.
As Maia and Blaid hacked their way through the fighting, they noticed the glazed eyes and fatigued arms of their warriors. Their army barely held on under the onslaught. Maia’s father had kept her and Blaid at Shadow Hall to regain their strength, but at what cost to his people? Lord Longshadow had sacrificed nearly half his army to save his daughter. Maia’s blood boiled at the thought and she fought even harder. Connected to her as Blaid was, her rage was his.
Vampyres fell before them in their dozens. Werewolves lost their heads as they passed. Low-flying Lava Bats crashed to the ground, wings broken.
Maia tried not to count the mercy killings - Elves, wolves, horses, dragons - but she felt every one of them as a separate incident. Mercifully, Death wielded death swiftly.
Within the heaving, throbbing, bloody mess of bodies, they soon came upon Jaik, fighting back to back with Filithrin, others of the Guard spread around them. Heaps of dead Vampyres lay in all directions and when Jaik looked at Maia, he grinned manically.
They moved on, running over a deserted field of dead bodies. They stopped in the middle, turning slowly, looking at the fighting happening all around them. Chaos. Screams. Blood. And agony.
They ran on and back into the battle. Arrows whistled past their heads and they surrounded themselves with a shield of air, the arrows bouncing off harmlessly as they moved through the fighting, ever closer towards Lord Longshadow.
They closer to Maia’s father they came, the heavier the fighting became. Their progress slowed, fighting several Vampyres and Werewolves at any given time, wielding weapons and magic equally.
When the earth shook, some of the Werewolves hesitated, and then fled. The Vampyres cursed. Out of haze hovering over the battlefield rolled a tank, its oval-shaped, toothed wheels squashing everything in its path. Crossbow bolts fired in rapid succession from holes within its structure, killing the enemy as it passed. Jasmin straddled the top of the grotesque machine, clad in heavy armour ,Archer protecting her back, firing her own crossbow at any enemy within range.
Aaron soon followed, riding ahead of two more tanks, one in flames, Rothea by his side. Both wielded their swords with deadly efficiency, while the tanks behind them fired their bolts relentlessly.
Maia wondered when her world had changed so much.
Then, the next enemy engaged her and she sought revenge on him for turning her family into killers.
Covered in mud and blood, Maia and Blaid pushed on through. Wave upon wave of Vampyres fell before them, yet still the Elves died. They simply could not be everywhere at once.
When they came upon a downed dragon, Maia thought she recognised him. Fighting their way towards the dragon, she saw the silver scar on its wing. A lump formed in her throat at the sight of Silverwing broken and bloody, but when she saw Commander Hollowdale’s dead body a few strides away, Maia screamed with rage.
Again, the Vampyres nearest to them suffered the worst of their rage, and it increased steadily as they neared the center of the fighting. They needed this black rage now, for the sheer numbers of Vampyres overwhelmed them, leaving them with little space to wield their weapons.
Maia only knew from her senses, and Midnight’s aerial view, of her father’s location and the peril he found himself in. Several Lords and Commanders had arranged their warriors in formation around one of the Sky Busses. Lord Longshadow and Lord Elderbow had stationed themselves, and close on five hundred warriors, within the Sky Bus, defending it from the inside.
The beleaguered, makeshift fort had become the focal point of the Vampyre’s attack; Blaid assumed because two Kings of Kings of Elveron were within. The warriors around the Sky Bus barely managed to hold their positions as the Vampyres pressed forward. Catapults bombarded the wooden sides with fiery rocks, and Vampyre archers shot flaming arrows upon its deck.
From above, Lava Bats attacked the warriors stationed atop the Sky Bus and, by now, the Fire Dragons, who had spent eleven days transporting warriors, were too weak to carry on defending the Sky Bus from the grotesquely red and black creatures.
Coldly, Maia and Blaid used the black rage to move ever closer, but they used it with a clarity such as Blaid had never been able to achieve by himself before. Together, however, they could control it.
They moved through the crowd with such speed, seeing everything with such lucidity, everyone looked as if they stood still. As they slashed and sliced, body parts remained suspended in mid-air as they moved past. Sound became distant. They felt nothing but the rage inside; all other thoughts were pushed away.
Faces flashed before them, angry at first; then surprised; finally, afraid. By the time they reached the last group of Vampyres around the Sky Bus, all fight had gone out of them. They threw down their weapons and cowered on the ground.
Maia and Blaid halted, working hard to control themselves, not to kill without reason. Before them knelt the Vampyres; surrendering. Behind them lay more Vampyres; dead. They had made it to their fathers.
The warriors cheered and rushed forward to secure the Vampyres and to open a path for Maia and Blaid to reach the Sky Bus. Taking each other’s shaking hand, they strode forward. The rush of battle still ran through their veins and their eyes darted left and right, expecting an attack.
“My son,” Lord Elderbow called from the top of the Sky Bus, his voice filled with pride.
Blaid looked up and Maia knew he was going to tell him to get back inside, just as her senses warned her of danger from behind. At the same time, she heard a noise, followed closely by the sound of an arrow whistling by.
!!!
Midnight sailed overhead, a crushed Lava Bat within his talon. Maia closed her eyes at the heartbreak Blaid felt the moment the arrow hit the centre of his father’s heart, killing him instantly. Blaid’s knees smacked into the filthy earth.
Behind them, ten thousand mounted Generals rode towards their position, their Werewolves howling with blood-lust.
Maia swung around. Weakened, exhausted and battered, their army stood no chance against a fresh charge of mounted Generals. It must have been their plan all along.
The plan, she thought. Midnight had his orders. She could use some of these Generals to her advantage, if only they could find a way to defeat them.
“Come, my love, I need you now,” she said, helping Blaid to his feet. “I shall grieve with you tomorrow.”
His deep violet eyes gazed searchingly into hers, then he nodded and his look hardened. “Aye, we shall grieve tomorrow.”
“Stand firm,” Maia shouted th
e command.
The shields around them ceased shaking and lances were brought to bear. Maia and Blaid took a few steps forward and they felt the men rally behind them. The few dragons they still had, cawed, eager to sink their teeth into the Werewolves.
Midnight made a pass over the approaching Generals, blasting them with a dense stream of fire.
“Garr,” Maia swore in Dwarfish when some magic prevented the fire from reaching them.
“The one of power must be near,” Blaid said.
Indeed.
Midnight made another pass; with the same result. The distance between the armies closed; the snarling of the Werewolves becoming louder with every heartbeat.
“Where does he get the power?” Maia asked. “We are two and we cannot summon that much between us. How do we shield our people?”
“I do not know, Maia, but I do know how to fight. Here they come. Are you ready?”
“I have to be.”
With a sound like thunder, the two armies clashed. Maia and Blaid braced themselves, sending forth their energy through their weapons and on into the first row of galloping Werewolves, which plunged into the ground.
To their left and right, the Werewolves ploughed right through the line of Elves; the Generals slicing off their heads as they rode by. Screaming, Maia and Blaid increased their energy, spreading it to encompass more Elves around them, but it was not enough. They saw their people die in their thousands right in front of them.
A horn sounded in the distance; Midnight roared triumphantly overhead; the ground shook beneath them; and Yolanden suddenly stood calmly beside them.
“Offer my help, I can,” the old Elf said. “I will be Death one last time.” He grinned. “Oh, and your friend is here.”
They all ducked as a General swung his sword over their heads. Yolanden dispatched him with a wave of his hand.
As Midnight roared again, they had to hold onto each other as the ground suddenly bucked beneath them, breaking up in great chunks, spewing clots of bloody mud in all directions. Elves everywhere struggled to stand with the shaking, but the earth they stood on held firm. All around them, however, the ground broke up in pieces, smashing Werewolves to the ground and tossing Vampyres from their saddles. For but a moment, Maia and Blaid got to see a flash of a black tree, with claws, and wings, and fur, and feathers, zip past. Belura. He had come to fight for them.
Renewed hoped surged through them, and not just hope, but also ideas. Using not only their own power and magic, they now made use of what Belura had taught them, asking nature to help them. Menandril Fields suddenly had numerous sink holes, patches of sinking sand, bog ferns, throttler vines, and all manner of dangerous natural occurrences the Werewolves and Vampyres got caught up, fatally, in.
Regiments, Legions, and lone warriors alike from all over the battlefield converged on the main battle, adding their numbers to the deadly force of the pure-blooded Vampyres and their hounds.
Fire Dragons filled the air, darting in and out of the horde of Vampyres, plucking them out of their saddles, one by one. Midnight dared not use his fire now the Elves fought amongst the Vampyres, but it did not stop him from swooping low and picking them and their Werewolves up by the talonful, only to fling them back down at speed from a great height.
Bravely, the army of Greater Grildor fought on and the numbers of the Pure gradually dwindled. Maia felt the warriors’ hope, but also their fatigue. They needed a victory, and they needed it soon.
She looked over at Blaid, fighting but a few strides away, and knew he had expended almost all of his energy. If only they could have drawn more energy from Midnight before the fight.
!!!
Blaid looked at her with horror in his eyes as Midnight’s warning sounded in their minds. Several deep horns of foreign make sounded in the distance, accompanied by war drums. Images flashed through their minds as Midnight showed them what he saw.
An army, one hundred thousand strong. Generals, to the last. Clad in heavy armour. Riding the finest, strongest Werewolves. Behind them, twenty thousand common Vampyres. Pushing and pulling war machines of every kind. Making their way towards them.
“Our people have no more to give,” Blaid said, his tone bleak.
“I know.”
“Do you think he is here?”
“I hope so,” Maia said. Midnight, do you see their king?
They all look the same, but I sense him not.
“It was too much to hope he would have chosen our Gate as his personal attack,” Blaid said. “Without him, our plan won’t work.”
Around them, the fighting continued; the warriors still unaware of the large Vampyre army marching towards them. Midnight, and several Fire Dragons and Plains Dragons, bombarded the marching army, trying to delay their progress, but this army was protected underneath some kind of invisible shield and the dragons were unable to reach them.
“Maybe it still can. It is up to us now.” Maia touched Blaid on the shoulder. “Let us go.”
The first flaming ball from the war machines crashed into the warriors to their left, crushing dozens of them. Three more followed the first, killing Vampyres and Elves alike. Belura raised clots of earth, trying to slow the missiles’ progress, but the sheer number of them overwhelmed even his strength.
Maia and Blaid ducked out of the way, running towards the ever nearing army, when a scream, ripped from their own throats, stopped them in their tracks. The medallions around their necks burned them, hot against their skin, almost as painful as the ache within their hearts.
There lay Yolanden, grotesquely twisted, slain by a fire ball, his clothes burned off his body, his skin charred black. They knelt beside him amidst the chaos, feeling as if the old sage had one last thing to say to them.
As they cried over his body, the medallions that had once belonged to Yolanden and his one true love rose from their chests and floated in the air in front of their faces. They stared, wide-eyed, as their own medallions rose to circle the other. With strings twisting, the two sets started to glow, absorbing what remained of Yolanden’s Eläm.
When the medallions finally settled back on their chests, there were only two of them; their own having absorbed those of the other. Maia and Blaid immediately felt revived and they stood, thanking the old Elf for his sacrifice.
Maia thought she could not be any angrier, and this time it had nothing to do with Blaid’s black rage. Blocking out the screams of pain and terror behind her, she concentrated on the army in front of her.
A single person would never be able to protect such a large force with magic. Even a group of ten would not be able to do so. Holding on to Blaid to guide her, she closed her eyes for a moment to use her senses to discover the source of the magic. Blaid shifted the air around them, hiding them from sight.
To her surprise, the magic came from the rear, along the last line of pure bloods, and emanated but from a single Vampyre. Over the past two years Maia had learned how to read Vampyre Eläm, which was so different from those of the Elves, and she could tell that this Vampyre possessed no extraordinary power, only exceptional talent.
“He is using the common Vampyre slaves as his source of power,” she finally said. “He has the power of twenty thousand Vampyres. That is why not even Midnight can penetrate that shield.”
“Then we need to get to him first.”
The time for discussion had ended, for the army was upon them. Maia and Blaid let them pass, standing still and letting them crash upon them like waves upon a rock. The Werewolves smelled them - for Blaid’s invisibility cloak was poorly constructed - but the Vampyres moved them on.
The frontline of the Vampyre army drove into the remainder of the Elven force, crushing them mercilessly. The magic-wielding Vampyre was still too far away, but they had to act now. He became the plan.
Combining their souls, similar to what they did to keep the storm at bay, they created their own shield and then pushed outwards with everything they had left to give.
Th
e force killed everything within a radius of a hundred strides around them, before the ripples lost their strength; only stunning, instead of killing. It gave them the diversion they had hoped for and they ran towards the Vampyre Maia had singled out.
Chaos reigned around them, but the magic-wielder sat calmly upon his Werewolf, waiting for them to come to him. His slaves stood still behind him, all twenty thousand of them, their war machines now idle as they waited for his commands.
“You are making it too easy, Princess of Light,” the Vampyre drawled. “And you, Prince of Darkness. Lord Drakul vill be pleased I bring you to ‘im.”
“What does he want with us?” Blaid asked. “Is our planet not enough for him?”
“Your planet is only thee beginning. Now, come.”
The Vampyre waved his hand, beckoning them. A force grabbed them and dragged them forward. They struggled against it, but to no avail; he simply had too much power.
“You vill like Naylera. I take you. Take you to King Drakul. You vill remember my name. I am Lord Vlarden.”
The Vampyre cackled with glee, and then his eyes widened in terror as Midnight approached in low flight from behind them. Soon, Midnight filled their entire field of vision and Lord Vlarden murmured strange words as he summoned the magic.
The army of slaves mournfully sighed in unison as the magic-wielder drew on their combined energy to fight the black beast. Distracted by the threat, he released Maia and Blaid. Directing all the power he sucked from the slaves at the dragon, he shot a ray of pure energy directly into Midnight’s open maw.
Spraying soil in all directions, Midnight crashed to the ground, sliding along before eventually coming to a standstill a mere ten paces from Maia’s feet. She stared at his still and broken form.
Behind them, the Nayleran war horns signalled victory. Even exhausted as they were, the slaves cheered their master for his cunning. All around them, Elves laid down their weapons.
Fixing his evil, black eyes on Maia and Blaid, Lord Vlarden bound them once more with his energy before they could escape. Neither resisted. The war was lost.