by Clayton Wood
“It wasn’t me,” Sukri quipped.
“Noted Puss,” Vi replied. “Hey Camilla. How’s the raping little boys thing panning out for ya?”
“He was hardly little,” Camilla retorted with a smirk.
“Don’t want to know,” Vi grumbled.
“Watch your tongue,” Dio growled. Vi gave him a bemused look.
“You been practicing that in the mirror? You know, while taking your mom from behind?”
“All right,” Dominus interjected. “Enough.”
Vi winked at Sukri, then walked up to Dominus and Tykus. The former king inclined his head at her.
“Good morning Vi,” he greeted. “I didn’t expect you to get here so quickly.”
“I ran,” she explained. His eyebrows went up.
“All the way here?”
“Yep,” she confirmed. “I got stamina like you wouldn’t believe.”
“I can confirm that,” Camilla piped in.
Tykus considered this, then glanced at Dio and Vi.
“Seeing as we’re just waiting on the Kingdom at this point, a little friendly sparring match wouldn’t hurt, would it?” he suggested.
“We need to conserve our strength,” Dominus pointed out.
“I know I’d enjoy seeing two fine warriors test their skills against each other,” Tykus declared. “Perhaps it would serve to…ease the tension.”
Dominus glanced at Tykus, then sighed.
“If you insist.”
“IN…COMING,” Xerxes warned.
Dominus followed Xerxes’ gaze to the vast expanse of the Deadlands. A long line of soldiers was approaching far in the distance. The Kingdom’s army. He frowned, turning to Tykus.
“That was awfully quick,” he noted.
“If I were king, I would’ve had my army ready for deployment the instant a messenger gave the word,” Tykus replied. He reached into his horse’s pack, retrieving a helmet. The former king put it on, giving Dominus a wink. “Can’t have them recognizing me,” he explained.
Dominus nodded, turning to face the Kingdom’s army again. He suddenly felt the weight of this moment, of the monumental task he’d been given. No, that he’d asked for.
Today would decide the fate of the Kingdom.
He was suddenly acutely aware of the sweet scent of grass and flowers coming from the Fringe, and the dusty, sterile smell of the Deadlands. The sound of leaves rustling, the slow beating of his heart in his chest.
He closed his eyes, an image of his hives coming to him. Crates stacked on wooden pallets, each crate filled with frames upon which his bees had constructed their perfect wax cells. For a lifetime he’d protected them. Nurtured them. Killed failing queens and supported strong ones.
I am the beekeeper.
The man outside of the hive, watching over it.
Dominus opened his eyes, struck with the magnitude of his role. The weight of six thousand years upon his shoulders, a legacy that had survived countless generations of Man.
If he failed today, that legacy would be destroyed. A single Legend would transform it all, and the Kingdom – the last bastion of humanity in this forsaken world – would be lost. Any Original coming through the Gate would find no shelter, no fellow man to greet them.
I cannot fail.
He felt a hand on his shoulder, and realized it was Tykus’s.
“I believe in you,” the former king murmured.
Dominus swallowed past a sudden lump in his throat, nodding mutely.
Eventually the first line of soldiers reached Dominus and Tykus, stopping a couple dozen meters away, eyeing the Ironclad army warily. Dominus rode forward, and a general rode out to meet him; a man in his late sixties with a long gray beard.
“Good morning general,” Dominus greeted. It was Leo, one of the Kingdom’s best. Leo’s eyebrows went up in surprise.
“Duke Dominus?” he inquired. Dominus hesitated, then nodded. The general would of course assume that another Duke of Wexford had been generated by exposing a relative to Dominus’s ancestral shrine. “Your excellency,” Leo murmured, bowing his head.”
“Wexford has been destroyed,” Dominus declared. “Tykus and I have allied with the Ironclad and the Kingdom of the Deep to defeat the Svartálfar.”
Leo gazed in disgust at the long line of Ironclad waiting at the edge of the Fringe, then turned back on Dominus.
“Allies with the monsters that just murdered thousands of our men, corrupting the streets of Tykus with their filth?” he spat.
“These are desperate times.”
“Clearly,” Leo muttered. “We have orders from the king himself to cooperate with these…things,” he groused. “Fucks nearly crippled my oldest son, you know. Dislocated his shoulders and broke his ribs, without provocation. Damn lucky to be alive.”
“I suspect every man here has a reason to hate them,” Dominus conceded. “But King Tykus is wise.”
“He’s the only man I’d do this for,” Leo grumbled. “But we do it on our terms. We fight separately,” he declared. “I will not have my men risk any more corruption.”
“Of course,” Dominus agreed. “Even so, we’ll all need Cleansing after this.”
“We’ve ripped up half the streets in Tykus to Cleanse their corruption,” Leo noted, glaring at the Ironclad. “We’re installing metal plates below the wall to defend against future digging, and digging a moat around the wall. The big fucks’ll sink if they try crossing it.”
“I’d worry more about the Svartálfar,” Dominus countered, seeing an opportunity to change the subject. It worked.
“What do we know about them?”
“They’re fast, clever, and they regenerate rapidly,” Dominus answered. “Killing them is not enough. You have to burn their bodies, or decapitate them.”
“Do they use weapons?”
“Only those natural to them,” Dominus replied. “They’re mostly animal in origin, and have no armor or training. They attack with their claws.”
“Should be easy enough then,” Leo opined. Dominus shook his head.
“Don’t underestimate them,” he warned. “I’ve fought them personally. One is dangerous, but in numbers they’re lethal.”
Leo nodded.
“As you say, your Grace.”
Dominus twisted around, gazing back at the tree line of the Fringe, then at the King’s Road nearby.
“If my…beasts perform a pincer attack, your men can set the forest ablaze and burn them all. We’ll pick them off with archers from above,” he added, gesturing at the King’s Road nearby, “…and your men can handle the rest.”
“A good plan.”
“You have oil and incendiary devices?” Dominus inquired. Leo smirked.
“Of course, your Grace,” he confirmed. “We found them remarkably effective against the Ironclad. We’ll pour oil in strategic places in the Fringe, then have our archers fire flaming arrows at them.” Dominus heard the clopping of hooves approaching, and saw Tykus riding up to them.
“And who is this?” Leo inquired.
“My general,” Dominus lied. “One of the few surviving soldiers from Wexford.”
“I am Leif,” Tykus greeted, saluting Leo.
“Leif?” Leo asked. “An unusual name.”
“I was named after my father,” Tykus explained. “Your men seem…tense,” he noted, nodding at the soldiers, who were still eyeing the Ironclad with what could only be described as naked hatred. “We were just about to have a friendly sparring match between our two best fighters. Would they care to watch?”
Leo glanced at Dominus, who nodded, then looked back at his soldiers.
“Not a bad idea,” he admitted.
“I promise it will be a good show,” Tykus said with a smile. “Dio? Vi?” he called out, glancing back at the two. Dio and Vi approached, walking up to them. “These men want a show,” Tykus declared. “Care to give them one?”
“Love to,” Vi replied. Dio only nodded.
They both stro
de forward until they were directly between the line of soldiers and the Ironclad, then turned to face each other. Dio grabbed his staff, holding it before him, but Vi only stood there, her hands at her sides.
Dominus rode up to the line of soldiers, as did General Leo.
“I present to you Dominus, Duke of Wexford!” Leo declared. The soldiers saluted sharply.
“We stand here,” Dominus stated, his voice carrying easily, “…enemies locked in battle only days ago. Man and beast, the pure and the corrupt.”
There was grumbling amongst the ranks of the men.
“Many of you may know men that died yesterday,” Dominus continued. “Or of families mourning the loss of a loved one. My own castle was attacked by this Ironclad,” he proclaimed, pointing at Xerxes. “He killed nearly one hundred of my men. Good men. Loyal men. He tore them to pieces.”
The soldiers muttered to themselves, glaring at Xerxes.
“Your anger is righteous!” Dominus declared, pumping a fist in the air.
The soldiers cheered.
“I despise this creature,” he continued, still pointing at Xerxes. “I loathe him to my core. He is corrupt. A foul beast of the Deep Forest. He has no place in the kingdom of Tykus!”
More cheers from the soldiers.
He rode parallel to the line of soldiers, eyeing each of them as he passed.
“But there is a new threat to the Kingdom,” Dominus declared. “A threat far greater than that of the Ironclad. Greater than that of the Civil War. Greater than anything the Kingdom has ever faced.” He paused. “A threat that, if we do not succeed this day, will destroy us.”
He stopped his horse, his mouth set in a grim line.
“The Svartálfar have returned,” he announced. “The Legendary Zagamar has been resurrected. If we do not band together, Man and Ironclad, Tykus and the Kingdom of the Deep, the pure and the corrupt, we will be destroyed. The dark elves will swallow this land whole, corrupting everything in their path. Those of us unlucky enough to live will be transformed into mad beasts. Slaves of Zagamar. We will turn on our loved ones, killing them or transforming them into beasts. All of mankind will be destroyed.”
There was utter silence.
“Cast aside your hatred,” Dominus commanded. “Cast aside any thought of revenge. We come together today, or suffer a fate worse than death. Do it for your general,” he continued. “Do it for your duke. Do it for your king.”
Every soldier saluted, to a man.
Dominus gestured at Vi and Dio.
“Behold our greatest warriors,” he declared. “Mortal enemies. If they had their way, they would kill each other without a second thought. Yet today, they have come together to fight as one. They have set aside their differences to defend you, the Kingdom, and all of Mankind.”
He saw Tykus smile, nodding slightly.
“A demonstration of their skill,” Dominus stated, inclining his head at Dio and Vi.
“Guess I’ll have to go easy on you for a bit,” Vi told Dio. “These boys’d be disappointed if it was over in a few seconds.”
Dio just stood there, waiting.
“I’m sure your mom knows that disappointment well,” Vi added with a grin.
And then Dio attacked.
His staff was a blur as it arced through the air at Vi’s head, and somehow Vi’s longsword was already in her hands, blocking the blow easily. She kicked at Dio’s shins, and he blocked by lifting his foot, kicking at her belly…all the while slashing at her neck. She dodged the kick, blocking his staff and counterattacking with a thrust at his chest…which he blocked.
All in a span of seconds, so fast it was almost impossible to follow.
Vi grinned at Dio.
“You’ve gotten better,” she noted approvingly. “Much better.”
Dio stepped back, then lunged forward, his staff a blur as he attacked her, each hit coming so fast that Dominus couldn’t follow. Yet somehow Vi blocked them all…and kicked him right in the chest.
Dio stumbled backward, but whipped his staff at her head at the same time. Vi pulled her head back, the deadly weapon missing her nose by mere centimeters.
“Tricky,” she said, lowering her sword. “If I’d been as good as you, I’d be dead right now.”
Dio circled around her slowly, but Vi stood right where she was. He lunged at her – a feint – but she didn’t fall for it.
“You gonna dance or you gonna fight?” Vi inquired.
He answered with a lightning-fast thrust to her chest, followed by a flurry of slashes. Vi dodged, ducked, and parried, the clanging of their weapons echoing through the air in a rapid tempo. Dio ended with a leaping chop down on Vi’s head, and Vi raised her sword to block it, dodging out of the way at the same time.
The blow knocked her sword right out of her hands, his staff missing her by a hair’s breadth.
The crowd drew in a sharp breath.
Dio followed with a thrust to Vi’s chest without pause, and Vi dodged again, grabbing his staff in the middle, and leaping up, kicking him in the chest with both feet. He flew backward, his staff pulled right out of his hands, and landed on his back in the dirt.
Vi smirked, watching as Dio transitioned smoothly into a backward somersault, leaping to his feet.
“Woulda died right there sweetheart,” she stated. “But I’m not done playing with you yet.” She tossed him his staff, one hand on her hips, the other gesturing for him to come at her. “Come get some.”
Dio stared at her; she hadn’t gone for her sword.
“Come on,” she urged.
Dio hesitated, then strode toward her, twirling his staff slowly. He stopped two meters away, circling around her slowly. Feinting once, then again, he tried to get Vi to react. But she didn’t.
Then he swung a third time, aiming right for her head…and pulled it back at the last moment, swinging the other end of his staff straight up under her chin!
Vi leaned backward, the blades at the end of his staff missing her by centimeters…then grabbed his staff on the upswing, leaping upward and forward with it. It swung over Dio’s head in a half-circle, and Vi landed behind him, yanking on the other end of his staff and pulling him backward toward her.
And right into her jumping back-kick.
She pulled the kick at the last moment, striking below his butt. His legs shot forward underneath him, and he fell flat onto his back. A split second later, Vi stopped a vicious chop with Dio’s staff a centimeter from his throat.
“Boom,” she exclaimed.
The soldiers exploded into applause, cheering Vi, who grinned, reaching down with one hand to help Dio up. Dio hesitated, then grabbed her forearm, rising to his feet. She gave him his staff back, then put a hand on his shoulder.
“You’re good,” she told him. “Damn good. I’m proud of you, Dio.”
Dio stared at her for a long moment, then inclined his head.
“Our winner,” Dominus declared. “Vi!”
The soldiers cheered again, and Dominus allowed it, waiting for it to die down. Then he gazed across the sea of soldiers.
“Mortal enemies, yet we fight as one,” he declared. “We are powerful separately, but together, we will be unstoppable!”
The soldiers cheered again, and Tykus nodded at Dominus, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Well done,” he stated.
“Thank you,” Dominus replied. Tykus’s eyes twinkled.
“I chose you for a reason Dominus,” he said. “You, above all other men, are the one I trust to save everything I’ve built.”
Dominus nodded, turning to look at the sea of men before him. Men trusting him to lead them to victory.
“I will not fail you,” he promised, gripping his reins tightly.
“Not if you can help it,” Tykus agreed.
Chapter 40
Hunter flew over the roofs of the ramshackle buildings of the Outskirts, passing the great wall surrounding the Kingdom into the barren rock and dirt of the Deadlands beyond. He
gained altitude, following the King’s Road as it led toward the Fringe miles ahead. It wasn’t long before he spotted row after row of soldiers standing by the tree line in the distance, facing a sea of Ironclad amongst the trees…and archers standing on the King’s road nearby. He glided toward them, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his wings and the sun beating down on his back.
He descended as he got closer, then changed his mind, flapping his wings instead to gain more altitude.
Might as well do a little scouting while I’m airborne.
Hunter passed beyond the tree line, scanning the terrain ahead. More Ironclad, and then empty forest. He spotted a narrow dirt path near the King’s road, and realized it was the same one he’d taken with Sukri, Kris, and Gammon during their first Trial with the Guild of Seekers.
A couple months ago at most, but it seemed like a lifetime ago.
He continued onward, finding warm air currents and letting them fill his wings, maintaining his altitude. After a few minutes, he spotted something in the distance: more black between the trees, like the Ironclad before.
But as he got closer, he realized that these weren’t Ironclad. They were too small, darting between the trees, rushing northward toward him. His blood went cold.
They were Svartálfar.
Shit.
He turned around sharply, flying back the way he’d come, flapping his wings to gain altitude as quickly as possible. Hoping that they hadn’t seen him, or just thought he was a bird. But he knew better; if these things had even a sliver of Zagamar’s intelligence, they’d have already figured out exactly what he was…and why he was there.
The forest flew by as he picked up speed, aiming for the start of the Deadlands ahead. Within minutes, he reached the end of the Fringe, descending rapidly toward the line of soldiers standing before it. He turned left then, flying parallel to the line, then touching down on the rocky terrain, slowing down right as he did so. He landed smoothly, running up to Dominus and Tykus, who were on horseback ahead.
“Hunter,” Dominus greeted.
“We’ve got incoming,” Hunter warned, stopping to catch his breath. “Svartálfar three miles south of here, and coming in fast.”