Myrell, taking advantage of Hagar’s sudden appearance, stumbled towards her brother, finding him rolling on the ground in severe pain. “Kilius! What can I do?” she cried, reaching down and pulling his hands away from the bleeding wounds. His face and chest was covered in blood and she could clearly see two deep cuts running down his cheeks and continuing to the top of his chest. It looked as if Kilius’s chin had deflected the claws from ripping his throat out, but his wounds were severe and bleeding profusely.
“I can’t stop the bleeding,” moaned Kilius.
Myrell tore her cloak off her back, pushing it into his chest hoping to stop the flow of blood. She glanced to her left and saw Jangar lying on his side, in a pool of his own blood, staring back at her with lifeless eyes. His chest was torn open and blood still dripped from the mortal wound. She kept up the pressure on her brother’s chest, glancing back at the demon and Hagar.
The demon lunged forward with tremendous speed for an animal with one useless leg, clamping its huge jaws on Hagar’s leg and shaking its head from side to side. Though Hagar was larger than the animal, the powerful beast was able to toss the injured ogrillion several paces away.
Hagar roared in pain, his calf mangled beyond recognition. The demon hound rushed at him again but Hagar kicked out with his one good leg, connecting solidly with its jaw. The crack of its jaw breaking echoed off the mountain’s walls, as its head snapped violently to the side, blood and teeth flying from its mouth. But still it kept coming. Hagar scooted back quickly, but the beast caught him with its front claws, raking deeply into his flesh, climbing the ogrillian’s body like a cat clawing up a tree.
As the hound went for Hagar’s throat, the ogrillion punched the beast in the face with all his strength, breaking several bones in his hand, but wounding the demon as well. The bones in its snout had been crushed, and it had now lost most of its front teeth, but it had been created by powerful magic, and still it came at the ogrillion. The demon hound ripped its front claws across Hagar’s chest, as it attempted to reach his throat. Hagar grabbed its jaws with both hands, barely managing to hold the heavy head at bay. Shaking its head from side to side the demon tried to bite through Hagar’s grip.
Hagar roared with the effort, and continued to hang on firmly. The ogrillion’s immense strength was beginning to pay off, and slowly he began to pull the hound’s jaw further apart. But the claws of the demon continued to rake Hagar’s chest and the blood from his wounds bathed them both in crimson. Still, Hagar held on. He strained, pulling harder, forcing its jaws farther and farther apart, until finally he heard the snapping of tendons and bone, and with one great heave Hagar ripped the beast’s jaws completely open until they were just flapping useless in his hands. Yet, despite the horrendous wound, its front claws continued to shred Hagar’s flesh.
“No!” Myrell screamed, as she witnessed Hagar’s desperate struggle with the demon. He was being torn to pieces and she could do nothing. She couldn’t leave her brother who was now starting to lose consciousness. Besides, what could she do against such a beast? Myrell frantically looked around for help, knowing that if it didn’t come soon her brother would die.
Hagar’s mind began to cloud over, and he felt himself weaken as he struggled to fight off the demon’s deadly claws. He had to make one last attempt to destroy the beast before he completely lost consciousness. Digging deeply into his last reserves of strength, he grabbed the demon’s lifeless upper jaw with one hand, punching his other massive fist into the demon’s open mouth. He felt something crush inside the demon’s mouth, as the hound tried frantically to pull away. Hagar grabbed onto something wet and fleshy inside its mouth and held it firm. He had grasped the creature’s wet fleshy tongue, and with his last roar of effort, ripped it violently from its mouth, black blood spraying from the deadly wound. Within moments the ogrillion had lost consciousness, collapsing back onto the bloodied ground.
Myrell stared helplessly at the two fallen combatants, both lying motionless. Hagar’s right hand hung to the side, his fist still clutching the demon’s bloody tongue. The ogrillion had saved their lives and she could do nothing to help him. Her brother lay at her feet bleeding to death and she could do nothing for him other than try to minimize the loss of blood. She had never felt so helpless and overcome with fear and frustration.
Jonas, now leaning anxiously by Taleen, quickly clamped his hands on her bleeding neck. Blood covered her hands, face, and chest. She looked at Jonas, eyes wide with shock as she felt her life blood draining from her body.
Jonas frantically called upon Shyann’s power, channeling the healing energy into her. His heart pounded with fear as he searched out her wounds, hoping he wasn’t too late. Though the wounds on her neck were not deep, they had nonetheless punctured her arteries. With her slit throat bleeding so rapidly and profusely, that she was unable to pray and heal herself. Jonas mended them, frantically looking elsewhere for other wounds. He found more cuts and lacerations on her legs and arms, healing them as well. She had several broken ribs and her sternum was cracked. He also fixed those injuries. Sweating with fear, his heart raced as he focused intently on her wounds, so intently in fact that several minutes passed before he noticed that her heart was no longer beating.
Eyes wide with fear, he saw Taleen staring back at him, her own eyes blank and sightless, seeing nothing.
“No!” Jonas screamed. “Shyann, please help me!”
He sent healing magic into her body again, finding her heart. It was not beating; the loss of blood had been too much. He pushed Shyann’s energy into Taleen’s heart, trying to get it beating. He continued trying, again and again, but nothing was working, even his powers could not bring back the dead. He could heal her wounds, but not replace her blood or her inner light. Jonas cried in anguish as he fought to restart her heart. He struggled on and on, for how long he did not know, finally giving in to utter fatigue and exhaustion as he finally gave up, slumping over her still body as he wept in despair.
High on a rock ledge Gullanin stared at the scene below. Things had been developing well until the cavaliers’ arrival. They had managed to kill the Hounds of Gould but their losses were great. He could see that the king and the Blade Singer were wounded and that one of the cavaliers was dead. Other warriors had also been killed but he was not worried about them. Now was his time to strike.
Dandronis and his men heard the commotion of battle before they saw it. The knowledge that their king may be fighting for his life spurred them forward. They ran into the clearing, fanning out with bows, spears, and swords held tightly.
Dandronis stood next to Durgen, both warriors quickly scanning the area. It was a chaotic scene and it took a moment to take it all in. There was one huge beast nearby lying on top of another beast that appeared to be an ogre. Next to their bodies was a dead human and several that were injured. One was a young woman yelling for help as she tried to aid another wounded man.
Beyond them another dead beast lay still, destroyed beyond recognition. A young warrior in shining silver armor stood up from the grass next to it. His helm was off and he turned toward the newcomers, making eye contact with Dandronis. The man’s eyes were red and there was no mistaking the tears streaking down his face. But he was no longer crying, his face was hard and cold, void of emotion.
There was movement behind the young warrior, and Dandronis saw the Blade Singer and another warrior run towards the man is silver armor. He recognized the other warrior. It was Evryn the axe man. But where was the king?
“Search for the king and see to the wounded!” Dandronis yelled to the men near him.
“De warrior be a cavalier,” Durgen the dwarf stated matter-of-factly. Dandronis looked again, realizing the dwarf was right. The warrior’s armor was brightly polished and devoid of blood or dirt. He wore a blue cloak, shimmering with silver thread, that despite the recent battle was clean and unmarred. Shyann’s mark sparkled back at them from across the glade and he noticed her mark on his forehead for the firs
t time.
“Let’s get some answers, good dwarf,” Dandronis replied, quickly heading toward the cavalier.
Jonas turned toward Allindrian as she quickly approached him. She was bleeding and her right arm hung useless at her side. Next to her was a burly warrior carrying a large axe.
Allindrian’s eyes glanced down to Taleen and back to Jonas’s face. She did not need to say anything, nor did he. They both understood the loss. And there were no words that could give comfort or explain such a tragedy.
“Jonas,” she said, “My heart swells with joy in seeing you but the king needs you now. My magical healing is not enough; he will die shortly without your help.”
“Where is he?” Jonas asked, his voice cold and weary.
“Near the other dead demon. Follow us,” she replied, turning on her heels.
They hastened to the king’s body which was lying behind the dead demon hound, his sword still clenched in his fist. Jonas could clearly see deep wounds on the king’s legs, and there was so much blood. But miraculously the cuts seemed partially closed, and the blood was beginning to coagulate, no longer pouring from the wounds. It seemed strange to Jonas that they had stopped bleeding so quickly, but the amount of blood around the king still worried him that it might be too late.
Quickly kneeling by his body, he laid his hands on the king’s giant chest. Again, he summoned Shyann’s power, which instantly flooded from his body into the Tarsinian king. He felt the king’s heart beat softly, but steadily, and so he sought out the man’s wounds, sealing up the cuts in his legs and arms and staunching the blood flow. He neutralized any incipient infection, and repaired damaged tissue and broken bones.
In the process of healing the king Jonas sensed something deep in the man’s spirit. He had never felt the likes of it before. It was as if there was a separate force within him watching over the king. He couldn’t find the source of the energy nor did he know what it was. Its presence was very subtle, as if it were hiding and waiting for when it was needed. Jonas finally finished, releasing the energy and opening his eyes. He swayed slightly as dizziness overtook him.
Allindrian was there to catch him and it took a few moments for it to pass. His head throbbed with pain and he felt utterly exhausted. The loss of Taleen had wounded his spirit, and his physical injuries, along with the use of his cognivant abilities, had wounded his body. He would need to rest, and soon.
Standing on wobbly legs he noticed two more newcomers. One was a stout dwarf who wore magnificent plate armor. The dwarf stood just above his waist but his heavily muscled legs and arms made him look as fearsome as any warrior. The other was a tall warrior wearing the armor of a Tarsinian Knight. His head was mostly shaved and he was looking at Jonas with a worried expression.
“Will he live, Cavalier?” Dandronis asked with concern.
“He will not!” a voice erupted from behind them.
They all turned quickly, staring in surprise at an aged man wearing gray robes and holding a polished black staff. His pallid skin was stretched tightly over his gaunt face. His thin gray hair was scraggily and un-kempt, but his eyes glared with power.
“Silvesta!” Gullanin yelled, angling the tip of his staff at the prone body of the king.
The unexpected sight of the wizard appearing out of thin air temporarily froze the warriors with uncertainty. Even Allindrian, tired as she was, did not quickly react to the evil wizard’s spell.
A bolt of lightning shot from the tip of the staff seeking the king’s body. The warriors stared in horror, the scene before them unfolding in slow motion, their eyes glued to the sizzling bolt shooting towards the helpless body of the king, everyone’s eyes, that is, except for the dwarf’s.
Durgen leaped in front of the king’s body holding his axe out before him. The bolt struck the weapon with a violent flash, the impact sending the dwarf flying backwards, somersaulting over the king.
Durgen’s action instantly unfroze everyone. Dandronis jumped away from the flashing bolt while Jonas dropped to his knees, calling forth his God Fire. Though he was exhausted, the image of Taleen’s sightless eyes gave him the strength to bring forth the flame. With both hands raised, he shot forth the magic in a fiery blue cone.
Allindrian and Evryn dove backwards away from the bolt as Jonas’s fire struck the wizard. At least it struck where the wizard had been. Jonas saw the wizard disappear just as his flames came into contact with him. Letting the flames subside, they all turned to look at the dwarf who was struggling to get up.
“Errr, that stung, it did,” Durgen muttered, hefting his son’s axe up to inspect it. His hair and clothing were slightly singed, and smoke drifted from his axe.
“That bolt should’ve killed you. How did you survive?” Allindrian asked, moving toward the short warrior.
“This axe,” Durgen replied, lifting it up before him, “was made by me own hands for me son who now sits next to Moradin himself. It was blessed by our clerics with the ability to absorb magic.”
“You saved our king, Trader Durgen. We are grateful for it, as I’m sure he will be when he awakes,” said Dandronis.
Jonas’s mind drifted to Taleen as the warriors spoke, and he found himself walking away from the scene. He was utterly weary, and his head pounded inside his skull. His sadness was complete and it drained his body of any energy that still existed. But he had one more thing to do before he could let total exhaustion claim him, and so he stumbled on shaking legs toward the tree line. He had to check on Fil and the rest of his companions before he took that rest.
Allindrian, Durgen, Evryn, and Dandronis watched the cavalier walk away.
“He has suffered much,” Allindrian said softly, answering their questioning stares. She turned back to the warriors as more Tarsinian soldiers approached Dandronis awaiting their orders. “Dandronis, are you in charge?”
“Yes, the men elected me to lead,” he said flatly.
“Have your men gather wood and light three large fires in a perimeter. We need warmth and food and a place to rest and see to our wounds,” Allindrian ordered.
“Very well, Blade Singer, it shall be done,” he replied, turning to his men and giving the orders.
Jonas moved as fast as he tired muscles could carry him towards Myrell, who, with the help of two Tarsinian warriors, was trying frantically to stanch the flow of blood from her brother’s wounds. They immediately stepped back as Jonas approached. Myrell grabbed his arm and looked at him pleadingly. Blood covered her arms up to her elbows and her eyes were red from crying.
“Jonas, please help Kilius! Can you save him?”
“I have little energy left but I will try to stop the bleeding,” Jonas replied calmly, kneeling next to the unconscious young man. He laid his hands on Kilius’s chest, breathing deeply, searching for Shyann’s energy. He found it but the link was tenuous, his tired mind having difficulty focusing. He thought of Kiln’s training, breathing deeply again, calming his mind and searching for Ty’erm. He was finally able to find it and immediately he felt the surge of power flow from his hands into Kilius. The young warrior was weak but his heart still beat, just barely. Jonas closed the wounds, sealing the torn veins and blood vessels. It only took a few moments and when he was done he opened his eyes, noticing that Kilius was sleeping and no longer moaning.
“Is he going to be okay, Jonas?” Myrell asked anxiously.
“Yes, he will be fine. He will be weak for some time from loss of blood, but rest and food will help.” Jonas stood up on shaky legs, motioning for the two Tarsinian warriors to help Kilius. “Men of Tarsis, see to this man. Myrell, go with them and help where you may. I will check on Fil.”
“Yes, sir,” replied the men in unison.
Myrell reached out, touching Jonas’s arm as he moved towards Fil. Jonas turned at her touch, his face showing signs of exhaustion but devoid of emotion.
“Thank you, Jonas, again,” she said. Jonas nodded his head, turning to leave, but she held his arm firmly forcing him to turn back
again. “And, I’m sorry, Jonas, about Taleen.”
Jonas looked at her, sharing a silent moment. He didn’t say anything, afraid that he would break down completely. He simply nodded his head again and turned to leave. This time Myrell let him go.
Fil was lying motionless but moaning in obvious pain. As Jonas knelt near his friend, Fil smiled through clenched teeth.
“That thing…hit…harder than that …ogre,” Fil stammered softly.
“Shhhh, don’t strain yourself. How do you feel?” Jonas asked.
“I can feel several ribs move, so I know they are broken. Other than that I’m not sure. I hurt all over. It hurts just to talk,” Fil stammered in pain.
“Then don’t talk. I need to rest for a moment before I see to your wounds.”
Fil nodded his head and looked at Jonas with concern, despite the pain he felt. “Jonas, did Taleen survive the fight?”
Jonas didn’t say anything. He just shook his head slowly.
Fil reached up and grabbed Jonas’s hand. “I’m sorry,” he said, gritting his teeth as fresh pain lanced through his body.
Jonas grabbed the leather water pouch strapped to Fil’s pack and poured some water into his mouth. Fil drank slowly, closing his eyes in pleasure as the cool water dripped down his parched throat. Then Jonas took a long pull from the pouch, gulping down the refreshing liquid. “I think I’m ready, Fil. I am too tired to do much, but I should be able to alleviate some of your pain. Once I rest I can heal you further.”
Fil nodded his head gratefully.
Jonas put his hands on Fil’s body, searching for Shyann’s power one last time. He coaxed it forth again, sending it into Fil and healing his more serious wounds. A couple of his ribs were snapped and the sharp edges had torn into Fil’s flesh, causing internal bleeding and trauma. He mended the bones while seeking to repair any bleeding tissue. Fil had several more broken bones and all Jonas had the energy to do was weakly put them back together. He could not firmly fuse them which would mean that Fil would have to limit his movement and rest until Jonas regained his strength to heal him properly. Jonas faltered, losing concentration and almost falling on top of Fil. He caught himself with his right hand, opening his eyes to see Fil looking back at him.
The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 02 - The Rise of Malbeck Page 15