by Mark Cole
Alex stared into the changeling’s golden eyes defiantly. “I will if I must. I did it yesterday. I cannot be stopped.”
He’s givin’ over to the blade’s influence, the Dwarf thought. Brahm had known the last Guardian. He had said many of the same things Alex was now. But, I do no’ remember Corin bein’ able to do the things he’s done.
Caitlyn didn’t back down. She took her hands from him and crossed her arms beneath her breasts. “Fine, Alex. Show me this great power you have such mastery over. Show me, and I will let you go, but you will take me with you.”
The Guardian clenched his fists as if he was about to strike the changeling. Brahm readied himself to leap forward and tackle the man. Caitlyn didn’t move an inch, just continued to stare him in the eyes. She’s a brave one, the Dwarf thought. He had not liked the changeling when he first met her, but Brahm had since changed his mind on the matter. She was young and brash, but she knew when to fight and when to fall back.
With gritted teeth and a growl, Alex turned from her and sat in the chair at the foot of the table. Caitlyn let out a breath and took a seat to his right. C’mon boy, ye only need to keep it together for a little longer, Brahm thought as he sat to his left.
The Dwarf looked up at his friend. The Guardian’s eyes glared at the dark spot as if he were trying to burn a hole in the center of the map. “We’ll get ‘er back, me boy. Don’t ye doubt that fer a second.” Alex nodded.
The tent flap opened in a gust of cold air. Brahm and Caitlyn stood. Alex stared at the map. The Fanglady, Silvia Shadowpaw, entered with Timothy at her side, King Eagon Harbronn with Scalelord Bahamut, and Clawlord Rageclaw with Ligon Stormbringer.
All of the changelings were in their human form. Silvia’s glossy black was hair back in a tight braid. She wore a simple green dress like her sister with a green woolen cloak on over it. Timothy wore his red vest open across his ebony skin. Looks like the cold do no’ touch the elves. Just like it do no’ bother the dragons, Brahm thought. Silvia next to Caitlyn with Timothy to her left.
King Harbronn wore his gold and thorium armor and crown. Bahamut wore only his loose red pants with his black jaw-length hair held back by a matching red band. King Harbronn sat to the right of Brahm’s chair with Bahamut to his left.
Chieftain Rageclaw, wearing a yeti-pelt cloak, sat across from Elder Ligon Stormbringer. The barbarian’s leader wore a leather vest over a heavy, gray shirt and pants. Alex looked at the empty chair at the head of the table.
“Is someone else coming?” the Guardian asked. Brahm winced. He knew for whom the chair had been intended.
Silvia spoke up in her soft voice. “No. I’ll have it taken away.” She began to beckon to one of the attendants.
Alex held up his hand. “It’s fine. We’ll leave it for those who couldn’t be with us today,” he said with a pained expression. Those assembled nodded their assent. A small group of attendants began to move around the tent serving drinks.
While formal introductions were being given, Brahm noticed Caitlyn glancing at Alex every few minutes. I feel bloody sorry fer ye, Cat. But do no’ worry, yer secret’s safe with me. Brahm let out a slow breath. When’d I become such a softie?
“Now that the pleasantries be over,” King Harbronn said. “Shall we get down to business?” Everyone agreed. “Now, The Scale said there be a force around the Obsidian Tower at least twice as big as the one yesterday.”
Lord Bahamut nodded. “At least that large,” he rumbled in his resonating bass. “And it grows larger every day. There are more demons there than I’ve seen in one place. There is also a smattering of efreet and Fyrian machina like the one the Guardian defeated in the volcano.”
“What are efreet?” Alex asked.
Brahm spoke up. “Efreet’re the denizens o’ Gile, the flamin’ Realm o’ Chaos. They’re made o’ elemental energy. Bloody things’re tricky an’ connivin’. In battle though, they’re usually scouts an’ raiders. Look like floatin’ bandages.”
Alex nodded. “What is the status of our forces?”
“We bring just over seventy thousand from Starfall,” Timothy said. “Seven thousand of The Fang, just shy of fifteen thousand elven archers and swordsmen, and fifty thousand humans. About a quarter of them are a mixture of light and heavy cavalry.”
King Harbronn talked next. “I’ve got all twenty-five thousand o’ me people, an’ a similar number o’ humans.”
“All of my brood were awoken from the long sleep. Two hundred Changelings of the Scale are at your call.”
Chieftain Rageclaw spoke last. “There are fifteen thousand of the Claw, and forty-three thousand northmen ready for battle.”
Alex’s face was blank for a moment. He winced as if from a sudden pain and gritted his teeth. His hands balled into fists on the table. Caitlyn put her hand on his arm to try calming him. Brahm swore. The boy’s been doin’ that all day. The Nexus must be gettin’ tortured. The old Dwarf felt the heat of anger rise in his chest.
“She’s strong, Alex,” Caitlyn said tenderly. “She’ll not give in.” He took a deep breath and held his head in his hands. He nodded slowly as he let it out. The others around the table looked down. They had heard Terra had been captured. He placed his hands back on the table and lifted his head.
“Almost two hundred thousand,” Alex said, his voice ragged. “Twice what we originally hoped for, going against a force four times the size we feared. Efreet are powerful fliers and with only two hundred of the Scale, we can’t claim air superiority.” Looks were exchanged around the table. No one had thought to tell him efreet could fly.
He looked to each of the leaders. “We are assaulting a magical fortress in the middle of an area that slowly drains the life from anyone that enters. And we are outnumbered four-to-one. I’ve heard nothing from the sprites and as far as I know all of the Changelings of the Wing are all dead.” He balled his fists and lifted them to slam down on the table but stopped himself at the last instant. He unclenched his fists and rubbed his face instead. “I’m sorry, but I don’t see any way to win.”
Brahm felt his hopes fade. He had almost expected Alex to have a plan. The boy could be surprisingly resourceful. Silence fell over the table. “We have to,” Ligon said. “Our world is ending. Everyone here will be dead soon if we don’t at least try.”
Arguments sprang up around the table as they each took a side. Only Alex was silent. A few minutes of arguing passed, and the Guardian got an odd look on his face. He reached into his belt pouch and pulled out the Eye he and Terra had kept. Azreal would have it, but it had been left with their packs the day she was taken. He looked at the Eye curiously. The others slowly caught his expression and the arguments died down.
“Hello?” a young girl asked through the crystal. “I thought I heard someone talking.”
“Hello,” Alex said. “What’s your name?”
“Hanna,” she answered. The leaders looked at each other in surprise.
“Hi, Hanna,” he said kindly. “My name is Alex. Are you a Changeling of the Wing?
“I am,” she said. “Do you know where everyone is?”
His face tightened at the memory. “I do, Hanna. Do you have someone there with you?”
“My father and his crew. We just got back from an expedition!” she said proudly. Alex smiled at the child’s innocent happiness.
“That sounds like it was a lot of fun. Is your father there?”
“He told me not to touch this little ball, but I heard people arguing. It started humming when I touched it. I’m sorry, Dad, but I just wanted to know what it was,” Hanna said to her father. “Do you want to talk to him?”
“I do. Can you hand the ball to him? If it starts humming again when you both touch it, make sure you don’t let go until it stops.”
“All right,” Hanna said.
A couple of seconds passed before a man said something. “This is Aeryn. Who am I speaking to?”
“My name’s Alex Zane. I’m the Guardian. Can you as
k your daughter to move away before I tell you what happened? No child should have to hear…”
“Hanna,” the man said in an authoritative tone, “be a good girl and go play with the Deacon boy.” A few seconds of silence passed. “Don’t worry, I’ll let you talk to him again before he has to go. Just play on the other side of this little pond where I can watch you.” A few more seconds of silence. When the changeling spoke again his tone was grave and nearly bereft of emotion. “My father was the Winglord. What happened to my people, Guardian?”
Alex took a deep breath before he spoke. “I’m sorry, Aeryn. They were all dead before my wife, friends, and I arrived. They were butchered by Azreal. He left your father alive but cast a spell on him that killed him after he told us what had happened.”
A choking sound came from the Eye as the changeling bit back a sob. “My wife and youngest were here,” he pleaded. “Were there any survivors?”
“I’m so sorry, but we didn’t find any. We searched for days. My wife, the Nexus, performed the funeral ceremony herself. The statue and the pond around it are the all that remains of the massive pyre. I have an army of almost two hundred thousand, a coalition of all the remaining peoples of Dae. We march against Azreal. He… he has my wife and unborn child, Aeryn.”
“When do you march?” the new Winglord asked with anguished hatred.
“Now. We’ll be there in six days.” Nods from around the table agreed with his assessment of how long it would take to arrive. “We lack air power, Winglord.”
“I have fifteen ships, Guardian, each with a full crew of fifty. Some of our most powerful magic users were with the expedition. We will clear the skies.”
“Good. This is the plan…” The Guardian spoke as he pointed to positions on the map. Brahm felt his hopes begin to kindle anew, and with each word they grew. Alex bade Hanna goodbye.
The meeting was adjourned, and the camp struck. The march on the Obsidian Tower had begun.
“Who are you? What are you doing to me?” Terra demanded weakly. She had awoken a few minutes earlier with tubes attached to her body. So far, the only injury she had received was the obsidian shard jutting from her arm. Terra was in a room full of green cylinders, most human sized, but a few were many times that and some were less than half that size. Her arms were bound behind her back, and she was hanging from them. Her shoulders screamed in pain, and she had trouble breathing.
“I am Doctor Sigma Moore,” the man said. “I am in Azreal’s employ.”
“A doctor? Not one of medicine, I take it.” He shook his head. “A scientist, then. Why is the Realm of Science working for Azreal?”
“To better the cause of science, of course. I have been given an unprecedented opportunity to learn something new.” His cockroach black eyes looked into hers. “And learn I have.
“There were so many failures at first,” Sigma said as he moved around her naked form. “So many bled dry before any significant amount of energy could be drained from them.” She winced as Doctor Moore dug another tube into her back. She struggled against the metal bands on her arms and legs, but they would not budge. “Stop that. If you aren’t still, it will hurt much more, but the extraction tubes will still go on.”
She kept struggling. The next tube sinking into her flesh felt as if she had been jabbed with a searing hot poker. Terra screamed in pain. “I told you. I do not care about your personal comfort.”
“No,” she said hoarsely. “You only want to drain the life and magical power from me.”
The doctor moved around to face her again. “That’s right,” he said softly. “And the things we will learn from your death will be amazing, I’m sure.” He began to line up a tube with her slightly protruding stomach. Panic shot through Terra like a bolt of lightning.
“Wait!” she shouted. The scientist took a step back in surprise. “I’m pregnant.”
Doctor Moore laughed. “Do you think somewhere in your barbaric mind that you will somehow make it through the process?” he asked. “It does not matter. Scans have shown that the fetus is cocooned in a bubble of magic and force unlike anything I’ve ever seen. She will survive you. Now hold still, or your thrashing may kill her while I attach this.”
A girl, Terra thought. She did her best to hold still. Alex will save me. I know he will. The clamps and needles driving into the tight flesh of her middle hurt more than any of the others, but she did not do so much as flinch. Doctor Moore stepped back when he was done.
“Of course, when you are dead I am going to cut her from your body. Azreal said he always wanted a child to raise.” He glanced up at her eyes and took a step back in surprise and fear.
The Nexus’s glare promised the genius a death more painful than anything he could imagine.
Chapter Twenty-one - The Architect
The army camped at the edge of the dead area of the plains. Pale, wheat colored grasses rippled in the early spring wind behind them, and dead, wilted brown-gray grass crumbled a couple miles away from of them. The Obsidian Tower loomed in the distance.
Four spiked spires rose from the sides of the flat-topped center tower. Each spire faced one of the four cardinal directions. The rolling hills obscured its base, but the sounds of a large abyssal army could be heard from miles further still.
Alex stood with Caitlyn, Brahm, and Silvia. The first part of the plan was well underway. If it’s too dangerous for us to fight them there, the Guardian thought, then we will bring them here. This is just like the time I assaulted the Hellgate. Images of blood and horror ran through his mind. That wasn’t me! he shouted in his mind. He shook his head trying to clear the scenes of death screaming through it.
I am Alex Zane, he recited. I am married to Terra Duval, the Nexus of the Realm of Magic. The memories of other Guardians were becoming increasingly difficult to distinguish from his own. Sometimes, he dreamed he was another person. Sometimes, he almost believed he was.
He now understood that the memories were the blade’s way of teaching the Guardian how to use and master the sword. Unfortunately, it was flawed; Alex’s instincts screamed that he should be able to control the flow of information. It was as if someone in the past had opened a faucet and ripped off the valve.
The memories had begun to bubble up since they crossed the Great Range five days ago. Alex had created a list of everything he could remember about himself and recited it when he realized he was recalling another person’s memories. “And I’ve never been to Hell,” he told himself, adding the fact to the end of the list.
The three standing near him all looked at him with concern. He realized he had been reciting the list softly. “Sorry,” Alex said. “I’m trying to keep it together.”
Caitlyn nodded and put her hand on his shoulder. “Not much longer now. We’ll have her back soon. Then we can rest and figure out how to prevent you from…” she trailed off before she could finish. Her hand slipped from his shoulder.
“Losin’ yer bloody mind,” Brahm finished. The sisters glared at the Dwarf.
Alex laughed. “You never were one to sugar-coat the situation. Do you remember the time we had to fight off that army of wildmen from across the ocean?”
The stalwart Dwarf swallowed uncomfortably. “I do, lad.”
“That wasn’t me was it?” he asked running his left hand through his white hair. A few strands of brown fell in front of his face. BROWN! he roared in his head trying to keep it straight. MY HAIR IS BROWN!
“No, Alex. It was Corin, the last Guardian. I did that with him nigh to three hundred years ago. Do no’ worry, it’ll be over soon.” Brahm never tried to give him false hope of being able to stop his rapidly degrading mental state, and he respected the Dwarf for it.
Alex nodded and looked back toward the Obsidian Tower. “Sorry.”
“Do no’ think on it more.” The clash of steel on steel and dull thud of an explosion announced the start of battle. “It’s startin’, an’ yer plan’s a good one. Do ye want to address the army ‘fore battle’s me
t?”
The Guardian shook his head. “I don’t know if I’ll say something… wrong. You should do it.”
“As ye say, me friend.” The Dwarf cleared his throat. “Can ye make me loud?” he asked Caitlyn. She cast the spell then nodded.
“Peoples o’ Dae,” Brahm boomed. A hundred-thousand heads swiveled around. “Today we do no’ fight against an army o’ demons but one man. One man started all o’ this, and one man’s death’ll see it ended. Do no’ let the paltry demons we face lower yer spirits. They bleed just like everythin’ else. Draw yer swords an’ ready yer bows. Today we show all o’ the outer Realms what the people o’ Dae’re made of.” A roar of cheers and pumping fists filled the air.
“Get to yer positions an’ stand ready. They come.” Brahm made a cutting motion with his hand, and Caitlyn removed the spell. “Ye’re all ready?” he asked the three others atop the rise with him.
Terra coughed as the breathing tube slid from her mouth. The green slime that filled the inside of the extraction pod covered her skin. It tingled and made her feel cold. Must be time to eat, she thought. The black tubes stuck out from places all over her body, and it was difficult to move without causing a painful pulling sensation.
“How long?” she asked. Her voice sounded like stone on a rasp, and it hurt to talk. She had been awakened by Doctor Moore several times, but she could never tell how much time had passed, and that made keeping track of its passage impossible.
An unknown man with silver eyes and hair studied her. A small rectangle with moving lines on it flipped up from his metal arm. A computer. She remembered using one a few times while she was on Earth.
“I know the procedure is disorienting. How long were you under? Or how long have you been here?” he asked with concern in his voice.
“Both,” Terra said. She ate a spoonful of the gray mush he was lifting to her mouth. It tasted like paper but filled her up. Doctor Moore called it nutrient mash when she had asked what it was. She tried to drag out going back into the gel for as long as possible each time she came out. The process was killing her; she was sure.