by Meg Cowley
“I’m glad to hear it. I did not ask for men from Arlyn county, knowing how much you needed them—”
“I’m grateful for that, too, Soren,” Eve cut in, giving him a wan smile.
Soren nodded. “But I do have need of you.”
Eve raised her eyebrow, but did not speak, so he continued.
“I need your help in the battle to come. Your healing skills, your magic. You know what we face. I need every pair of hands I can find, and yours most of all.”
Eve faltered and could not speak for a moment. “I am flattered you ask,” she replied carefully, “but Arlyn is without a leader if I leave. You know my father’s ailments do not permit him to take on his usual duties. I am needed here.”
“All will be well,” a man’s voice said. Soren could see a man in guard’s attire step forward.
“Luke…”
“I promise you, E… Lady Eve,” Luke replied, his eyes flicking to the mirror. “Your father seems a little recovered; you need not worry for him. Captain Hoarth is doing an excellent job of overseeing the restructuring of the town with the masons and carpenters, and I can accompany you, as usual, to keep you safe.”
Eve flashed him a small smile, and Soren could sense something between them, but he did not enquire. There was no time to waste on niceties, and his cousin’s indiscretions were her own matter.
Her face clouded. “What if it is like Ednor, like Arlyn, all over again?” She shuddered, and Soren could see the horror in her eyes as if she was reliving it again.
“It will not be like that,” Soren leaped on the opportunity to reassure her. “We are prepared. The battle is of our choosing in place and time. We will triumph. There will be no retreat. There will be no defeat. Pandora and its people will remain safe and whole. There will be no devastation. I promise you will be safe.”
“If you are so prepared, what need have you of I?”
“Great need. There will be casualties. We cannot avoid that. Human, Eldarkind, even dragon. My healers cannot cope with it. We need someone like you, with your capabilities. I do not ask it lightly of you. Will you come?”
Eve looked towards Luke, clearly torn.
He nodded. “It’s your duty, Eve. To king and country.”
“What of Arlyn?”
“Arlyn will be fine. Hoarth is a good man. Your father is recovering,” Luke repeated. “We have our most skilled men, and, thanks to our king—” he dipped his head to Soren, “—master craftsmen from Pandora to help us.”
Eve did not reply, and looked away from them both. Soren could see she waged a battle inside her own mind then. At last, she looked up, her face troubled and unsure, but, as he watched, it set in determination.
“I cannot do it, Cousin. Forgive me. We have our own ill and injured here to tend to. How else can they be healed except with my magic? We have lost all else, and can forage little from the land at present. I cannot leave them knowing this. My people look to me for hope and leadership. If I leave, what does that say to them?” Her eyes flicked to Luke. “And of myself.” Her voice grew quiet. “Ednor… Arlyn… I cannot endure that again.” She cleared her throat. “All I have done, I have tried to do for duty to others. I cannot abandon what is the most important duty to myself. Not now. Forgive me.” She raised her chin in defiance.
Soren searched her face, but found no doubt there. He sighed. “With greatest respect, Cousin, I shall not order you to come. If you truly feel this is the best course, I will honor your judgment. We have the Eldarkind and the dragons. We shall manage without you. Continue your work in Arlyn.”
Eve held up her shoulders as they threatened to sag with relief.
Soren hoped she was right and that one pair of hands would not make the difference.
~
The first day of the fourth month dawned with the clouds as seething and brooding as Soren. He stood in silence with Tarrell and Farran upon the battlements of Pandora, watching over the plains where his archers and fighters practised under scudding clouds and wheeling dragons.
It was time.
They prepared in the dark vaults, away from all prying eyes, where the ice-fire was kept. A perfectly circular pool of water as still as a millpond and as dark as night lay in the centre of the vaulted cellar. Soren had never seen this part of the castle before and wondered at its purpose, but it would serve them now, regardless of its origin. Farran, thanks to the underground cavern that supplied Pandora and the wide tunnels under the castle, managed to squeeze far enough in so he too could join them. His neck stretched through the door and his head both rested on the floor and butted the ceiling.
Soren and Tarrell stood equal measures apart around the pool, with Farran in between them. Farran opened his mighty jaws and a crooning sound filled the cellar, echoing from every wall and pillar in the dark place and vibrating Soren to his core. Tarrell stayed silent, mouthing words with no sound whilst his eyes fixed on the pond.
This was no ordinary scrying, Soren could tell. Farran’s voice rose in pitch and intensity, now speaking guttural words in a language Soren did not understand, and Tarrell’s words grew louder, too. The hairs on Soren’s skin prickled. Cies appeared upon the water, and, as Soren watched, Tarrell and Farran fell silent. Cies slowly turned his head to stare Farran in the eyes.
Farran spoke then; more harsh, guttural words in his tongue that grated on Soren’s ears. Cies snarled and replied in kind. They continued to speak, back and forth, and their conflict rose in intensity until Cies cut Farran off with a roar. His open jaw filled the pond and Soren saw fire brewing within. Cies unleashed a jet of white-hot flames towards them. Soren stumbled backwards and Tarrell leaped forwards, shouting to end the connection. Fire spurted from the surface of the pool just as Tarrell closed the scrying. Crackling flames and hissing, vaporized water deafened Soren. The fire was blinding. The darkness and silence that followed blanketed them.
“It is done,” said Farran grimly. “He will come.”
Come Cies did. The watch was doubled night and day, with all Pandora on standby. On the second day, the sun did not set. A horizon of flames lit up the sky. The wall of flames marched towards them as Cies burned all in his path. Soren watched from the battlements with Farran and Tarrell. It was an intimidating scene, as Cies intended.
Waiting was the worst, and Soren knew they could lose no time in preparing.
“Sound the bells,” he ordered.
Chapter Twenty Nine
The wall of fire arrived at Pandora before the next day was out, bringing with it winged demons that soared through the flames and smoky skies, raining hell upon its inhabitants.
Pandora’s women and children and the old and the infirm, huddled out of sight, deep beneath the citadel in the vaults of Pandora castle. It was to be their impregnable refuge. The healers were there, too, at Tarrell’s advice. Soren thought the healing houses, deep in the city walls, would be safe, but an attack from above rendered all vulnerable, Tarrell warned. This would be a new kind of warfare, Soren realised.
As they awaited the approaching inferno, Pandora’s walls bristled with soldiers. Their armour was aglow with the reflection of fire. Archers and longbow men stood stony-faced, staring out between the crenulations with fingers tapping upon their bow handles or rifling through their arrows; anything to keep the nerves at bay.
Soren awaited on top of Pandora cathedral’s tower, ringed by his finest longbow men. It was the best vantage point in the city, and he wagered, the best chance of reaching the dragons. The castle lay under a light guard for now; to be their defence should they have to fall back. The dragons waited there, itching for the battle to start.
Song rose from the city as Eldarkind stood around Pandora with their arms up-stretched to the sky, singing in the Eldartongue of protection and warding, and weaving a great spell of protection for mother earth to keep them. Soren could not make out the words, but they filled him with a sense of reassurance not even the approach of Cies could break. At least, until the songs cea
sed. Then, the creeping dread took hold once more.
It seemed both an age and an instant before Cies arrived. But all too soon, Cies was upon them. There were no exchanges, no parlays and no delays. He descended upon them in a halo of fire, and flames and hell descended from the heavens with him.
The moment they were within range, Soren gave the command to attack. Horns blew across the city to pass on his order. The first volley of arrows sailed into the sky, tipped with glowing blue fire. Arrows swam through the sky like glinting fish. Many sailed to nowhere, but some found their target and the roaring of the oncoming storm of dragons changed as they hit. The arrows left blue-white skittering trails that lingered over the dragon’s scales.
“Again!” he shouted. “Release at will!” He winded the horn himself to give the order.
Cies and his dragons held back nothing in their attack, bathing the city with trails of fire that set swathes of Pandora ablaze.
The first Eldarkind ward failed with the first attack, much to Soren, Tarrell, and Farran’s dismay, but it was no surprise. Tarrell had already warned there was insufficient magic to hold it. If nothing else, it was a faint hope. Soren hoped they could succeed, but even he was not sure how they could stand before such an attack. None of his men could survive dragon fire, he knew that much.
~
At last, dragons and Eldarkind engaged. Farran, followed by his clan, took off from the castle garden in stealth mode, rising fast and high with the Eldarkind mounted upon them, ready and waiting with ice-fire blades. They were shielded from view by the waves of smoke that rose from Pandora, but it would not be long before they were spotted.
With Lorellei astride, Myrkdaga soared behind Farran.
“Are you ready?” Lorellei said into his mind with a grin. Myrkdaga could hear the edge of fear hidden behind Lorellei’s bravado.
“I have been anticipating this day for many moons,” said Myrkdaga with grim glee. “Retribution at last.” A gust of wind buffeted them and Lorellei did not answer for a moment, too busy tightening his grasp upon Myrkdaga.
“You… you will seek to challenge Cies yourself?”
Myrkdaga growled. “No. I cannot stand before Cies. He is too powerful for me to defeat. I am no fool. But he will be cast down by one of my kin, I know it, and then my father’s justice will be served. Myrkith-visir will be avenged, and the coward and traitor, Cies of the silver scales, will be no more. As he deserves.”
“You do not come for the alliance, do you?”
Myrkdaga scoffed. “No. I care not for the petty wishes of humans and Eldarkind to play nicely. I have no enmity towards either of your races, but you ought to be stronger. You ought to be able to fight off dragons. Perhaps, Eldarkind, with your ice fire swords and your magic can, but these humans… I have never seen such numerous and incapable creatures. Their homes burn and all they can do is send pointy sticks into the sky? It baffles me that we must ally with them, but for now, I care not. I come for Cies and Cies alone.”
Farran turned on his wing to descend, and Myrkdaga gritted his teeth. “Hold on. Here we go.” He tucked in a wing and pivoted on the spot, to plummet from the sky as fast as a falling star. On his back, Lorellei hunched close to his scales, closing his eyes to slits against the wind slicing past them.
In moments, the sky darkened as they entered the plumes of smoke. The only hint of dragons around them was a dull flash within the murk. Lorellei kept his blue sword at the ready, awaiting Myrkdaga’s direction, for his dragon counterpart could sense his foes with greater accuracy.
~
“Left!” was the only warning Lorellei received before a dragon loomed in the smoke. Lorellei slashed his sword in wild desperation, just managing to nick the hide. Lorellei jolted as Myrkdaga used the dragon’s own bulk to push away from it. He swallowed and gripped his sword tighter. Calm. He took a deep breath, trying to focus his energy. That was all he had time for before they were in the fray once more.
Again and again, they darted in and danced away, attacking with stealth and speed and melting back into the smoke to protect them. Myrkdaga rent with claws and teeth, and Lorellei sliced and stabbed with his sword. Their opponents roared with pain and surprise, but by the time they realised where the attack had come from, Myrkdaga was gone, onto his next target.
Their attacks proved a useful distraction. Before long, Cies and his dragons were nearly all engaged in battles in the sky, and had ceased their assault on Pandora, leaving the archers and longbow men there free once more to come out from cover and pepper them with arrows.
Myrkdaga hissed as he dodged one. “These humans cannot tell us apart!”
The distraction was needed, for the city was already well on its way to destruction. The casualties came thick and fast once the last Eldarkind wards had failed and Cies and his dragons picked off men and Eldarkind on the battlements and savaged dragons in the sky.
~
Another wave of fire bathed the city. The smoke stung Soren’s eyes and clogged the back of this throat. Still, his men fought on, firing arrow after arrow. They glistened with sweat as the inferno roasted them as the hot air rose from the city far below. How much longer can we continue this? Soren wondered. Their efforts did not seem to be doing much at all.
“Pandora is mostly aflame,” Tarrell relayed to him mentally. He rode Farran far above Soren. “The wards are not holding. The last is about to fail. Cies has destroyed the surrounding lands; there is no longer anything to draw forth energy from, for it feeds the fire instead. We cannot offer you any more protection. Your men will be slaughtered. Pull them back!”
“I will not fall back yet,” Soren said, determined not to give up, but the reports relayed from the dragons, Eldarkind, and his own men, were not favourable. Damn it! Soren cursed to himself. His eyes searched the smoke above them. Dragons writhed in the sky, paying little heed to the humans below them. Are we so inconsequential?
The docks were aflame, the city outside the walls blazed, and the fires were spreading inside the walls, too. He could see them approaching the cathedral and creeping through the streets, leaping from building to building. No one would survive those infernos if they were trapped, Soren knew, for the docks were mainly wooden buildings. The castle seemed intact, for the fighting had not reached quite so far into the city yet. It is only a matter of time, Soren caught himself thinking, before he had time to stifle the thought. He gritted his teeth. I cannot think like this.
“Can you drive them lower?” Soren asked. “We need them closer. We cannot do much damage from afar.”
“We will try,” replied Farran. He dove through the clouds until he could see Soren glinting in armour on top of the cathedral, and crashed into a younger dragon, knocking it clean out of the sky. Its fractured body plummeted, crushing buildings as it crashed into the ground. The airborne fight descended until both halves of the dragon clan were well within range.
“Take care!” Soren warned his men. “It will not do us well to harm our own allies.” He grabbed a longbow himself and stepped forward into the line of men. “Loose at will!”
His muscles screamed as he drew the strong bow, and the string sliced into his hands with its resistance. After a moment, he lined his target with his single open eye and loosed. The arrow soared into the air and through the dragon’s wing membrane in a burst of blue fire. His men cheered at that and hastened to follow his example, peppering the dragons who flew within range with arrows. Their attack did not go unnoticed for long. Dragons turned their attention to the annoying, small beings on top of the tower and hurtled towards them.
“Fall back!” Soren screamed at the top of his voice, and they scrambled to shelter inside the tower. The heavy wooden door slammed closed just at the last second. A lick of fire snatched at them through the gap as flames battered the tower where they had stood only moments before. The roar of the fire and the rumble of crumbling masonry deafened them all.
The tower shook from the assault. It sounded as if the dragons were
battering it or tearing it brick from brick. Soren dashed down the stairs to where a slit window penetrated the wall. Sure enough, chunks of falling masonry pummelled the ground below them. Above him, the door crackled and buckled as the ironwork melted under the heat and the thick, hardened wood eventually gave up and burst into flames, too.
We cannot go out there now, Soren thought. Our attack is over. For the moment. “Fall back,” he ordered, and stood aside as men filed past him down the stone stairs. Heels thumped upon the stone and bow-ends tapped, but not a word was spoken. He looked into the face of each man as he passed. They all wore the same look of grim fear and uncertainty.
“Fall back to the castle gate,” Soren ordered, raising his voice so all could hear. “We have the best vantage point there over the city and fortifications.” He made sure to sound more confident than he felt. “Get there any way you can. Split up if needs be. Be safe. I will meet you there. We must be quick, before the ways are closed by fire.”
“Yes, Sire,” echoed up the tower as they acknowledged him. Last of all, he followed, with one look back to the door, or the hole where it had stood. It seemed the dragons had turned their attention elsewhere.
Soren paused. Gingerly, he stepped back upstairs towards the top of the tower. Remnants of iron nails glowed molten on the blackened and burnt stone floor. Nothing was left of the door but ashes. As he peered out, smoke obscured his view, but he could see dark outlines of vast dragons wheeling through the air. Hot air gusted through the door towards him, and the heat of the fire in the stone burned his feet as he stood. He retreated quickly.
By the time Soren had descended from the tower, he was alone. It was deathly silent in the huge space, save for the dull booming of destruction outside. With quick eyes and nimble feet, he jogged through the huge space, searching for anyone who might have been there. It was deserted, to his relief. A giant crash sent him sprawling to the floor in self-defence. As he looked up from behind a stone pew, he saw several of the giant, stained glass windows had been smashed. Now, he could hear the crackle of the flames, the cracking of stone, and the screams of the dying.