The big oak double doors at the end of the hall suddenly parted. Queen Shaella looked out with narrowed brows. Phen realized that he’d made a stupid mistake casting his spell. The look in her eyes told him that she sensed it. There was nothing he could do about it, though, because he was captivated by her beauty. She was naked, save for a towel that was wrapped around her waist. Her dark wet hair hung down over her breast on the side that wasn’t scarred. Her nipples were the size of coins, and even though he was terrified, Phen couldn’t peel his eyes away from them.
“Who dares to disturb...” Shaella started, but she stopped when her eyes found the two lyna pacing in the hall.
A bit of movement from the statue at one side of Shaella’s door drew Phen’s attention. It was still now, but he thought that the hand had reached to the hilt of its sword.
“Fslandra!” Shaella yelled over her shoulder.
From behind her, the zard girl appeared, looking as sheepish as a bulbous-eyed lizard girl could look.
“Yes, Masteress?” Fslandra hissed in some strange version of the common tongue.
“It seems your Sticka has found a suitor,” Shaella’s eyes scanned the hall again, looking for what it was that had alarmed her. “The two of them must have been making magic,” Shaella joked without a smile. She spoke the words of a detection spell but nothing triggered a reaction. If she’d cast the spell a few seconds sooner she would have seen Phen running as fast as he could to get out of her entry hall. He was certain the statue moved, and he remembered that Shaella was more than just a queen with a dragon. She was a sorceress— Pael’s daughter no less. The statues were probably magicked guardians or the like. Either way, he didn’t plan on approaching her apartments that way again. His heart was still hammering in his chest so hard that he thought his ribcage might burst. The curve of her body had been so distracting that he didn’t even remember if she’d been wearing the dragon collar or not. When he was far enough away from her room that he felt he could relax, he leaned against a wall and gathered himself. I have to have patience, he told himself. He wondered if Spike had escaped the hall. As he went back to the pantry he called out to his familiar to find out.
Later that night, when Phen was able to slip back into the garden again, he found he was too late to get at the skull. He couldn’t just open and close doors by himself. He had to wait on someone and creep in with them. The scene he saw was worrisome at best. He didn’t think that there was any way he could stop the ceremony the red priests were preparing to perform. The skull was already in its place on the lectern, and both of Shaella’s bald-headed wizards were conferring over something in the gazebo. A filthy young woman was half hidden behind them. Her hands were tied together with rope. The three red-robed priests, and a few other men wearing black robes, were scurrying about lighting candles and placing different items about the garden. Then came the Dragon Queen.
“Who brought her down here?” Shaella snapped sharply from the balcony above. At first Phen thought she was falling over the rail, but the smooth way she floated down in her flowing silk gown reminded him of the power she possessed.
When her bare feet were on the ground she started toward the filthy girl. Phen realized then that it was Princess Rosa. The only parts of her that weren’t covered in grime were the twin streaks of white below her eyes where her tears had been running.
In answer to the Queen’s question, Flick pointed at the priests and shrugged.
“Answer me, man,” Shaella ordered one of the red-robed necromancers. “Why was the Princess brought here?”
“If the High King comes to save her during our ceremony,” he answered nervously, “we wouldn’t be able to spring the trap. She must remain in sight until the portal has been closed. To do otherwise would risk losing her while our attention is focused here.”
Phen decided that Princess Rosa was more important than the skull. As the ceremony began, he worked his way over to where Flick and Cole were standing. Phen noticed Cole looked tired and sickly. His eyes were set into deep dark sockets. Shaella’s body shone through her gown as if the material wasn’t even there, yet no eyes lingered on her. She began casting a spell, and implored Flick and Cole to join her.
Phen recognized the nature of the binding wards they began to recite. He almost cast a spell of his own, but was scared that he would alarm the menacing sorceress or her wizards.
“Shhh, Princess,” Phen whispered from right behind Rosa.
“Who’s theere?” she yelped. “Don’t touch me, troll!”
Flick looked back at her and scowled. “Silence,” he hissed sharply. “No one is going to harm you this night.”
“Shhh,” Phen whispered again after Flick went back to his casting. “You’ll get me caught.”
Rosa looked around wide-eyed and terrified. Phen saw that one of her hands was swollen to twice its normal size and that a finger was missing from it.
“Who is there?” she whispered to the thin air around her. Her voice was so quiet that Phen barely heard her.
The murmuring of the red priests had turned into a droll howling chant and the air around them was beginning to fill with the crackling static of powerful magic.
“Look closely in the direction of my voice on the count of three and you’ll see me,” Phen told her. “One... two... three,” Phen pulled the ring from his finger for just an instant and shoved it back on.
“Oh!” she yelped in surprise.
Flick glanced back when he sensed magic behind him, but he didn’t see anything.
“Where are they keeping you?” Phen asked. The sound of the chanting priests and the popping noise of the erratic magical light that was flashing over the seal drowned out his voice so that only Rosa could hear.
“In Pael’s tower, in a room called the nest,” she answered.
“Here,” Phen touched her cheek and gently moved her head so that she would have some sense of where he was.
“Wheere are Kang Mikahl and Hyden Hawk? Is my motheer seending the Royal Guard?” she asked hopefully. “I remember yew, yer Hyden Hawk’s apprentice, Pin.”
“My name is Phen, and there’s only me,” he told her. “I came to get that.” He pointed at the Silver Skull then realized that she couldn’t see his hand. “The Silver Skull,” he added, hoping his embarrassment wasn’t evident in his voice.
“What’s it feer?” she asked, but Phen didn’t have to answer. A great grinding roar filled the night. It was accompanied by a blasting gout of flame that shot up high into the sky.
As soon as Phen saw it, he knew that it was Gerard. The thing stood with its head level with the second floor balcony and was covered in thick plated skin. Its leathery wings stretched wide and were dripping with stringy mucus. Its claws looked like daggers, as did its teeth. It had short thick hind legs and an elongated torso. Its neck was stretched and its rope-like hair dangled from a huge half-snouted head. Its skin was glossy black and at its elbows and knees wicked looking spikes had formed. Bright eyes, as big as cantaloupes, looked out from under angry brows. Other than their size, the eyes looked perfectly human. That’s how Phen knew that it was Gerard. They were so much like Hyden’s eyes that he shivered with disgust.
Princess Rosa fainted, collapsing into a heap beside Phen. It’s probably for the better, he thought. He was having a hard time controlling his fear. Any time, one of the wizards, or even a priest, might sense his presence. The sound of the priests chanting, and a deep humming whistle of wind, kept him from hearing the conversation Shaella was having with her lover, but he could see by the way she was touching him, and herself, that the two of them were sharing something deeply personal.
Had there not been such a resemblance, Phen would have discounted that this thing was once his friend’s brother. How this monstrosity of might had once been human he couldn’t fathom. Nor could he understand why it leapt back into the gaping maw of the seal. A few moments later, a pair of panther-like hellcats peered cautiously up out of the hole. Shaella let loose a bin
ding spell and they leapt into flight. Then came another winged demon. This one shot up out of the hole, straight into the sky. By the look Shaella gave Cole, it was clear he had failed to bind it with a spell. Shaella cursed and screamed orders at both of her wizards. They moved around for better position, leaving Phen alone with the Princess.
He hoped that she would turn invisible when he grabbed her, but she didn’t. Worse, she was too heavy for him to lift, much less carry to safety.
A great commotion near the priests’ gateway commanded Phen’s attention. Something that radiated evil like a foggy stench crawled up out of the hole. It was huge and hairy, with long apish arms, and cherry eyes. It stood on two legs and carried a massive bone as if it were a club. The end of the bone was knotted and gnarled, and the shaft was the size of a healthy tree. When the thing stood upright, its wolfish head was above the balcony. Several smaller things crawled out at its feet and Cole spelled each of them as quickly as he could. One was a scorpion as big as a goat. There was venom dripping from its curled stinger.
With a sharp pop that left Phen’s ears ringing, the hole suddenly disappeared. The three priests collapsed into heaps on the garden lawn. Flick was casting a spell that was far beyond Phen’s understanding. Then the bald-headed wizard scooped up the Princess and strode away. It was all Phen could do to keep up with him as he wound and twisted and climbed through a labyrinth of hallways to Pael’s tower lift. Phen couldn’t go up with the two of them, but that was all right. He heard the command Flick used to make the lift rise. As soon as Flick came back down, Phen got on and, with a word, rode it up to the nest. It was several hours later, after he had somewhat healed the infection in Rosa’s hand, and tended the stump of her finger, that he realized he didn’t know the command to send the lift back down. Not only would he soon be discovered, he couldn’t get away.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
The three-thousand Valleyan cavalry that General Spyra somehow managed to round up were a welcome sight to King Jarrek and his men. To learn that just as many infantry, both swordsmen and archers, were marching through the pass, bringing with them much needed food and supplies, was even better. Jarrek couldn’t wait for the foot soldiers to arrive, though. He had to attack the Dakaneese and drive them back through the bottleneck before their reinforcements got settled in. It was the only option.
Master Wizard Sholt had arrived in a startling flicker of sparkles a few days earlier, bearing messages. The sudden presence of Queen Willa’s high wizard unsettled Jarrek, but Sholt was welcome. So was the news that Queen Willa sent with him. Her missive stated that Queen Rachel was already organizing her troops to make the short march across lower Valleya to attack Ra’Gren at O’Dakahn. Her anger at having her men ambushed and slaughtered in Seareach, and the frustration of not knowing her daughter’s fate, seemed to bring out the aggressiveness in her. King Jarrek hoped her attack would keep Ra’Gren’s attention on the defensive and distract him from Wildermont.
The strangest news of all came with Sholt as well. A small army of dwarves was on its way to aid them and would supposedly arrive any day.
“Have they reached Dreen yet?” Jarrek asked Sholt after hearing the news.
“They’re not traveling overland,” said the wizard with a shrug. He glanced down at the front of his stark white robes as if looking for a stain. “They have tunnels. General Diamondeen, the commander of the force coming our way, assured me that he and his twelve hundred fellows would arrive here ready to fight by the turn of the season.”
“The turn of the season,” Jarrek’s mind went blank. “That is... that’s...” He realized he didn’t know when that would be.
“Summer’s Day is only three days away, Highness.”
“Three days?” Jarrek couldn’t believe it. “Almost a full year since this madness began. It seems like only a few months have passed, but then again, it feels like it’s been decades.”
“I understand,” Sholt agreed. He had fought Pael’s undead army from the walls of Xwarda too. His mentor, High Wizard Targon, had been snatched from the wall by the Choska demon. Sholt had walked the heaping piles of his city after Mikahl killed Pael. He’d helped restore a city that had more corpses than carrion in the streets. He’d exhausted himself of spells daily for months alongside Master Amill, trying to clear the rubble and stench from Xwarda’s districts so that the survivors might start again. For a while, time had lost all meaning, for all of them.
“I assume you will attack soon,” Sholt said, looking down at the maps strewn about the table.
Jarrek had moved the main body of their occupation south from Castlemont to an abandoned farming village north of Low Crossing. The stronghold there, which was really only a large rock house with a piled stone wall built around it, had become King Jarrek’s command center. It was crowded, but it sufficed. Sholt could tell that the man had long since given up the luxuries of his station. The King of Wildermont used the open privy pit like the other men, and ate most of his meals from a field tin with them. It was clear that they respected him for it. Hardly any of the men behind him were from Wildermont. The zeal and fervor with which a soldier will fight to defend his homeland wasn’t in them, yet King Jarrek’s determination, and the way he led them, caused them to believe in his cause wholeheartedly.
“On the morrow,” Jarrek answered Sholt’s unasked question, at first light, a company of breed giants will lead the attack.”
“Breed giants?” It was Sholt’s turn to be surprised.
“I took some liberties as the situation dictated.” Jarrek let an ironic smile creep across lips. “Had I known I’d be getting all of this help from Xwarda, I might have left them out of it.” He looked at Sholt seriously. “It will come as a blow, albeit a small one, for Queen Shaella to find a large number of her ferocious breed giants have betrayed her.”
“What does the High King think of this?” Sholt asked, showing genuine curiosity at what the answer might be. “It was reported that breed giants savaged the people of Northern Westland for some time.”
“Mikahl went off into Westland some weeks ago and no one has heard from him,” Jarrek frowned. “I have no men to defend with, and I can’t afford to wait.”
“That is grave news about the High King,” commented Sholt. He wiped again at the front of his pristine robes. “Queen Willa is under the assumption that the High King is in contact with either you or General Spyra. Queen Rachel thinks he is trying to rescue Princess Rosa.” Sholt shook his head sadly. “The realm needs Ironspike. If we lose Mikahl, we lose its power for all time.”
“I know, but I can’t afford to dwell on it, Sholt,” Jarrek said. “I have a country to protect and a kingdom to rebuild. Ra’Gren still holds thousands of my people as slaves. He has already slaughtered innocents in the street. High King or no, I’ll do what I have to do. I have to think of the greater good.”
“No one will doubt your judgment, Highness,” Sholt said with a nod of respect. “After I report back to Queen Willa, I will spend the rest of the day preparing spells for battle. I am at your service.”
“Sholt,” Jarrek stopped him as the wizard started out of the room. Jarrek found that he couldn’t find the words for what he intended to say. He settled for, “Let Willa know that I appreciate everything she’s done for Wildermont.”
***
When dawn broke, eighty breed giants stormed across the Wilder River at the village of Low Crossing. They didn’t use the bridge. Water that would be chest deep and encumbering to an armored human barely came up to a breed’s waist. For the most part, the primal beasts didn’t wear armor, only loose fitting trousers and vests made of layered elk hide. A few of them wore chest plates, scraps of mail, and helmets that they’d gathered from the ruins at Castlemont on the journey south. One of the hairiest of the breed wore nothing at all save his fur.
Right behind them, four hundred swordsmen stormed the bridge, while archers rained down steel tipped death to cover their crossing. In moments, the battle became
heated. The surprise factor of the morning attack wasn’t nearly as effective as the sight of the battle-crazed tree-swinging breed giants. The Dakaneese soldiers were terrified of them. Battle Lord Ra’Carr’s men were driven back quickly at first, far enough that a thousand Valleyan cavalry braved the river to join the fray. A good half of the horsemen were mounted archers, and the amount of damage they sent streaking into the deeper ranks of the Dakaneese was substantial. As the day wore on, though, the backbone of Ra’Carr’s soldiers stiffened. King Jarrek’s troops were going nowhere.
Master Sholt rode cautiously over the bridge on a terrified horse. He was surrounded by half a dozen shield men whose sole job was to protect him from stray arrows and such. The Highwander wizard cast several spells. Lightning shot forth from his hands and arced over the main knot of battle into the unengaged troops beyond. Because of Sholt, Dakaneese fighters died terrible smoldering deaths by the handful. Then a great ball of flame appeared in his hands. He rolled it, and worried it, and caressed it, until it grew as big as a barrel keg and then he hurled it into the forward ranks of Dakaneese. An unlucky female breed giant got caught up in the explosion of flames that came when it impacted, but at least a score of the enemy fell into burning, writhing heaps. The breed giantess roared defiantly as she was consumed in flames. She continued to hammer away at the Dakaneese before her until she finally burned to death.
Jarrek commanded the rest of the crossing, looking as intimidating as ever in his red enameled plate armor. The ruby eyes of the wolf skull mounted on his helmet sparkled in the sun.
Day wore into night and, yard by bloody yard, King Jarrek’s force pressed the Dakaneese back. Sholt used the cover of darkness to gain a better position so that his line of sight spells would have better effect.
Men died, and breed giants fell. Steel clanged on steel and bone pummeled flesh by the light of the moon. By dawn, all of Jarrek’s main force was across the river and engaged. The bottleneck was in sight, and it seemed that victory was in their grasp. Then the screeching roar of some winged beast came from the skies to the west.
Kings, Queens, Heroes, & Fools Page 33