by Brad Clark
He hesitated only a moment while he watched Conner and his companion slice through the helpless centurions. He felt no guilt for their deaths, but honor in battle was still important. Both sides were retreating and it was time for them as well.
He took a horse from an uninjured knight, climbed on top, and spurred it towards Conner. Clearly Conner was in some sort of frenzied state, as he did not hear his name being called even from behind him. But Marik did not want to startle either him or his companion for fear of being attacked without being recognized. Immediately after they dispatched one brave centurion, Marik put his horse directly in their line of site, but just out of reach of their weapons.
Conner flinched, but when he realized who it was, he lowered his sword and smiled. “Marik!” he called out.
“Conner,” Marik said. He had so many other questions, but they would have to wait. “The battle is over. It is time to return to the city.”
Conner looked around, slightly confused, as he realized that both sides were retreating from the battlefield. “They are still a threat.”
Glaerion glared at Marik, still holding his weapon up. “They must all die,” he growled.
“Who are you?” Marik asked, unfazed at the anger that came from the elf.
“He is Glaerion, a friend.”
“I am no friend,” the elf said. “We just happen to be on the same road.”
“Put up your swords, Conner. Come back to the city. The queen will be mighty pleased to see you.”
Conner stepped over the last man he brought down and wiped blood and gore across the man’s cloak before sheathing his weapons. “We are done, then?”
“The battle is over. This victory is ours, but more will come tomorrow. We must rest and recoup our strength.”
Conner, suddenly feeling the strength seep from his muscles, nodded his head. The bloodlust that drove him was gone.
Marik dismounted and started to lead them back towards the city. But the moment he looked upon South Karmon, he stopped.
“What is it?” Conner asked.
“It seems that the battle is not yet over.”
The city gates were open and a stream of armed men were pouring out.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Tarcious could barely contain his rage. The assault on his catapults had been a minor setback. It would take him only two more days before five more would be ready to be pulled out onto the battlefield. He was sure that three would have taken down the wall in no time, but the Karmons had built themselves a fortification to be proud of. So as soon as he had witnessed how little effect they had on the walls, he immediately ordered five more to be constructed. And in the end, he would have easily traded those three catapults for the decimation of the mounted force that attacked his army. It had been a perfect plan and it had almost succeeded. It would have taken only a few more minutes for the knights to have been surrounded and then cut them down.
But then a pair of men came running into the battle from the river. He had initially watched in amusement, but then his demeanor quickly soured. Not only because of the death and destruction that they were causing, but because of the way it happened. He had seen it before upon the floor of his arena. And he quickly solved that problem with some well-placed crossbow bolts. The Karmon named Conner had fallen dead. He had seen the body, touched it, and even had given it a swift kick before it was dumped out back behind the arena. There was no way that he could have survived.
It was then that a worse thought crept though his mind. Memories of his brother bringing small animals back to life came back to him. He had almost forgotten about those days as young boys. He had enjoyed killing them as much as his brother had enjoyed bringing them back to life. It was the only thing that made sense. It had to have been his brother that brought the boy back to life.
He stepped forward through the trees, the tips of his fingers tingling in anticipation. His body knew what it should be doing, bringing forth the power of the web of magic to turn the tide of the battle. He could walk down there and start casting his fireballs upon the helpless knights. There would be nothing better than watching them writhe and burn underneath their armor.
The anger that burned inside of him almost controlled him. Almost. It reminded him how far he had come since the first time he had dipped into the web of magic and tasted the power that waited for him. Too many times he had let his emotions get the better of him, but this time, they didn’t. Clearly he was on his way to supreme control of his power.
He had been prepared for this moment for some time, and it showed the power of his master that he had the foresight to see what he needed. Between himself and his destination was but a simple stone structure. What better way to bring down it down than with a being that could build it up? He did not know why he didn’t think of it the moment he laid eyes upon the high wall that surrounded South Karmon. Maybe it would have saved the death of some of his soldiers. But then again, that was one resource that he had plenty of.
He strode over to General Mace, who was clearly distraught at the results of the battle. His face was white with fear, and his hands shook. Clearly he did not think he would survive the conversation.
“In a moment, I will be invoking some help. It will take every ounce of my energy to do this, so you will likely see me fall to the ground upon its completion. I would expect that I am cared for in this condition. When I awaken, the tide of the battle will have turned in our favor.”
“Of course, Your Imperial Majesty,” the general said, his voice cracking. “What else can I do?”
“When a hole opens up in the wall, you will send every soldier you have through it. No mercy. Anyone who opposes our march to the castle is fair game. Armed or unarmed. Understood?”
“Of course. When will this happen?”
“Just be prepared,” Tarcious snapped back. He turned and walked into the forest where a small clearing had been setup for him. The handful of guards nearby snapped to attention as he walked into his tent.
He sat upon a thick carpet that had been set upon the ground. Snow had been cleared from the ground, but it was still a cold place to sit. He touched the book that was hidden in a deep pocket of his innermost robes, giving him the confidence that he needed to complete the spell. It was not like the easy fireballs and other spells that he used on a regular basis. He barely needed to think about those anymore since they were so engrained into his mind. He closed his eyes, visualizing the page of burned-in letters and symbols. They formed words that he did not understand, but he had trained himself to speak. Someday he would have to learn what they meant. Maybe once he had the Ark in hand, he would have that knowledge.
With one last deep breath and long exhale, his lips started speaking the words of a language long lost. He did not need to speak quickly, only surely. He needed to enunciate and pronounce each word and phrase properly. He had done it many times in his head, correcting himself hundreds of times until he had it right. As the words came out, the power of the web of magic was opened up to him, and he knew he was doing it right. With each passing moment, he became more and more confident with his words, so that by the time the last word was spoken, he was shouting. And then the full force of the web rushed through him. He knew what to expect because he had felt the power so many times, but he did not expect the power that came through him. Suddenly, he could no longer breathe, his chest constricted by that power. He gagged and gasped for air that would not come into his lungs. He stood, panicked at the thought of being overwhelmed by the spell. Within moments, his vision blurred as he continued to struggle to take in a breath, and then as blackness swarmed over him, his knees lost their strength and he crumpled to the ground.
***
The commanders leading the Karmon army out to meet the Tarans brought their forces to a stop. They had clear witness to the events that transpired, and now with the centurions in retreat, the battlefield was being emptied. The commanders weren’t too anxious to continue forward as the Taran crossbowmen had
moved into position to cover the retreat of the main force of centurions. The front ranks had shields, but most of the army would be exposed to crossbow fire. If they continued forward without covering fire from their own bowmen, they would be slaughtered.
Trumpets blared and the bowmen who had been marching at the back of the formation started to run forward. The opening volleys of the next battle would be between longbows and crossbows
Thunder erupted from the north. Both armies stopped and looked to the mountains that were but a shadow on the northern horizon. For a moment, they forgot that it was the middle of winter and such storms were stills months away. But rather than seeing the dark clouds of an impending storm, they only saw a bright blue sky with a few scattered puffy clouds.
Conner herd the thunder, but it didn’t really register with him. He was looking around, realizing just how far away from the city his final assault had taken him. There was a trail of bodies that ran back along his path. Most of them were missing one or more limbs. He knew what he had done. He just didn’t remember doing it. He also knew that he should be feeling some guilt, but he didn’t. This was war, and in war there were only winners. Losers were the ones who lay headless upon the battlefield. He glanced over at the elf who covered his mouth the back of his hand as he yawned. Glaerion clearly wasn’t feeling any sort of guilt.
Marik had a stern look on his face, but it was impossible to tell what he was thinking. His eyes were focused ahead upon the city, which was still a good half mile away.
When the thunder rumbled again from behind them, Conner stopped and turned to look towards the White Mountains.
“Thunder?” Marik asked.
Conner shook his head. “Not in the winter. Never.”
“I have seen strange things in the past days,” Marik said. “Thunder in the middle of winter is the least of them.”
“There is more afoot than bad weather,” Glaerion interjected.
“What does that mean?”
Glaerion glared at the bloody Karmon Knight and replied, “You wouldn’t understand.”
Marik’s nerves were on their last edge and he grabbed the elf by the arm. Glaerion spun out of the grasp and went to reach for his dagger, but Conner was just as quick and gave the elf a two-handed shove. Glaerion was caught off balance and flew across the ground. He tucked his head to his chest and rolled onto his feet, crouched low.
Conner stepped right towards Glaerion and said, “What is your problem? One minute you are fighting beside them, and then next minute you are fighting with them.”
“The human touched me,” Glaerion growled.
“The what?” Marik replied. “Human? What?”
“He is an elf,” Conner said.
“Elven,” Glaerion corrected, still with an angry tone.
“What are you talking about?” Marik asked.
Conner let out a long sigh. “It is a long story. Glaerion here, is from a race of beings called elves. They are not just stories told to kids. They are a real people that live in a land far away. The ears? Did you not notice?”
“Yeah,” Marik said. “I did. I just thought they were war wounds.” He looked at Conner for a moment, forgetting that he was in the middle of a battlefield with dead bodies all around him. “What are you doing alive? I saw you die.”
It took Conner a second to process the statement. “You saw me die? In the arena?”
“Yeah, I was there. I came looking for you and I found you. But only to see you die.”
“It is a long story. But I am alive, now.”
“I can see that. But what was that back there? You were out of control.”
“They needed to die,” Glaerion cut in sharply.
Conner shook his head. “I am not sure what it was. A rage just filled me that I couldn’t stop. I needed to keep going, to kill as many of them as I could.”
“It is the one aspect of training for knighthood that you never had. For all your skill and ability, you don’t have control. Being a knight isn’t about the ability to kill. It’s about the honor of protecting your kingdom and the respect that you have for both yourself and your opponent. Slaughtering soldiers in the back while they are running away is not what knighthood is about.”
“You are one of these knights?” Glaerion asked Conner.
“No,” Conner replied. “I am not of noble blood. I could never be a knight.”
Glaerion laughed. “You Men are so stupid. You refuse a great warrior from your ranks solely because of who your mother and father are? It’s a wonder you have survived these thousands of years.”
“It’s more than that,” Marik replied. “Not just anyone can survive the rigors of training or have the temperament to be knight. It takes a certain type of person, one who is strong of mind and body and has the breeding stock to survive not only training, but in the throng of battle.”
“It seems your boy here, who says he has no noble blood, survived just fine.”
Marik looked at Conner and said, “Yes, he did survive just fine. But a knight would not have gone off by himself chasing down the retreating enemy.”
“He was not alone,” Glaerion said with enthusiasm. “I was with him. Enjoying every minute of it, I must say.”
“Well, the battle is over, now,” Marik said. “It is time to return to the city.”
Glaerion looked at the mass of soldiers that was marching out from the city. “It appears there is more fighting to be had.” He turned to look at Conner. “I wish we could stay, but we have business elsewhere.”
Conner caught the look and said. “Right. We must go.”
Marik wasn’t quite sure how to respond. He looked first from Conner and then to Glaerion. “What could be more important than defending your homeland?”
“It’s a long story,” Conner replied.
“Then tell it!” Marik snapped back, anger clearly in his voice. “I saw you die. Crossbow bolts killed you. And now you are alive, right in front of me, able to help defend against the Tarans. And you won’t help?”
“Not now,” Conner said. He was unsure how much he should share with Marik. Part of him wanted to tell him everything, but most of it was so fantastic even he didn’t quite believe it.
Marik grabbed Conner by the arm. Glaerion flinched, but Conner did not. “I am tired and I am sore. I have cuts that need to be tended to. We can walk back to the city and you can tell me everything.”
Conner shook his head and he pulled his away from Marik’s grasp. “I cannot go with you. Glaerion and I are on a quest to hide an artifact called the Ark of Life. The Taran army that is attacking? It is attacking the city because Emperor Tarcious believes that the Ark is in the city. He is going to invade the city to try and find it. We have it and that is why we must take it away from here.”
Marik gave Conner a blank look, trying to comprehend what he was just told.
“He cannot find it,” Conner continued. “If he does, then he will gain so much power that he will be able to take over the world.”
“That’s an incredible story,” Marik said. “If you take the Ark away, then he will stop attacking?”
Conner looked at Glaerion.
The elf shrugged his shoulders. “I cannot know if this man can sense the Ark. If he can, then he will follow us. If he cannot, then he will continue into the city and tear it apart until he finally realizes that it is not here.”
“He must know that the Ark is not in the city. then,” Marik said. “That is how we will stop them! Where is this Ark, now?”
“Hargon has it,” Conner replied.
“Hargon?” Marik asked. “As in Emperor Hargon? How?”
“I told you it was a long story.”
“He is on a boat at the river under protection of others,” Glaerion said. “We must go there and get on our way before the army decides to march to the river.”
“No!” Marik said forcefully. “We need to bring it out, to let Tarcious and the army know that it is not in the city. It will be the only way to s
ave the city.”
“I care not for your city, only for the safety of the Ark,” Glaerion said. “No one man, or a thousand men is worth risking the Ark falling into the hands of Tarcious. Conner has only told part of the story. Tarcious’ master is the Deceiver. And if the Deceiver gains control of the Ark, then he and his demons will be able to come to the earth and enslave us all. At least those that they do not kill instantly. The world as you know it will end. Are you willing to risk the entire earth for your city?”
“If what you say is true, then no,” Marik said. He let out a long sigh, realizing that there would be no victory today. Or ever. He looked back at the city and the mass of soldiers, men, and boys that were marching towards their probable death. Whether it was in the battle or afterwards, the city was lost. Whatever energy had been left in his bones was suddenly gone. He struggled to even stand.
Conner put a hand on Marik’s shoulder. “I am sorry, but I must go.”
In a trembling voice, Marik said, “Queen Elissa will want to see you.”
Conner shook his head. “She has eyes for others. Our time came and went. I will always be fond of her and my memories of her will keep me going.”
“Even friends can say hello and good-bye,” Marik said.
“I cannot,” Conner said. He did not want to say any more than necessary. If he truly wanted to, he would have taken the time. He could have convinced Glaerion to take a short detour before they went back to Captain Janari’s boat. But he did not want to make a complicated situation more complicated. She thought that he was dead, and maybe it was just best that she continued to think that. “You need to get her out of the city. Before the army takes it.”