“Where did she go?”
“She will return momentarily,” replied the large man.
“Why me? Why did you kidnap me?” repeated Adrina.
“We did what we had to do.”
“Why? How many had to die because of that?” accused Adrina.
When he did not answer, she became angry and said again harshly, “How many?”
She angrily approached him and began to hit him, releasing all her pent up frustration upon him. Her hands slapped him again and again. He did not flinch, nor did he stop her. Tears were flowing down her cheeks when her fists came to rest against his abdomen.
He looked down upon her, not knowing what to do or say.
“It— was— not—” he stopped, unable to finish.
He took her in his arms and held her. Another’s soft hand unexpectedly wiped away her tears as the large man embraced her. The fear faded away. She heard a voice say, “There was nothing we could do to help them. It was their fate. Your fate is with us. We were only trying to save you.”
“Why me? There were so many others,” sobbed Adrina.
“We did what we could. If we had delayed to save others, we too would have—” the other paused, and did not finish the sentence.
There was evident pain in that other voice, the soft feminine voice. It echoed in her mind. She was sure she knew the voice from somewhere. Her thoughts skipped, but it could not be. Her mind wandered back to another time. A face of a distant memory became alive inside her thoughts. She turned and faced the other. As she looked into the other’s eyes, memories flooded into her mind.
“It cannot be,” she said as she fainted.
She awoke a short time later with the same face staring into her eyes. She started to say the name that flowed through her mind, but a gentle finger touched her lips and stopped her. The other shook her head, indicating yes.
Adrina did not understand.
“How?” she started to say; again the other stopped her.
“This is Amir,” quickly said the other, pointing to the giant. “I am the one without name. I am without past.” And to herself she added, “Everything comes full circle at the end.”
Adrina registered the coldness with which the words were said. She wondered what had happened to make the other so bitter. She didn’t understand how the other was here, but she accepted it. The other was here and alive; the Great-Father and Mother worked in mysterious ways.
“We must go now and meet the others. We have little time left,” Amir said, looking about anxiously.
“I just want to know why?” cried out Adrina. “Why me and not anyone else? Are they all dead?”
“You are the last,” said Amir, avoiding the rest of Adrina’s questions.
“The last?”
“The last of the children. We have come to take you home.”
Adrina started to say something else and was silenced again.
“Quickly now,” urged Amir, “we have no more time. Say no more but know that our intentions are earnest and that we did not initiate the attack in the square. We rescued you from those that would do you harm, so follow quickly now; time is short, and say nothing until I say it is safe. Do you understand?”
Adrina nodded her head.
“How many were back there?” Amir directed this at the Little One.
“Only two persist. They guess nothing more; they do not know we are here for sure.”
Amir glared angrily down one of the dark tunnels, wishing that he had ended the lives he had earlier spared. He looked to Adrina and then to the other, shrugging his shoulders; lifting a short blade from his belt, he darted into the dark tunnel, his form quickly swallowed by the gray of the tunnel, only his shadow remained visible for a time before all trace of him was completely absorbed. Five minutes passed with no audible sounds reaching the two waiting, not even the muffled echoes of the giant’s footsteps; then in an instant they heard a stifled shriek followed by the faint echo of sloshing water. Several minutes later, a shape came from out of the darkness.
The Little One jumped in front of Adrina, arms spread wide. Catching each breath, they waited. Amir would not move so heavily in the water. The shape loomed closer, its shadowed form not appearing to be that of a humanoid but that of a beast. Blades were not tools the Little One thought fondly of, but she had been stripped of what she once was. Only her healing powers were intact; she had no other resource at her disposal, and it was with deep remorse that she lifted from her boot the tiny blade that Amir had given her, her last line of defense.
The silhouette of the approaching creature showed that it had many legs and arms, its twisted form was enormous, seeming to fill the whole of the tunnel. Adrina was pushed farther away and the Little One crept forward, waiting to lunge on the approaching beast. Still, the two stared into the shadowy darkness, the sound of splashing water increasing. The Little One signaled for Adrina to crouch low and wait; her small blade shone dully in the pale yellow light of the sewer chamber. She lifted the blade. Just as she was about to spring, she paused. Squinting, she focused her eyes, searching out the strange form.
“Amir?” she hissed.
There was a splash and then a thud. A large figure lunged out of the darkness. The Little One lashed out. The figure dodged the well-timed blow and grabbed the small arm and held it firm.
“What are you doing?” whispered Amir.
“I thought you were—I am sorry—I misjudged.”
Amir grinned.
“You are surprisingly strong,” he stated, seeming pleased by the assessment.
Amir returned for the two bodies he had carried through the tunnels, one slung over each shoulder, dropping them again onto the floor of the small chamber. Adrina cringed and looked away, but even as she flinched and closed her eyes, the dead eyes imprinted themselves upon her subconscious. Grated drainage shafts lay chest high on each of the four walls; Amir selected one and removed its grating. He grabbed one of the corpses, latching onto a thick tuft of hair and a large leather belt, and stuffed the darkly clad man into the shaft. Similarly, he rammed the second man into the shaft, fixing the grating into place afterwards.
Adrina had seen that the two were obviously not kingdom soldiers, for which she was relieved; still she was horrified for a moment, her mouth wide in a long incredulous gasp. Amir said nothing, nor did he show any indication of remorse. He had simply done what had to be done, nothing more. No words were spoken, only simple hand gestures that indicated that she should follow and the other should trail.
Silently, Adrina followed the giant Amir from the sewers under Imtal, still not understanding the trust she was developing for the mysterious giant. The sewer muck was quickly around her ankles as they entered the first tunnel, traversing its length before coming to another larger tunnel, one that was filled with even more sewage. The stench became overwhelming once more, yet just as she thought she could go on no more, they came to another open dry area. Here the trio stopped.
“These tunnels before us will lead us out of the sewers,” stated Amir in a light tone, “there is fresh air ahead and plenty of it, so you must only hold out for a short while yet. The tunnels will grow drier as we work our way slowly towards the catacombs. Once there, stay close. Do not lag behind and stand ready. Again, we move in silence; there is danger ahead. Watch for my hand signals and all will be fine.”
“How do I know that you speak the truth and you are not leading me to my enemies?” objected Adrina, throwing out words to register the large man’s reaction.
“I speak only in full truths,” replied Amir, “It is obvious to me that you have found trust in me and my companion. Be safe in the knowledge that we lead you away from danger and not towards it. One called Noman will explain all. We must hurry now. There is little time left.”
They forged ahead through the maze of underground tunnels. Adrina had no idea where she was, but apparently Amir did. He led them, turning at junctures in the path without a moment’s hesitation. The tunnels grew steadily dr
ier as Amir said they would. The stench also receded with the dank waters. The trio kept silent, solely relying on Amir’s hand signals to speak where words would otherwise have been needed.
Fixing her eyes on his great back, Adrina was very attentive to his movements. She followed where he led, stopped when he stopped, veered left or right as he signaled. For a time, once they reached dry tunnels, it seemed as if they were descending into the earth and then the downward slopes gradually leveled out.
Though it was not on the tunnel floors, a dampness returned. It was held in the air around the three, which suddenly grew cool. The lines of perspiration streaming down her back and face collected the cool air and Adrina began to shiver. She clutched her arms to her chest to stave off the cold, blowing warm air into her hands. The floor that had been hard, firm rock became earthen and the tunnel floor began to pitch upward. Soon the damp chill was left behind, replaced by dry stale air.
After many hours of traversing the dark tunnels, Amir called a full halt. They had come to a large chamber that was semi-lit from above. Water could be heard dripping from the ceiling into a basin on the tunnel floor.
“What is that? That stuff is worse than the stench of the sewers,” groaned Adrina.
Amir lifted Adrina to her feet.
“Come quickly; the others wait ahead.”
Adrina stood unsteadily for a moment and then as the dizziness passed, she nodded her head, gesturing that she was ready to proceed.
Chapter Six
Hundreds of darkly clad warriors pushed their way into the square. They bore the brunt of the waves of arrows pouring down upon them from the garrison bowmen. Behind them came horsemen clad in heavy mail; even the beasts of this evil guard were armored. The mounted horsemen pushed the footmen forward, and slowly they made progress.
The garrison bowmen were forced to be more selective in their volleys as the palace mounted guard charged the enemy ranks and intermixed with them. In gallant groups of ten they charged the approaching footmen. On horseback they had considerably more maneuverability than their foes, yet the enemy quickly learned how to sever rider from horse. Instead of striking at the man on the horse as they charged, they attacked the horse. As the horse fell, the rider was easily dealt a deadly blow. Few riders were able to recover as their mounts crumpled beneath them. Many were pinned beneath their horses and could only lie struggling to get free as their foes claimed their lives.
The enemy horsemen seemed to be lagging purposefully behind, waiting until the footmen had taken the brunt of the defensive. Lord Serant ushered Calyin and the others into a protective circle within the folds of the shieldbearers. He would not leave Calyin’s side any more.
He waited and watched. The numbers on each side were quickly balancing out. Enemy bowmen were taking up positions and returning the volleys of the garrison bowmen. Serant ordered the garrison bowmen to make a strategic retreat; he needed to save their ability to strike into the enemy’s heart for later.
Pikemen with their long shafted blades followed in the wake of their mounted comrades. Easily they drove the enemy back for a time. The dark warriors’ swords were no match against the great length of the pike. The long blades pierced the enemies’ hearts before they could get close enough to strike. The advantage was clearly on the side of good, at least momentarily.
A thick rain of arrows fell in surges against the pikemen, falling on both friend and foe; those who attacked did not care as long as their enemies died. Lord Serant could see the enemy commanders ordering the bowmen to shoot; and in spiteful retaliation, he ground the heel of his boot into the enemy lord’s back near the base of the skull. He understood why they attacked thus. It was a desperate foe who didn’t care if he killed his own as long as he was the victor in the end.
“How many more come?” demanded Lord Serant of Lord Konstantin, grabbing the man by the scruff of the hair, his boot still in place.
The vile lord’s only response was to work a ball of spittle up in his mouth and launch it at Lord Serant. The westerner did not flinch as the spittle struck his right cheek and dripped downward. Calmly, he cuffed Lord Konstantin with a heavy hand.
“Chancellor, here is your chance to redeem yourself,” said Lord Serant, with evident animosity. He knew the chancellor was wounded, but he needed someone who could follow detailed orders well. He saw a blind spot in the enemy ranks and he intended to take advantage of it.
“They need someone to follow; can you lead them?”
“Yes.”
“Good!” said Lord Serant, smiling.
He hurriedly explained his elaborate plan to infiltrate the enemies’ rear flank and then issued a group of swordsmen to accompany the chancellor. Lord Serant ordered the bowmen to lay a screen of arrows into the heart of the enemy. Afterward, he mustered all but a handful of his remaining soldiers. They awaited his signal to charge into the enemy ranks. His words were inspiring; they were welcome to the soldiers’ ears. This was a man of power for whom they would willingly die. The end was close at hand.
On his command, those not already engaged in combat streamed forth. Their goal was the enemies’ mounted guard, and they cut a direct line for it through what remained of the enemy footmen’s ranks. The charge was timed with the chancellor’s sneak attack to the rear, the line where the enemy officers gathered. The twang of bowstrings and the crashing of steel rose from a clamor to pandemonium once more.
The kingdom soldiers’ charge was short lived as the enemies’ mounted horde swept forth. The black beasts whinnied and reared up as they raced forth, trampling the first brave few who reached their ranks. The shield ring was brought closer as the enemy leaders directed fire against Lord Serant’s position. Even behind the wall of tower shields, arrows found their marks, picking off those that shielded their lord and the other dignitaries with their own bodies.
Lord Serant ordered his holdouts to charge, followed by his bowmen who were to shoot on the run. For a brief time, it seemed as if they had the enemy surrounded and were closing in, but the superior horsemen had been holding back again and they crashed forth with a vengeance. The last of the pikemen fell; the swordsmen continued their charge, followed by a mixed contingent of bowmen and bladesmen.
The hope that had lasted briefly ended with the fall of the chancellor’s group. Their strike had apparently been ineffective. A new battle cry rang out across the square; a new banner was raised in the field. More mounted warriors streamed into the square from the western sector.
Their presence sent terror into the hearts of those that saw them; the kingdom soldiers, though discouraged, continued their assault. The end was near, very near. Lord Serant vowed he would fight until his last breath. He ordered the shield bearers to move out and all who could still wield a weapon, even his precious Calyin, followed.
Lord Serant spat on the dark warrior lord who was bound helpless beneath his scornful heel. His eyes filled with glee as he saw horror and disappointment on Lord Serant’s face. He held no regrets for this day. He had served his master well. Lifting his great sword from its sheath, Lord Serant left Lord Konstantin where he lay face down in a puddle of blood. He would not offer the dark lord the dignity of a swift death, hoping instead that his fellows thought him lost in the chaos of the field, knowing that in time the man would bleed to death, but that death would come slowly and with much pain.
Horsemen filed into the square from the west and the north now, wreaking havoc as they came. The sheer numbers were unfathomable to his mind; how could the enemy have such a vast reserve? How had so many been able to infiltrate this far into the Great Kingdom unseen? He was appalled. As he ran, he handed Calyin a dagger from his belt, his last; the look in his eyes spoke volumes, a lifetime’s worth of dreams that would never come true, also of love, deep, lasting love. Calyin smiled and took the dagger. She was also ready to die.
“Look!” yelled Calyin, her voice wild and captivating, “Look!”
Lord Serant raised his eyes and cocked his head; surprise s
wept over him. He saw, yet he did not believe. A change had taken place; the banner once raised was gone. Another one stood proudly in its place, one that he clearly recognized. The dark warriors also realized the trick, but it was too late. Their horsemen were cut down as they watched.
The only defense left to them was to flee, but opposing horsemen were already upon them, coming in from all sides now. All possibility of escape was cut off. Mounted soldiers continued to pour into the square. The will of the enemy to fight was sucked from them in one swift move. They huddled around their leaders, who issued orders the soldiers no longer followed.
Thousands clustered around the hundreds that frantically sought to escape. Sorrowful whinnies of dying beasts rose above the cries of the desperate men. More banners were raised on the field as the fleet horsemen surged into the square. Moonrise had come long ago, full and ominous, though the combatants had not noticed its arrival and beneath this full yellow globe and an unmarred starlit sky, the battle came to an end.
Complete In the Service of Dragons Page 22