It took only a few minutes for Serene to complete her work. When she released him, he looked down at what he held. The arrow seemed to glisten with an ethereal energy, a brightness in the dark of night. Small silver symbols were burned deep into its wooden surface, and he could sense the spirit magic emanating from them. The feathers and head had been fused into the shaft, so that it was no longer possible to tell where one part of the arrow ended and another began. As he ran his fingers along its markings, Brax’s skin tingled, feeling something born of another world. What started as a well-crafted tool had become a weapon of power.
He looked up to see Phinlera and Laefin staring at him. “That was fantastic,” Phin said, releasing her breath.
This arrow will now penetrate any defense it encounters, Serene explained. No bond of metal or skin or magical strength can protect that which it strikes. Tell the gifted archer that I entrust in him its safekeeping, and that no other may fire upon a mark that which I have made.
Braxton relayed her words, shaking slightly from the energy’s withdrawal. Laefin seemed to drink in Serene’s message. He raised a hand over his heart, closed his eyes, and breathed in.
“I understand this charge that has been entrusted to me,” he said, exhaling. “What must I do?”
There is one among the Mins who communicates the war back to the Witch Sisters through their magical connection. She is a shaman among their kind but born of witch magic. This one is well-guarded deep within the enemy’s camp, but tonight, she will move to see the feet of the mountain and ask of her keepers their instructions. When she does, you will have but one chance to fire upon her. Send this arrow deep into her breast, and you will sever the cord through which the Mins are receiving their guidance. Do this and you will gain an advantage.
There was a brief silence after Braxton repeated her words. He felt a strange communication between Serene and the elf, as if one barely brushed past the other, like the gentle touching of a spider’s web in the morning fog of an otherwise silent forest.
Laefin took another breath. “I see now the path you have laid out before me,” he said. “I accept this task willingly. I am ready.”
* * *
Several hours before dawn, Braxton, Phinlera, and Laefin flew out from Almon-Roe, accompanied by the Talonguard and their giant mounts. The elves each bore a small white mark upon their cheek, chin, or brow—a symbol, Brax guessed, of the Fey Oath, and their commitment to protect Arbor Loren and the White Wood. The siege had continued throughout the night, and the Gap of Dunes seemed alive now with endless campfires from the Mins below. Flaming projectiles continued assaulting the trees, and bright fires burned in the forest near Almon-Rin. As they flew overhead, Braxton turned away from Arbor Loren, knowing that something beautiful and graceful was going to die.
Serene guided them east from the forest for over an hour before turning south and angling toward the Min camp from above the direction of Ben-Gar. Occasionally, she’d communicate with Brax, telling him to adjust their course one way or another, while other times, he felt her impressions of the direction they should go. Each time he communicated silently with Bell, using only hand signals. The other Talonguard followed, staggered on either side, allowing Braxton to lead them on this journey. They circled high above the Mins for what seemed like hours, searching first one section of the encampment and then another, looking for the shaman.
Turn west! Serene said loudly as they angled again. Brax signaled to his rider, and Hawk turned toward the forest, catching a premorning breeze that blew away from the twin peaks. Braxton indicated to the others the need for silence, and the riders touched their mounts, directing them to avoid calling or making any unnecessary movements.
They glided in the dark above the twinkling of the Mins’ campfires, looking for their elusive prey.
There, Serene said to him at last, drawing his attention to a small group of lights moving north. He motioned to Bell and pointed out their target to Laefin. The archer jumped up on Fletcher’s back, notching Serene’s arrow as his eagle began to dive. Braxton glanced at Phin, flying alongside him with Tentalis, and saw fear reflected in her eyes. He looked back at Laefin and watched as Neah guided her giant mount down toward the patrol, moving steadily away. As Bellnella leveled Hawk into a wide arc, Braxton caught sight of the shaman walking among the Mins, torchlight briefly reflecting off her features. She was noticeably shorter than her protectors and wore a robe as black as night, the cowl thrown back and her face exposed. Unlike the Mins, the shaman had a sheep-like head, with tightly cropped gray hair and small curved horns protruding from her temples. In her right hand she held a staff topped with the bleached skull of some unknown animal. Her other arm was tucked deep inside her robe, clutching something she wished to remain hidden. The patrol joined a larger group of Mins, and the shaman disappeared among the sea of heads around her.
Braxton watched anxiously as Laefin and his Talonguard descended closer and closer to the Mins, almost invisible as they glided toward the immense army. Time seemed to slow as the giant eagle continued to drop, the elf standing frozen on her back like some aerial statue. Then Laefin released the arrow. A shrill cry from some mysterious night bird broke the air followed by a scream that echoed up from the Dunes, making Braxton’s skin crawl. Laefin had found his mark.
Bellnella and Tentalis called to their mounts, and their eagles shrieked repeatedly, pulling up from the plains with a flapping of their enormous wings. Braxton, Phinlera, and the two riders fired arrows at the patrol, hoping to increase the Mins’ confusion and provide precious time for the still-silent Fletcher to get away. Their plan seemed to work. The shaman’s guards fired their crossbows up at Hawk and Arrow, but as Brax had hoped, the Mins had difficulty seeing their eagles in the dark, and their bolts flew wide.
A large patch of inky blackness shot through the sky and smashed into Fletcher, sending Laefin’s eagle spinning wildly. The elf dangled below the flailing bird, tethered by a single cord. The panicked eagle screeched in pain, and an evil shriek from some abysmal creature replied.
“Laefin!” Brax called out, but there was no answer.
He watched in horror, as his friend, along with Neah and her injured mount, plummeted toward the Dunes, intertwined, it seemed, with this new attacker. They disappeared moments later, obscured by the brighter lights of the campfires below, swallowed up by the Min army.
“Laefin!” Braxton repeated. “We must help him!” He grabbed Bell’s shoulder, but she just shook her head and pulled away.
“No!” he shrieked, fumbling with his straps.
Let him go, Serene said. Brax responded in anger. By the time he had his straps undone, Hawk was almost a mile above the ground. Braxton knew he’d never survive the fall. He desperately summoned the spirit magic and drew the Unicorn Blade, calling upon its power to aid Laefin. But Serene quenched his effort, dissipating the energy.
“No!” he yelled again. “I won’t lose him!” He struggled to recall the spirit magic.
Let him go, Serene repeated quietly, her calming voice a pillar of reassurance amid the turbulent waters of his panicked mind. Let him go.
* * *
Braxton woke in the guesthouse of Almon-Roe. Streaks of dried tears covered his face, and he immediately felt the pain of losing yet another friend. Phinlera slept beside him, her breathing regular. He pulled on his boots, slung the Unicorn Blade over his shoulder, and stepped out onto the platform skirting the tree. A bright midmorning sun greeted him, but Braxton ignored it. He wanted nothing more than to shut himself away from the light and crawl back into the shadow of his despair.
When his eyes adjusted, he looked across the elevated city and glimpsed movement in the tree opposite his, reminding him that he wasn’t alone. Large plumes of dark black smoke floated over Arbor Loren, drawing his attention to the south and the swath of burning wood coming from Almon-Rin. He rubbed a booted foot against the platform and dropped his head.
“There’s no hope. We will never win,�
� he said aloud.
Are you so sure of your fate? Serene asked. Have you no faith in those you trusted, in those you once loved?
“All those I’ve loved have died,” he said bitterly. “My mom, Kael, Laefin.”
Yet others still walk with you.
He turned to the guest oak. “Am I destined to lose her as well? Will she be the last to go?”
It is a new day, my child, and you should celebrate your night’s success. It has helped you far greater than you know, and your loss is not as dark as it seems.
“What can this new day bring that could provide any hope?”
Look to the mountain.
Reluctantly, he glanced at the Dragon’s Spine, far to the north. It stood as unyielding as before, unchanged from what he remembered. He scanned the scene for a few listless moments, almost wishing to see something that might give him some hope, but saw nothing, and turned away.
Why do you so easily abandon the faith you once placed in others? Look again, my child.
Brax sighed and looked back at the numerous spires and great peaks of the Spine. For a long time he stared at their endless expanse continuing into the distant horizon, waiting glumly, half expecting something to jump out in front of him and dance in the morning sky. Gradually he followed the path they’d taken from Almon-Tel, crossing the southern ridge to the distant jagged range in the east, and to the Dragon’s Head. He retraced the journey from Ben-Gar, pausing at the place where he imagined Laefin had fallen. Feeling dejected at the memory of losing his friend, he dropped his head. His eyes fell on the edge of the Dunes and the landslide of broken rock he’d noticed while flying on Hawk. He was about to dismiss it when he realized he was looking south.
“How can that be?” he said, his mind slowly awakening. The rock now extended well below Almon-Roe.
“Is it moving?” he asked.
Look carefully, child, and remember your walk in the forest.
Reaching over his shoulder, he grasped the handle of the Unicorn Blade. The warmth of the energy seeped into him, calming his emotions and settling over his body, healing his pain. Then he saw them. Row upon row of armor-clad, bearded warriors standing frozen amid the rocks. No, they were the rocks. The energy surged in his heart center, pulsating with that same euphoric feeling. Instantly he saw what Serene had been waiting for him to notice. The rocks, the rubble, the debris—the entire landslide that he imagined had come down into the Dunes—was a cover for an immense army.
The dwarves had come.
Chapter 38
“Phin, wake up!” Braxton shook her.
“What is it, what’s happened?” she answered, startled.
“Get the Leaf. Hurry!”
She grabbed the blade and followed him out onto the platform, pulling on her boots. “What is it?” she repeated. “What’s wrong?”
“Hold Shelindûhin and look at that rubble.” He pointed to the landslide. “Look past the rocks.”
She searched the debris. “What? I don’t see anything.”
“Keep looking. Call on the energy.”
“I don’t understand. Just tell me what you see,” she pleaded. “I’m not as quick as you. I can’t do it that fast. I—” Then she saw them. “Dwarves?” Her eyes filled with tears, daring to hope that what she saw was true.
“Yes, Phin,” he said calmly. “The dwarven army has come to our aid.”
“But how—” She stopped. “That means—”
“Oi!” a sudden gruff voice called from below. They looked down at the forest floor.
“Ruskin!” they yelled together.
The dwarf stood in the clearing at the base of their oak, his gleaming breastplate reflecting the symbol of a large crouching badger, shining brightly in the morning light. His left arm rested atop the head of an enormous ax standing chest-high beside him.
They hurried down the tree and ran over to their friend.
“Well met!” The dwarf extended his right arm, clasping Brax’s in return.
“Oh, Ruskin, it’s so great to see you!” Phinlera wrapped her arms around his neck, her chest pressing into his bearded face as she kissed him on the bald top of his head.
“Well, yes, ahem.” He cleared his throat and pulled away. “Good to see ya both,” he said, smiling wryly.
“How’d you get here?” Braxton asked.
“When’d you arrive?” Phinlera added.
“Why haven’t we seen you before?” Brax continued.
“We walked. Two days. You were flying,” Ruskin answered casually.
Brax frowned. “What’ve you been doing for two days?”
“Talking with the elves. Lots to be said. We haven’t had dealings with ’em in a thousand years, so both sides had to get comfortable with suddenly massing our armies so close together. Been communicating back and forth with Bendarren through these elven runners.” He thumbed toward the city. “There were ‘conditions’ under which King Tharak agreed to fight.”
“Like what?”
He rubbed his beard. “Well, when I reached Dûrak-Thûhn, I had to request an audience with the king, which of course took three days while he finished feasting. When I finally got to explain that the Mins were invading, Tharak wasn’t too excited about sending out the clans to fight alongside elves.”
“Really? Why not?” Phinlera asked. “Surely your king must know that if the Mins destroy Arbor Loren, they’ll eventually threaten his kingdom too.”
“You understand things pretty well, missy,” he said, and Phinlera smiled at the compliment. “For a young’un,” he added, and she scowled. “Anyway, Tharak needed a good reason to go to war, and fighting to save elves and a forest didn’t seem like one. I finally convinced him by lighting my pipe in his presence, something I’d usually get lashed for, but it worked out. The old boar immediately recognized the scent of elven pipe leaf. And when I told him he’d never again enjoy drawing its flavor if the forest was destroyed, he felt that was reason enough to send out a few battalions to fight, and the rest of the nation eagerly agreed. So here we are.”
Braxton smiled at their old guide. “Well, we’re glad you came, no matter what the reason.”
“There’s just one small problem.”
“What’s that?”
“We’ve been waiting to fight now for two days. Arming three thousand dwarves and marching them day and night, only to stand around doing nothing, is not our idea of a well-run war.”
“Why don’t you just attack the Mins then, if you’re so anxious to fight?” Phinlera said, still a bit annoyed by the dwarf’s earlier comment.
“Nothing would please us more, but Bendarren wants us to wait for the Empire.”
“The Empire?” Brax asked.
“Yes, lad. They’re coming round the bottom of these damn trees, and we’re supposed to wait for ’em before starting in, even though they’re taking their sweet time getting here. They’re camped out somewhere in the Calindurin—or that’s what the elves tell me anyway. If they don’t hurry up, we’re going to have a riot on our hands. My kinsmen won’t wait another day to fight, not when we can see the Mins we’re supposed to be attacking.”
“The Empire’s joining the war!” Phinlera exclaimed, excited now. “That’s great news.”
“The emissary must’ve convinced them to come. Things are finally looking up,” Brax agreed.
“Yeah, well, I need to get back to the clans soon, or they’ll start in on themselves again.” Ruskin shook his head. “Dwarves don’t do well just standing around fully dressed in war gear and drinking ale. We tend to want to bash things, even if it is other dwarves.”
They grinned at their friend, happy to have him back, and updated him on all they’d experienced since parting. The dwarf didn’t say much until they came to the attack on Laefin. He seemed particularly interested in the creature that had struck him.
It is a wyvern, Serene said.
“A wyvern?” the dwarf repeated with distaste when Braxton relayed the message. “We haven’t
seen one of those in these parts for almost five hundred years. Evil creatures they are, summoned from the abyss by sorcerers too stupid to know better. It’s one of the reasons I hate magic.” He spat on the floor. “We’ll have to double our night watch when the fighting begins. That thing could cause us some real trouble if we don’t prepare for it. Fortunately it only moves at night, but I’d still better pass it along to the clans, so they know what to expect. I’ll see you two later.” He swung his ax up onto his shoulder and strode off into the trees.
They watched him go, smiling at his grumblings about being back in the forest.
“What’s a wyvern?” Phinlera asked after he’d left.
“Dunno, but I bet we’re going to find out.”
For the remainder of the morning, they wandered around Almon-Roe, waiting for word on the war, but no one came. They ate a cold breakfast outside the guest oak, enjoying the replenished food that always seemed to await their return to the tree, even though they never saw anyone attending to their needs. When they’d finished, Braxton went looking for one of the home guard, anxious to get some news, but every time he approached the elusive elves, they disappeared back into the forest, ignoring his calls. He missed Laefin and how the young archer always took time to inform them on the goings-on in Arbor Loren, thinking about his sunny disposition and feeling guilty at losing him without a fight.
Phinlera tried encouraging him, speaking excitedly about the dwarf and Empire armies joining the battle to hopefully swing this dark tide in their favor.
“Do you think they’ll fight separately, or all charge in and crush the Mins?” She punched her fist into her hand.
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 24