Brax smiled at her attempts to distract him and at her optimism that the elves could still win this war.
“They’ll probably attack together,” he said. But he knew his words sounded hollow, even distracted. Now more than ever he feared losing Phin and surviving alone. He knew he could help the elves. He knew Serene and the Unicorn Blade had the ability to make a difference, to tip the scales in their favor. But at what cost? Whenever he thought of going out into the Dunes to fight, his mind fixated on one question. Would Phinlera survive? He wondered what it would be like to be asked to let her go. If the elves might think her death worth saving Arbor Loren, her sacrifice somehow tolerable, even acceptable. Not to him, he thought—never to him. He played it over and over in his mind, the pain he knew he’d feel at losing her and having to return home alone. His heart wrenched at the possibility, at each variation of the nightmarish outcome he imagined.
Why do you live in a future that may never come to pass? Serene said, entering his thoughts and dispersing the gloom. Live in the moment, child.
I cannot lose her. I . . . love her.
Love is the greatest ally in your life’s experience, but do not waste it like water cast out upon the barren sands of a desert in which you lay down your heart. Believe in her, in her own life’s journey, in the possibility that she too has a part to play and a path to walk upon that is guided, like yours, by her own impression of wherein we connect. You do not create her future, nor should you believe that her life’s focus is determined by your actions. While you walk together on this path, interwoven in the present, live in the acceptance that your experiences do not govern her fate, but that that path is driven by a greater awareness than you can possibly imagine.
Braxton thought about what Serene said, balancing her words against the phantoms that plagued him. He took comfort in her calm reassurance, and, although he struggled to understand the exact meaning, grasped enough of her message to realize what she intended to convey: not to worry about Phinlera, but to enjoy the time they had together. He admired Phin as she sat among the trees, the sunlight catching her hair. He listened to her muse over the coming fight and the events of the past few weeks, focusing more on the sound of her voice than her actual words. Brax wanted so much to be away from here, to be back home with her, just the two of them.
A series of low horns rang out far to the south, and they both looked in that direction, returning to the encroaching war. A dull thumping rose from the Dunes, as though some monstrous creature were beating rhythmically on a massive drum, drowning out all other calls. The sound seemed to suggest something new from the Mins, some change in their attitude toward the forest and their intense focus on its demise.
Phin stared at the trees to the south, half expecting something to come charging out at any moment. “What do you think’s going on?”
“Don’t know, but something’s sure changed.”
Within minutes of the sound, Almon-Roe seemed to come alive. Elven runners appeared from the dense forest, passed quickly by, and headed out into the Breaker Dunes. Then scores of archers crossed the rope ladders to the nesting eagles, and the sky above soon filled with Talonguard. Bellnella and Tentalis signaled to them as they mounted their giant birds, landing on the forest floor just long enough for Braxton and Phinlera to strap in before flying out over the edge of the Dunes. They headed south toward Almon-Rin. Brax called up to Bell for some explanation, but she didn’t reply, and just pointed farther south, as if that were answer enough. He scanned the horizon, but the smoke hanging over the forest blocked his view. All he could see was the tide of Mins massed in the east.
He looked down at the seemingly endless path of mile-wide rubble that had slid out from the Spine. Brax marveled at how natural the rocks appeared, forming up against the dirt and grassy plains of the Breaker Dunes. A few dozen dwarves were visible among the debris, the huge numbers of armor-clad soldiers having moved farther south. Hawk increased his pace, continuing along the rim of trees until a funnel shape came into view at the end of the rocky formation, spreading out like an open mouth toward the Dunes. A wave of excitement rushed over Braxton at knowing the dwarves were there, hidden among the rocks with Ruskin at their lead, waiting to spring their trap upon their unsuspecting foe. Maybe Phinlera was right. Perhaps they could win this war.
Beyond the landslide, the great Min catapults had ripped up a part of the ancient kingdom, leaving a gaping hole of burning stumps in its wake. The thumping grew louder, and through the smoke still rising above the forest, Brax could see the Mins moving about below. The large, muscular creatures were responding to the drumbeats, turning their distant flank toward the south while keeping their western front facing Arbor Loren.
As they neared Almon-Rin and cleared the smoky haze, Brax felt a sudden rush of exhilaration at seeing in the distance the cause of the change in the Mins’ attitude. Far to the south, beyond the reaches of the black tide, stood row upon row of armored cavalry. The horsemen’s purple-and-white banners and silver breastplates reflected brilliantly in the afternoon sun. Braxton took a deep breath and released it fully, letting go of all the tension he’d been carrying for so long, seeing at last the hope he feared would never come.
The Empire army had finally arrived.
A loud cheer alongside him caused Braxton to jump. Phinlera beamed and waved her arms above her head, pointing to the thousand or so heavily armored horsemen from their homeland waiting below the Min line.
He smiled back that he too had seen them. The Mins, surprised by the arrival of this unexpected foe, continued turning their massive flank to face the impending threat. Ranks of halberd-wielding Min soldiers marched to the drone of thundering drums as they took up their new formation. Watching the battlefield from the sky, Brax and Phin’s giant mounts wheeled north of Almon-Rin, circling above the forest. When they arced back toward the trees, the skies over Arbor Loren were thick with hundreds of Talonguard rising from the canopy. Signaling excitedly to Phinlera, he began to understand the battle plan unfolding before him, and the impending attack.
Do we go down and fight? he asked Serene, drawing the Unicorn Blade from across his back.
Wait, child. That time will come.
Dozens of horns split the air in a single harmonious call, drowning out the Mins and their drums. Twisting south, a chill ran down Brax’s spine as row upon row of mounted knights approached the Min line, their lances held upright and their purple banners flapping in the breeze. Bellnella and Tentalis continued circling their eagles, close enough now to watch the unfolding scene. The horsemen began cantering forward in a broad line as the human army advanced upon their larger foe. Another horn sounded, and the cavalry’s movements quickened, the line fluidly changing in one graceful motion as if in response to some unknown play, and the horses began to charge.
The sea of muscular brutes in the Dunes readied their crossbows behind forward ranks of larger fighters, waiting for the horsemen to come into range. An extraordinarily loud, single, clear trumpet sounded at the edge of Arbor-Loren. Braxton jumped and looked down. The entire elven nation burst from the protective covering of the ancient forest, yelling and firing arrows as they charged into the surprised Mins. Simultaneously, every Talonguard dove from above the canopy, unleashing a barrage of projectiles into the opposing army.
For a moment, the Mins were caught off guard. Surprised by the sudden offensive of the previously elusive elves, they turned to face the woodland assault. This was exactly what the allied armies had hoped for, Braxton realized, as it bought the galloping knights precious time. By the time the larger beasts recognized the diversion, they fired their volley too late. Scores of mounted soldiers still died from the bolts, but it was not enough to stop the full impact of the charging Empire elite. With their battle cry of “For the Empire!” the hardened cavalry smashed into the Min ranks with an impact that drowned out all other sounds, their pointed lances decimating their lighter-armored foe.
An instant later, the forward rank
s of the elves reached the Mins. Having discarded their bows now for small, narrow swords in each hand, they nimbly attacked their enemy, sidestepping the slower brute force approach of the big creatures and counterattacking with short, quick double strikes into their opponents’ unguarded and vulnerable areas. With surgical precision, the elves crippled the Mins’ front line, slashing at their exposed necks or legs as they ran by, dropping the larger enemy in an almost graceful attack. To the surprise of the Mins, however, the elves didn’t stop to fight but continued past their injured and bleeding opponents, pushing further into their forward ranks. Simultaneously, the Empire cavalry continued to cut down the Mins to the south, driving a piercing wedge deeper into their enemy’s buckling flank. As the Mins turned to pursue the elves, a second wave of woodland soldiers wielding two-handed great swords swept into their front, bringing down the already injured creatures.
The penetrating power of the combined western charge crushed the slower Mins, and for a few precious moments, chaos erupted in the invading army. Instinctively, the Mins turned their northern right flank toward the elves’ assault. This was precisely what the dwarves had been waiting for. With a rapid thunder of drums, they sprang their trap. The mountainous rubble and broken rock disappeared, replaced now by thousands of heavily armored dwarf warriors who charged in from only a few dozen yards away. The dwarves hit the northern edge of the Mins like a thunderclap, smashing into the shocked creatures and crushing them in droves beneath their powerful hammer blows. Within moments, the whole forward line of the enemy was surrounded by the combined strength of the western armies who fought the surprised Mins on three sides. In minutes, their vanguard force was slaughtered.
Brax yelled and cheered with excitement at their success. But Serene had him look east, and he was totally deflated. During the counteroffensive, the Mins had divided their force in two, pulling the greater number of their soldiers miles back from their dying brethren, sacrificing their front to provide time for their main army to regroup. They now stood in a broad line across the full width of the combined opposing nations. There would be no flanking this horde, no surprise attack that would take them off guard a second time. The dwarves, elves, and men would have to fight them head on. The greater strength of the Min army still stood thousands strong, untouched in the Gap of Dunes, ready and waiting.
Chapter 39
It was after midnight when the warning came. Braxton, Phinlera, Penton, and Gavin, along with Bear, sat together by one of the small fires that littered the allied camps east of Arbor Loren. Brax and Phin had found the others late into the night, and after a brief celebration at seeing one another safe, had eagerly shared their perspectives on the day’s victory. The four friends drew as much warmth from their collective company as from the little fire they surrounded.
The war in the plains had reached a tenuous reprieve by the time evening came, neither side willing to engage too quickly in the inevitable confrontation they all knew would come. The Mins had lost thousands in their first fight with the western armies and were cautious now. The Empire was equally willing to wait, needing to regain their strength after the long day’s ride, full charge, and intense fighting with the Min army. Tensions ran high in the allied camps as dwarves, elves, and men readied themselves for the fight that would decide the fate of Arbor Loren, and possibly the western nations.
Penton described their journey to Amberdeen with Leylandon, the elven emissary, after having ridden west across the Calindurin Plains.
“Elves never rest,” he said wryly, remembering the pace they’d set. It was the meeting with the Empire’s king, however, that Braxton found most interesting.
“Took us four days to get an audience with our young leader,” Pen explained. “And that was after having the Council of Sorrows and meeting several more times with Iban too.”
“King Balan is no older than you are, Brax,” Gavin commented, “but I fear he’s greatly influenced by the bishop.”
Phinlera frowned. “Why do you say that?”
“Well,” Penton answered, “Iban and Leylandon pleaded our case to the king. But your friend Zacharias argued strongly against the Empire getting involved.”
“Zacharias?” Braxton asked, surprised.
“Yes, I thought you might find that interesting. He was there, along with the bishop, but didn’t look too well—all thin and drawn, with his arm in a sling. Looked as if he’d been to the abyss and back.” Penton chuckled. “Too bad he survived.”
Phinlera turned to Brax. “Leaving him might have been a mistake.”
Brax nodded slowly.
“I’m sorry you let him go,” Pen agreed. “He spoke eloquently and long about how we shouldn’t send aid to the elves. That we no longer needed dealings with ‘the wooded race’ and that we’d never owed them anything anyway. That we couldn’t be sure what they said was true and should wait for our own scouts’ confirmation before getting involved.”
“The bishop listened quietly most of the time, often nodding his agreement with Zacharias,” Gavin added. “It was pretty obvious they knew each other well enough, and although he never spoke openly against the elven emissary, the bishop subtly advised the king that the Empire had much more pressing matters to deal with at home.”
Penton took a drink. “Thankfully, Iban’s skill well matched Zacharias’, but in the end, I think only the fact that he was a Wielder tipped the balance in our favor. King Balan eventually agreed to send a cavalry battalion to see if what the elves said was true.”
“When Zacharias and the bishop left the hall, neither seemed too pleased with the decision,” Gavin continued. “I think if it weren’t for them arguing against us, the Empire might have sent a much larger force.”
“Well, we’re happy they sent anyone at all,” Phin commented.
Braxton said nothing. Letting Zacharias live was proving to be a mistake. He could still see his adversary pinned to the tree by Sotchek’s giant bolt.
Then Serene spoke the warning in his mind.
The enemy is moving, child. Alert the others. The battle is about to begin.
“Quiet!” Braxton burst out, interrupting the group’s discussion. Bear woke and barked at the sudden sound. The others looked at him in surprise as Brax jumped to his feet. “We need to find the generals. Now!”
Without waiting, he ran toward the main pavilion that had been set up for the military leaders, darting among the numerous tents and patrols that filled the allied camps. Bear jumped excitedly beside him, and Braxton was grateful to see the elkhound, knowing it meant the others had followed. He found the large circular tent, with the banners of the united armies hanging calmly above in the still evening air.
Pushing past the startled guards, he burst inside. “The Mins are attacking!” Brax yelled. The occupants stared at him in surprise. He’d interrupted some intense planning meeting, and a few of the attendees looked annoyed by his sudden intrusion. He recognized the tall, lean figure of the elven general Illian, standing beside Breem, the more muscular Empire commander whom Brax remembered from their journey out of Falderon. There were others too: a few dwarves dressed in full mail, a shorter man with ash-blond hair and small, intense eyes, and several more elves. It was Ruskin, however, who responded first, removing a smoldering pipe from his mouth. “What is it, lad?” He blew a puff of smoke toward the ceiling.
“The Mins are attacking,” Braxton repeated. “Where’s Bendarren?”
General Illian touched Brax’s shoulder. “Bendarren cannot leave the forest,” he said. “His life force is bound to the trees. Tell me what you know, and I will act in his stead.”
“They’re coming,” Brax stated. “They’ll be here any moment. You need to be ready.”
“I know you.” Breem pointed a gloved hand at Braxton from across the tent. “You caused me a lot of trouble up in the Vales. Why should we trust you now?”
Illian turned to face the Empire commander. “Because he is a Wielder.”
Breem’s eyes opene
d wide, and the other man stared openmouthed as well. Even the dwarves seemed surprised.
“A Wielder?” Breem asked, confused. “This . . . farm boy cannot be a Wielder?”
“Nevertheless, he is,” the elf replied.
“We don’t have time for this,” Ruskin snapped. “You two can decide what you want. I’m going to wake the clans. I suggest you get your horsemen ready.” He left the tent with the other dwarves in tow.
General Illian dispatched the elves, but Breem seemed frozen by his disbelief. “He cannot be a Wielder,” he said.
“He is, and I’m moving my army.” Illian rolled up some parchment and headed toward the flap.
“Wait, Illian!” Breem called. “Are you going to trust your forest, your nation, to this . . . boy?”
The elven general looked first at Brax and then at Breem.
“Yes, I am,” he said, then he turned and left the tent.
Breem looked down at Braxton from behind his thick black eyebrows and furrowed brow. He was a large, impressive man.
“You’d better be right about this,” he said gruffly, then strode past him. His aide followed, leaving Braxton alone.
The commander had no sooner left the pavilion when a bone-chilling scream echoed across the encampment. Brax knew only one creature that could make that sound.
The wyvern.
He found the others waiting for him outside, held back by the guards. His friends covered their ears, searching for refuge from the evil shadow flying overhead. The soldiers fired arrows at the beast, but they too cowered between shots as the terrifying shrieks drowned out all other sounds. Only Braxton and the few remaining elven warriors seemed unaffected by the wyvern’s calls. Breem ran toward the Empire section of the camp, dodging several panicked horses that had broken free of their tethers. The animals bolted every time the wyvern screeched, knocking over everything in their path in a desperate effort to escape.
Cathadeus_Book One of the Walking Gates Page 25