by Greg Curtis
Unless of course Myral had been right and it might not be the great demon at all. She only wished he'd told them what had been discussed with the ghost dragon, before the wizard had arrived among them. But still there was hope that he lived. And that he would tell the others in time. And that they'd see him again.
She didn't hold out much hope though. Especially not when she was standing in the ruins of a copse and witnessing for herself the terrible damage that had been done to it. If this was the work of Mayfall as she feared it was, then his power was beyond that of any wizard she'd ever heard of. Far beyond. And that he should be here in the world killing and destroying at exactly the same time as the great demon was raising his armies of the undead to destroy the world was just unfair. Bitterly unfair. But try as she might she couldn't imagine that the two weren't related in some way. Maybe Mayfall was the Dark One's most powerful undead necromancer? He hadn't seemed undead and he hadn't felt it, but Yorik believed he'd killed him, so maybe he was.
Then again she had to ask herself; what was the alternative to the foretellers? The undead walked but they didn't talk. The dead wizard was far too powerful for them to capture and interrogate. The blight was as nothing she had ever seen before and could tell her nothing. And the only one who could explain what was happening was the same one who was slowly ripping the world apart. So many evils were walking the world at once, all of them linked somehow, and none of it made any sense.
“Yes. Maybe. Who knows, maybe the foretellers and farseers in Hammeral will have some luck this time.” She sighed as she doubted her own words. “Unless anyone has another thought?” She asked having found no answers in herself and hoping that someone else might have them.
There was a long silence and then –
“The stone?”
Whoever suggested it earned Genivere's immediate enmity as she knew exactly what stone he meant. The others also grimaced in distaste at the thought. But a heartbeat later she realised that as terrible as the suggestion was, it made sense. The dwarven Heart of the World or the stone as it was known to most, was a font of knowledge. More than that, it contained the wisdom of the ages, so it was claimed, stretching all the way back to the very beginning of the world.
To the dwarves it represented the world. Actually they claimed that it wasn't a stone at all. It was the world. Or rather it was an outcropping of the great stone that formed the very bedrock of everything. The world had been built on top of it. A thin skin of life laid on top of a firmament of stone.
That was the reason it was an unquestionable source of knowledge. It had been there at the beginning. It would be there at the end. And for all that time it watched.
But the dwarves guarded the outcroppings of the stone closely. More than closely, it was the very centre of their world, the rock of their faith. And the idea that an elf – even a part elf part dryad might consult it – would not be well received. In fact it would be considered a sacrilege. Just the presence of elves on dwarven lands would be considered an affront. It could get them killed. Especially in these dangerous times when the dead were walking and towns were being wiped away. When according to the traders the dwarves were fighting a never ending battle with their own dead.
If there was an unquestionable source of knowledge the stone was it. But a dwarf would have to ask the stone, and then they'd have to believe whatever he told them in turn, assuming that they weren't already dead. And dwarves lied. Genivere didn't want to do it.
“We could try”, Captain Ysabel told them thoughtfully. “Iron Deep is only ten days ride south of here. It's a safe journey though Gerwindar, and the gnomes would never deny us passage through their land.”
“But we still have no provisions, not enough horses, and we could not ask the stone ourselves. And we would still have to get word of what has happened to us and where we are going back to the elders in Hammeral.” Yet even as she objected Genivere knew her words were going to fall on deaf ears. She could see it in the eyes of her companions. They had lost a companion maybe three. Their mission had failed. They had been defeated by a wizard with contemptuous ease. They had refused to even go back to the ancient temple for fear that he might still be around. And now she was expecting them to return to Hammeral in disgrace.
They would not do it. No matter how crazed and desperate the idea was, it was a chance to do something. To succeed in something. And they were going to take it no matter what.
And though she knew she should protest in truth she was with them. Yorik was dead, despite the Captain's words of hope. And she could not avenge him as he deserved. But maybe in this she could do something. She had to do something.
Chapter Twenty Seven.
The thane came for Hammeral one perfect summer morning.
Everyone had been expecting him of course. There had been reports flowing through the city for over a week of the terrible damage being done to other towns and villages throughout the Hammeral forest and further afield. Of dryad copses and satyr villages simply torn from the world. Of a tenacious and unstoppable blight covering their remains. Of human and elven towns being destroyed and the bodies littering the ground like leaves in autumn. The gnomes were said to be suffering losses as well, and the dwarves though secretive, were thought to be losing their war.
Annalisse and the other foretellers had been predicting his arrival and the city's fall for all that time, and thanks to them maybe as many as three quarters of the people had gone. Safety they had been told lay in being dispersed. It was where the people gathered together in numbers that the thane's armies would attack. And of course when they did there was no fortification that would hold them back and nothing that would stop the thane's magic.
The message had been sent far and wide. To all the elven provinces and all the other realms. The people had to know what they were facing and how to survive. But how many listened no one knew. Certainly the humans in their walled cities didn't, and in time the foretellers feared that they would pay for that mistake. The dryads and the satyrs certainly listened, but they had never had fortified cities to begin with. The dwarves never listened to the elves anyway and continued their endless underground war with their own dead ancestors. As for the others, no one knew.
When he arrived of course, it was too late to do anything.
Even in Hammeral where the message had been shouted from the rooftops, not all had listened and as many as thirty thousand were still in Hammeral, with a thousand fighting men from the Order and another thousand from the city guard remaining to protect them.
At first it was just a few undead at the edge of the city. Mostly animals that had died months and years before, and for the most part, not the ones people feared. Wolves and lions people feared, not sheep and cattle. But undead farm animals were not the same placid beasts they had been in life, and they had weight and hooves enough to be deadly.
The first of them came from the east, wandering into the city seemingly at random and then charging at anyone they could see.
A few were taken down early on. The undead were surprisingly fast and a number of elves were caught before they could make the safety of the trees. But the alarm was sounded and by the time those first few dozen beasts had been killed the city's defences were readied. Five hundred paladins and five hundred rangers of the Order stood ready in the trees, waiting for the command. Their bows were already in hand, arrows flaming. And with them another thousand of the city guard stood with them, bows also in hand.
“Best shots!”
Commander Elron gave the cry and immediately fifty flaming arrows were loosed and fifty undead beasts burst into flame. That didn't stop them of course. The beasts continued to wander through the clearing and under the trees, hunting for people to trample to death. But at least the flames blinded them and left them wandering in circles.
Of course victory was a long way off if it was ever going to come at all. The commander knew that, and in fact the foretellers were all saying there was no possible victory. Which was why he
had as many of the city guard gathering up all the horses they could and bringing them to the people in the trees. Safety lay in flight not battle. The more they could get on horseback fleeing the city, the better.
Not everyone wanted to go. Even when the enemy had finally shown himself. They were elves and this was their home. These were their trees and they were safe in them. Such was the way it had always been. And such was the way it always would be, so they believed. Besides, most of those who had been preparing to leave had expected to be able to bring wagons and possessions. To simply have to leave everything behind was unacceptable.
So while a few more rode for the distance, many remained, believing themselves secure in their trees as they had always been.
Then more undead started arriving and it was obvious that they weren't safe at all. Not when the undead were starting to swarm like flies around a corpse. And not when they included a great many more creatures than just farm animals. The predators had arrived, and now among the horde of cattle and sheep and horses there were lions and griffins. Creatures that could climb and fly.
“Burn them all!”
It wasn't the commander who gave the cry, but he agreed with it. And he watched, pleased as hundreds of arrows streaming fire streaked across the sky to ignite the approaching horde. Switching from crossbows to long bows had been a clever strategy. The extra range the weapons gave them was worth the extra skill needed to use them. And of course the rangers had the Lady's magic with them as well to give the arrows even greater flight.
But the enemy had numbers.
Soon half of the clearing, a league or more of open grassland and fields, was filled with burning creatures. Hundreds upon hundreds of them were wandering around with flames leaping into the air from their backs. But thousands more were coming. They could see them in the distance, emerging from the trees on the far side of the clearing, They could also hear them, and the sheer volume coupled with the shaking of the ground as the hooves thundered toward them told them that the numbers of those coming were huge.
Suddenly more people began fleeing. As the undead flowed in from the east, the Commander could see more and more civilians leaving the shelter of the trees and fleeing west. That was good. Because in his heart Elron knew they were going to lose this battle. Thus far they were holding their own, but only because they still had the grace of the Lady on their side. Without her they would have to resort to their own skill with blades and bows, and their fire would have to come from more mundane means. Much as the city guards were doing. Wrapping oil soaked rags around the tips of their arrows and igniting them with torches. They weren't nearly as effective.
Still, they held strong for a good twenty minutes or half an hour, turning the undead army into walking bonfires and giving more and more people the chance to run.
Until a new problem arose. Some of the forest started catching fire. It was summer and though there had been plenty of rain, things were still dry. Dry enough that as the undead burnt they started setting bushes and then even the trees alight.
If it had only been a few they could have coped with it. But it wasn't a few, it was thousands. Thousands of walking bonfires were wandering almost at random through the forest. And many of those bonfires now walked on two legs and carried their own weapons; longbows like theirs. Some of them were quite good with them, and here and there Elron could see defenders with arrows in them. Some were down, dead or dying.
“Sound the retreat!”
The Commander gave the order wishing he'd done it ages ago.
How many were left in the city? He didn't know. The city guards had done the best they could and he was sure thousands more had fled. But they had to evacuate thirty thousand. And now they had to do it while being surrounded by fire and undead. Worse, many of those who had fled would have had to do it on foot. The remaining horses had already fled.
Still, the horn sounded and the exodus began. People everywhere were climbing down the trees and taking to the heels as they ran deeper into the forest. Trying to avoid the undead who were everywhere by then. Trying to avoid the fires as well.
And then the bad news became worse. Even as he watched the people flee and screamed instructions to his men to cover their retreat, Elron saw the magic leave them. He saw the glowing gold of the armour and the bows fade, he felt the Lady's absence and he knew that the thane was among them.
“Lady!”
Panicking like a new recruit he called for her and heard nothing. Just as he knew he wouldn't. He also knew none of the others could reach her either. It frightened them just as it frightened him. In all the forty seven years since he had taken his final vows he had never not been able to feel her. But it had been expected and he knew that this was not the time for fear. There was no time for fear.
“We knew this was coming! Remember the plan!”
He bellowed the commands at them as loudly as he could, but without the Lady's presence he feared his words weren't as persuasive as they normally were. They would just have to rely on their preparations. And their strength of character.
As quickly as he could – things didn't work as well at sixty five as they had at twenty five – Elron hurried down the ramps along with the people. The time had come to flee. For everyone to abandon the city. They could battle the undead. They could cope with the fire. But against the thane they could do nothing. So all they could do was protect the people as they fled.
He reached the ground in a surprisingly short time, but then it was downhill and he had a lot of fear powering his legs. Best of all he was one of the last out of the tree. Another hundred or more people were already ahead of him, fleeing into the forests as quickly as they could. Unfortunately they were panicking, running in all directions and not thinking. And while he yelled at them to keep calm, quiet and think, he doubted they were going to do much of that. They were completely terrified. A scene he was sure was being played out across the entire city.
A second later something big, undead and on fire charged at him and he forgot to yell. He barely managed to dodge it, drawing his great sword in the same move, and felt the heat of its passing on his skin. But at least it had missed him, and he was ready for its return.
It didn't disappoint him, spinning on its four legs as quickly as it could and charging him again in a matter of heartbeats. But this time he was ready. Elron side stepped a little, laid down the blade flat and let it slice through the beast's side.
It didn't work quite as well as it should. He wasn't as strong as he normally was without the Lady with him, and the blade seemed a little duller too, but it still worked and the beast left a long stream of burning entrails behind it as it ran.
What it had been in life he didn't know. A cow maybe. But what it was in undeath was crippled. And even as he straightened up and prepared to face whatever else might be about to come out from the flames at him, he knew that it at least wasn't going to bother him again. Not when he watched it fall over. It wasn't dead – or undead – but it was crippled.
“Keep to the depths of the forest and keep quiet!”
Elron called it after the others who had already disappeared somewhere into the burning forest, hoping they heard him. In the end that was their best hope. Scattering far and wide. Hiding. Elves were good at that.
An undead dryad though heard him and burst through the fire to his side, longbow in hand, and it was then that he understood a little more of the enemy. Of why his armies were so large. He was raising the dead his armies killed. The thane had been busy in the dryad copses and the proof of his work was standing in front of him. But he didn't have time to think any more about that as the undead dryad raised its longbow. Instead he had to run the twenty or so feet between them, something that wasn't so easy on sixty five year old legs, and swing his blade through its middle. At least it didn't try to defend itself. The undead army wasn't getting any smarter it seemed.
A heartbeat later the dryad hit the ground in two pieces, its arrow went flying into the air, and he
almost knew a sense of hope.
He should have known better.
There was a sound, though really it was a scream, and he knew it was a tree dying. It was wood splintering and being torn apart. And then the ground itself screamed as the tree was literally ripped loose from it. He couldn't see it at all, but he could hear the earth giving way, and he wondered how that could be.
Heartbeats later he didn't wonder about much at all as he watched a huge shape flying overhead and knew that the tree had been picked up and thrown away. Like a gardener simply ripping out a weed and tossing it to one side. But what sort of gardener could hurl a hundred and fifty foot tall redwood through the air?
The worst of it though was that it had been one of the trees that had formed the base of the city. He could see ropes and platforms hanging from it, and more terribly, small dark shapes falling from it that he knew were people. Not everyone had escaped. It smashed into the ground somewhere beyond his sight with a thump that shook the entire world.