by Suzanna Lynn
The Prince and his men pushed forward to the castle. “Make safe the castle! Defend your King!”
As he urged his horse on, Baylin felt a swift cold wind blow over the land. The ground quaked and the air was filled with a sound so terrifying, the gods themselves would have trembled. Like a terrible roll of thunder, the night sky was filled with the sound of roars and bellows.
The Prince searched the darkness in the distance, but the waning moon provided no help. It was as though a stampede of dragons was descending upon them, hidden behind a cloak of invisibility and magic.
Baylin’s stead reared, startled by the coming malice, throwing Baylin to the ground and tearing off into the night.
The Prince righted himself, striking down the few enemy soldiers who were in his proximity. He watched the west as the sound grew louder.
He gripped his sword. “Be watchful, men!”
A single moment before the attack came, the veil of magic was lifted. Charging from the side, the troll army hurled themselves upon Baylin’s men. The crash and clamor of the assault filled the Prince’s ears to the point of ringing as he fought back against the deadly force.
Baylin and his men grew weary as they fought enemies on both sides. Grasmere blue lay dead beside Mirstone red and Kardell gold. Trolls littered the ground, spilling brackish brown blood from their wounds.
Two men from Mirstone and one from Kardell closed in on Baylin as he fought for his life. He struck down the Kardell soldier, turning on his heel and kicked out the knee of one of the Mirstone men. The soldier fell to the ground with a great scream of pain as his broken leg gave way beneath him. The Prince turned his sights on the other soldier when, over the man’s shoulder, he caught a glimpse of a hooded figure shrouded in a deep purple light.
The distraction gave the Mirstone soldier the opening to swing. Baylin lurched back, narrowly escaping the sword’s sharpened blade tip from cutting across his throat. The Prince spun on his heel and brought his sword down, severing the man’s head.
Baylin fought his way through the mob, attempting to gain distance on the hooded figure. However, with each swing of his sword, it seemed more men and trolls materialized. The Grasmere army was pushed back from every direction. They were surrounded.
“Your Grace, you must get to safety!” General Derwen shouted, fighting back a troll.
“Do not give up hope!” Baylin called.
“Hope,” a shrill voice cackled, amplified far over the noise of the battle. “There is no hope for you, Prince of Grasmere.”
Suddenly the troll horde and enemy soldiers slackened their attack, parting like the sea to give Baylin a view of the hooded figure.
“You and your men will die,” she hissed. “I have seen it.”
“The only one dying today is you!” shouted a soldier as he loosed an arrow from his bow. The shot was true, aimed straight for the witch’s head. However, in a blink of an eye, the arrow turned, flying back at its master, piercing him straight through the heart.
“No!” Baylin cried.
The air erupted in laughs and taunts from the enemy as the soldier fell to the ground, the life draining from his eyes.
“You will not win this fight,” the sorceress rasped.
“Why stop the battle then?” Baylin shouted. “Why not let them finish us?”
“Because that honor belongs to me,” said a sly faceless voice. “My dear nephew.”
The moon had gone behind the mountains as morning crept closer. The sky was pitch black, but for the torches that had been lit. Baylin scanned the enemy that surrounded them, searching for his uncle’s vile face. “Where are you, you coward? Show yourself!”
“Happily,” Cadman said.
The sorceress waved her hand, dropping the magic that masked Cadman to Baylin’s eyes.
The sight made the Prince clench his teeth. “So you move against us with the help of a sorceress? Do you really have no honor?”
“I need not honor nor humility,” Cadman laughed dryly. “All I need is for you to get out of my way for good.”
As Cadman pulled his sword, several Mirstone soldiers grabbed Baylin, knocking him to the ground, while the rest of the enemy kept the Grasmere force at bay. The Prince fought with all his might, but the men dragged Baylin to kneel in from of his uncle. The men stripped Baylin of his armor, tearing his tunic to reveal his chest.
“You snake. You vile worm!” cried Baylin. “There will be no peace for you for all eternity. There is a special place for evil like you in the afterlife.”
“Well then,” Cadman laughed, placing the tip of his sword on Baylin’s chest, “I will see you when I get there.”
Baylin took a deep breath, bracing for the death that would come. He thought of Luana holding his son. He wanted to remember their faces for eternity. Lord Cadman heaved back his sword to plunge it through the Prince’s chest, but the impact never came. Instead, Baylin heard the faint whistle of an arrow as it cut through the air. It met its mark by slicing through his uncle’s sword hand.
Cadman screamed out in pain, dropping his sword and grabbing his injured hand.
Baylin turned to see Ferric, bow in hand, standing to the west. Beside him stood Luana, dressed in a grey hooded cloak. The very air around them both seemed to ripple with white light.
“The mix-breed and the devoted soldier,” the dark sorceress hissed at the sight of the pair. “No matter, you alone will not balance the scales.”
“They are not alone,” said a soft, sweet voice that filled the air.
A cool fog floated from behind Luana and Ferric, falling over the battleground. A pale blue light began to grow over the dark battlefield, giving a strange iridescent glow to the silvery fog.
The enemy soldiers and the trolls became anxious and fidgety as they held their ground.
“What is this?” cried one of the Kardell men.
“You said you alone had such powers!” cried another.
Trolls grunted and roared. Whether out of fear or the sorceress’s waning control over them, Baylin did not know. They stamped their feet and bumped into each other dumbly. They began to slowly back away from the battlefield, away from the fog that encircled them.
Out of the fog, two figures stepped up beside Luana and Ferric.
“Rydel. Faylen,” the hooded sorceress spat.
King Rydel placed his hand over his heart and bowed his head. “Greetings, Mother.”
Chapter Twenty
“Mother?” shouted Cadman through clenched teeth, nursing his bleeding hand. The news seemed to be a surprise even to him.
“Silence!” commanded the sorceress, throwing up her hand at Cadman.
“Your reign of terror ends today, Syndra. Or should I call you Isla?” Luana called out, her heart pounding in her chest. Ferric stood protectively in front of her.
The air filled with the familiar cackling laugh as the sorceress pulled back her black fur hood to reveal her face. “So the little bed wife thinks she’s figured it out.” Just the very sight of Isla caused Luana to grimace.
“How can this be?” Baylin said, getting to his feet. “I have known you most of your life. You were—”
“Easily manipulated!” Syndra roared. “Your sweet Isla couldn’t help but comfort an old injured woman whom she found on the edge of Fagin Forest last year. She made it easy to kill her and take her place.” The sorceress’s appearance, which was once that of Princess Isla, began to change—melting and moving like hot metal under the flesh until she looked like a sweet old woman.
The men of all armies drew in gasps and stood shocked.
She killed her. The woman I thought I hated never even existed… not really. Luana felt a twinge of guilt. She had never even known the real Princess Isla. What if she was a good person like Baylin remembers? I wonder if her parents even noticed she was not the same girl they knew.
“You’re not Isla?” Cadman bellowed, brow furrowed. “But we were to marry! We were to rule Grasmere.”
“Yo
u were a means to an end,” Syndra boomed, throwing up a hand that cast a magical blast, sending the man flying through the air fifteen yards into a group of Kardell soldiers.
The troll army erupted in noise—growls and snorts, the sound of stamping feet and their crude weapons slamming into the hard ground. They charged both the Kardell and Mirstone armies as well as the Grasmere army.
Out of the darkness from the west sounded a horn. Like graceful apparitions, an army of elves swept from the shadows and engaged Grasmere’s enemy. Their gold metal armor shined in the light of the flames; their pale skin and hair gave them an ethereal appearance. They fought with skill and precision, striking down the enemy and balancing the tables for Grasmere.
The battle began to rage, frothing like the sea during a storm. Bodies piled up. Men, elves and trolls alike.
“Re-form the lines!” Baylin called. “Stay together, men!”
Syndra aimed her hands at Baylin, black power pooling in their palms. “And once I have your line out of the way, Grasmere will be mine!”
“No!” Ferric called out, drawing his sword, charging the sorceress.
“Ferric, no!” Luana and Baylin called out in unison.
Syndra threw out a large cloud of power, lifting Ferric high into the air.
Without thinking, Luana lifted her hands and reached out to Ferric with her magic, nestling him in a protective cocoon of power just as the sorceress released him, throwing him hard into the ground.
“No!” Baylin cried, trying to fight his way through the battle to his friend’s limp body.
Luana slowly released her hold on Ferric and saw him sit up with Baylin’s help. He’s alive. It worked. Relief flooded her.
“Mother, this is over,” King Rydel commanded. “You were banished from these lands. By all rights I should kill you.”
“Rydel, my son, you would not kill your mother.” Syndra threw off her fur cape and her appearance, again, began to move and mold. When it finished, Luana found it hard to look at the beauty that stood before her.
Syndra appeared as though the moon goddess herself stood on earth for all to see. Her porcelain skin and pearlescent white hair gleamed, creating a soft halo around her. Her eyes were like two pools of molten silver. She wore a sheer fitted crimson gown that dragged the ground with a silver metal breastplate across her torso.
“You know as well as I that this is no longer your true form,” Rydel said sadly. “You have allowed your lust for power to turn your heart dark.”
“The mother that bore this face loved her children,” Faylen whispered.
“I do love you, my dear child,” Syndra said, arms open as she stepped closer to the pair.
Even though Luana knew Faylen and Rydel were aware of the sorceress’s manipulations, she could see them waver in their resolve. She could even understand it. They want the mother they remember. They want to believe the lie.
As Syndra got closer, Luana stepped in front of Faylen and Rydel. “You loved your children so much that you killed my mother? Or did you forget about your firstborn?”
Syndra stopped abruptly. “Your mother whored herself to a commoner, you half-breed! She had the potential to be one of the greatest elf maidens of our time had she only sacrificed you to the gods as they demanded. Instead, she died to protect you. You are nothing but a reminder of her weakness and disgrace.” The sneer she bore on her face was the first time Luana had seen her as ugly in her new form.
King Rydel pulled Luana protectively behind him. “Mother, she is our niece, your granddaughter. She is a firstborn daughter of a firstborn daughter!”
“She’s an abomination!” Syndra cried, raising her hands. Purple mist grew in her palms. Her appearance changed. She was no longer the beautiful moon goddess, but rather a horrid grey-skinned witch with scales on her flesh and eyes black as coal. Her hair muddied to a sickening brown that appeared to drip with oil and filth.
Rydel raised his hands, creating a blue glow that illuminated the sky. The trolls shrieked in terror at the light, running for the cover of the dark forest, away from the battlefield.
“Come back, you imbeciles. You witless worms!” Syndra cried as the hordes bolted.
Faylen used the distraction to create a swirl of wind to travel around the hordes, tossing them through the air as they tried to flee. They slammed into the Kardell and Mirstone troops, breaking the lines, destroying catapults, causing the men to scatter and flee.
The Grasmere army let out triumphant cries as their enemies ran.
“You dare defy me!” Syndra sent out a blast, tossing Rydel and Faylen back. Then she turned her sights on Luana. “Enough games. This ends now!” She raised her hands as purple fire formed in her palms and ran up her arms.
That’s when it happened. Luana could see it as though it occurred in slow motion but was unable to stop it.
Baylin snatched the bow from a nearby soldier and grabbed an arrow from Ferric’s quiver. He pulled back the bow and let loose the arrow at lightning speed. The sharpened steel tip sailed through the air, straight for its mark—Syndra’s heart.
The moment Luana was sure the sorceress would be brought down, Syndra threw up her hands, creating a magical barrier, hurling the arrow back at Baylin.
“No!” Luana screamed as she ran, reaching out her magic to protect him. But her power was a moment too slow. It surrounded him as the arrow struck his chest.
“Baylin!” Luana screamed as she ran to his side. She reached him as he fell to his knees, sliding to the moist ground with a grunt. She hit the ground, wrapping her arms around him. “No! No. No, no.” The words seemed foreign and pointless to her, but she continued to repeat them.
Syndra let out a rolling cackle from behind them.
“This isn’t supposed to happen this way!” Luana screamed, hot tears running down her cheeks.
Ferric helped her lay Baylin down on his back. The arrow stuck out of the right side of his chest, blood oozing from the wound.
The Prince looked up at Ferric. “Get her to safety.” He coughed painfully.
“No!” Luana cried. “I’m not leaving you.”
He reached up a hand to stroke Luana’s cheek. “Protect our boy… Protect my son.” He began coughing again.
“Ferric, we have to get the arrow out,” Luana said.
“Luana,” Ferric said sadly. “I don’t know if—”
“We have to get it out!” Luana screamed.
Ferric helped Luana roll Baylin onto his side. The arrow had gone through, the bloodstained metal tip showing on the other side.
“Hold the other end steady. This is going to hurt,” Ferric said. He gripped the shaft of the arrow just above the tip and broke it off with a jerk. Baylin let out a blood-curdling scream of pain.
“Halfway there, my friend,” Ferric said. “Just hold on.” He gripped the other side of the shaft and pulled it out with a firm, quick motion. Baylin screamed out again as blood began to run from the wound.
“We just have to stop the bleeding.” Luana held her hands over the wound, trying to stanch the blood. In her heart, Luana feared there was little hope. The blood was flowing too quickly. He’s going to die! How can this be happening?
“This was really too easy. Grasmere is mine, you fools!” Syndra laughed. “I have already killed that imbecile Cadman, along with the Prince. The King and Queen won’t be too difficult. Then there’s you and your little bastard to finish. And so ends the line of the Kings of Grasmere… Long live the Queen.”
Luana slowly stood. Baylin’s blood stained her hands. She turned to face the sorceress. “You have not won. You will not!”
“Who will stop me? You? A bed wife?” Syndra sneered.
Anger coursed through Luana’s veins. Without even thinking, she lifted her hands and sent a large ball of light shooting through the air toward the sorceress. Syndra had only a moment to throw up her hands, deflecting the attack.
“It would seem you have learned a thing or two about our ways, half-blood,
” Syndra hissed, taking a step forward. “Let us see how much your uncle has taught you.”
Syndra sent out a blast that resembled purple lightning. Luana countered, shielding herself, but was knocked backward onto the ground with a hard thump.
The dark sorceress cackled. “You are no match for me, you silly fool!” She threw up her hands again in attack but was met with a powerful white bolt from the side, knocking her down. A whirlwind appeared, grabbing the evil woman and tossing her around in the air.
Luana spotted King Rydel, hands at the ready as Faylen controlled the element that trapped their mother. Suddenly, as quickly as it started, the wind ceased and Syndra slammed into the ground.
“Enough, Mother!” Rydel called. “You cannot win this fight.”
Faylen ran to Ferric’s side, helping him with Baylin. She tore a long strip of cloth from her dress and began tending the wounds.
Syndra pulled herself up from the ground while masking a wince of pain. “I’ve nearly won already, you fool!”
“Even if you do succeed, you will still be outcast from our people,” Rydel countered.
The sorceress began to laugh. A deep, bone-chilling cackle that grew from deep down in her chest. “Our people? You think I care a flick about our people? I am to be the most powerful of all our kind. Once I kill you all, I will possess your essences and have enough power to rule all of Wintervale.”
Rydel looked alarmed. Luana turned and saw terror in Faylen’s eyes. They’re scared. They are scared of her! What was it he had said? The elder… Syndra… she had wanted to absorb my mother instead of letting her go to the afterlife. She means to take their souls!
The thought made Luana’s blood boil. She lashed out a bolt at the sorceress while she was distracted. As it hit, Rydel threw out his own white orb, slamming into Syndra. Faylen sent out a beam of light that seemed to blind the woman, disorienting her.