He, too, was deeply affected by her magic. As a wizard who had lived over a thousand years, Zenk was well-versed in the craft. But there was not one spell that he knew, or even knew of, that did not require some form of hand manipulation to focus and amplify the spoken word. Cerah had not moved a muscle as she had spoken the single word, “Apart.” She had not moved, but the assassin’s head had. In every direction at once. With the utterance of that single word, the Silestran’s head literally exploded. And that was troubling as well. Wizard kind had many spells which could cause injury. A well-cast blast from the staff could engulf an enemy in flame. The spell known as “Shatter” could break bones. But no wizard had ever cast a spell that could do what Cerah’s spell had done. And a blast needed a staff from which to issue. Shatter required the wizard to move his hands in a manner that mimicked breaking a stick in two. Cerah’s Apart required nothing but her saying the word. The killing word.
And that had placed a fear in the dark race that had never before existed among them. When the Chosen One was spoken of, it was in shattered whispers. Most often, however, she was not spoken of at all. The Silestra still salivated at the thought of battling humans and wizards. With each planned attack, they grew excited to the point of frenzy. But if they were being sent to a location in which Surok indicated they would find the Chosen One, they obeyed…with obvious dread.
Zenk looked around him. He sat next to his match-mate on the shore of a rocky island which appeared on no mariner’s charts. It was unmapped because, until Surok had pointed to the sea and lifted his hand, drawing it forth from the ocean floor, it had not existed. Around the small island, in every direction, the black-sailed ships carrying the army of evil beings were anchored, their sails tied tightly to the arms from which they hung. Other than he and Balthus, the only living things on the rock were a handful of Silestra and a group of fifteen Silumans that had been assigned to be Zenk’s personal guard. As the evil wizard looked at them, he saw that they stood as straight as trees and that their eyes seemed to bore into his. They may be my “guard,” he thought, but I cannot shake the feeling that Surok has sent them primarily to make sure I do not falter in my decision to serve him.
“What then of the attack on Sejira?” he asked the Mouthpiece.
“It will commence as planned. The grassy continent should be as easy to take as Niliph was. Surok does not see her there. She will not know to send her forces there from Oz Qanoti.”
“He is sure she is not there?” Zenk asked again, regretting it at once.
For a moment, the Mouthpiece said nothing. His silence caused Zenk to swallow hard, but the words, when finally spoken, chilled him.
“Surok says that for now, at least, you must be kept alive,” roared the Silestran, his anger boiling over, “but should you question him again, I’m sure I could convince him to let me at least tear off one of your puny arms. Not that it would make for much of a meal. If Surok says the girl is not there, no discussion of the topic is necessary. Nor will it be tolerated. Do I make myself clear?”
Before Zenk could answer, the sky above the new island grew as dark as night. He knew at once what this meant. Surok, once free of Opatta’s vile binding spell, was no longer confined to dwell only upon this plane. He could, at will, blink into another domain. Zenk assumed it was the Under Plane. Indeed, it seemed to Zenk that the demon spent most of his time in that unseen realm, appearing only to pass orders on to the Silestra. Or, as was now the case, to lead his forces personally. But when he did so, the now familiar broiling cloud phenomenon commenced immediately. The Mouthpiece, when asked about this, responded as he did to most questions: with the threat of violence. With no explanation offered, Zenk theorized that Surok created the wicked clouds simply because the light of Vellus was a constant reminder of Ma’uzzi’s dominion over Quadar. By blotting out the sun, he blotted out the God he so hated. Traveling in his artificial darkness both comforted the beast and struck fear into the hapless humans who were unfortunate enough to see the storm approach.
And, true to form, a moment later, with a loud crack which sounded like thunder—if thunder could come from all directions at once and tear directly into the soul—the Demon of the Frozen South suddenly appeared from a shimmering fissure in the sky above, riding on the beast that the Silestra called Orzo. Zenk had yet to determine whether that was the creature’s given name or the name of its species, as it was dragon-like but clearly not a dragon.
As Surok hovered in the sky above him, Zenk suddenly found himself lifted by the scruff of his neck. The Mouthpiece said, “Get on your piddling green lizard. We move.” As he spoke, he flung Zenk in Balthus’s direction, then directed the other Silestra and the Silumans to board the nearest ship.
Since the appearance of the lone rider on his black dragon a few days before, there had been no sightings of wizard flights. Surok had brought the island into existence less than one hundred miles from the shore of Sejira, far enough that there was no danger of it being seen from the continent, but close enough that the ships could reach it by the following morning.
As Zenk stood from where he’d fallen after being thrown by the Mouthpiece, he quickly brushed the dust from his robes and climbed upon Balthus’s back. The dragon lifted from the rocky bulge and fell in behind, but not too near, Surok and Orzo. Unshakably dedicated to his match-mate, Balthus nonetheless was loath to be in the company of these vile creatures. Still, he did not question Zenk’s direction. The wizard looked down from the green dragon’s back and saw the small island sink back beneath the waves until no trace of its ever having existed remained.
As the ships hauled in their anchors and unfurled their ebony sails, Surok continued to hang in the air. When at last the fleet was ready to make way, the demon pointed one clawed finger in the direction of Sejira. A flash of lightning issued from his fingertip, showing the direction they were to travel in a jagged blaze.
With a mighty beating of its wings, which caused a buffeting wind for which Balthus had to quickly compensate, Orzo began to move forward. All around them, the unholy clouds twisted. From the decks of the ships, Zenk could hear the broken cheers of the various repugnant species as the anticipation of the murder they would commit grew.
Surok sees what I cannot, Zenk thought. If he is convinced the girl is not on Sejira then it must be so. He peered into the distance. The night had already been full before Surok’s evil weather had commenced. He could not make out any trace of the continent as they headed toward it.
But why then, he thought, does my spirit quake?
There was little sleep for anyone on the grassy plain of Sejira that night. The wizards and dragons stirred uneasily as their eyes peered out across the Mayduk. The army, completing its reconfiguration per Slurr’s instructions, was busy until long after midnight. The general himself sat next to Cerah, both leaning against Tressida’s ribs. They too strained their eyes toward the south, the direction from which Cerah was sure the attack would come. Tressida, alone, seemed unconcerned. She rested her great head on the ground, occasionally lifting it to peer for a moment out at the horizon. Her superior eyesight saw nothing out of the ordinary, and each time she would lay her head back down, saying to Cerah, “There is no movement.”
But before the sun rose, Tressida’s head shot up so violently that Slurr and Cerah, who had both managed to doze for a moment, were shaken by the force of her movement.
“The sky,” Tressida said into Cerah’s mind.
She looked up. What had been a pleasant, starry night only moments before was rapidly growing cold. The twinkling stars were gone, and even in the predawn shadows, Cerah could make out the swirling black clouds. She grabbed Isurra and leapt to her feet. Slurr likewise rose. He turned to her.
“He’s coming,” she said.
“And you await,” Slurr answered. He grasped her by the shoulders and drew her to him, kissing her deeply. “Now is the hour of the Chosen One,” he said, releasing her, before running off to join the men and women who had b
een standing at the ready all night long.
Cerah stood next to Tressida, who had risen to her full stature. The golden dragon’s eyes blazed in anticipation. As she waited, Kern and Szalmi approached and stood beside her.
“This is, perhaps, the moment for which I was created,” she said to the wizard.
“You were created for all of these moments, those through which we have already passed and those which approach us now,” Kern said.
Parnasus and Dardaan came to join her as well, standing to her left. The First-Elder was smiling. “Well,” he said, “it looks like we’re about to see once and for all how much stock we should put into ancient prophesies!”
Cerah laughed despite the gravity of the situation and nodded her head. “Indeed, Elder. Indeed.”
And though she was surrounded by her allies, Cerah could not shake the feeling that she was standing alone on a vast, empty expanse, at the end of all her waiting.
Or perhaps at the beginning of something far worse.
Chapter 19
The Battle of Sejira
“Black sails!” came the cry, seemingly from every direction at once. The slightest hint of brightening showed at the very edge of the eastern horizon. It was enough to offset the utter darkness of Surok’s ships. At once, a hundred dragons took flight, intent on attacking the ships themselves as they had at the battle of Kal Berea. Cerah leapt onto Tressida’s back and joined them, although she held back, hovering at the edge of the water. Kern and Parnasus likewise waited. For the two wizards, it was the anticipation of spotting Zenk and his green dragon that caused them to refrain from joining the charge.
For Cerah, it was an enemy far greater. She said to Tressida, “Is he here? Do you see him?”
“I do not, beloved,” the golden dragon said. “But he must be near. The clouds!”
“Yes, he must.” She flew to the left of the oncoming ships, remaining close to the shore. “Keep looking, Tress. You’ll see him before I do.”
“I am, my love. I am. How could we not see his monstrous dragon-thing? Oh, Cerah! Why does he not appear?”
Cerah looked to the ships and saw that the dragons were once more tearing at their sails, while the wizards rained fire down among the beasts arrayed on the many decks. Their harrying was not without effect. As before, it was clear that the dark ships meant to bore full speed as close to the shore as they could get before running aground. The dragon-flight was slowing them, as sail after sail was damaged. She heard Kern call to the wizards, “Target the helmsmen! Take out the pilots!” At once the strategy paid dividends. The wizards focused their fire attacks on the Silestra who stood at the helm of each ship. When they succeeded in striking them down, the ships would veer off course, often colliding with other vessels, before another monster ran to grab the wheel.
But still they came. Back on land, the army stood ready. Per Slurr’s orders, the reformatted divisions took up their places, with the front lines anticipating that karvats would be the first to pour off the boats once they careened to a stop. Cerah could, above all the chaos, hear Slurr’s strong voice, instructing and encouraging the warriors.
The first ships, with a great scraping sound that was audible even to the divisions well rearward, came to a shuddering halt, and indeed the vile karvats began to leap over the rails into the shallow water. The lead divisions stood ready, their weapons drawn, their muscles tensed. The karvats splashed clumsily toward them, as even the small waves seemed to unsteady them. But as they saw the waiting humans, their cruel, twisted faces brightened. Swinging their heavy axes even before reaching them, the monsters began to howl in anticipation.
Still the humans waited.
Finally, as the creatures plodded out of the water and onto the shore, the warriors attacked, although much to the dismay and confusion of the karvats, not directly. Instead, they immediately began to split their columns, moving rapidly. It looked at first as if they were fleeing, but they quickly moved to come at the karvats from the sides. The slow-witted creatures attempted to turn and face the onslaught, but the warriors refused to stay still. Rather they darted forward to attack, only to retreat just as quickly, then move to a new position. The flailing axes repeatedly cut through empty air, as the agile foot soldiers struck and then moved out of range. Again and again, the humans darted forward, picking off the disoriented beasts, and again and again, they dashed out of harm’s way and circled before the karvats could strike back. The strategy was so successful that only a handful of warriors were felled by the brute strength of the squat creatures, while literally hundreds of karvats lay lifeless at the ocean’s edge.
Slurr, watching from further inland, stood by Loar Pilta. “It’s working, Smooth,” he said. “Not only are the karvats almost completely ineffective, but the others will have to climb over their bodies to reach us.”
“What’s taking them so damn long?” asked Loar. “I covet Silestran blood!”
“You’ll get your fill soon enough. Look!” As Slurr pointed, the giant Silestra began to leap overboard, followed closely by the Silumans. As soon as the monsters’ feet hit the water, the captains of the ranged weapon divisions gave the order to fire, and hundreds of arrows began to rain down upon them. Soon their bodies were heaped upon the fallen karvats.
But while many fell, far more rushed forward, many with numerous arrows sticking into their bodies. They heedlessly trampled over the bodies of their comrades, the bones of the dead cracking audibly beneath their heavy feet. Slurr turned to the waiting warriors.
“Brace!” he shouted.
The men and women stood ready as the first wave of creatures made it onto dry land and rushed toward the waiting army.
Cerah circled to the right. There was still no trace of Surok. She grasped Isurra tightly in her hand and, even though she was frustrated that the demon did not appear, she felt no anger within her. Her mind remained unclouded by any emotion at all. She was calm, level, and ready. She steered Tressida once more to the left of the advancing column. As she looked down, she saw a small group of warriors that had let themselves become separated from their unit and were surrounded by twenty or more Silumans. The soulless creatures began slashing at the soldiers, inflicting great damage. Cerah pointed her Riddue weapon at the clash and began to move it in a circular motion. At once, a white-hot rope of energy encircled the attacking Silumans. With a yanking motion, much like an angler strikes when a fish has taken the bait, she quickly tightened the blazing lasso around them. Their screams as the searing heat tore into them rallied the trapped humans, who easily cut their way through the writhing hybrids and rejoined their unit.
Suddenly, Cerah heard Kern’s voice. “Look, Elder! Green wings approach!”
Parnasus turned to look in the direction that his student indicated. There, without question, was Zenk. Unlike Cerah, the First-Elder’s anger was unhindered by divine intervention. “At last I shall give the traitor a reward for his treachery!” he called as Dardaan shot forward.
Zenk, for his part, peered intently at the battle raging below. It appeared that he intended to linger at the edge of the conflict and pick off any vulnerable warriors should they present themselves as a viable target, or perhaps even fire upon one of his distracted brethren. So focused was he, and so aided by the darkness was black Dardaan, that Parnasus was upon him before he realized he was in danger.
But rather than attack to kill, Parnasus cast his teacher’s hold spell. Although he had told Cerah that his command of the binding conjuration was far inferior to both Opatta’s and her own, he managed to encircle Zenk’s body with a bright blue coil. It was not the solid crystal that Opatta had used to entrap Surok those many centuries before. Still, it was nonetheless sufficient to paralyze the evil mage before he could lift his staff to do any damage.
Zenk cried a wordless curse as he realized that he was helpless.
At the sound of the traitor’s scream, Cerah’s head snapped around. Her eyes narrowed as she spotted Zenk, but still her anger did not a
rrive. Parnasus edged Dardaan alongside Balthus. The green dragon, much to his match mate’s obvious displeasure, did not attempt to evade. Rather, he hovered in place as Parnasus reached over and snatched the immobile wizard from Balthus’s back.
“Good Balthus knows his match mate has lost his way. He is a kind dragon and can no longer abide Zenk’s duplicity,” Tressida said into the Chosen One’s mind. “He senses that Parnasus will not harm him.”
“He may be mistaken about that,” Cerah said.
“No,” answered Tressida. “A wizard who walks in the light will not kill one of his brethren, not even a fallen and twisted excuse for a sorcerer such as him.”
As Zenk continued to rage, Parnasus said, “Scream all you want. It will profit you naught. Your dragon has surrendered you and your Master is nowhere to be seen.” As he spoke, the First-Elder pulled Dardaan away from the battle. He flew with great speed far inland, with Balthus following close behind. “Your part in this has come to an end. What is next for you is yet to be determined, but you’ll cause no more contamination.”
“Curse you, feeble idiot!” Zenk screamed at Parnasus, his voice strained to the point of not sounding at all like himself. He tried with all his strength to move, as if just to free one hand, that he might cast a spell to injure the ancient wizard, but alas Parnasus had cast a binding spell more than equal to Zenk’s attempts to writhe free. The First-Elder, despite his internal rage, had to smile at the traitorous mage’s futility. “Surok will come for me!” Zenk shrieked. “He will come, and I will laugh as he feasts upon your boney carcass!”
Many Hidden Rooms (Cerah of Quadar Book 2) Page 29