The Warrior (The Hidden Realm)

by A. Giannetti

  “I should have listened to Ascilius,” thought Dacien remorsefully to himself. “The Goblin army is only an hour’s march from the mountains now, and there is no way to prevent them from realizing their goal of entering the Nordaels with the small number of riders that are left.”

  Turning to Merula, who sat beside him in pensive silence, Dacien said quietly, “Ambushes will no longer work, Merula. We must make a stand against the Goblins. Even if every one of us perishes, we must delay them until the host arrives.”

  “If we stand against the Goblins, we will throw away our lives for nothing,” said Merula morosely. “Even if he left immediately when the messengers reached him, Orianus will not arrive until sometime far into the night. No matter how valiantly we fight, the Goblins and their allies will quickly overwhelm us in a pitched battle. They will be feasting on our flesh in some secure mountain fastness long before your father arrives, even as they are now doubtless feasting on the flesh of your companions. The better course is to let them pass. We can then follow them at a distance, harassing them as we can until Orianus arrives.”

  Dacien did not reply to Merula’s suggestion, for Elerian and Ascilius had appeared at the head of the valley, riding on gray Enias.

  “You are alive,” shouted Dacien, urging Mylachen toward them. Had he turned around just then, he would have seen a look of angry disappointment on Merula’s face at the sudden appearance of the two companions.

  “Surely you did not expect us to fall to that pack of half beasts?” said Ascilius cheerfully. “Even after you rode away, they still feared to confront us.” His voice suddenly changed its tenor and became stern. “I hope the next time I come to offer advice; you will not ignore me again.”

  “I suppose you will now claim knowledge that could have averted our loss,” said Merula sarcastically as he rode up to join Dacien.

  “Ascilius has fought mutare before,” said Elerian quietly. “He wished to warn you of the danger they posed to your riders.”

  Merula glared at Elerian, but before he could reply, Dacien asked, “How far behind you is the Goblin army, Ascilius?”

  “The men and the horses that fell have bought us time with their deaths,” said Ascilius. “The mutare and the Mordi are both feasting on their flesh. I do not think the Goblin army will stir again until the light begins to fail.”

  “There is still a ray of hope then,” said Dacien. “While the Goblins feast, we will ride for the Scissura. My father’s forces may yet arrive in time.”

  “A fool’s hope,” muttered Merula under his breath. “Once darkness falls, all the advantage will shift to the Goblins. Even if Orianus somehow arrives in time, he will fight blindly in the darkness, which is a friend to the Goblins.”

  Dacien paid no attention to Merula. “I must deal with the wounded before we go,” he said to Elerian and Ascilius. “Many can no longer sit a horse and not a few are close to death’s door. The one healer we had among us is dead.”

  “Leave them here with me,” said Elerian at once, “and I will see what I can do for their wounds, for we have hours to wait before the Goblins move on. Ascilius and I will join you when I am done. Your trail will be easily followed, even in the dark.”

  Dacien at once gathered together the riders who were still able to fight and rode east, for he was impatient to pick the place where he would make his stand in the evening. With some misgivings, Elerian watched Merula follow behind him, a rebellious look on his face.

  “Perhaps you should go with them Ascilius,” he said to the Dwarf. “I mistrust Merula’s mood.”

  “I will remain here,” said Ascilius firmly. “Merula is rough spoken and full of pride, but you are mistaken to think that he would ever threaten Dacien. He fought as bravely as any of us during the last battle. I saw him protect Dacien with his sword more than once during the retreat up the knoll.”

  Elerian, too, had seen Merula protect Dacien.

  “The man is an enigma, following no logical pattern in his actions,” he thought to himself. “Perhaps Ascilius is right. It may be that dislike has clouded my perception of him.”

  Putting aside his doubts about Merula, Elerian dismounted from Enias and walked among the wounded men, caring for the most gravely injured first. The Tarsi warriors watched in amazement as he healed injury after injury with the touch of a hand. The sun was well down in the sky when Elerian had cared for the last rider. He had not slept now in twenty-four hours, but the exhaustion he felt was from the extensive use of his powers, not from any lack of sleep.

  Ignoring the fatigue that seemed to have seeped into his bones, Elerian sought out one of the older warriors, a man who was only lightly wounded and seemed to have an air of authority about him.

  “What is your name?” Elerian asked,”

  “I am called Atius,” said the stern faced warrior. His black hair and beard were liberally sprinkled with gray.

  “Take the wounded south out of harm’s way,” ordered Elerian.

  Atius looked unhappy at being sent away, but he did not challenge Elerian’s authority. He quickly moved among the wounded men, carrying out Elerian’s orders. Those who could ride mounted up. The more seriously wounded were carried on litters made of spears and saddle blankets. As the band of injured warriors began their ride south to safety, Elerian turned away from them, searching for Ascilius. He found the Dwarf nearby, peacefully asleep in the long grass on the side of a little hillock. Enias stood guard next to him, resting on his feet but still alert.

  Although he was fatigued from his labors, a mischievous light suddenly glinted in Elerian’s gray eyes at the sight of the sleeping Dwarf. He wondered how Ascilius might react if he heard the growl of a mutare.

  “Whatever you are plotting, forget it,” said Ascilius without opening his eyes.

  “You are awake,” said Elerian, disappointment evident in his voice.

  “Who would dare sleep with you lurking about and planning mischief,” said Ascilius, opening his eyes and sitting up. “Have you finished with the wounded?” he asked looking about him with his dark eyes.

  “I did what I could for them before sending them south out of harm’s way, but little thanks I got for it. Even wounded, these Tarsi are as eager for a fight as any Dwarf.”

  “They are good friends and bitter enemies,” said Ascilius. “In the old days, they were much beloved by the Eirians, for of all the races of men they seem most like the elder race. Some of the Tarsi still carry their blood in their veins.”

  The harsh blare of a Goblin horn suddenly sounded in the distance, causing both Elerian and Ascilius to start.

  “We should be on our way Ascilius,” said Elerian quietly. “The Goblins are on the move.”

  “They are far off yet,” said Ascilius. “Let us take a moment to eat first. I am famished and there will be no time to sup later.”

  Elerian sat down next to the Dwarf, and they ate some of the cheese, bread, fruit, and dried meat in their packs, which had been left behind for them by Dacien. It was rough fare but filling.

  “I wish I had more wine,” said Ascilius regretfully when he found that their empty bottles had been refilled with water by one of the Tarsi.

  Smiling to himself, Elerian cast two silent spells, one over each water bottle.

  “You have changed it into wine,” said Ascilius delightedly after he took a second, unenthusiastic sip from his bottle. “At times like these, Elerian, I could almost forgive all your past tricks.”

  “That leaves me free to try your patience again,” said Elerian slyly as Ascilius took a deep draught from his bottle.”

  “Try away,” said Ascilius expansively when he came up for air. “Just remember that a Dwarf’s vengeance is terrible to behold.”

  Elerian laughed and began packing his things. He had eaten and drunk only a little compared to Ascilius. Enias trotted over in response to his call, and Elerian sprang lightly onto his back. With his right hand, he pulled Ascilius up behind him and then turned Enias east, following
one of the trails left behind by Merula’s men.

  Urging Enias to run, Elerian lost himself for a time in the feel of the wind in his face and the smooth gait of the stallion. After a distance of some five miles, the trail they followed led them to a large, shallow valley. From a cleft in the steep hills at the head of the valley, between two steep, rocky spurs resembling outstretched arms, emerged the Tanicus, now only small, shallow stream. It ran down the center of the valley, its rippling surface glinting gold in the light of the setting sun. There were no trees along its banks here or anywhere else in that valley, but the foothills in the distance and the steep mountains behind them were heavily forested.

  “The canyon through which the Tanicus flows is called the Scissura,” said Ascilius from behind Elerian. “It is the easiest path into the mountains for many miles in either direction. The Goblins are sure to come this way.”

  When they reached the canyon, Elerian saw that the distance between the cliffs that formed its walls was no more than a quarter mile. On either side of the shallow Tanicus, Dacien and Merula had arranged their men in a thin line four deep, closing off the gap between the cliffs. Behind them, Elerian saw a long, narrow valley with steep walls of gray rock.

  The faces of the riders were set and grim, and their spear points glinted silver in the light of the setting sun as they quietly sat their horses waiting for the Goblin army to arrive.

  “None of them expect to ride away from this last battle,” thought Elerian to himself as Enias approached the center of the line of Tarsi where Merula and Dacien waited side by side near the north bank of the Tanicus.

  “Have you come to die with the rest of us then,” asked Merula sourly as Elerian and Ascilius approached within hearing distance. “Your magic will not protect you here.”

  Merula’s voice was mocking but also totally devoid of fear. Much as Elerian disliked the Tarsi, he had to admire the courage of the man.

  “We came to fight, Merula,” said Ascilius cheerfully. “It remains to be seen whether it is also our lot to die.”

  “Never doubt it,” said Merula morosely. “We will face the might of the entire Goblin army now with no place to retreat too. Ah well, for myself, death may be best,” he said softly as if speaking to himself. He fell silent, sitting his mount with downcast, pensive eyes.

  Dacien moved his stallion aside to let Enias through. The rider to Dacien’s right also moved aside. As Enias took up a position next to his black stallion, Elerian saw that there was no fear in Dacien’s gray eyes, only a terrible concern lest he fail to hold the Goblins back.

  “Have you seen any sign of the reinforcements from the south?” Dacien asked Elerian anxiously.

  “No sign at all,” replied Elerian somberly. “We heard only the Goblin horns signaling that their army was on the move again.

  “If Orianus left as soon as the messengers arrived, he cannot be far away now,” said Dacien fretfully, as if he sought to reassure himself.

  “There is time yet before the Goblins arrive,” said Ascilius, still in a mellow mood from the wine he had drunk earlier. “Let us wait with hope in our hearts.”

  “For us, there is no more time and no hope either,” said Merula in a dead voice. “When Orianus arrives, we will all have made the last journey.”

  No one answered him, but Ascilius said softly to Elerian, “Let me have your pack. If Dacien is wrong and we survive the coming battle, we will have need of it.”

  Elerian shrugged out of his pack and handed it to Ascilius who then slid to the ground. Running off through the lines of amused riders, he concealed both his own pack and Elerian’s in a mound of boulders next to the stream.

  Ascilius returned to stand by Enias’s side, reluctant to mount up before he needed to. He and Elerian waited in silence as the sun set before them in the west, sinking in a blaze of red and orange and casting a dark shadow across the plains. Running through that shadow, its waters turned to a red, bloody hue by the sinking sun, was the Tanicus.

  As the darkness spread across the valley in front of them, a dark line like a great snake appeared, marching quickly along both banks of the Tanicus. In the fading light, Elerian’s farsighted eyes saw the tiny figures of atriors in the van, springing lightly across the plain like great beasts of prey. The spear tips of their riders gleamed red like blood in the light of the setting sun.

  “They will sweep us away in the first charge,” said Dacien in a resigned voice as his eyes took in the numbers of the great army arrayed against them. His courage did not fail him; however, for taking a firmer grip on his spear shaft, he readied himself to give the signal to charge.

  Turning to Elerian and Ascilius, Dacien said, “Leave while you can. There is no need for both of you to die with us. You can at least carry word of our fate to Orianus.”

  “The wounded I sent south will accomplish that task,” said Elerian quietly as he watched the Goblin army draw ever closer.

  “What say you Ascilius? Do you wish to leave?” he asked, turning to the Dwarf.

  “My account with the Goblins is not settled yet,” said Ascilius, calmly fixing his shield on his left arm. Holding his ax in his left hand, he reached out his right, allowing Elerian to pull him up onto Enias’s back. Taking a firm grip on Elerian’s broad leather belt with his left hand, Ascilius waited impatiently for the battle to begin.

  “We will stay then so that the Goblins can repay more of their debt to Ascilius,” said Elerian with a grim smile to Dacien.

  They sat quietly after that, watching the line of atriors in the van of the Goblin army approach. The Goblin mounts were eerily silent as they ran, for their great clawed feet made no sound on the soft turf under their feet. Their riders had lowered their spear points, and horns blew harshly from their ranks. As the Goblin cavalry drew closer, the sun set, abruptly plunging the world into darkness. Now, the Tarsi saw only a wave of shadows and the gleam of fierce red eyes before them.

  “Farewell my friends,” shouted Dacien. He raised his right arm, lifting his spear high into the air, and a great horn blast rent the air from the rider behind him. All across the mouth of the canyon, the line of horses sprang forward with a rumble of hooves. With a great shout, the Tarsi lowered their spears and rode to meet the enemy.

  A LAST STAND

  As Enias skimmed over the ground, leaving the other horses behind, Elerian knew that he had only two choices available to him. He could use his magical power to protect himself and Ascilius, or he could expend the last of his strength on one great spell that might affect the outcome of the battle. If he chose the second course and it failed, then it was more than likely that he and Ascilius would not survive the coming conflict.

  “Time to hazard all on one last throw of the dice,” thought Elerian grimly to himself. Silently urging Enias to greater speed, he widened the gap between Enias and the front line of the Tarsi advance.

  “Close your eyes!” Elerian shouted to Ascilius over his left shoulder as Enias neared front ranks of the Goblin cavalry.”

  Narrowing his own eyes to slits, Elerian looked out over a sea of pale, fierce faces, fiery eyes, and tossing, fanged heads as he cast a spell that left him momentarily drained. Far above his head, a great ball of white light suddenly appeared, like a star suddenly come to earth. Its radiance shattered the darkness, piercing the eyes of the Goblins and their allies like knives. The forward progress of the Goblin cavalry slowed or stopped altogether as up and down the charging line of atriors, the beasts reared or swerved into each other so that the whole advance was suddenly thrown into confusion. The night was suddenly made hideous with the shrill screams of fallen atriors and their riders as the front ranks tripped those behind them. The fallen beasts flailed wildly with their great claws, injuring or slaying all who came within range of their deadly feet.

  The Tarsi behind Elerian fared better than the Goblins. After a moment’s blindness, their eyes adjusted to the light that Elerian’s spell had created. Their enemies and their movements were now plain
to see as the darkness that had cloaked and shielded the Goblins was driven back by the mage light hanging in the sky. With a great shout, the Tarsi urged their steeds to greater speed as they thundered after Elerian.

  When Enias reached the Goblin cavalry, he soared lightly over the tangle of bodies in front of him, landing lightly in a gap between the Goblin riders. The disguise which Elerian had unwittingly assumed since leaving Nefandus suddenly fell away, and his true form was revealed to the Goblins around him.

  “The Elves have returned,” they cried in despairing voices.

  Standing or fallen, blinded and confused by the small star that followed his every movement, they cowered away from Elerian. Sword upraised, he urged Enias deeper into their dark ranks without having to strike a single blow, for his enemies melted away like shadows before the light that followed him. Behind him, Elerian heard the rumble of the Tarsi’s powerful steeds as they overrode the first of the fallen atriors and their riders.

  The Tarsi advance speared or trampled all who stood in their way, suffering little loss to themselves, for the bewildered, blinded Goblins seemed incapable of offering any resistance. Dacien and Merula remained in the forefront, slaying any who resisted them as they slowly closed the gap between themselves and Elerian.

  Far down the Goblin column, Agorix cursed and called his lieutenants to his side. Were he only closer, he could have extinguished the light that pained his eyes and routed his troops, but from this distance, he could do nothing. Ordering his lieutenants to put on their black hoods, he sent them to drive the mutare from the rear of the column up toward the front where the Tarsi were attacking. The steady crack and pop of whips soon split the night air. The small group of Trolls, who were also at the rear of the column, refused to advance toward Elerian’s light, but the mass of snarling, complaining mutare began to force their way through the ranks of the Mordi, who quickly gave way before them. Once their eyes adjusted to the shining light hanging in the sky, the changelings were not affected by it at all. Driven by the whips wielded by the Urucs, they pushed on, rending any who were slow to clear a path for them until they reached the van of the column. Behind them rode Agorix. If he could approach closely enough, he meant to extinguish the mage light which had stopped the advance of his mighty army.