“By the Heart of Arbor, it’s three times the size of the one we saw in the Wedjak,” Corva said as he came up behind them. “Its roar scared that devil back into the portal.”
Neither Durge nor Jicks replied, but Jicks glanced at Hyden still lying limp in the giant’s arms. Corva saw the tears flowing down the young swordsman’s cheeks and sucked in a breath. He started to say something, but a roar louder than all the others combined, that lasted nearly a full minute, ripped through the world around them. Afdeon shook again and pieces of stone and mortar vibrated loose.
“By the gods,” Jicks mumbled softly as the roar ended.
Corva stepped up beside him and looked out. A ruby-scaled dragon, which was easily twice the size of the green wyrm, was winging its way directly toward them. It was darting its angry head to and fro as if it expected a challenge from one of the other dragons in the sky. They stayed clear, giving it a wide berth; all save for a smaller red that was barely ten feet long and flying under the other, in her shadow.
The monstrous red let out a blasting gout of flame ahead, and downward, of its path. The raw heat of its breath evaporated the steam for at least five hundred feet in all directions. Satisfied that no threat was hiding in the mist below, it closed its maw and banked around so that it was facing the hole in the castle directly. With a thump of wings that made Jicks’s knees buckle and Corva take two steps back, it threw its wings out wide and stalled itself less than a hundred feet from them. The dragon’s body lifted and lowered in time with its massive wing strokes. Its huge head eased forth with narrow brows on a long, glittering, serpentine neck.
Durge, as if presenting a small child to its parent, held Hyden’s limp body out before him. Jicks’s heart hammered through his chest in both fear and awe. He had heard tales of how Hyden and the High King had defeated the demon wizard Pael, and he was most certain that this was the dragon that had helped save the realm.
Jicks glanced at Durge. The giant still showed no expression on his face. He was entranced, Jicks decided. The medallion on Hyden’s chest was fountaining sparks as bright as diamond chips in the sun. He swallowed hard, then looked back at the dragon. Its elongated snout scrunched up as if it were sniffing the air. Beyond it, the smaller red wyrm looped and banked around, chasing the other’s tail as a kitten chases a yarn ball. Jicks saw that the little wyrm’s wing scales were long and resembled feathers, some of them had shed, revealing a thin membrane of wing skin underneath.
A loud whooshing sound filled the moment. Jicks could feel himself being sucked forward toward the dragon. It was drawing air into its cavernous lungs.
“J- J- Jicks!” Corva managed. “D- Dragon’s fire!”
The dragon’s mouth opened, revealing sharp, yellowed teeth as long as a man is tall. Its forked tongue drew back, and its throat opened up. Durge, still holding Hyden out as if in offering, took a knee and lowered his head.
Both Jicks and the elf bolted away from the hole in the wall as fast as they could.
Claret couldn’t help but chuckle at their foolishness. Then she let out a roar that was loud enough to wake the dead. And the blast was laced with more than enough dragon magic to do exactly that.
***
Talon found Phen, Dostin, and Queen Mother Telgra as they and the elven escort came upon the bodies of the fallen elves in the Evermore forest. The hellspawned horde had long since abandoned the carnage to answer their master’s call. Arf whined under Phen, sensing the sadness of the elves around him. Phen, too, could feel the almost palpable emotion oozing from them. Dostin cried openly as his mount, Yip, padded along closely beside the new Queen Mother. All around them, littered in the forest undergrowth, near the few hulking demon corpses, lay the decimated bodies of elven archers and swordsmen. Some women and a few children lay here and there, as well, but not nearly as many as there could have been. The lack of innocent corpses was clearly heartening to Telgra.
“They fled like cowards, south to the human city,” an older elf said as he stepped out of the woods. He had a large gore stain on his tunic and haunted amber eyes.
Telgra stopped and glared at him. Dostin’s hands clenched his staff, and the wolf beneath him growled silently.
“Better than to die like fools fighting an enemy far greater than you can defend against,” Phen replied. The ease with which he moved now was still surprising. He’d been petrified so long that his muscles weren’t used to doing anything.
“Where’s your wife, Bandear Cottonwood?” Telgra asked the elf. “Where’s your daughter?”
“Mind your manners when speaking to the Queen Mother,” one of Telgra’s escorts said when Bandear started to reply harshly. His expression shifted to a sneer and the old elf turned and ran away.
“Should I chase him?” the elven guard asked.
“No, leave him,” Telgra replied. “He’s obviously distraught. He’s seen our people killed and is probably terrified. Leave him be.” She wiped away her tears. “I must go into the Arbor Heart alone.”
“We will follow you to the Heart Tree, Queen Mother,” the guards insisted. “There’s no telling what beasts or scavengers might still be lingering.”
She nodded and wiped her face again. Phen wanted nothing more than to go to her and hold her in his arms, but he knew it wasn’t proper. She was a queen. He forced the impulse away and mastered his emotion. She must have sensed his inner struggle because she caught his eyes with her own and let a faint smile of understanding curl the corner of her mouth. It disappeared quickly when she had to step over half of a young elven boy. He was clutching a bow in his left hand and his face was a grimace of pain. It looked like his legs had been bitten off. The appendages were nowhere to be seen.
***
Talon observed them from the trees without letting his presence be known. The familiar link between him and his wizard had been broken. The hawkling understood that Hyden had passed from the world of life, but he wasn’t sure yet what to do. Since his hatching, Hyden had been there for him. Hyden was Talon’s mother, father, and sibling, all in one. The hawkling was too confused to go to Phen yet, and Spike was in Phen’s coat pocket sleeping. Talon thought to communicate with the lyna first, but he couldn’t until it awoke. He flew from limb to limb and watched Hyden’s friends from a distance while trying to sort through his avian instincts and familial emotion.
Luckily, the goddess called upon him. Talon was pleased to be needed by such an esteemed being. He didn’t hesitate to do as she asked.
***
The escort came to a stop in a long, oval-shaped clearing. At one end of it there was a towering tree. Its trunk was as big around as some of the smaller castle towers Phen had seen. It stood majestically among the other trees like a king among peasants. At its base, a tangle of roots twisted their way into the ground. Phen slid off of Arf and made Dostin give Yip’s back a rest, as well. The two great wolves immediately bounded into the forest to snatch a meal.
Queen Mother Telgra disappeared through an archway formed by the roots of the Heart Tree. Phen saw her hair reflect off a shaft of golden sunlight as she continued past the Heart Tree trunk to disappear into the forest beyond. Phen took a breath and was about to ask one of the guards if there was any food about when half of the elven escort gasped in unison.
Phen turned to see Dostin sitting in the throne-like seat formed by the tree’s roots. The elves seemed shocked, or afraid to say anything, and a few of them exchanged disturbed looks. Phen understood that the simple-minded monk was sitting in Telgra’s throne.
“By the Heart of Arbor,” one of the elves said. “I never thought I’d see such a thing.”
“It’s the prophecy, I'm sure of it,” said another.
“What prophecy?” Phen asked. Before the elves could answer he spoke kindly to Dostin. “Get out of the Queen Mother’s throne. By the gods, do you have no manners?” Dostin jumped up quickly. His face reddened and he looked around sheepishly.
“I didn’t know,” he said. Then to Phen, “I�
��m hungry.”
“I’m hungry, too, Dostin.” Phen forced a smile. “After they tell me about their prophecy, maybe they can find us something to eat.”
One of the elves barked an order in the old language and two of their number moved off into the forest. The elf who issued the command looked at Phen sadly. Phen thought his name was Gaveon, but he wasn’t sure.
“The prophecy says that when a human sits upon the throne of Arbor the time of elves in this land has begun its end. Those who survive this darkness might return here only to find that the Heart of Arbor has moved on without them.”
“But isn’t the Arbor Heart somewhere else already?” Phen asked. “I read that the heart of the forest is not truly where it is, that it can sort of be moved to another forest if a need arises.”
“It is so,” the elf answered. “But if it were to move without us, then we would be left behind. It could take us a thousand years of searching forest after forest until we found it again.”
“The Arbor Heart could appear in a forest we’ve already searched after we have moved on,” another elf added.
“Then so be it,” Queen Mother Telgra said as she stepped back through the root-formed arch.
Two elves stepped out of the forest looking bloody and tired, then another, and another. From behind them, a small group of seven or eight became visible as they moved through the trees.
“We will go to the human city and fight beside them, if not for any other reason than to restore our honor.” Telgra’s voice rose as she spoke. She leapt gracefully up onto a root, and climbed even higher on the tangle of roots as she continued. “We have let ourselves down. We have let the Heart of Arbor down. Already our demonic foe has tainted the soil here. The fiery trees of Salaya were all but ruined, and the Heart of Arbor struggles to beat while the blood of demons chokes up in its roots.”
More elves came out of the forest as she spoke, not many, not nearly enough, but the ones who came were soldiers, freshly proven on the black blood of hellspawn. Swordsmen, hunters, archers, and a few of the older magi came out of the woods, too. By the time the Queen Mother was ending her speech there were two hundred battle-ready elves gathered around her. At some point, while she spoke, the great wolves returned.
“…if the Arbor Heart has moved on by the time we return, then that is the price we pay for our arrogance and betrayal of those who sought our aid before.” She hardened her look. “I am not ordering any of you, but those who do not march with me to defend the Wardstone from our enemies are nothing to me.”
Phen was swollen with the pride her words inspired, and the determined look on her face was unyielding.
“I’m the Queen Mother, and as long as the Arbor Heart pulses through my veins I will remain such. Those who wish to rise above our past should gather the rations and weapons you’ll need. It is a long run to Xwarda. I can only hope we get there in time.”
Chapter 55
Gerard’s legions devoured the farming and trading community of Kastia like a plague. Lord Gregory’s decision to send Dreen’s city guard and as many soldiers as could be mustered ahead to defend Xwarda saved most of the common folk between the two cities. Some, though, thought to defend their homes. The foresters of Tip sent their women and children to Southron, and then stood in defiance. They lasted about as long as it takes to draw a breath, but unlike many, they died defending the life they loved, not running and afraid.
The people of Tarn and the Pixie River fisher folk weren’t as bold. Two years before, Pael’s army had marched through and now there was an obvious lack of young, hearty men willing to fight. Most of them made the day-long ride to the safety of Xwarda’s walls, hurrying along behind the Valleyan soldiers Lord Gregory sent. Those who waited too long were consumed by the Warlord’s horde.
The large city of Platt acted as Xwarda’s main trade center. Queen Willa didn’t allow mercantile activity outside and along the city walls. This prevented the chaotic and often unclean huddle towns from forming around Xwarda’s main gates. People either traded inside the walls in an establishment, or in the open market that Platt had become. The people of Platt acted in a completely different manner than those who lived in Xwarda. Though the Queen had opened the gates for all who sought protection, there were many merchants with warehouses full of stores. Most of them hired sellswords to guard their goods. Platt, after all, had a solid wall around it, too. These men were just starting to recuperate from the devastation Pael had brought. Having rebuilt their inventories of goods, and stockpiled grain, oats and other staples for the long winter months, they were reluctant to abandon everything a second time.
They should have.
Platt’s wall stood twelve feet tall and was built of solid stone blocks. Though it did a superb job deterring bandits and thieves, it fell over like a picket fence under a stampede.
The Warlord’s legions left nothing but blood, death, and destruction in their wake as they rolled through the place like a bloody tidal wave.
Queen Rosa’s mother, Queen Rachel, had sent the bulk of Seaward’s soldiers to help defend the Wardstone. She did this of her own accord, after her mage told her of Sir Hyden Hawk Skyler’s warning. They had taken too long to muster. Now, as the head of the five-thousand-man column was approaching Xwarda’s southern gate, the rear of the procession was falling prey to some of the Warlord’s winged beasts.
The hellspawn and demon kind bound to travel by hoof, claw, and undulating slither were closing in on the city’s western gate. At both places, swarms of Blacksword soldiers were pouring out to meet the dark enemy. Accompanying Queen Willa’s elite troops were a few thousand dwarven axemen. Along the top of the sixty-foot-high granite walls, both human and elven archers, a few dozen breed giant dragon gunners, and small groups of robed wizards hurried into position to lend their spells and shafts to the defense of the powerful bedrock. Above the shouts and commands, alarm bells and short horn bursts shrilled and gonged the armies of the realm into position.
The High King stood atop a blocky crenelated tower at the southwestern corner of the city, watching it all unfold. He could see the Seaward men being decimated by lavender and crimson blasts of dark magic. They fought hard, but swooping clawed monsters snatched men from their mounts and hurled them like so much fodder. He shook his head. They would have been a welcome addition to the defense had they arrived in time to enter the city and organize. Maybe only half of them were going to get the chance to form ranks and make a stand, and those only because of the Blacksword troops pouring out to aid them.
The idea of sending dwarves and swordsmen out to meet the hellspawn army bothered Mikahl. General Wisikman, Queen Willa’s newest commander, had explained that, with the addition of the elves and all the human refugees to the overcrowded city’s numbers, they had no choice. The streets, alleys, and even the long, wide tunnels that led east under the walls toward Jenkanta were already packed full of refugees.
“It’s just as well,” Mikahl said to himself. “Against a foe like this it might be better to die sooner.”
He glanced down at the western gate to his right. The heavy banded portal was closing. Dwarves, a few elven swordsmen and most of the soldiers Lord Gregory had sent were forming up in lines to meet the cloud of evil that was closing on them.
The sun was low in the western sky, giving the approaching beasts long, imposing shadows.
Having learned about night fighting in the long battles that were fought right here, four-keg pyramids of flammable oil, three in a triangle with one on top, had been stacked at intervals out beyond the walls. Flaming spears would be launched into them later to give the archers light by which to aim.
Mikahl wished Hyden were here. He expected him to be. Even young Phen would have been a great boon. The boy would have already researched what there is to know about the dark army. He would know the weaknesses and strengths of each particular creature, and be full of suggestions that might tilt the battle in the right direction. As it was, Mikahl held little hop
e of surviving the night. His plan was to seek out the leader of this foul army and end it. He and Ironspike would cleanse themselves of the rage he felt over Rosa’s death. He would do his very best to avenge her and his unborn child. It was all he knew to do. Since the day he took the king’s sword from Father Petri and started into the Giant Mountains, the realm had been fighting one war or another. He was no king; he was a swordsman, and he had every intention of finding the limits of his skill as such. He resolved to die fighting, for that’s what fighters do.
None of the wizards could reach Hyden Hawk, the giants in Afdeon, or even Phen. Learning from Dieter Willowbrow that most of the elves had perished in the Evermore gave Mikahl little reason to hope for his friends.
If he had known that Queen Mother Telgra’s arboreal magic was shielding out the attempts to contact Phen, and that they and a few hundred elven soldiers were quickly approaching from the north, he might have felt the need for some restraint. As it was, he was resigned to kill or be killed by the dark, malignant thing that had taken his wife and child from the world. Even now, as he scanned the battleground and the disheveled ranks of the enemy’s charge, he couldn’t help but search for the Warlord. He was anxious to get on with it, no matter what the outcome might be.
***
Queen Willa took the news of Queen Rosa’s death hard. She had been instrumental in arranging the marriage and had a strong maternal affection for Mikahl. She’d welcomed him into her arms earlier, in her private chambers, and let him cry out his sorrow against her bosom. She smothered his hair and rocked him as his own mother might have done long ago. After he recovered, she got the sense that he was in a reckless mood. This frightened her. She understood the power of the enemy and knew that if Mikahl were lost, then so was Ironspike’s might. Without Ironspike’s power to defend the Wardstone, the Warlord would soon do more than a open few doorways into the Nethers; he would tear the boundary wide open.
The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three) Page 42