by Gary Bregar
It wasn’t meant as a question, and Lizabet didn’t take it as one. She continued to sit quietly, taking in what the king was saying.
“You ask what they want?” he continued. “They want death. They want suffering. They want pain and weeping and sadness. They want evil.”
“Do you believe that they will venture into Forris if the battle is lost?” Lizabet asked in a near whisper.
“Lizabet, I believe that they are counting on it.”
****
During the night, there was no sleep to be had. The rumbling of the approaching Skite army had become deafening just before dawn. The soldiers of Bore would retell the story by comparing the sound to that of the great herds of wild horses that roam the Bore countryside.
As the sun began to tease the horizon, the landscape became illuminated, but the darkness that had crept in from Skite would not allow the sun to shine down on what would become the battlefield. The battle would take place in perpetual dusk.
Both King Zander and King Cergio were summoned just before dawn, when the noise had suddenly and briefly stopped. The silence lasted a mere thirty minutes before the rumbling resumed, and when it did, the watchmen on the towers could see the faint orange of torchlight peeking from behind the farthest hills. It seemed clear that the Skites had stopped briefly before making their last run toward the border.
Now, as Zander and Cergio stood on the balcony, the little sunlight that there was provided them with the first images of the vast army that was approaching.
“Are we in place, General?” Zander asked Brask.
“Yes, Majesty, charges in the front and archers in the rear. All catapults are loaded and have been pulled to the front as well,” Brask replied.
“Good,” Zander said, “I will give the signal myself. We cannot venture our men too far into the Outlands. The Dark Weed will likely attack, as I have no doubt that it can tell the difference between us and the Skites.”
“But, Majesty, surely you do not intend to put yourself in the throes of battle. You have no heir and must consider the whole of the kingdom,” Brask responded in shock.
“General, I do have an heir that is already in the queen’s womb.”
“Yes, Majesty, but the queen is here!”
Zander had no intention of changing his position, and saw no reason why he should.
“General Brask, while I appreciate your concern for my safety, I have no intention of watching as Fories and Bores are slaughtered in battle. I am king and I shall lead my armies in battle—to victory or demise.”
Brask could tell from the king’s tone that he had struck a nerve with him. He would not push the issue further. Zander began to leave the room when he turned to General Brask once again, and said, “And, General, if we do not succeed here today, there will be no worry of an heir—I assure you. The three kingdoms will be lost.”
****
Queen Bella had been moved to a camp at the top of an overlooking bluff. It so happened that it was the very same bluff where Balki Touro had taken her, where he had sat watching the Outland Post, devising his plan.
Lizabet and Dorian were with her also, as well as a few other women who had traveled with the king’s army, but were no longer needed. There were women who would act as nurses to the injured, but they remained at the front lines waiting for their call to duty.
There were also ten soldiers who had been assigned to protect them on the bluff, and take them to safety at the first sign of trouble. Bella kept watching their faces, trying to determine if they felt disappointment at not being able to fight alongside their brothers in battle, or if they counted their assignment as good fortune. She could see neither in their faces. They were only following orders, and the thought of that gave Bella hope. The soldiers of Forris might not carry experience with them, but they were disciplined soldiers who would fight to the end.
Lizabet only stood silent. She was standing on the edge of the cliff that faced the Skite army. They were approaching quickly now and King Zander would soon give the order.
Release now! For the sake of all the Fathers! she knew he would scream.
She was holding the staff in her right hand. The staff now glowed a light amber color when she held it.
Dorian walked up behind her and gently took her hand in his.
“I thought I would know what to do,” she said.
“You will know what to do, if you are meant to do something,” he said. “I have no doubt about that.”
“But I know that I am to play a role,” she said.
“I think that the staff might play a part. Don’t you?” he asked.
“Yes, but I have tried talking to it, and it does not respond,” she said with sadness in her voice.
Dorian thought about this for a moment and then walked around so that he was facing her.
“Do you need the staff to tell you what to do?” he said sharply. “Haven’t you learned by now that the answers have likely been handed to you already?
“Think about the butterflies of the Hidden. How long did we wander around the forest—lost, before we took their advice and called for help?”
She remained silent for what seemed like a long time. Dorian could see the concentration on her face, and when her expression changed, brightened, he knew that she had the answer.
****
King Zander stood just in front of the long line of soldiers. The Skites were approaching quickly, and he kept trying to remember how far he had traveled before the Dark Weed had started to appear in order to guide him to Balki. It hadn’t been far, he was certain.
He turned to both his left and right, to inspect the line one last time. He could see the men staring at him wide-eyed beneath their helmets. They were anxious, not scared, and that was good, he thought. They were anxious to begin.
The Skites were still quite far from the line when they came into range of the archers. The arrows had been charmed with magic, and would travel great distances.
King Zander held his sword above his head and yelled his authoritative but calm command,
“Archer ready!”
And then, “Archers—release now!”
In an instant, thousands of arrows shot through the sky above him. They traveled into the dusky daylight and briefly disappeared in the low dark clouds before coming down on their targets.
“Release at will!” he screamed. “Catapults, fire!” Boulders flew through the sky, and then skidded across the desert floor, crushing Skite soldiers as they went.
The Skite army continued to press on, running past and over those who had been killed by falling arrows. Compassion, concern, and empathy were not qualities that Menagraff possessed.
Once the Skites came outside what Zander believed to be the edges of the Dark Weed, he gave his final command in the battle at the Outland Post.
“Attack! Fight for your lives!” he screamed. “Fight for Forris! Fight for Good!”
****
Lizabet and Dorian were still standing on the edge of the cliff watching the battle take shape when Zander called for the attack. They could see the armies of the allied kingdoms pour away from the line. From this distance, it looked like a blurry swarm of large insects. Zander was at the front, Lizabet could see, and she immediately walked over to where Bella stood. She put her arms around her sister in an embrace and reached up to kiss her cheek.
“He will be all right, I promise it,” Lizabet said.
Bella, who had stood strong so far, now began to weep at Lizabet’s mention of him.
“I swear it—Zander will be fine. We will win, but I must go.”
Bella pulled away from her and bent over to look into her eyes.
“I know you must.”
Lizabet turned and ran back to Dorian.
“I need a horse, can you help me?”
“Yes,” he said, “you may need your sword also.”
“No,” she replied, “weapons will be of no use—only a horse.”
He took her hand and l
ed her back to where the horses were tied. There was only one guard who was paying attention to this area of the small camp. The others were lined up on the cliff, watching the battle unfold.
Dorian broke away from Lizabet and ran over to the guard near the horses. He ran up to him, exaggerating his breathing.
“Guard! Come…it’s the queen!” Dorian said in gasps.
“What is—” the guard started to say.
“Quickly! Follow me!”
The guard gave no other objection and ran behind Dorian, who was now leading him to Queen Bella. Meanwhile, Lizabet untied and then mounted a white horse.
She immediately urged the horse into a gallop. This wasn’t to go unnoticed, and the soldiers who had been assigned to protect her now scrambled to chase after her. Most would stay back, but three soldiers were now chasing her down the steep incline at the far side of the bluff that would lead to the post and the battle.
****
From here out, things happened quickly. King Cergio, much the same as Zander, gave his own order immediately once Zander had given his. The gold plating of the Bore soldiers’ armor was scuttled in the darkness that had continued to hover. The gold could be seen, but it appeared gray and dirty—everything did.
Cergio’s men stormed across the desert wasteland, pulling their long swords and hammers as they sped to meet the enemy. They met the Skites first, and when they did, the rumbling of hooves on the hard dirt floor of the wastelands turned to a sudden screeching of metal striking metal.
The swords of the Bore soldiers, which were longer than those of the Fories, came down on the relatively shorter Skite soldiers quickly and brutally. Some of the Skites had pieces of armor, but those were few. Their skin was as tough as hide, though—like their father’s, and the Bores learned quickly that the necks of the Skites held the least resistance. The skin was softer there, and could be handled easily by the sword.
But the Bores immediately began suffering losses as well. It was the number of Skites who had been unleashed that was inflicting damage. That, combined with their complete willingness to die for Menagraff, without regard for themselves, made them deadly. They descended on horses, attacking them wildly in order to cause the fall of their riders. And when a soldier fell from his horse, he was immediately swarmed by Skites wielding swords and axes of their own.
On the upper line, Zander’s men were now reaching the enemy and when they met, it was at first a crushing of Forie soldiers against each other, as well as the Skites. It was a stampede, and the soldiers in front would need to make every strike of the sword count in order to stay alive.
They, too, realized that they must strike the neck, and began decapitating the Skites when they could. But, like the Bores, the Fories were outnumbered—badly. The Skites would seem to choose victims, ganging up on the Fories, rendering many of the fights two or three against one. They swarmed against the Fories, some coming at them as if they cared not if they would be impaled by the soldier in front of them. After all, there were always more Skites approaching and a Forie soldier could only fight so many at once.
As for Cergio and Zander themselves, they were in the center of it, but their own soldiers had built a fortification around them, taking the brunt of the battle that would come to their king. Cergio and Zander were facing Skites themselves, but their soldiers would not allow them to be swarmed. They were more than kings to these men—they were symbols of their nations. The men hadn’t been ordered to protect Cergio and Zander; it came naturally to them—to protect their king.
****
Once Lizabet reached the edge of battle, she felt more in control of herself than she ever had. She knew her destiny and she saw everything around her with absolute clarity. To her, the battle before her seemed to move in slow motion.
She stopped at the edge of the fighting, but only for a moment. Then she closed her eyes and brought the staff up to her face. She kissed it lightly and made a whisper in the language that the staff had last chosen.
Guide me, please.
She then opened her eyes, and sent the horse into a full run, heading directly into the fighting.
Before she reached the first of the fighting, she raised the staff as high as her arm would reach. It immediately threw white light for as far as could be seen. It was the same white light that the staff had revealed to her before, and the effect on the Skites was drastic and it was immediate.
The light covered the entire battlefield and not one Skite escaped it, at least not entirely. They screamed in a pitch so high that many of the Forie and Bore soldiers had to cover their ears. They had not been affected by the light coming from the staff, so it did not blind them as it had seemed to blind the Skite soldiers, and this gave them an advantage. It was an advantage that they knew might leave them at any moment.
As the soldiers took advantage of the Skites reeling, killing them easily now, but still suffering losses of their own, Lizabet pushed forward. She rode through the fighting men, who seemed to move out of her way. The Skites were scrambling to get away from the light of the staff, and their retreat was creating a path for her.
When she got closer to the Skite border, the Dark Weed that grew heavily there now began to burn as it had when Zander had carried the staff. But here, the weed was much thicker than it had been for Zander and the ground was nearly covered by it.
The intensity of the light burned the grass immediately and the screaming of the weed began just as it had when Zander had burned it during his rescue of Bella.
Unlike when Zander had burned the weed, Lizabet’s touch had brought flames. The blue flames rose and began to spread. There were only Skite soldiers this deep into the battle, since the Fories and Bores would have been taken by the weed had they ventured this deep into the battlefield. So, in a twist of irony, the flames of the Dark Weed began to engulf the Skite soldiers, killing the very beasts who had nurtured it.
The Dark Weed that lay in Lizabet’s path burned so quickly from the intensity of the light that it simply turned to ash as it tried to stand up to attack.
Lizabet thought that the burning weed would likely keep the allied soldiers back for the time being. She wasn’t entirely sure what the outcome would be, but she knew what she was meant to do, and had decided that Bore and Forie soldiers would be safer at a distance behind her.
When she was sure that she had crossed over the border and was fully in Skite lands, she came to a stop, continuing to hold the staff above her head. The fire had died down here and she saw that the Skites that had been behind her were retreating from the Outlands back to the Skite side of the border. She could see that they weren’t retreating from the soldiers for fear of them, though. They were retreating to the Dark Weed for protection, but no weed was left there to protect them and the strategy would fail. But while the strategy would fail for the Skites, it would play into the hands of Lizabet nicely.
She stood patiently, waiting for Skite soldiers to cross back over the border into their own lands. She would have as many cross back as possible, for that was at the center of her plan. They ran screaming, and the allied soldiers continued to fight the ones who did not, or could not, run. They were the Skites who were not allowed even a moment to consider running. The Forie and Bore soldiers had begun to overpower them.
But the Bore and Forie soldiers were not chasing the Skites over the border, and she realized that they might not understand that it was the Dark Weed that was burning. They don’t know that it is safe to walk here, she thought, and was relieved at that. She wanted them to remain behind her, in the Outlands, at a distance.
****
When she determined that the majority of Skite soldiers had crossed back over the border into Skite lands, she dismounted her horse and closed her eyes once again. And once again, she whispered to the staff in the language that it had chosen. The white light emanating from it pulsed slowly.
She took the staff in both hands, then raised it above her head, and screamed, “Be gone, you merchants
of evil!”
She then brought the staff down with as much strength as she could, piercing the Skite land beneath her. What happened next would be far more destructive than she had expected.
She had hoped to summon a crack in the ground along the border, creating a deep crevasse that would divide them from the enemy. It was this battle that she had thought of—nothing more. Like her journey through the Hidden Forest, when she had not seen the whole of the trees, in war she had not seen past this battle. But the power of the fairy staff did see the wider picture. The power within her as a sha did, as well.
The ground began to shake violently, and Lizabet was immediately knocked to her knees. The thunderous sound came from rocks grinding against each other from deep underground. Not only from the ground under them—under all of Mantle. This, she knew.
The groaning of the rocks beneath them became louder, and she saw what appeared to be steam shooting out of the ground. There were only a few scattered steam vents at first, but the number grew rapidly, until finally she saw cracks beginning to form at the edges of each steam vent. The cracks went out in all directions, and became wider as they went. This was happening for as far as her eyes could see.
When she turned back toward the battlefield, she saw that the Bore and Forie soldiers had begun pulling back, fighting Skite soldiers as they went.
As she became of aware of her proximity to the steam vents, she tried to stand, but was quickly knocked back down. She leaned up enough to see that cracks had formed about three yards from her. They had formed on the side of her that faced Skite and, fortunately, she did not see any cracks forming on the Outland side of the border. The fissures and steam vents were only appearing on the Skite side. That was good, since she was powerless to move. She seemed to be the epicenter of the shifting and could not stand.