Edalvin beams—“fortune favors us at last. When the Horde kills them, we will have those enchanted sabers in our hands. Once their secrets are unlocked…nothing can stop us. From here, we can conquer the rest of the known world.”
Erwell the older Druid speaks. “Do not get ahead of yourself Edalvin. We need to secure these lands before we venture outside the mountains.”
The leader of the Druids curses under his breath. “These old fools are still living in the past. They would be happy with a few parcels of captured lands and a soft bed.”
Edalvin yells to Tarrino. “Round up all the Druid commanders and tell them I need them here now! We are finally leaving this filthy hole in the earth.”
Tarrino bows again and dashes for the door.
A short time later Edalvin is standing in front of the sub-leaders gathered around the dais. “Brothers, our time to take back Aventine is here. Our alliance with the Horde is bearing fruit. Even now, they are spreading across the lands above.
We will emerge from this pit in the earth to breathe clean air again. Prepare yourselves with armor and weapons. Those who can work magic will be in the forefront sweeping all those who resist us.”
There is a flurry as the long-awaited battle is foremost on everyone’s mind. The others bow and leave the room quickly, except those of the Shadow Clan who entered from another entrance and stand quietly behind the council.
Edalvin faces the ancient Druids. “This is a new world. Your time of rule is long past and dead—you as well.”
On that remark, swords pierce the backs of the old Druids sitting in there ornate seats. Erwell manages to turn before he dies and cast fire at his attacker. The minion runs around the room in flames a short time before dropping to the floor in a pile of smoldering flesh.
Edalvin smiles and nods at the Shadow Clan that just wiped out the last of the ancient order of Druids. “Throw them down the pit with the rest of the refuse.”
Each large man takes a dead Druid and heaves the body over his shoulder. The procession leaves the room as another lesser Druid enters. His eyes are wide at the sight of his dead leaders. He looks at Edalvin.
The last of the council looks upon the blood-stained thrones. “We have had a change in governing authority. From this moment hence, I am the only leader of the Blood Druids. Tell the scribes and all that you pass in your journeys. Now, why are you here?”
The shaking Druid bows low. I was going to inquire if the council needed anything. Since there is no longer a council, do you require anything lord…food or drink perhaps?”
“No, leave and do as I have commanded.”
He bows several times, as he backs to the entrance of the council chambers. He turns and runs down the passageway breathing a sigh of relief of not being able to report on the news from the field.
Word has come the Maiden, and her warriors are battling the Horde. Hundreds of the Druid’s minions are dead or dying. Death is not just the swinging of swords that destroyed the Horde, but great magic, as storms, earthquakes and fire were put on their enemies. The mountain portal is sealed from a blast of one of the warriors.”
As he continues heading for a place of refuge, he mouths; “let someone else bring the dire news and get their head chopped off!”
The Druids mass at their sacrifice clearing of standing stones. Edalvin turns to several of the Shadow Clan warriors near his arm. “Search the catacombs below. I want every Druid and any of your people up here ready to do battle. If any resists, put them to the sword.”
After several minutes, the minions return behind a dozen Druids who had lagged behind, hoping to be missed at the gathering.
Edalvin stares at them as they pass. “Pray I do not see you run from the battle. There be nowhere in this realm or the next you can hide from me.”
The Blood Druid leader lifts his sword over his head and gives the command to go forward. A full twenty of the Shadow Clan run ahead as scouts. They fan out to both sides of the main groups advance as they emerge from the Fire Woods.
Tarrino walking beside Edalvin sends his ravens into the air to spy. A short time later, one black bird returns and lights on the beast master’s shoulder. After several moments of silent communication, Tarrino closes his eyes, swallows hard and looks at his leader. “Please do not slay the messenger lord.”
“What is it fool?”
“Six kilometers ahead of us are the remnants of a large battle. Dead are hundreds of the Horde.”
“What—soldiers did this?”
“No Edalvin, only our allies lay upon the field. No soldiers were seen by my raven.”
Edalvin face is red with anger. “He raises his sword and begins to run; the rest follow. After a time, they come upon a field of death. The Shadow clan move among the dead looking for any that had not succumbed to their wounds. They find two. One dies before he could be carried to the Druid leader. The other with burns over the entire length of his body screams at the treatment of being carried by rough hands.
He is dropped writhing in pain at Edalvin feet. “What has happened here—speak?”
The wounded man mouths the word “water.”
“Give him some water and stand him up to face me.”
More screams of pain as strong hands lift him under the arms. His head bobbing on his chest as a neck muscle is severed during the fight. Edalvin nose wrinkles at the smell of seared flesh.
Another Druid lifts the head up and spills water from a bladder onto his lips and down his throat.
After a coughing fit, he answers in a whisper. “We were set upon with magic the likes I have never beheld, as hundreds of our men charged, but were driven back each time. The armored warriors commanded fire, wind and ice. It was those elements we could not stand against which destroyed us.” He points toward the mountain. “One word from them and the portal was sealed in a rumbling of the earth gods.”
“What is this fool talking about? Who could command such power?”
Those Druids close to Edalvin shrug shoulders and cower away.
Edalvin faces the Hordes’ man. “Tell me beast of a man before you die—what did these warriors look like? How were they clothed?
He tries to speak, but his voice is harsh and weak. All he can say is water…”
More liquid is poured into his trembling mouth. A good measure never makes it down his throat as it spills upon his tunic.
Swallowing several times, he goes on. “Our enemy was shrouded in a mist and seemed to fight as one. No two armored warriors were of the same color. The women…”
“Wait—women? Women did all this,” as Edalvin spreads his hands out at the carnage about them.
“Not all women sire, some where men by their stature. The largest is the one that closed the portal with thunder from the ground.”
Edalvin is starting to feel uneasy. “Describe what you saw of the women?”
The wounded man’s head is bobbing on his chest again.
The leader of the Druids slaps him across the face…splitting a lip and drawing blood. “Wake up fool. What of the women?”
Fighting pain, he answers. “A warrior in white armor and the breastplate of a woman was their leader, as we could hear her telling the others what to do.
Her sword glowed. When she pointed the blade at our men, they burst into flames. I was near and could feel the great heat. Another female called forth spheres of flames and drew about them a ring of fire protection. We tried to cross the fire barrier and get near to them, but were cut down by their swords. I lay still as not to receive the death blow.”
Edalvin curses. “It has to be the White Witch! They have discovered the secrets of the Kcaj Blades. How? We possess all the known writings on the blades.
They have a greater power than what we can withstand. Tell me…which course did they take?
“Lord?”
“Yes, which way did they go from here?”
“No one direction—they divided and went on different paths.”
�
��Good fortune may be at hand. Traveling apart, we may be able to overwhelm them one by one with great numbers.” He orders several of his fellow Druids to seek out any Horde they find and mass back here. To be away from this evil Druid, they quickly run in all directions.
One of the Shadow Clan holding the injured man asks the Druid Leader. “What of this one sire?”
He looks at the bleeding man. His head is down and chin pressed into his chest as he has passed out. “Kill him!”
A large knife appears and slashes the man’s throat. He is dumped back on the ground in a heap.
Edalvin motions for another Druid to draw near. “We have a need. Send for the dragon riders of EroneStag.”
“But Edalvin,” the hooded bard says. “We were told by the council only use them sparingly. The last of the three flying lizards are old and do not have much strength.”
“Can they fly and carry an archer and rider? Can they still spew forth fire?”
“Yes.”
“Then do as I command!”
The Druid minion sends a raven to the caves of EroneStag. A note attached to a clawed leg summons the riders with their dragons.
The hundreds of Druids and bards who are gathered on the battlefield move off to a place not cluttered with the stench of the dead. Camp is quickly setup. On the second day, the Druids have brought back thousands of the Horde. Tents and camp fires multiply quickly.
The moon is suddenly covered as winged shadows fly in its light. A rush of wings and three dragons land in an open field. A rider and archer drop from saddles attached to the back of the flying lizards.
Edalvin goes to meet them in the semi-darkness. “Welcome brothers.”
Those riders bow to their leader. One speaks for the six standing there. “We came as soon as the word was brought to us. How are we to serve one of the council?”
“The council does not exist any longer. I alone govern the Blood Druids.”
The riders and archers look at each other for a moment. “Yes lord, how can we serve you?”
“At first light, go in different directions and search for warriors in full battle gear. They will be wielding enchanted sabers. If you are presented with an opportunity, have your archers bring them to their knees.”
“Does the High Leader know which route they travel?”
“No, you must find them and report back to us here. I believe there are at least seven warriors going different paths. Do not get too close as their magic is powerful and deadly.”
The riders bow again and leave to attend their dragons. A silent word from them as they approach, and the beasts settle to the ground on folded legs.
More Shadow Clan scouts were sent in others directions in order to find the enemies of their masters. Their tasks were simple; find the warriors and then report back to Edalvin.
Not all the clan heeded those orders and attempted to battle the warriors they found.
One such fool-hardy group came across the remnants of a battle, as armor and weapons littered the field. Someone had placed the dead Horde in a pile. A blazing fire was consuming the remains. The scouts hurried on as they spied the warrior ahead of them in the distance.
They never reached her as she turned, almost sensing them there. She rained fire upon them. Only one badly burned clansman managed to get away and report to the leader of the Druids. For his disregard of following the orders placed on him, he was meat for the dragons.
The Shadow Clan who found the warriors of the light brought back the locations to Edalvin. A dragon and rider was dispatched to three different locations. It takes another week before Edalvin has the information he seeks. He sends hundreds of Shadow Clan and Druids to each place to seize his enemies. If they cannot capture them, then put them to death and bring back the swords they carry.
Knowing where the Maiden lies, the leader of the Druids, in the forefront with his followers and minions, travel east to battle the Maiden. Farmers and villagers flee from the Blood Druid’s advance.
Edalvin fingers the hilt of the weapon at his side. “The wench may possess an enchanted saber, but my magic is greater” as he draws his own sword. The blade is a dull black which quickly gains a bright sheen once it is out of the scabbard. Ebony sparks cascade up and down the blade.
A few of the Druids standing near their leader marvel at what Edalvin holds. “He has never taken that from its scabbard in my lifetime.” One of the minions says.
“Tis true for me also,” says another.
An older Druid removes his hood to get a better look at the black blade. It has been many a year since he last saw such a sword. He remarks to the others. “He holds Spirit Eater!”
“Tell us old one…what is this Spirit Eater?”
“It is an ancient mystery which brings the shade. Observe the sparks that play over the blade. They are black, not white as hot embers would be. We Druids dwell within the shade and serve the darkness, but this blade was born of hell. Demons created that evil thing from the fires that consumed the souls of thousands of fallen dark warriors. Its darkness can blot out the light. The last I saw of it was in the hand of Geoge, the High Priest of the Blood Druids, more than a century ago.
Edalvin must have found it. It was rumored those many years ago, that the blade was buried with the priest. None would venture to open the grave. Edalvin must have found a way. What he now holds…has no equal.”
“What of the Kcaj Saber the White Witch masters? Is it not more powerful than this Spirit Eater?” One of the Druids asks.
The aged Druid is silent for a moment, then answers. “No one knows, as these mighty blades have never clashed on the field of battle. It is a sight I wish to see before my time is gone.”
Edalvin returns the sword to its sheath and gives the order to go.
The dark ones quickly disband and scatter.
Chapter 24 – The Kingdom of Moons
Gareth and Mimna finally arrive at the passage cutting through the mountains. Until the Druid’s opened a dark tunnel, this narrow gorge was thought to be the only way in or out of Aventine. The pass is littered with bodies of men who died trying to protect the entrance to Aventine. Crows and animals have been having a feast as many of them are reduced to scattered bones and cloth.
They both find nearly new crossbows lying about the ground. They each take one and two quivers of steel bolts. “Better to kill an enemy from a distance I always say,” the big man smiles.
Mimna, with helmet visor raised smiles in return. “As I do not hold the enchantments you possess, I tend to agree.” Fitting one of the arrows in the cocked bow, she brings down a crow in flight.
As the dead crow is tumbling toward the ground, Gareth puts another arrow into it from his own bow. “I dare say we are a formable team lady.”
Mimna raps against his muscled arm. “Always have to do one better, doth thee?”
“I would say we are fair matched.” He says while returning a rap against her arm, almost knocking her over.
An hour later, they approach the wooden ramps leading up to the parapets set into the canyon walls. Below are many of the dead defenders. One who is lying on the bulwark; just barely…tumbles off from the vibrations of Gareth heavy feet. The body, like a child’s doll bounces off the rocky wall and ending at a heap at the bottom.
“Poor soul,” mouths Gareth. “He was attacked at his back by cowards. None I meet will gain another day of life for this spineless attack.”
Mimna nods in agreement.
Almost to the end of the parapet, they can see the other side of the mountain pass.
“As you saw at Kinstridder, the rocks and stones are as a keen blade. Just looking at them too long would cause the flesh to bleed. If we close the pass with a rock side, none could scramble over the stones to enter.”
The Earth Sword is brought out once again, and Gareth repeats the magic words while pointing it at a large overhang of black stone. The earth rumbles and threatens to throw them from the bulwark.
Trying to mai
ntain her footing, Mimna grabs Gareth’s other arm for support. They both back up against the mountainside.
The target of Gareth’s directed aim shudders and breaks loose, tumbling down the other side of the canyon from their perch. In moments, the cascading rocks and boulders are effectively blocking the pass. As the swirling black dust settles, it exposes dark and ominous pointed spears of rocks in all directions.”
“No one is going to get by that in either direction.” He mouths.
They make their way back to the lowland and head east to meet with Amari and Holl-tu. It is three days of travel before they find the Maiden and wizard battling what look like two hundred of the Horde. They can also see Shadow Clan and Druids within the wave of flesh trying to overrun the Maiden and the wizard.
Gareth and Mimna go in a wide circle and come up behind the attacking Horde. At a half-kilometer away, they start a slow run firing crossbow bolts at a fast rate of fire…reload…fire.
The rear ranks of the Horde drops with arrows from Gareth and Mimna.
Gareth yells to those he attacks. “Now you know how it feels to have your back unprotected. “
Those facing forward pressing ever toward the Maiden and her companion, do not see their comrades behind dying. Having fired at lease fifty arrows each, Gareth and Mimna drop the now useless bows and fill their hands with swords.
Gareth is reluctant to use the magic of the Earth Sword with his companions so close to the enemy. He remembers Aurelia’s words about earthquakes that could claim innocents as well as their foes.
Instead, he and Mimna wade into the rear of the Horde, slashing and dismembering. Looking above the heads of those in front of him, he can see dozens of Amari’s and Holl-tu’s standing there. More of the wizard’s enchantments he suspects.
The Horde realizes that they are being attacked from behind, split their forces and swarm against Gareth and Mimna.
Not too far away, Truk and Dian have come under attack by the Shadow Clan. Suddenly, something new threatens them. Arrows bounce off their armor—fired from overhead.
Truk looks up in time to see a dark shadow pass over. Whatever it is banks in the sky comes around and dives at them. He now can see what it is as flames pour out of the dragon’s mouth and strike the earth at their feet.
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