Gram lowered his gaze back to the temple and the altar standing alone in the center of the circle. There were four walkways surrounding the altar at even intervals. A series of quarter- and half-circle railings separated the holy of holies from the rest of the altar room. At the center of the altar, carved in white marble, was the traditional symbol of Evona sitting on her throne with dead elves strewn about, as if they trailed off to the horizon. Twenty feet in front of the altar was the sacrificial slab where offerings to Evona were made, sometimes to win her favor, and other times to hold back her wrath. Chained to the top of the slab was the First Heir of Armena, waiting for him. Each of his limbs was held by chain links imbedded in the slab itself. The rightful King of Armena struggled valiantly against his bonds, but the chains were far too thick, and he was far too weak from his moons of captivity.
Gram stood looking at Devin, knowing what he had come here to do, knowing he should get on with the spell – but not wanting to rush the moment. This was the pinnacle accomplishment of his unique life, and he wanted to savor every sensation. Gram walked calmly over to the slab and leaned down so that only Devin could hear.
“Well, First Heir, are you ready to assume your place in history?”
Devin looked terrified but determined to die with dignity. “What do you hope to get out of this, Gram, a pat on the back from your Guildmaster?”
Gram smiled. This is exactly for what he had hoped. “For a start. Come now, Devin, is that the best you can do? After all the time we have spent together, all you have for me is a thinly veiled attempt to play on my insecurities.”
“Look around this temple, Gram. Do you see how many beings you are about to kill? Look at their faces. Each of them has lives and families that you are about to take away. Are you really so selfish that you would end their lives just to further your own goals?”
“Yes, and do not forget your place in all of this. It is your life force that makes all of this possible. I have been preparing to cast this spell for more than two years. It became clear to me shortly after I started capturing all of these magic-users that I could never gather enough magic potential to seriously cripple Armena. But then you came along. I thought killing your father was good enough, but there you were, lying unconscious at my feet. You were a prize beyond compare. With your blood, I knew I could decimate Armena. When I am finished, your country will never be the same again. The Talon Guild will have its kingdom at Armena’s expense, and it is all because of you.”
Gram finished whispering what he had to say in Devin’s ear, but he was not finished tormenting him yet. As he moved to stand up straight, he purposely put his face in front of Devin’s so that he could see the smile on his face. He wanted Devin to know he had absolutely no remorse over what he was about to do.
Devin had obviously been waiting for such a moment. The First Heir lunged against his chains and brought his head up in what Gram assumed would be a head butt. Gram pulled away instinctively but found himself unable to move. His nose was caught. A sudden sharp pain consumed his entire being, leaving him helpless to think of anything else.
The chains holding the First Heir had not been as tight as Gram had assumed, so he was taken completely by surprise when the First Heir snapped his head up and bit into his nose. Gram screamed in pain as Devin’s teeth sank deep into his soft flesh. Devin did not waste an instant as he snapped his head sharply to the side and opened his mouth. Gram’s head was thrown to his left against his will, then he felt something grab him by the throat. Gram felt the strong hand of the First Heir close around his neck and begin to squeeze. Gram hit Devin’s arm once, twice, three times in an attempt to loosen his grip, but it did not work. Gram realized his guards had rushed in and were now beating Devin in an attempt to have him released. Rather than loosen, the grip on Gram’s throat actually tightened; Gram felt himself losing consciousness as his vision started to close in around him. Eventually, one of the guards pulled out a club and wacked Devin’s forearm. Gram heard a snap as one of the bones in the forearm broke. Devin tried to maintain his grip on Gram’s throat, but he could not do it. Gram managed to pull away and fell to the ground, coughing violently.
The guards continued to beat the First Heir. Gram lunged forward coughing and shaking his arms. “No, no.” The guards stopped after they each got in one more good hit. Gram said, “We need him whole, or the spell will not work.” He continued to cough uncontrollably and honestly feared for his life. He motioned for Arun to come forward. When she did, he croaked out the words, “Heal me.”
Under normal circumstances Arun probably would have gloated over his stupidity, but in this case, she nodded her head in understanding and cast her healing magic. Gram felt immediately better and rose to his feet.
He pointed at the First Heir and said, “Heal him as well.”
“Heal this surface scum after what he just did to you? You’re a lot more charitable than I would be in your place.”
“It has nothing to do with charity! The spell will not be as effective if he is not in perfect health. Now do it!”
Arun accepted the rebuke and did as she was told. As the new Matron Mother stepped back into the crowd, Gram stepped up to the base of the sacrificial slab and gave a nod of respect to Devin. The elf was strong; he would have made a good king.
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Jon moved cautiously toward the elven city with the vanguard of the army. To his right and left, dispersed among the trees, were soldiers as far as he could see. Farther to the left and right were the skirmish lines led by captains Roberts and Shoeman. The General was with the main body, and the rearguard was behind him. After Jon’s meeting with the mysterious elf, he had gone straight to General Donell. They both agreed the elves must be near and that they were almost certainly prepared for their advance. Jon cautiously slinked forward with the five-hundred-man force under his command. He moved his troops forward a short distance then reassessed the situation; he had been employing the same tactic all morning. It was slow going, but given that the elves knew they were coming, there was nothing to be gained with speed.
Jon looked down the line as far as the trees would allow, but the lines extended far beyond that. His scouts told him that the flanks were moving forward at roughly the same pace as his men in the center, meaning his vanguard force would not be attacked on the flanks. Jon was more than a little surprised they hadn’t met any resistance yet. There was a report that one man had been bitten by a poisonous snake, and Jon had seen a number of rabbits and squirrels, but so far that was it.
As Jon moved his men forward another hundred feet, he finally saw the elf city for the first time. It blended in so well with the surrounding forest that it was easy to miss. If they had been approaching a human city, they would have seen it well before now. Staring at the city before him, Jon could only make out a few paths between the buildings, which were difficult to discern among the surface brush and hundred-year-old tree trunks. Nevertheless, the city was there, and Jon would have answers for what happened to Endwood soon enough, or he would die trying.
He ordered his men forward another hundred feet, and as they moved forward he began hearing screams off to his right. Jon looked down the line and saw fear and panic ripple toward him as the screams grew louder and closer. Some of the less experienced men broke and ran toward Jon’s forces in the center or back toward the main body. Before he could figure out what was happening, he heard similar screams start coming from the left. The screams grew louder, and Jon saw chaos ripple down the left side of the line.
It did not take a genius to figure out the vanguard was under attack. Jon ordered his men to take cover and ready their weapons. They had barely done so when there was a hum in the air followed by two arrows landing no more than five feet away from his position. Then there was only fear as a wall of arrows descended on them from up ahead. Jon heard his men scream as many of them were hit and fell to the ground. Jon ordered his men to return fire. His men stood up in unison
and launched a volley into the city. Jon did not know what they were aiming for, but he knew from which direction the enemy fire was coming.
He ordered his Lieutenant to continue firing as he called a courier over to where he crouched. “Run and tell the General that we are under attack. Tell him the vanguard is being hit by arrows, and that the right and left flanks are under attack as well. Tell him the arrows against the vanguard are coming from the city itself.”
The courier saluted in haste and ran off into the distance. Jon watched the man run, knowing how important it was that he escape in order to warn the General. The soldier did not get hit immediately by an arrow, and he continued to run hard to the west. Jon was about to turn his attention back to the battle in front of him when he saw bright lights off to the west, behind the rearguard. Soon after, he felt the ground beneath his feet shake ever so slightly. Jon had no idea what was going on, other than they seemed to have descended into the seventh circle of hell. By all the gods, what had they gotten themselves into?
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Calim ran east toward the city of Ash, having made his escape after meeting the human Captain. Things had gone poorly, and he was to blame. He had gone to the meeting hoping to settle terms between the elves and humans, or at least slow the enemy down long enough for the Army of Armena to arrive. Now it seemed he had all but guaranteed a confrontation with Kentar, and at a quicker pace than otherwise might have been. A short time later Calim faced his fellow Philosophers for the last time before they took their combat positions. The Commander of the city militia was present, but the Army of Armena had not arrived.
Calim began. “My meeting with the human Captain did not go well. They will attack Ash as soon as they are able.”
One of his fellow Philosophers asked, “How soon?”
“The sun came up a short time ago, so I wager they will be here by midday.”
The Commander asked, “And how will we hold off an entire army? My scouts tell me there are some fifteen thousand soldiers marching directly toward us.”
Calim considered the Commanders words and said, “No matter the cost:”
The other Philosophers finished the motto. “Complete the mission.”
The Commander looked around as if they had all taken leave of their senses. Calim answered his unspoken question by saying, “That is the Philosopher’s motto, Commander, and you would do well to remember it. For in the thousand years the Philosophers have been in existence, we have never failed to complete a mission. I admit this particular situation looks grim, but the Philosophers have faced worse, and Invictus will not let us face these humans alone. If we do fail for the first time in a thousand years, you can be rest assured we died alongside our brothers defending the city of Ash.”
The Commander did not look quite as hopeless as he had a moment ago. Calim continued, “You all know your places and your part in the plan for the defense of this city. If we cannot make the humans retreat, then we must slow them down long enough for the Army of Armena to arrive. We will hit the humans and retreat, then we will hit them again. We will hit them from all sides and in the rear, and make them swear that we are twenty times our number.
Suddenly a new voice came from Calim’s right. “Sounds like an excellent plan. Can we join in the defense of our homeland?”
Calim swiveled his head around to find General Holidor and two of his bodyguards standing nearby. Calim was alarmed to have been taken unawares, but it would not do to let that alarm show in front of the younger agents.
He responded calmly, as though he had known the General was there the entire time. “General, glad you could make it.”
“So am I. I’m glad the Philosophers are here. We will need your cunning if we are to get through this. We are woefully short in numbers.”
“Why is that?”
“Our campaign in the Underworld took its toll on our force, but that is only part of the problem. Even with the recent war against the Krone, we would have had enough soldiers to deal with the human threat, but Venal returned two days ago and sapped our strength.”
Calim nodded his head. “You mean one of his priests had a vision where Venal instructed him to take his following into the Underworld?”
“No, I mean Venal himself returned to the Armenien capital two days ago and took all of his followers off to the northwest in order to renew the fight against the Krone.”
Calim could not believe what he was hearing. A god had returned to Tellus! There were always stories in which elves claimed to have been visited by one god or another from the heavens, or had dreams where an elven god prophesied about their future, but to have a god return to Tellus! Such a thing hadn’t happened since the Year of Angels more than four hundred years ago, and so long before that as to be lost to history.
The reason gods did not tread on Tellus was quite understandable. It was said that by coming down to Tellus, a god temporarily gave up most of his divine power until he returned to his kingdom in the heavens. And what’s more, if a god died on Tellus in his weakened state, he was forever dead, lost for all time.
“A full third of my army rushed off with Venal to continue the fight against the Krone.”
The Commander asked, “How many elves have you brought with you, General?”
“Some five thousand.”
“So the humans outnumber us three to one.”
Before the General could confirm the hopelessness of their situation, Calim said, “We are at your command, General. How would you like to defend the city?”
General Holidor nodded in appreciation of Calim’s positive statement. “I believe we are best served by using the forest to our advantage. This is our home. The humans don’t know the trees like we do. We look after the forest while they seek to cut it down. We can hide in the brush and hit them unawares. Then, before they know what has happened, we can fall back and hit them again. I think we can do this half a dozen times, with minimal casualties, before they ever make it to the outskirts of the city. Once they reach the city, we will make them pay for every building they take.” The General waited a moment before adding, “Does anyone else have something to add?”
Calim took a step forward and said, “If I may, I have a suggestion.”
“Please.”
“Rather than hitting them and falling back, I think we can hit them on all sides, creating enough chaos to break their lines.”
“Go on.”
“They have never fought elves before, so they have no idea what to expect. They will move up cautiously, giving us a chance to coordinate our attacks. We have three forces that are at your command: the city militia, the army you brought with you, and the Philosophers. I have also received word that a portion of the Council of Wizards will personally fight in the upcoming battle.”
There were gasps and shocked stares from the Philosophers in the meeting, for all of them knew the leadership of the Philosophers never took to the field. “My suggestion is this. Move the army into position just inside the city of Ash. Set the city militia up on the right and left flanks. Allow the Philosopher agents to hide in the trees up and down the human line. Finally, we hide the Council of Wizards in a cave one mile to the west of the city. If we plan it correctly, we should be able to attack the vanguard as well as the right and left flanks with arrows nearly simultaneously. Then the Philosophers will start to rain down death from the trees. The humans won’t know which way to run, and when they are thoroughly confused and morale is down, the Council of Wizards will emerge from the cave and let loose their magic on the rear of the human lines.”
The General nodded his head. Calim continued, “I think they will break and run. And if they don’t, then a direct charge from the army will certainly finish the job.”
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Jon could feel his soldiers breaking. The vanguard was on the verge of collapsing when fresh troops finally arrived from the main body of the army. Another volley of arrows whistled overh
ead, and some of the new arrivals fell dead to the ground before they even had time to take up defensive positions. Jon continued to hear loud explosions from far in the rear, but did not have time to worry about that at the moment.
He issued commands for the troops to prepare to go on the offensive. He had to take the fight to the enemy. He couldn’t win a battle from a crouched position, waiting on an enemy he couldn’t see, who continued to throw volley after volley of arrows into his lines. His men continued to fire back, but they couldn’t see what they were aiming at.
All around him, men were dying. They were dying because of his mistakes. Jon’s first commander had drilled into him that there were no bad soldiers, only bad officers. He was anxious to take the fight to the elves, but he had to give his couriers enough time to spread the attack order up and down the line.
Finally, the time was right. He stood up boldly and yelled, “Forward men! Follow me!”
Then he started walking purposefully toward the elven city. His staff and the soldiers closest to him took courage in seeing their captain walk headlong into danger. They stood up and walked forward with him. Then more men heeded his call, and then more. Jon drew his sword and started jogging. All up and down the line Jon saw men do the same. Jon yelled at the top of his lungs and sprinted across the field. Jon heard a hum in the air as the elves launched a final volley of arrows.
Jon’s men met limited resistance as his men breached the perimeter of the city. Suddenly, elves seemed to appear from every direction. His men staggered at the sight of so many elves rushing toward them with swords drawn, and their advance faltered. Jon had the sinking feeling that they had just fallen into a trap, almost as if the elves had been waiting for them to surge forward before they made their move. The elves of Armena and the soldiers of Kentar met in battle for the first time in more than four hundred years in Glenmyr Forest outside the city of Ash.
Do the Gods Give Us Hope? Page 47