Cinders on the Wind

by Louis Emery

  Over the horizon, he could see the mass of troops creeping to him. He wondered where the Coterie knight stood in that throng. In the battle to come, he would surely look for him, her, or it—whatever it was. Across the plain before the city of Barrport, the retreating Sects made their way toward their incoming allies. General Tamarian had captured many of them, but still, a third of their forces were able to exit the Gate and scurry out of the city.

  The approaching army would be better trained, for West Ballardian men-at-arms were warrior’s warriors, not religious soldiers on standby. They’d had a pedigree of battlefield experience.

  Malcolm wondered how Lady Leora faired, and if she and her Nasant escort, Ser Gregan, made it back to Reed Keep. Was she able to rally an East Ballardian army? Had she faced her backstabbing cousin on the field and lost? Was that the reason the Westers were now facing Barrport? General Tamarian’s outriders hadn’t gotten word from either Reed Keep or Nasantium, the land being blocked off by Crowley and Wester forces, war-torn and full of assassins.

  “Feel’s odd the girl’s gone.”

  Malcolm hadn’t noticed Artemis walk up the turret steps. He and the others had been resting in a nearby tavern after the skirmish with the Sect.

  “It does,” Malcolm replied. “We came all this way, protecting her, only to have her leave us.”

  “You think she can command dragons?” Artemis leaned on the stone ramparts.

  “I don’t know. You and I, we’re just soldiers. What do we know of Seers and magic? My gut tells me she’s special and can change the course of things.”

  “The old mage and the wizards seem to see promise in her.”

  “That’s just it. She has some power within her.” Malcolm sighed, gazing out over the future field of battle. “But I can’t fathom what magicians see.”

  Artemis squinted his eyes at the distant army. “You think we’ll have to fight dragonriders? T’would be a good death.”

  “Is any death good?” Malcolm quipped.

  Artemis returned the smile. “Seems like we’ll get a shot at a Coterie knight, eh?”

  Malcolm glanced down at the mobilizing Barrport troops, ready to defend their city. He turned and faced the plain. “I hope so.”

  42

  Ethlin looked up in awe. Two dragons with riders on their backs swooped down from the mountainside at an alarming rate and flew right over her and Orbist’s heads. The air reverberated with the flap of their great wings. At first, Ethlin thought the sound was deafening, but after two days of hearing the pulsing, whooshing sound, it developed a rather soothing tone.

  Maven and the other wizards had shown her and Orbist around their mountain fortress, including their libraries, meeting halls, and laboratories. After a look around, the wizards insisted Ethlin see the dragons in their element—that is, seeing them deftly fly around the rugged and jagged Barr Mountains with dragonriders at the reins. Maven encouraged her to study their flight these first two days and get an overall feel for how they maneuvered. Along with her ambassador colleagues, Nilrem, Sammerland, and Wynondra, she took to the sky atop her dragon, having mounted near the dragon caves above the ridge north of the fortress.

  Ethlin stood on the veranda overlooking the mountains as Maven demonstrated her flying abilities—and the dragon’s flames. At the wizard’s command, the dragon spewed forth plumes of fire, enough to engulf two houses. Ethlin noticed even Orbist’s face took on a hint of rapture at the display.

  When Maven and the rest returned to the fortress, they instructed Ethlin and Orbist to follow them to the caves where the dragons were kept. As Ethlin ascended the steps along the mountain, her heart pumped like the thumping of dragon wings, and she caught herself shaking. What if she had no connection to the dragons? Surely, she would be a disappointment to everyone if that were the case.

  She tried to push thoughts such as this out of her mind as they neared the caves extending into the center of Dragon Mount. The first cave they came to was so large it could have fit a five-story keep within its diameter.

  “This, my child,” Maven said, “is the lair of Visteria. Out of all the dragons, I feel she will be the right fit for you. But first, you must get acquainted.”

  “Are you going to be beside me?”

  “Of course, child. I wouldn’t dream of leaving you unaccompanied.” Maven turned to face her directly, her visage growing serious. “I imagine Mage Orbist has told you the perils of associating with dragons. They can be temperamental, especially if they don’t know you yet. Now, I don’t mean to scare you, child, but dragonfire can kill even a wizard if the dragon does not know them. So you must be at my side at all times.”

  Ethlin shuddered. She could not turn back now, regardless of the dangers involved. If she were to be a dragonrider, if she were to protect her kingdom and her friends, she must be brave.

  The dragon breathed loudly in the corner of the cave. Ethlin followed Maven over to the creature, as Orbist and the others stayed behind.

  Its breathing echoed in the cave, and Ethlin took in the full, up-close view of the dragon, illuminated by the torches along the walls. Maven stepped forward and began to gently rub the side of its gigantic neck.

  Visteria’s piercing, otherworldly eyes seemed to recognize the wizard but eyed Ethlin dubiously.

  “It’s okay,” Maven cooed to the dragon. “Ethlin, come closer. Do as I do.”

  Maven made soothing noises as she caressed the side of the dragon’s neck as if it were a gargantuan pet.

  Far from it, Ethlin thought.

  Following the wizard’s lead, she inched forward and began to rub the dragonscale. It felt like plated armor and was warm to the touch.

  At first, the dragon seemed not to notice, but the creature flinched and reared up flashing an accusatory look at Ethlin.

  Ethlin backed away, her legs trembling. She heard Maven shout words of protest, but Ethlin couldn’t make them out over the escalating roar bellowing from the dragon’s chest. The dragon arched its neck back and made to spew flame.

  Ethlin felt the flames coming on. She anticipated them. It was as if she could see the fire manifest beneath the dragonscale, travel up through the windpipe and exit amidst the sword-shaped teeth.

  “No!” Maven shrieked, as flames erupted straight at Ethlin.

  Ethlin froze in fear. Along with the fear was an innate sense of standing ground, not giving way—not turning back now.

  The flames leapt at her, but as soon as they hit her clothes, she deflected them away. Ethlin dove downward, in an attempt to avoid the thick heat. Maven ran to her as a second wave of flame flew in their direction. The wizard held out her cloak blocking the flames. Ethlin could see Maven wore some form of magical armor.

  “My child, I’m so sorry. Are you all right? I—” The wizard stopped herself, still holding up the shield of her magical cloak. Her jaw dropped.

  Ethlin looked down. Her clothes were burned rags, but her skin was unharmed. She had used her mind power to divert the flames before they could do any damage.

  “How did you …” Maven couldn’t find the words.

  Ethlin stood and faced the dragon. It was now or never.

  “Child, I don’t think it wise …”

  Ethlin faced the dragon, and its eyes gleamed back.

  “Visteria,” Ethlin called out. “I am your friend.”

  Cautiously Ethlin approached the dragon, her hand extended. She reached the dragon’s side, all the while under its scrutiny. She began to caress the dragonscale mimicking Maven’s soothing sounds. The dragon started to relax and lay back down. Ethlin spent the next hour at the dragon’s side, hearing Maven behind her utter several times, “Unbelievable.”

  When she felt she had earned the dragon’s trust, Ethlin did what only felt natural. She climbed on Visteria’s back, giving the command, “Fly.”

  Amazing did not begin to describe the exhilaration Ethlin felt. The wind blew through her hair at rushing speeds, and she could feel the tatters of her cl
othes flap against her bare skin. She could feel the heat emanating from the dragonscale and up through the saddle, which must’ve been made of material able to withstand such temperatures for long periods of time.

  The mountains whizzed by her, and looking down she could see the myriad precipices and thousands of trees on the slopes. She felt dizzy at such heights but reassured herself that she was strapped in and had the dragon’s trust now.

  She started giving Visteria commands, and the dragon obeyed them. Maven and the wizards even joined her in flying. Maven called to Ethlin to give the dragon command to release its flames, but to wait until she and the other wizards were out of its line of fire, of course.

  “Fire!” Ethlin shouted.

  A flash of heat surged and shot out of Visteria’s mouth. Ethlin could not believe the raw power of this ancient creature she now rode. She now truly understood why the factions of wizards had not taken this power lightly over the centuries. She wondered if she’d be able to use her connection for good—if it would come to the point where she’d have to fight.

  Ethlin and the other wizards directed their mounts back to the caves. As Ethlin left Visteria, she could see the dragon no longer gave her suspicious looks. At dinner, the wizards chattered excitedly about Ethlin’s abilities, and the rapid relationship she established with the dragon. Only Orbist wasn’t taken aback. He just sat there, nibbling at his dinner and sipping wine, wearing a smug expression.

  The next morning, Ethlin rose from the quarters the wizards gave her and walked out to the veranda overlooking Barrport. Orbist was already outside, his visage changed from the night before. He wore a grim expression and stared at the horizon.

  Ethlin followed his gaze.

  “What are those dark spots beyond the gate?”

  “That’s a Wester army,” Orbist said.

  Ethlin squinted. She saw large shapes gliding through the air above the mass. “What are those moving objects?”

  Orbist looked at her with worried eyes. “Grundburr’s dragonriders.”

  43

  The battle had begun. Malcolm led on horseback with Sers Artemis, Royce, Balliol, and Captain Halarn at his sides. The West Ballardian Army was much larger than first surmised. A wing of sellswords came around from the back taking up the left and right side of their line of attack. Though sellswords weren’t the most loyal of soldiers, in such numbers, they could be difficult. To further add to their opposition were the vestiges of the Sect forces—and of course, the dragonriders, led by Warlock Grundburr.

  Across the plain, Malcolm could see what appeared to be the Coterie knight on a black horse leading the vanguard. Next to him were his bodyguard and a sorceress—a witch who looked like the same one who harassed Ethlin in the Gull camp. She must have survived her burns from the fire. But how did she end up with the West Ballardians?

  Carts of boulders and granite slabs were positioned behind her, and it looked as though they’d be used by her sorcery to wreak havoc on the Barrport Army.

  An order was shouted, and the enemy approached. Ser Riles and General Tamarian and his commanders ordered the first wave of assault to meet them. Malcolm and his comrades galloped in the first charge and met the Wester cavalry.

  Malcolm deflected a thrust with his shield and hammered down his sword, knocking an opponent from his horse. He clashed swords with two other knights, his blade meeting flesh on both. His companions and the other Barrport cavalry seemed to be having the advantage until Malcolm caught sight of a flame.

  One of Grundburr’s Remnant wizards, a dragonrider, descended with the great beast, which released a plume of fire, burning soldiers and singing the armor of those in full plate. On his other side, Malcolm heard a reverberating screech and saw a dragon go down, a spear-sized arrow piercing its scale at the chest. The Barrport Army’s Dragonguard Battalion had brought their dragon slings and was keeping Grundburr’s dragons at bay with the launching of gigantic arrows.

  Malcolm and his companions were making headway cutting through the Wester’s center. He could see the left and right wings faltering, due to the overwhelming numbers of sellswords and Sect troops, and the wielding of massive boulders by the sorceress. The witch was standing on a cart herself, raising her arms, and slinging quarried stone at the Barrport cavalry and infantry.

  Malcolm de-horsed another opponent and thought of finding General Tamarian to convince him to send reinforcements to his weakening right flank. As Malcolm turned his mount west, he saw mass movement on the Barr Bridge just before the river gate. Were those light orange banners? And what on earth composed their cavalry?

  Malcolm cued the two cavalry captains and his companions.

  “On me!” He yelled, spurring his horse toward the right flank. Before he could reach it, he heard an ear-piercing roar. A great dire bear, mounted with a warrior, leapt in the air mauling one of Grundburr’s dragons as it swooped down in an attempted attack. At the same time, the rider skewered the wizard with his great sword. The great bear landed on top of ten sellswords, crushing all of them under its mighty paws.

  A stream of dire bear cavalry carrying Nasantium colors bombarded the Wester and sellsword lines, bolstering Barrport’s right flank. The bears, taller than several men, made quick work of the enemy infantry, as did their knight riders with their great swords. This assault was supported by regular Nasantium cavalry and infantry. The regular cavalry was led by none other than Ser Gregan and Lady Leora, both of them unsaddling their enemy left and right. Malcolm could see Leora’s blade glow and recognized the chain of the amulet around her neck. He didn’t know who was fiercer—Leora or the dire bears.

  Malcolm looked to Halarn, who was beside him. “I thought you said dire bears no longer inhabited the Winglands.”

  “They don’t,” Halarn replied, shock registering on his face. “At least, I thought.”

  Malcolm charged into the enemy sidling up alongside Leora and Ser Gregan. After clotheslining a Wester off his horse, Malcolm shouted, “Glad to see the Nasants enter the fray.”

  Ser Gregan swung around. “Ser Malcolm. I can’t believe it. Looks as though you made it here after all.”

  “Aye,” he stared at Leora. “Looks like you got your sword back.”

  “It took some convincing,” she said, as she dueled with a sellsword, slicing the man’s blade in half. The man turned and ran. “I told Ser Gregan it’d be easier for us to defeat a Crowley force that was blocking our way here if he let me have it back.”

  Ser Gregan shrugged. “She has a knack for making people see things her way.”

  “I don’t disagree with you there,” Malcolm said.

  “If you boys are done talking,” Leora said. “My cousin’s army needs a good ass-kicking.” Malcolm rode forward with them. Artemis galloped by his side. Malcolm noticed disbelief on his friend’s face. “Never thought we’d see her again,” Artemis said.

  “Neither did I,” Malcolm replied.

  Malcolm veered his horse toward the center, riding past men clashing swords on all sides. As he galloped, he raised his shield just in time to receive a sword blow that sent him flying off his horse.

  He landed hard on his back, and for a moment, he had to catch his breath. Before him stood the Coterie knight, the assassin’s great sword having knocked him from his steed. The assassin was on level ground, no longer atop his black horse.

  Malcolm clenched his jaw and charged forward, his sword meeting his opponent’s. As he deflected each swing of the assassin’s blade, Malcolm felt his entire body shake. The knight was a possessed man, his eyes glowing blue with a blue vial hanging from a thick chain around his neck. Without a doubt, sorcery was at work—one of Grundburr’s conjurings.

  The assassin never tired, hacking away at Malcolm. All he could do was block, deflect, and riposte. Each time he aimed to hit an exposed area, the assassin was too fast, evading the attack.

  Malcolm tried using brute strength, launching his shoulder into the fiend. The assassin didn’t budge and grabbed hi
m by the throat. Malcolm felt his windpipe being crushed. He drew back to swing his sword, but his opponent overpowered him, grabbing his sword arm, and twisting it away.

  Malcolm’s vision began to fade, and his body started going numb. He thought of Ser Lambert. Was this how his friend died? Unable to do anything? Malcolm looked around, surrounded by the enemy on all sides, his companions lost in the throng. Had they all failed Ethlin, not giving her enough time? Had he failed Ethlin? For a split second, he envisioned his sister Mellia’s face. Then he remembered.

  With his free hand, he pulled the dagger from his boot and thrust up and under the assassin’s arm that held him by the neck. The assassin’s grip loosened and Malcolm pulled out the dagger and hurriedly cut the chain from the fiend’s neck. The amulet flew off. Malcolm fell to the ground, grabbed his longsword, and swung in one swift movement. The assassin’s helmed head left his body. Malcolm noticed the blue light of the eyes go out.

  The battle wasn’t close to over. He looked around and saw the Gull witch nearby in her cart, hurtling granite slabs at the Barrport cavalry and Nasant dire bears. She had a squad of Ballardian bodyguards surrounding her, cutting down every knight or soldier who made it close. Malcolm saw Sers Royce and Balliol advancing on foot toward her. They’d gotten close enough to where they were fighting the bodyguards. Ser Royce mowed down two of the guards with his swift sword, only to be met with two more. Ser Balliol fought back three soldiers, his face red from exertion.

  Malcolm ran toward the fray, his legs aching as he went. He desperately wanted to help his friends, for the witch began hurtling more stones in close proximity to them. To his left, a huge boulder landed on a Barrport knight, and Malcolm had to dive out of the way to avoid being hit. Another shadow emerged from the sky, and he dove forward, flipping his body, hearing the thunderous thud on the ground behind him. The witch’s sorcery became erratic, and her rocks and stones flew to and fro, at times hitting the soldiers on her side in her frenzy.