Shadows of Moth

by Daniel Arenson

  Torin gulped, remembering his old lessons of heraldry. Of course! Ashmog was not the son of Verilon's previous king; his father, Fargosh, had been only a prince, had fallen in the great war many years ago.

  "Perhaps our fathers met in battle," Torin said, "but Teramin Greenmoat would never stab a man in the back. He—"

  Ashmog swept his hand across another table. Plates flew and slammed into Torin.

  "How dare you enter my hall!" Ashmog bellowed. "You, the son of the cursed Demon Raven." He pointed a finger at Torin; it trembled with rage. "You, the spawn of Verilon's greatest enemy. I would sooner name Serin my heir than allow this worm into my hall. Hogash! Men of Verilon! Seize him! Grab Torin Greenmoat, and we will feed him to the great bear!"

  Cam began to shout, as did the Ardish knights behind him. Torin spun from side to side, trying to hold back the soldiers rushing toward him.

  "King Ashmog, listen to me!" Torin shouted. "We cannot fight each other anymore. We—"

  Several Verilish guards jumped onto him, fists raining down. Chains clasped around Torin's wrists, a sack was thrust over his head, and for the second time since this war began, all the world went dark around him.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN:

  BLOOD ON THE MOUNTAIN

  Neekeya crouched behind the boulders, staring down the mountainside at the winding path. She waited. She kept her hand on her bow. Her heart thrashed and her jaw clenched, but she would not turn away.

  The mountains of Teekat spread around her. Above soared their peaks, capped with snow, but all around Neekeya the limestone was gray, bare, and craggy. Boulders rose like great, scattered crocodile teeth, and mist floated between them. Far below in the west, when she turned her head, she could see the distant haze of Daenor's marshlands. But this turn she focused on the east, for Teekat Mountains—a great range that soared thousands of feet high—separated the marshes from the plains of Mageria. And this turn, from the east, the wrath of that cruel empire would overflow.

  Other soldiers of Daenor spread across the mountain, hidden behind boulders and in nooks. They wore mottled cloaks of gray and white, blending into the mountains. Beneath those cloaks they wore scale armor, and under their hoods hid toothed, reptilian helmets. Gloved hands clutched bows and spears, and swords hung from belts. The mountain pass stretched between them—a rough trail that crawled up the slope, many miles long. The ancient men of the mountain had carved it ten thousand years ago; along with smashed pottery in caves and a few runes etched into the boulders, this path was all that remained of that ancient civilization.

  And this turn blood will wash this path, Neekeya thought. This turn it will become a red river.

  She looked to her left. A few feet lower on the slope, Tam crouched behind another boulder. He too wore a mottled gray cloak, looking much like a boulder himself, and he too held a bow. Only the raven drawn onto his shield separated him from the three thousand Daenorians who waited here.

  "They will be tired after their climb," Neekeya whispered to him. "They will have climbed Teekat Mountains for miles before reaching this place. We are strong, well-rested, quick, and we know these mountains. The enemy will fall."

  She wondered if she was trying to comfort him or herself. She thought it was more of the latter. Now she wished her father had come to this fight. The Lord of Eetek had wanted to accompany her and the troops, yet Neekeya had insisted he stay at their pyramid.

  "Danger crawls from every direction," she had told him in his hall, standing under an archway in the pyramid, gazing down at the marshlands. "The North Daenorians will not forgive the capture of their prince; they will march against us. In the south, the kingdom of Eseer has raised the Radian banners; they sail against us and land upon our coast." She had hugged the tall Lord Kee'an. "Stay here, Father. Stay here and lead. I will return. I promise."

  She had kissed him then—perhaps for the last time—and come here with Tam. Come to kill, perhaps to die. To war. And now she missed her father, and she wondered if she'd ever embrace the old warrior again.

  Not even two years ago, she thought, I was but an innocent who believed in magical rings and enchanted fairy tales. She tightened her lips for fear of them trembling. Now I will spill the blood of my enemies.

  She thought back to Teel University. She remembered how Lari Serin had tormented her, and Neekeya wondered if Lari was fighting in this war, and if their paths would cross again—perhaps even here upon this mountain.

  Crouching behind his boulder, Tam looked up toward her. He opened his mouth to speak, then shut it and tensed.

  Neekeya sucked in her breath. Across the mountains, the other Daenorian soldiers nocked arrows.

  She could not see the enemy yet, but she heard their thunder. Thudding feet. Clanking armor. A drumbeat. Above all other noises, trumpeting rose—not the trumpets of brass instruments, she thought, but an organic sound, enraged.

  Neekeya sneered. "The Radians."

  She stared east down the coiling path. She could trace it for about a mile; further down, the trail vanished behind a stony crest. The sounds rose from behind that peak of stone, echoing across the mountains. A chant began, deep and rumbling, a song about Emperor Serin burning the heathens. And still that trumpeting rose, shrill, sending chills down Neekeya's spine.

  Be strong, Neekeya, she thought to herself, holding her nocked arrow steady. Be strong and you will survive this turn.

  Across the Daenorian outposts, the hidden soldiers were silent. Not a scale of armor chinked. They were only three thousand—it was all the men the marshlands of Eetek could spare—and toward them marched the horde of an empire.

  A gust of wind blew, scented of oil and metal, and billowed Neekeya's cloak. Stones tumbled below, and then she saw them.

  Neekeya lost her breath.

  Three massive beasts walked at the Radian vanguard. They were several times the size of horses, gray and wrinkled. Their ears were wide, and their noses were as long as pythons.

  "Elephants," Neekeya whispered.

  Their tusks were gilded, and when they tossed back their trunks and cried out, she recognized the trumpeting she had heard. Howdahs rose upon the elephants' backs—towers of wood and leather—and archers stood within, clad in tiger pelts. The soldiers sported braided red beards strewn with beads, and tattoos covered their bare chests.

  Nayan warriors, Neekeya realized—dwellers of the rainforest south of Mageria. Now they bore the Radian banners, joined to Serin's cause.

  Across the mountain, the Daenorians remained hidden, crouched behind boulders, arrows ready. Neekeya raised her hand, urging the soldiers to wait. She looked back toward the path.

  The elephants came climbing higher. At first Neekeya had seen only three, but now many more emerged to climb up the path; she counted a full twenty. Behind them marched lines of Nayan footmen, spears across their backs. Tiger skins hung from them as cloaks, the heads still attached and serving as hoods. Live tigers walked among them too, chained and growling. Rather than fly the flags of Naya, these troops raised the Radian eclipse banners.

  Neeeya held her hand raised, palm open. "Wait," she mouthed. "Wait."

  The enemy kept marching up the path. Soon the elephants at the vanguard were only five hundred yards away. As more Nayan troops emerged from behind the lower peak, they revealed other soldiers. Magerians marched here too, wearing the black armor of their kingdom, but their breastplates no longer sported the buffalo—sigil of their old dynasty—but the eclipse of Lord Serin. While the Nayans walked in a mass, their red beards and hair wild, the Magerian troops marched in perfect precision, automatons of metal.

  The Nayans are wildfire, Neekea thought, and the Magerians are cold steel. But both raise the Radian banners, and both will die as one. Their blood will flow the same.

  She kept her hand raised.

  Wait. Wait . . .

  The enemy kept snaking up the path. Neekeya saw thousands of them. Soon the vanguard was only three hundred yards away, then two, then close enough that
Neekeya could stare into the elephants' eyes.

  She growled.

  She formed her hand into a fist.

  "Now!" she shouted.

  She leaped to her feet and shoved the boulder she hid behind. Around her, dozens of other Daenorians did the same.

  The boulders creaked.

  The elephants trumpeted and men shouted below.

  The boulders tilted over and rolled down the mountain pass.

  Neekeya crouched and stared down, sneering as the boulders slammed into the enemy host.

  Elephants tumbled, their legs shattered. Some boulders rolled between the great beasts to slam into the lines of infantry. Men fell, bones snapping. Some troops leaped aside, slamming into their brethren, sending men cascading down the mountainside.

  "Arrows!" Neekeya shouted.

  Heart pounding against her ribs, she loosed her arrow. The projectile sailed toward a howdah and slammed into a Nayan archer within. The man clutched his chest, crashed out of the howdah, and fell off the elephant. The beast, wounded and enraged, stepped on the man in its confusion, crushing him. More Daenorian arrows sailed downward and slammed into the enemy. The arrowheads were smeared with the venom of the marshlands' golden frogs; just a drop was enough to still a man's heart.

  Dozens, maybe hundreds of bodies littered the mountain path.

  The enemies shouted below. Nayan commanders barked orders from atop elephants, pointing spears at the Daenorians' locations. Magerians mustered alongside the path, drew swords, and began to march upwards, shields held before them.

  "Fire!" Neekeya shouted, hoarse. "Shoot them down!"

  She fired another arrow. Her fellow soldiers fired with her. Some of the projectiles slammed into the elephants, enraging the beasts. Other arrows slammed into enemy soldiers; some snapped against armor but many sank into flesh.

  With battle cries, the Nayan troops fired their own arrows.

  Neekeya crouched behind another boulder, this one deeply embedded into the mountainside. Arrows crashed against the stone and clattered around her. At her side, Tam fired an arrow, then crouched and raised his shield above his head.

  "Slay them!" a man cried below, speaking in the language of Mageria. "Archers, fire!"

  Whistles filled the air. Arrows sailed upwards, glinted in the sun, then came falling like comets. Neekeya grunted and raised her shield overhead. Three arrows punched through the wood, emerging only an inch away from her head. Another arrow scratched along her thigh, tearing her skin, and she grunted. Around her, hundreds of arrows peppered the landscape—clattering against stone, piercing shields, and some shedding blood. One Daenorian took an arrow to the neck; he gave a strangled cry and tumbled down the mountainside.

  Neekeya stood up, her shield bristly with arrows, and raised her sword over her head. "Daenor—attack!"

  Her army—thousands of swamp warriors, roaring through their crocodile helms—swept down the mountainside, swinging their swords.

  The battle exploded with a clash of steel and showers of blood.

  A rainforest warrior lunged toward Neekeya, and she raised her shield, blocking the swipe of his scimitar. She shoved against her shield, pushing the man down. He tripped on the rocky slope, crashed onto his back, and Neekeya swung down her sword. The blade cracked open his iron breastplate. She swung again, the breastplate shattered, and blood sprayed the man's red beard and braided hair.

  Two more warriors leaped toward Neekeya. She swung her blade in a wide arc, parrying both men's scimitars. She thrust her shield in one direction, knocking one man down the mountain, and her sword in the other, piercing the second man's neck. Both soldiers tumbled down and knocked against their climbing brethren. Neekeya roared with fury, blood on her armor, fear and rage consuming her.

  "Turn back, Radians!" she shouted, voice echoing across the battle. "Turn back or this mountain will be your graveyard."

  Yet thousands were still climbing. An elephant's corpse lay before her, and she scuttled onto the dead animal to survey the battlefield below. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks.

  "By Cetela," she whispered.

  Most of the enemy host was still snaking up the mountainside. There were tens of thousands: Nayans in tiger pelts, Magerians in black armor, and further back marched Eseerians—desert warriors clad in white tunics, bearing sickle-shaped swords. The army was so massive it snaked down to the misty valleys.

  This was not only a host to carve a path through the mountains. Neekeya grimaced. Here was a host to overwhelm all of Daenor and send the pyramids crumbling down.

  Tigers raced up the mountainside, free of their leashes. Neekeya sneered. One of the animals pounced toward her, and she held out her shield. Its weight slammed her down. She tumbled off the dead elephant, the tiger clawing at her shield.

  "Neekeya!"

  A cloak fluttered. Metal flashed. Tam leaped forward, and his shield drove against the tiger, shoving the beast off. Neekeya rose to her feet and swung her sword in arcs, holding the animal back. Tam spared her only a glance before a Nayan warrior raced his way, thrusting a spear. The prince of Arden cried out, swung his sword, and parried.

  "Crocodiles!" Neekeya shouted to the Daenorians who stood farther up the mountain. "Send out the beasts!"

  Upon the mountains, Daenorians in gray robes pulled blankets off concealed cages. They unlocked the cage doors, and dozens of famished and furious crocodiles raced down the mountainside, jaws snapping. The reptiles, trained to avoid the soldiers of Daenor, ran toward the battle and drove through the enemy lines.

  The battle raged on.

  Neekeya fought with fury, sometimes slaying men with her sword, other times casting forward blasts of magic, using the powers she had learned at Teel. Always Tam fought at her side; his sword danced with hers, and his magic slammed into enemy armor, cracking the steel and breaking the bones within. All around them, the hosts fought: tigers, elephants, crocodiles, rainforest warriors, swamp dwellers, and knights in black steel. An hour into the battle, robed mages joined the fray; they rode upon black horses, and their blasts of magic tore across the mountain, sending boulders tumbling down to crush men.

  "Do not let a single man pass!" Neekeya shouted as she fought. "Protect Daenor!"

  Several scales were missing from her armor. Chips marred her sword. Blood seeped down her thigh, arm, and forehead. Yet still she fought, refusing to retreat.

  At Teel I was only a weak girl, so afraid, a foreigner for the Radians to torment. She roared and swung her sword, cutting men down. But now I am a warrior.

  "Neekeya!" Tam shouted. He grabbed her. Blood dripped down his face and covered his arm. "Neekeya, we can't hold them back."

  "We must!" She slew another man. "Daenor, fight! Hold them back!"

  Several Magerian troops came racing up toward her. She summoned particles from the air, wove them into three balls, and tossed the projectiles down the mountainside. The magic crashed against the soldiers' legs, sending them tumbling down. Desert warriors raced over the fallen, their white robes flowing, and swung scimitars toward her. Tam and Neekeya fought side by side, cutting the men down. Yet tens of thousands were still climbing, and the corpses of Daenorians littered the mountain.

  "We've lost most of our men already!" Tam said. He spat out blood. "We can't win."

  Neekeya trembled with fear and weakness. "Then I will die with my men! I will not run." Her eyes burned. "I cannot run."

  A man rode up the mountainside toward them. Enemy troops moved aside, letting him pass. It was a mage, his robes black and flowing, his face hooded. He raised a pale, withered hand.

  Neekeya growled and summoned her own magic, weaving a protective field of air. But the mage was too fast. A bolt of lightning shot from his fingers and slammed into her armor, and Neekeya screamed and fell.

  The lightning raced across her, raising smoke. She screamed. Tears flowed from her eyes. She pawed at her armor, struggling to tear it off. Her hair crackled and she couldn't breathe. Wincing, she saw the mage
dismount and walk toward her, grinning within his hood, driving more of the lightning into her. Scales on her armor sparked and cracked, and she wept.

  "Tam!" she screamed, but he was writhing at her side, lightning crashing against him too. He too was screaming.

  No. Not like this. I'm not done killing yet.

  Though her body convulsed, wreathed in lightning, Neekeya manage to stand up. She stumbled forward and slammed herself against the mage.

  The lightning passed from her to him, and he howled and fell backwards. He crashed down onto the mountainside, his cloak caught flame, and his magic died.

  Trembling, tears streaming, Neekeya thrust her blade into him.

  Tam struggled to his feet, coughing, his hair singed and his face sooty.

  "Neekeya," he managed to say, voice hoarse and weak. "The mountain is lost. Look around you." He gestured at the dead Daenorians; perhaps only five hundred remained alive, facing tens of thousands of enemies. "We must fall back. We'll fight them in the marshlands, firing arrows down from the trees. That is the true domain of Daenor. That is where we'll make our last stand."

  As men fought around her, Neekeya gazed across the battle. Her eyes burned with tears. The best of Daenor had come here—the noblest of her sons and daughters—and here they had fallen. Here forever their souls would reside and their glory would whisper in the wind. She knew Tam was right.

  "The mountains are lost," she whispered. She raised her voice and shouted to her kinsmen. "The mountains are lost! Fall back, children of Daenor! Fall back to the marshlands!"

  She slew a man who raced toward her. She screamed as an arrow grazed her cheek, and her blood dripped. She began to race up the mountain, shouting as she ran.

  "Daenor, fall back! To the marshlands!"

  She leaped over the bodies of her kinsmen. Their eyes stared at her, glassy, condemning. How dare you leave us here, latani of Eetek? Do not leave us upon the stone! Return us to the marshes.

  Yet she had to leave them. She raced over the dead, rallying the living around her. Arrows flew. One slammed into a Daenorian at her side, slaying him—a mere youth, younger than herself. She kept running.