by Adam Blade
Tanner’s pain hurts me. My feathers glow dimly, just enough to keep him warm as another night closes in.
We must leave at dawn. We must go to Colweir.
Tanner awoke early the next morning. Firepos was standing guard over him. He stood next to his Beast and gazed out over Avantia. In the west, a black smudge stained the horizon.
“They must be burning the bodies,” Tanner said quietly. Grief settled in his stomach like cold stone. “We must honor Grandmother’s last words.”
Tanner leaped onto Firepos’s back. He felt relief at having a purpose that would distract him from the empty feeling of loss that gnawed at him. “Up, Firepos,” he cried. “To Colweir!”
Wind whipped through Tanner’s hair and clothes as Firepos hurtled through the sky. Will the Mapmaker know I’m coming? What does he know about the mask? Tanner wondered. And why did he have to find a map maker, anyway? Esme had never mentioned this person before.
Colweir was two days’ travel on foot, but soaring on Firepos would take much less time. He pressed himself into the sea of feathers, letting the Beast’s warmth pass to him. Woods and fields sped beneath them in a blur. He hadn’t flown this far east for many years.
Colweir was larger than Forton — a center of trade for many of the western settlements. It lay on the banks of the Winding River, where boats could unload and pick up cargo. Tanner steered Firepos along the river’s course, skimming low over the flashing water.
Tanner heard a distant booming, and as they rounded a curve in the river, he saw the sight he’d been dreading: Gor’s army, threading its way along the riverbank. Tanner pulled his father’s Looking Crystal out of its pouch and put it to his eye. The outriders seemed to leap toward him. Gor’s forces were marching at double speed, their leader mounted once again on his Beast, which was now in the form of a black stallion. One of the varkule riders was pounding a drum to keep time. Tanner’s blood ran cold.
Why are they heading for Colweir? he wondered with a growing sense of dread.
Tanner swept across the riverbank and followed the army slowly, watching them from behind a ridge of rock. Gor was definitely heading to Colweir. Tanner remembered the rustle he’d heard from the bushes when Esme had whispered her last crucial words to him. He’d thought it was Firepos, but … One of Gor’s soldiers must have been spying on them!
Of course! That was why Gor let him live: He suspected Esme had a secret, and that she would give it up only to someone she trusted. And only then when she was at death’s door. Did he kill my grandmother just to force her secrets from her?
Tanner’s grip tightened on Firepos’s feathers. I brought them here, he realized. They’ll be after the Mapmaker, too. Why did I delay in coming? Tanner cursed himself. He’d already seen how desperately the general had wanted the other pieces of the Mask of Death. They’ve massacred so many and they’ll surely continue to do the same.
“We have to reach the town first,” he said to his Beast.
Firepos’s wings beat faster, leaving the army behind. With the wind rushing past him, Tanner shielded his eyes to scout the land. Just ahead, between the folds of two hills, he spotted clusters of red-tiled rooftops, veiled by smoke from their chimneys. Colweir. He shuddered to think of the people here meeting the same fate as those at Forton.
They crossed over lush, cultivated fields full of toiling peasants. A man — Tanner guessed he must be the landowner — was directing them from his horse. They were in the path of Gor’s army. Tanner pushed on Firepos’s neck, a signal to go lower. As they swept over the peasants’ heads, he called out. “Back to the town! Run back to the town!”
The peasants stared up in astonishment. One or two dropped their tools; these people had never seen a Beast before. Some might have recognized them from stories and pictures — the Beasts of Avantia were well-known in legends. Tanner knew that few believed that these creatures really existed, and the occasional sightings that had occurred over the years were usually dismissed as fanciful tales, or the result of too much ale!
Tanner made another pass, waving at the peasants. “Flee back to your town and close the gates. An army approaches!”
The man on horseback motioned to his workers to head to Colweir. They obeyed, glancing with frightened eyes at Firepos. Tanner suspected it was not his order as much as the sight of Firepos that made them run, but the effect was what he wanted. The horseman turned his mount toward the river and cantered off. Tanner turned Firepos around and swept over the peasants’ heads. How long did he have before Gor reached Colweir?
They soared over the red rooftops, Firepos’s shadow flickering below. Tanner spotted a man selling pies from a tray, children running along the street tossing a ball to one another, and a man perched on one of the nearest rooftops, mending the tiles. He looked up as Firepos skimmed past and nearly lost his balance.
Tanner urged Firepos into a steep bank. Take us down, he signaled to her.
The Beast dipped her wings and glided downward toward an open cobbled square beside the river, which ran past the edge of the town. A wide wooden bridge spanned the water — Tanner knew that Gor would lead his attack over this bridge.
Market stalls were set up in the square. On the far bank stood a water mill, its large waterwheel turning in the rapid current. Beside it, a man was unloading sacks from a pack mule.
The villagers in the market scattered out of the way and cried out as the magnificent flame bird descended into their midst, her talons scraping and sparking on the cobblestones. Tanner could only imagine what it must be like for these people to see her for the first time: her feathers rippling like molten gold, her hooked beak like polished amber.
“Do not be afraid!” he called. “She won’t harm you.”
The townsfolk who had not fled cautiously peered out from behind their stalls. With tentative steps, they began to emerge, staring and muttering nervously to one another. A few of them inched closer. Firepos settled onto her haunches, trying to make herself look as nonthreatening as possible.
A girl of Tanner’s age, her hair so fair it was almost white, walked up to Firepos, her face lit up with curiosity.
“Gwen, no!” shouted a boy from where he cowered behind an overturned barrel. He was as fair as the girl and had an identical curl to his lip.
“I’ll be fine, Geffen,” the girl replied.
They must be twins, Tanner thought.
Gwen stretched out her hand to stroke the flame bird’s gleaming feathers. Tanner wasn’t sure whether he would have been so brave. The girl smiled up at him. “She’s beautiful.”
Firepos gave her a friendly nudge with her beak.
Taking courage from Gwen’s example, the villagers formed a circle around Tanner and Firepos. They kept a safe distance, but were obviously fascinated by the Beast and her strange rider. Relieved that the villagers had accepted them, Tanner scrambled upright onto Firepos’s back. He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “You must leave Colweir! An army approaches. They destroyed my village and killed everyone.”
The townspeople looked at one another, then back up at Tanner, but none of them made a move.
“What are you talking about?” a plump stallholder scoffed. “What tall tale is this?”
Tanner’s eyes flickered west. How close was Gor? He remembered the horror of Forton — he did not need to imagine the terror these people would feel when the varkules ran into the square, tearing at everyone with their daggerlike teeth. It must not happen here as well!
“You’re trying to scare us out of our town.” A tall man pushed his way to the front and gave Tanner a hostile glare. “Then you can take what you want.”
“No! Just listen to me ….” Tanner began to protest.
An older woman in a white apron stepped out from behind a baker’s stall to address the crowd. “What are you waiting for, you cowards? Run this boy and his unnatural creature out of our town!”
A chorus of agreement followed her words.
“Get out
now!” someone yelled.
“You don’t understand,” shouted Tanner. “If you don’t do something …” He was drowned out by angry shouts. The crowd began to advance. Firepos stood up and unfurled her wings.
The sound of a galloping horse thundering over the bridge caused a few villagers to turn. Tanner saw that it was the horseman from the field. His face was grim as he pulled his horse to a halt in front of the crowd. “Gather your weapons,” he shouted. “An army is on its way.”
A war horn sounds nearby. I hear trampling footsteps, and turn to see soldiers rounding a corner of the road on the other side of the bridge. Their leather armor shines brightly. Their spear tips glint silver. Their faces are unreadable behind their helmets. The varkules lope on ahead, drooling with thirst for blood. Behind their ranks, taller than them all, is Gor. He sits astride Varlot, who lurks inside the form of a horse.
I let out a screech of warning.
Cries of terror rose from the townsfolk as they pointed at the advancing forces amassed on the other side of the bridge. The enemy was chanting a war cry: “Death has come, death has come ….”
The crowd surged around Firepos, clamoring for the safety of their homes. The fair-haired twins were swallowed in a sea of panic.
I’m too late, Tanner thought with horror. This is all my fault.
As he watched the enemy approach the bridge, a sudden thought came to him. There was something he could do! Tanner scanned the riverbank and saw only the one wooden bridge. Even if he couldn’t stop Gor, he could slow him down and give the townspeople a fighting chance.
“Up, Firepos!” he cried.
The flame bird crouched, then leaped into the air. She knew what he was planning and wheeled toward the river. The first of the varkules loped onto the bridge, followed by a company of spearmen.
“Burn the bridge!” Tanner shouted.
The townspeople gasped as the glow of a fireball flickered into life beneath Firepos. Tanner felt its heat and heard it crackle. On the other side of the river, Gor’s stallion reared, its eyes rolling back in its head. Captains in the army barked orders and the men raised their shields to protect themselves from Firepos’s missile.
We’re not coming for you, thought Tanner grimly. Not yet.
With a shrill cry, Firepos launched her fireball. Tanner watched as it arced toward the ground, trailing a blazing stream of fire behind it. The land was suddenly bathed in a wash of orange. Everyone — Gor, his soldiers, and the townspeople — stared in horrified amazement. With an earsplitting crack, it collided with the center of the bridge. Wooden planks shattered and were sent spinning through the air. The bridge, varkules, and soldiers were engulfed in flames.
Those who were not incinerated threw themselves, screaming, into the water. But that didn’t save them; the fireball was so intense it heated up the water, boiling them alive.
When the smoke and steam cleared, Tanner saw the bridge was in ruins, with the remains of Gor’s army still on the other side of the river from Colweir.
In the town square, the crowd cheered.
But Tanner knew this was only the beginning. Gor had another weapon.
Varlot, still in horse form, trotted to the front of the army, in full view of the villagers in the square. It snorted louder than any normal horse could.
The crowd’s cheers died in their throats — they could tell this was no ordinary animal. They watched, fresh fear growing within them, as the horse’s rear hooves doubled, then tripled, in size, hardening to bronze blades, and its bristling coat darkened.
Tanner didn’t wait to see the rest. He had to marshal the defenses before it was too late. He steered Firepos back to the market square, landing her on a flat roof above the crowd that was backing away from the river’s edge.
“Gather your weapons!” he yelled. “Line up in the middle of the square.”
But few were listening to him. The sight of Varlot struck terror in their hearts. Cries of panic rose and the crowd surged toward the houses, away from Gor’s terrible Beast. “Flee! Save yourselves!” screamed a woman, her child clinging to her.
Among the seething mass, Tanner saw the twins again. They were being pushed down a street off the square, but every so often the girl would turn and look toward him. The square emptied. Tanner watched them and shook his head. He turned to face the river.
“It seems we are on our own, Firepos,” he said, fingering the red linen around his wrist. “If we can hold the enemy off for long enough, we might give the villagers enough time to escape into the fields.”
Firepos turned her head toward Tanner and nodded, cawing softly.
A noise alerted Tanner. He looked around in surprise, then smiled at what he saw. From the alleys and streets leading onto the square came the people of Colweir, men and women. Some hefted axes; some buckled on sword belts; others had armed themselves with pitchforks and scythes. In the windows and on the rooftops appeared archers and crossbowmen.
The defenders formed up in ranks behind a man with a serrated sword resting on his shoulder. He nodded at Tanner.
They are up for the test, thought Tanner, but there are too few to hold off Gor’s army.
A roar sounded from across the water. Tanner saw that Varlot’s transformation was complete. The Dark Beast pounded the ground with his hooves and his head turned from side to side. His armored chest heaved. The bronze, sharp as knives, glistened in the light. The enemy soldiers were wading into the water, testing its depth.
Gor shouted something to Varlot that Tanner couldn’t hear. The Beast stamped along the bank toward the water mill. Varlot lifted his muscular arms and punched a hole through the roof, tearing out several wooden beams as if they were twigs. He carried them toward the river. Tanner understood at once: He’s making another bridge!
Varlot laid the timbers down over the water, reaching from one side to the other. It would allow only single-file passage, but it was enough. The soldiers were already edging along it toward Colweir.
“Up, Firepos!” Tanner said. He squeezed Firepos’s flanks. She knew what he was asking of her. Jumping from her perch, she swooped at the advancing soldiers.
Varlot was standing in the river by the mill, water swirling around his hips. He gripped two of the water buckets in his clawed hands and tore them from their mountings. He thrashed his way toward the makeshift bridge, throwing up huge waves, then stopped, watching Firepos intently. The soldiers on the bridge steadied themselves and continued their perilous task of reaching the other bank.
“Attack!” yelled Tanner.
Firepos screeched as she dove at the soldiers on the bridge. They lifted their shields as flames flickered on the Beast’s wing tips. Varlot howled, submerging both buckets under the water. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the water at the flame bird. Firepos tried to jerk aside but she wasn’t quick enough. Water cascaded over her feathers, soaking them and dousing her flames.
“Cross the river!” bellowed the Dragon Warrior. “Quickly, you dogs!”
Tanner spluttered as Firepos twisted away, gathering herself for another pass. He could see the glow of a smaller fireball reflecting off her beak.
But it was too late. Already soldiers were piling into the square and forming up into tightly packed ranks. Captains bellowed orders. Shields locked together and weapons were lowered, creating an armored wall, bristling with spears. Eyes glimmered behind helmets. They waited as their ranks swelled further.
“Advance. Half pace. Decimate them!” Gor bawled as he stepped off the bridge, followed by more of his men. Iron-shod boots echoed in perfect time on the cobbled stones. Armor clanked. “Death has come, death has come ….” they chanted.
“Loose!” the villager with the serrated sword shouted.
Arrows and crossbow bolts whickered out and clattered against the armored mass. It kept Gor’s men behind their shields, but they were advancing relentlessly, a pace at a time, and no hit was scored.
Firepos dodged a sluice of water thrown up by Varlot and
released her fireball at the soldiers. It bounced off the ground and rolled through the middle of the advancing soldiers, scattering several and leaving a trail of fire across the ground.
“Hold steady!” shouted Gor. “It’s me you should fear, not that Beast!”
“Death has come, death has come ….” The soldiers continued their advance.
Tanner abandoned the attack on the bridge, and flew Firepos back over the soldiers and varkules heading for the villagers’ wavering line. General Gor’s troops were closing the gap and spreading out, ready to outflank them, cutting off their escape routes.
Firepos streaked into the square, landing with a screech between the soldiers and the defenders. Tanner leaped off her back, drawing his sword — if this was where he made his final stand, so be it. He glanced over his shoulder at the defenders. They exchanged nods, as if to say, We’re with you. Tanner faced Gor’s advancing soldiers. Time to fight, he thought determinedly.
Time seemed to slow down. Tanner stared at the advancing soldiers. He saw an arrow pass through a soldier’s visor. Blood spurted and the man dropped limply to the ground. The soldiers didn’t even pause as their boots trampled over the corpse.
He saw the varkules loping at the edges of the advancing mass, spines bristling, teeth dripping with foul-smelling drool.
Fear gripped his heart and his sword was slippery in his grasp. Firepos took to the skies. Her departure made Tanner feel alone and exposed. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it off with the red linen around his wrist.
Gor’s men were only ten paces away. Tanner knew that if they charged at once they would be defeated. Varlot emerged from the river, dripping wet. He seemed to be shrinking, and his hardened armor softened once more to fur. His arms were drawn back toward his body; then he fell forward onto the ground with a thump, a horse once again.