by Dan Bilodeau
“Where are my friends?” he asked Liam. “Have you seen them? And what about Hade?”
“I haven’t seen Pad or Curran, but Deidre is working with our archery master in our upper chamber.”
“Take me to her, and then we have to find Pad and Curran and see about Hade.”
“Wait, Dal!” Liam called out as Dal turned.
He almost ran right into an Andal who was wielding a sword. The man took a broad swipe at his head, and he ducked. Dal slashed the man across his stomach and he dropped to the floor of the cave.
With Liam in the lead, they started running, coming to a section that separated into three pathways. Liam went to the right, where the most noise was coming from, and when they turned a corner, Deidre was standing next to a man with a long black ponytail. Both were firing their bows as fast as they could at oncoming Andals.
One Andal rushed at them, only to take an arrow through the eye. He fell a few yards short of Deidre. A group of soldiers charged them from another pathway. Dal let out a yell and joined the fray. He tackled one soldier, ending up on the ground. Dal plunged his sword down into the man’s back and felt him twitch and lie still. Andal armor was of little use against a blade made of fire.
He heard the clanking of metal. He rolled instinctively and watched a pike stab the spot where he had been a split-second earlier. Dal tried to stand but slipped. The Andal lifted his pike and smiled. But as he raised his weapon for the kill, two arrows landed in the exposed area below his breastplate. Blood spurted as he fell backward.
Dal was able to stand. Only three Andals remained on their feet in this section of the pathway littered with a dozen bodies. Two of the soldiers rushed at Deidre and her companion. The other one pulled out a long knife and threw it at Dal. Dal ducked but dropped his blade, and it vanished. The man pulled out another knife and was on Dal before he could react. He brought the knife down in a wide arc. Time slowed. Dal was able to catch his hand and keep the knife at bay.
As the two combatants strained against each other, they both gritted their teeth. Dal could feel the man’s hot breath as it came in short, panting bursts. He lifted his right hand and pressed it against the Andal’s midsection. A warm glow began to emanate from the bottom of Dal’s peripheral vision and the man had only enough time to register surprise before he started screaming. Dal’s hand pushed forward as fire carved through the Andal’s abdomen. He dropped his knife and clutched Dal’s wrist, which charred his hand to a crisp. He let out a gasp and slumped against Dal, who shoved his body away in time to see the last Andal swinging his sword at the archer fighting alongside Deidre.
The Andal came at him head-on, and he dodged his sword and spun him around. A knife appeared in the archer’s hand, and he hamstrung the Andal. The man screamed as he went down to one knee, but his wailing was cut off as the archer slit his throat.
Dal ran over to them and hugged Deidre. “Are you okay?” he asked.
“I’m fine. This is Simon. He’s the archery master of the Brotherhood.” Dal and Simon shook hands.
“We have to find Pad and Curran, and then see about Hade.”
The three of them raced up the cave. Halfway to the next curve in the wall, Dal saw a Druid slumped against the side. He had a deep wound in his stomach and blood was dribbling down his chin from his mouth. “Too many,” he croaked. “Too many…hundreds and hun….”He lowered his head and was still.
When they reached the top, a line of Druids was sending weaves into an oncoming group of Andals. The colors intertwined to make a sinister rainbow of sorts. Ground and air seemed to explode, and fire was everywhere. Men screamed and died. Arrows rained on the Druids and some fell. Before Dal could race to join them, he felt a hand on his shoulder. It was Liam.
“We have to leave,” he said. “The Enclave is lost. We have to regroup in the woods. Several of our brethren are already there.”
“How?” Dal asked. “We can’t get by them. In his dying breath, a Druid just told me there are hundreds of Andals in the cave. That’s just too many to try to make it through.”
“There is another way. I’ll show you.”
“I’m not leaving without my friends.”
He sighed. “So be it. I’ll take you to them.”
Simon and Deidre stayed to make certain no Andals could follow them to a passage that took them up to a room where they found Pad and Curran, along with an older Druid whom Dal had never seen before.
“We’ve got to get out of here, right now,” Dal said as he rushed in. Both his friends had their eyes closed, deep in concentration, and ignored him. He shook Curran.
Curran spoke, his eyes still shut: “No. We’ve got to stay and fight. We can win this.” Dal gripped Curran’s shoulder tightly.
“No, Cur, we’ll all be dead in a few minutes if we stay here. There are too many Andals in the cave. We’re going to regroup outside.”
“Go ahead, lad,” the Druid said calmly to Curran. “We’ll be right behind you.” Curran didn’t move. “Lad, some of us have to survive. You’ve got great potential. I’d hate to see it wasted. Now, go!” Curran still didn’t move. Dal shook him harder. “We’ve got to get out of here.” It wasn’t until he shook Pad that Curran complied, and everyone ran to join Deidre and Simon.
They soon came upon another skirmish. The Druids were holding their own as Andals couldn’t overcome the weaves of destructive forces that were being sent into them, and those who rushed forward met a quick death. Just when it appeared that the last of this group of Andals would be destroyed, a grating, clanking, scraping noise filled the tunnel.
A metallic monster, or so it seemed, rounded the bend. It raised its hands and brown weaves traveled into the cave’s ceiling directly above the Druids. Dal yelled to warn them, but they were too focused on the oncoming soldiers to take heed. Seams split overhead, and shelves of rock fell and crushed several Druids, killing them instantly.
Liam grabbed Dal’s arm. “There’s nothing we can do. We must leave.” Dal turned and ran, his eyes filled with remorse. He had never felt so ashamed in his life. Leaving men to die was something he never thought he’d have to do.
Liam led them through a maze of pathways that went deep underground, and they came to a point at which the path split in two directions. Liam didn’t hesitate about which route to take and led them to a tunnel with rough stone walls.
They ran on a level floor for so long that Dal’s chest was burning, then he saw a shaft of light, which grew brighter as he came closer to it. He put his hands to his eyes. He hadn’t seen natural light in days, and it took him a while to become accustomed to the natural sunlight.
A long wooden ladder stood against the face of the wall at the very end of the path. Liam climbed it first, and Dal waited for his companions to ascend before he started up.
The opening from which the sunlight entered the cave was not wide enough for even a small person to fit through. Liam raised his hand and sent a weave of earth toward the hole. The ground lifted around it to reveal a door, which swung open. Everyone continued climbing until they were out of the tunnel and had emerged at the base of a hill in a clearing, though there was dense woods all around them.
“This has always been our emergency exit in case the Enclave was ever compromised,” Liam said, shaking his head in sorrow. “I prayed we would never have to use it.”
“How close is the portal the Andals came through to get into the cave?” Dal asked.
“About half a mile or so. But with the woods, it would take at least a half-hour to get here by ground, even on horseback. So as more brothers make it out, they’ll be able to follow us safely. I just pray to Dio a good number of them make it.”
Liam headed toward the shelter of the nearest woods. The group marched single-file behind him. These woods, as with the others along the way, looked different from those near Quork, with these trees appearing to have an aura around them as the sunlight shone upon their verdant leaves.
Deidre had a few scratches, b
ut seemed to be okay. Pad also looked to be fine. Curran seemed physically unhurt, but he didn’t try to conceal the pain he was feeling, as his faced depicted a soul in agony. Leaving the Druids hadn’t been easy for any of them, but if Curran had seen what the suited man had done, he might feel different about fleeing the cave and leaving Druids behind.
The only person who showed no emotion was Simon, whose face could have been carved from stone. They continued on in silence, Dal pondering the day’s bloody events. He prayed that Hadrian had made it out. The sun began to set as Liam led them forward. To where, Dal had no idea. But more important, how were they going to fight that thing he'd seen in the tunnel?
TWENTY-ONE
The day produced mixed results. Wulf’s men had managed to kill many Druids, but he suspected a large number had escaped. He had also lost a substantial number of his troops. He had not anticipated the size or complexity of the Druid caverns, and around every turn Druids lay in wait to ambush his men. It had been bloody work, but at the end of the day, the Andals had prevailed by sheer numbers.
Wulf wiped sweat from his brow. Even with their superior numbers, Wulf had to admit that disaster could have befallen him if he hadn’t had several of those suits handy. The Engineer knows his work, he begrudgingly admitted. Although he wasn’t a fighter like Wulf, the man was clearly a genius. Or else a dark wizard of some sort.
Wulf had personally witnessed the cave-in the Golem unit had caused. It had crushed several Druids in mere seconds. If not for the suits, maybe hundreds more Andal troops would have been butchered. As it was, of his original complement of 2,000 soldiers, he had lost 600. But he also had six suits, and each was easily worth one hundred men. So, all in all, his army was still at full strength.
A scream reverberated down the hallway from where Wulf was standing. His men were now in the process of killing the stragglers and the wounded. So far, he had extracted little information from any of the survivors, particularly on how anyone could have escaped. His men hadn’t found any way out of the labyrinth except through the hole that he and his army had entered through, but it was obvious people were missing, and there was no report of the Druid from Quork and his small band of children. And where was this “Fire Angel” when he was needed? Probably too scared to fight. Wulf laughed heartily.
Wulf’s footsteps hit hard on the earthen floor. He would crush these Druids like ants. An old Druid was lying in a pool of his own blood. His face was cut up and a spear was protruding from his stomach. He was being tortured and was missing a few of his fingers.
Wulf approached the man and motioned the guards to stand back. “Where did they go?” Wulf demanded. “Where are the rest of your friends?”
Blood was seeping out of the Druid's mouth. He bit his lip and stared at Wulf in defiance. This fool didn’t have long. Wulf repeated the question as he put his hand on the spear’s shaft and began turning it.
“You think you are so mighty, Andal?” The Druid forced a laugh. “We’ve been living near one of your greatest cities for centuries, right under your noses. You think you see everything, but you are blind.” He continued laughing, but this turned into a groan as Wulf twisted the spear faster and plunged it deeper into his stomach.
Wulf repeated his question, but the Druid now snickered at him. They’d just have to find another prisoner. He pulled the spear out in one fluid motion and the man gasped. Wulf spun around and used his momentum to slam the spear into the Druid’s neck. His eyes widened, but he died grinning at Wulf.
Wulf took a cloth from his pocket and wiped the blood off his boots. He would shine them himself when he got back to camp. Men like Lothar had other soldiers do this for them, but Wulf refused this sort of self-indulgence. Discipline began with the leaders. When all of the magistrates adhered to a strict regimen such as he followed, only then would the Andal army reach its full potential. Until then, abominations like Lothar would have to suffer the consequences.
Wulf had already devised a plan for Lothar to meet with an unfortunate accident. No questions would be asked. He needed a new breed of leader to help him run Ibernia. Men who didn’t flinch from their duty or from battle. He needed warlords, not bureaucrats. Not for the first time, Wulf lamented the loss of Mulbar. He had been an excellent tool, and despite his defects, ideally suited for senior command.
Wulf snapped out of his reverie. There was no use living in the past. It took his attention away from the present and ultimately the future. And that could be a fatal mistake, one that he didn’t plan to make.
“Lord Wulf!” A soldier came running toward him, panting.
“Slow down, man, catch your breath,” Wulf said. He waited for the soldier to regain his composure.
“My lord, we’ve found what we think is an exit from the cave. It's a door, like the one you found at the base of the hill.” Wulf smiled. More good news.
He followed the scout to the portal, the whole while picturing the letter he would write to the Emperor detailing his glorious victory over the Druids. He was so close to victory he could taste it. The enemy was on the run. And soon he would forever end any chance of a rebellion by the Ibernians. They would be broken, once and for all.
Despite his optimism, he hesitated to throw caution to the wind. In Mulbar’s final correspondence to Wulf, he had detailed what he’d heard about a young Ibernian farmer from Quork. A boy from a rural family had been killed by a local magistrate on Conscription Day, and the boy’s brother unleashed magic in his wrath. The older lad was a powerful Druid, if Mulbar’s letter was to be believed. Wulf couldn’t help but intuitively feel the connection between all these events. Ironic how the smallest ripple could have such wide impact. A boy dies in some remote village, and weeks later he stands triumphant at the Druid’s base of operations. It had the ring of destiny to it that Wulf savored.
Wulf snapped out of his brief reverie, struck by the similarity of this entrance to the one he’d found before. “Get one of my Golem units here, right away. I want to see where this leads.” Shortly, a Golem came lumbering toward Wulf. “What are your orders?” a voice asked from within the suit. Wulf said nothing; he pointed to a spot on the ground where the grass was shorter than that around it. The man operating the Golem unit raised his hands and a rumble came from the ground. Earth and stone moved as a small hole appeared and then expanded. What a marvelous machine!
When the dirt and rock settled, Wulf approached the hole and saw a fixed ladder. He grabbed one of the wooden rungs, noting there was fresh mud on it. This was indeed where the rebels had escaped, however many might still be alive.
Wulf made his way down the rungs, careful not to slip. He reached the floor of the cave and tripped over a Druid who had died of his wounds before he could make his escape. Satisfied he’d seen all he needed to, he rushed to the top of the ladder as fast as he could get there.
Out of breath, he said, “Inform Lothar and my generals to gather the men as quickly as possible in this field.” He pointed. “Tell them the rebels are heading north.” The scout saluted, fist to chest, and ran to his horse. The Andal in the Golem unit stood silent and vigilant next to Wulf.
“We have them now,” Wulf said to him, repeating, “We have them now.”
Curran pinned Dal to the ground. “Get off me,” Dal yelled. “I have to go back. He’s alive, I know he is.” Above anything, the old man was resourceful, so he had to be alive. Dal refused to believe anything else.
“Maybe he is,” Curran said, “but you can’t go back. You saw it, you were there, the Andals have control of the Enclave now. Going back would be suicide.”
“Not for a Seraph.”
“You know you don’t believe that. I’ve seen you get wounded, just like the rest of us.”
“Get off me, Cur, or I’m going to show you the power of a Seraph.”
“Listen to me, will you? What do you think Hadrian would want you to do?”
“He’d want me to go to him.” Dal lied, but he hoped that would appease Curran.
Dal groaned aloud and pulled his other arm free, hitting Curran in the face and rolling over. Now on top of Curran, he said. “Don’t you say that. Don’t ever mention my brother’s name again.” He began choking Curran.
Through sputtering breaths, Curran said, “He’s dead, Dal. They both are. You have to accept it. Soren’s death wasn’t your fault, and if Hadrian’s dead, that’s not because of anything you did or didn’t do, either. You can’t save everyone. You’re not a god.” Dal felt something in him loosen. You can’t save everyone.
“I’m a fool.” He let go of Curran and slowly got off him. Curran coughed as both boys got to their feet.
“It’s okay, Dal. We all cared about Hade too.”
“I’m lost, Cur. What do we do now?” Dal began to weep on Curran’s shoulder.
Curran hugged him. “We fight. And we live. That’s what we can do.” Dal stepped back as Deidre, Pad and Simon came over.
Deidre glanced from Dal to Curran and shook her head. “The Druid leaders are meeting,” she announced. She looked at Dal. “Your presence is requested.” She bit her lip. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah, I’m all right. I just pray to Dio that Hade is still alive. I keep thinking--”
“Stop,” she said. “Stop dwelling on it. He’s either alive or he isn’t. We did all we could do for him. If anyone could survive an Andal attack like that, it would be him.” Pad grunted in agreement.
Simon said, “Hadrian is one of the finest Druids I’ve ever known. I’ve seen him survive tough times before. Still, we’ve never had something like this happen….” He stared off in the distance as his comment trailed off.
One hundred or so Druids were all that was left of the Brotherhood. They had gone to a small cave, which they kept provisioned for just this sort of major emergency. Everyone ate, and at nightfall Dal went outside to try to clear his head.