“That’s—,” Revan began.
“I know,” she cut in. “That’s why I can’t tell Tristan. If he knew, he would force us to leave. He will forget any oaths he’s made and will do whatever it takes to make sure that I’m not here when this battle begins.”
The druid shook his head. “And you don’t want that?”
“Of course I do!” she snapped. “It’s not like I have much of a choice!”
Revan leaned forward. “You always have a choice, we all do. You can’t be the only one that can make this sacrifice, there has to be another way. Maybe Nimue gave you this book to help you find a path that doesn’t end with your death! That’s why it’s so important for us to study it, to work hard at mastering its mysteries, because somewhere within these ancient pages may be a spell that will prove to be your salvation!”
She shook her head. “Don’t you think if there were, this Spirit Mother would’ve mentioned it? Don’t you think I’ve told myself the same thing? That I’ve tried to give myself some slight bit of hope? It’s just not going to happen!”
He leaned over and grasped her hand. “Don’t give up. I will work with you on this, for as long as it takes. We will find a way out of this together.”
Choking back another sob, she nodded her head, yet still she couldn’t help but feel doom descend upon her. It was all just too much, and the one person she wanted to share this with, she couldn’t. There was no way he’d understand and the stakes were too high to do anything but stay here and see it through.
“Come on, let’s work on some meditation techniques, work at quieting your mind and restoring the peace that this sprite has shattered. Only when we are able to do that will you be able to summon your magic once more and begin the process of healing,” the druid explained, eyes making sure that hers found his and felt what he was saying in her core.
“Okay,” she sobbed after a few moments. “Let’s do it.”
Chapter 8
Visions
I
Tristan stood on an open field and a large orc stood across from him. He immediately reached for his sword, but there was nothing there. Patting his side and his back, he realized he was unarmed and his adversary knew it. The orc twisted his axe thoughtfully in his hand and grinned even wider.
“Puny human die now,” the creature growled and advanced, raising his axe in preparation to strike.
His heart was hammering in his chest and he forced himself to calm down. He reached down, as if giving into his fate, clenched a fist full of dirt, and then flung it into the surprised orc’s face. Without pause, he lowered his shoulder and barreled into his attacker before he could recover. With several strikes of his gauntleted fist, he struck the creature at the weak points in his armor. The orc struggled in his grasp as Tristan drove him intentionally to the ground. Reaching up, he dug his armored thumbs into the orc’s eyes, the creature howling in horrible agony.
The shaft of the axe struck him on the side of the head and he was momentarily dazed. Knocking the axe aside with his elbow, he reached down with his hands and latched onto the orc’s mouth. With as much strength as he could muster, he began to pull the orc’s jaw apart. The shaft struck him several more times in the shoulder, but he ignored it. With a savage howl, he put everything he had on driving his hands apart and heard a satisfying breaking of bone as he separated the orc’s jaw from his head.
He released it, made a fist, and drove his hand into the blinded orc’s skull and ended the battle in an instant.
Rising to his feet once more, he stood over the corpse of his attacker and watched stoically as the legs began to twitch in the last throes of death.
He reached down and took the large battle axe in hand. It wasn’t what he was used too, but it was better than relying on just his fist should another attacker appear.
A roar erupted in the distance and he turned to see that an orc party had noticed their battle and was rushing his way. Testing the balance of the axe, he found it lacking, but being the only weapon he had, he had no cause to be picky.
There were eight orcs spreading out as they approached, each foaming at the mouth for the chance to get at him. He didn’t wait for them to close on him as he hefted the axe over his head and flung it straight at their leader. The axe buried itself in the orc’s head and he twisted around, slamming the next closest with his fist. Ducking a swing of another axe, he tumbled forward and wrenched his weapon free of the corpse he’d just made.
He blocked another blow with the shaft of the axe and felt the weight of impact thrum its way up his hand. He thrust his axe up, used the butt to knock the attacker across the face, then swung the weapon around and cleaved off the head of the nearest orc. A pike flew past and he reflexively grasped it with his offhand, then brought the axe down on its shaft, cleaving it in two. Reaching down, he gripped the broken end and used it to fend off the next blow aimed at his head. Shoving it upward, he drove the orc off balance, then whipped around and buried his axe in the creature’s chest.
With a roar, he dashed forward and drove the pike head straight through the head of another, while yanking his axe free and cleaving it through the neck of an oncoming attacker. He rolled, and in doing so, freed both his weapons and brought them to bear on the final three.
The orcs looked at him wearily, then at their comrades lying dead at their feet. The fight had lasted a mere minute and they lost more than half their party. Gauging him for a moment, they each made a decision and he was surprised when they turned and ran.
He had a momentary thought of chasing them down and burying his axe in their backs, but he decided it was best to let them go. There was no honor in it.
The ground thundered at his feet and he turned to see four knights racing his way, a horse in toll. “Hurry, get on!” the knight pulling the free horse yelled at him as they drew near. “The enemy is close behind us!”
He took the reins of the offered horse and swung himself up, throwing the broken pike to the ground. Attached to his saddle bags were a sword and a shield. He tossed the bloodied axe in the direction of the fallen orcs and began attaching the shield to his arm. Satisfied, he kicked the flanks of his stead and pulled Purity free, the sword singing as it soared into view.
The four knights launched themselves forward, Tristan taking a moment to look to his rear. Fifty or so of the enemy were mounted and riding hard in pursuit. “Where are the others?” he asked the knight by his side, encouraging his horse to go even faster.
“We are all that’s left,” the knight on the left answered, fear festering in his eyes.
He glanced over his shoulder once more and knew that they would only be able to run for so long and their enemy seemed determined to run them down. Taking a hard look at the terrain ahead he saw that they were fast approaching a cliff side. There was a narrow passage and the other knights had already seen it and were steering that way. The thunder of pursuit was growing louder and as he approached the passage, he pulled back on his reins, dismounted, and ushered the horse through the trail ahead without him.
One of the knights pulled up on his own and twisted to look at him. “What are you doing? We need to keep moving!”
“Take the other two and go! These fiends will chase us long after our horses are foaming at the mouth and falling over dead. The only chance you have is if someone stays back and gives you time to distance yourselves,” he yelled, preparing himself for battle.
“That’s insane! You can’t take on fifty of them!” the knight argued, the other two pulling up to see what was going on.
He gestured at the passage around them. “This is only wide enough for two men to walk side by side, it’ll limit how many can come at me at a time. I’ll keep them busy as long as I can, now get going!”
“And let you have all the fun?” the knight asked with a raised eyebrow.
“Have you both gone mad?” the furthest elf asked and he simply laughed.
“Looks like. Don’t waste time talking to us mad men. You nee
d to put as much distance between us as quickly as you can. Warn the King that the army has fallen. He needs to know our flank has been exposed!” he thundered to the nearest horsed knight, who nodded. The two knights nudged their horses forward and disappeared around a bend in the passage.
His last remaining companion had dismounted, sent his horse after the others and unsheathed his weapon.
“You should have gone with them,” he muttered as the enemy closed on their position.
“Now how could I let you be all heroic on your own?” the elf countered. “If a song is going to be sung, let it be about us both and not just you. Or are you just in this for the glory?”
He grunted, tightening his grip on his shield. “The only glory I know is in the embrace of my wife and smile of my daughter. There is no glory in death, only what must be done to save as many lives as possible with what little time you have.”
“It’s been an honor,” the knight told him grimly and he nodded with respect.
“The honor, is mine,” he replied, then stepped forward and sliced his way through the first of the attackers.
II
Tristan burst to his feet, his hand flying to his chest. He was sure that it should be covered in blood. His neck had just been sliced open by an enemy weapon and he’d felt his lifeblood pumping free of his body. “Oh, what the hell?”
Gareth chuckled. “Always like that the first time. I’m surprised you haven’t vomited yet.”
Bile was indeed rising up his throat; he gulped to try and keep it down. It burned its way down to his stomach and he forced a burp to relieve some of the pressure. “That was just a dream?”
“Not quite,” Owain responded, eyes coming into focus. “More of a scenario of my own creation playing out within your mind, spectated by your two fellow knights for evaluation.”
“What? I thought you were just going to go through my memories and try to find out how much I knew. I didn’t know you were going to do something like that!” he snapped, the adrenaline rush was still pumping through his veins and he had to begin taking slow measured breaths in order to get a hold of his rage.
Pendoran took another sip of his wine, then reached out to a platter for a piece of bread. “The best way to gauge your abilities is to see you in action. Obviously, how we act in combat differs than how we would against an opponent that doesn’t mean you any real harm. Your actions tell us more about you, than your skill with a sword can.”
“So, you kill me to see how I will handle it?” he pursued, his anger still hadn’t dissipated yet.
“Essentially. The test had multiple stages and as you completed each, you went on to a more difficult one. You handled one, so you got eight, you handled eight, so you got fifty, and so forth,” Gareth explained in earnest. “Had you defeated the fifty, you would’ve faced three hundred.”
“Are you insane? How can one man take on three hundred blood thirsty orcs?” he asked in wonder.
Pendoran leaned forward and poked him in the head. “By using this. I don’t usually tell a candidate how they did right away, I like to confer with my colleagues first, but as I can see from their faces that they are in agreement with what I’m saying, I’ll just cut to the chase now.”
“Your handling of the single orc was well done. You didn’t panic or try to run. You improvised and went immediately on the offensive, catching the creature unawares. You didn’t try to wrestle away his weapon, instead you used the ones already available to you, your own two hands,” the elf began, his voice sincere with admiration. “Similarly, you didn’t wait for the orc party to close in on you, you immediately threw yourself into battle, even giving up your sole weapon in order to achieve a first strike advantage. You showed improvisation with the pike and fought fast and violently enough that it forced the last three to flee out of panic. Had you shown any reservations or a calmer demeanor, they wouldn’t have fled but pursued you relentlessly until they were dead or you were.”
“And while I’m impressed that you saw the canyon for what it was, I’m disappointed with the outcome. It was valiant of you to sacrifice yourself to save the others, and it even inspired one of the other knights to join you in death, but was that your only option?” Pendoran asked him, eyeing him closely.
“There wasn’t much time to think, I acted on instinct,” he answered after a quick hesitation. Was what he did truly wrong? He had stayed behind in order to give the others a chance at reaching safety, how could that be seen as a failure?
The knight took another sip of wine and motioned for Gareth to speak in his stead.
“You didn’t know the layout of the land, how far back did that crevice go? Maybe it ended after twenty feet and the knights you sent on were trapped, down two men, and ended up being slaughtered like pigs in a cage. Maybe there was a way of blocking the path further in that would have allowed all four of you to escape alive, without having to sacrifice yourself in order to do it. Hell, the entire Elven army could have been waiting just on the other side of the cliff and all you had to do was keep riding and not only save yourself and those with you, but help crush your pursuers with one quick decisive blow,” Gareth told him, making Tristan suddenly feel like an idiot.
“The point is, you didn’t take the time to find out. You immediately jumped off your horse and prepared to attack. No doubt sure that you could handle yourself like you did with the others and walk away unscathed. You didn’t have to fight them at the mouth of the crevice, you had time to go further in, let them funnel behind you, and see if there was another way to survive,” the elf finished, looking to Pendoran who nodded his agreement with the assessment.
Pendoran finished chewing another piece of bread and thoughtfully swished around his cup of wine. “I am a man of honor, and can admit when I’m wrong. You are indeed an accomplished fighter. You improvise when needed, you think on your feet, and you are versatile in your handling of weapons. It’s rare that I can be so mistaken, yet, in this case I am happy that I am. You’ll make a fine addition to our brotherhood.”
He beamed with pride and Gareth reached out and clapped him on the shoulder.
“We can move on to simpler stuff now. Proficiency with weapon types, tactics; try to narrow down whether you should carry a shield or dual-wield, or simply use your sword as a two-handed weapon. Hopefully, through all of that you will start to learn how to better avail yourself of your environment and the resources afforded to you in battle. Owain, if you would, I’ll need you to start instructing him on how better to defend himself against magic users, that’s more your field than mine,” Pendoran finished with a smile.
Gareth looked at the half-empty wine. “Looks like we’ll be needing more of that. Do you need a break, or do you want to continue on?”
“Let’s keep going,” he responded, feeling renewed hope fill him with the change in the commanding knight’s mood. He closed his eyes just as Owain began chanting, and lost himself in the virtual world created by the druid once more.
II
They emerged from the cave with the Dark Elves hard on their heels. Night had fallen and the time for pretenses was over. Summoning his magic, he turned as the others brushed past, and set the cave entrance on fire. Letting it flow through him unhindered, he burned rock and stone until it was white hot and heard the welcoming cries of their pursuers scream in pain as they blundered into the flames.
Riska stood by his side, ready to fight if any made it through the infernal blazing before them. He could feel that Reyna and Kore were busy getting Kylee onto her horse so they could quickly depart; he needed to buy them time. He sent even more fire forward, wanting to make sure it was hot enough to keep them back so he could get on his own horse and get out of there.
“Riska, you should get on Ajax,” he told the dwarf, who grimly nodded and disappeared to his rear.
Screams of rage were echoing towards him, barely audible over the crackling of flames.
“Ho there, what’s this?” a voice thundered behind him. He turne
d his head, not letting up on his magic, and saw that a large scouting party had ridden up on them as his companions were getting on their mounts.
“Are you friend or foe?” he inquired, refusing to step away until he knew for sure. He couldn’t afford to have his attention divided at the moment and he prayed that they didn’t mean any harm.
A large man on horseback rode forward and eyed the mage carefully. “Depends on who you serve, my friend, these are dark times and one cannot be too careful.”
“We are working against the Phoenix on the way to Forlorn to support the Elves against an oncoming attack,” Reyna spoke up, her sword drawn, approaching the party as if ready to take them all on.
“Then what are you doing here? Forlorn is that way!” the man questioned, pointing towards the eastern horizon.
Merlin felt his strength beginning to wane. “Can we discuss this later? A large horde of Dark Elves is about to try and cut us down!”
“My, you bunch really are in it deep, aren’t you? Porda, have the men guard the rear, kill anything that comes out of that cave! Mage, break away and get to your horse. Best to leave before your flames die out,” the man commanded him and though it irritated Merlin to no end, he had to go along with it. The constant flow of magic was starting to tap into his energy reserves and he would fall to the ground in exhaustion if he didn’t let up soon.
He released the magic and ran for it. He stowed his staff and leapt upon his horse. “Let’s go!”
Pulling on his reins, he reared about and began racing east. The others rode by his side as the newcomers protected their rear. He heard the twang of arrows and screams of rage from the direction of the cave, but he ignored it as he kicked his horse faster, head down, trying to get them away as quickly as they could.
Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3) Page 13