A tall elf was standing in the hallway by the door and he turned to look at them. The man was well armored and had weapons attiring his entire body. He had a sly look to his eyes and he chuckled at Tristan’s remark. “I’ve been trying to get her to do just that, for over an hour now,” the elf snickered, nodding to the two elven women standing ten feet further on.
Willow and Kylee were arguing and he realized that the ranger must have heard the news as well. Clint had been here and she missed another chance to exact her revenge. His blood started to rise; just who was this elf wanting to catch a drink with?
“For your own good, I hope you mean the white haired one of the pair,” John chuckled, seeing his brother’s hackles rising.
The elf’s eyes widened a bit in confusion. “Who else would I—?”
He shouldered past and approached his sisters. “It was not the time or place,” he told the furious elf, her eyes finding his; causing him to almost stumble into them as he involuntarily jerked back. “You will get your chance, he’s not going anywhere. He’s promised to deal with me personally for what happened to his father. As long as you are by my side, you will get your revenge. We don’t have to go find him, he’s going to come right to us.” He fingered the scar on his hand and forced a smile.
“It’s the last time I get left behind,” she snarked, her face flushed. Then her eyes fell on the elf standing in the hall behind him and he thought he saw her cheeks redden further.
Willow’s eyes followed her sisters, then she smiled. “Oh, is that him? He’s cute!” She saw the frown on his face and chuckled. “But not as cute as you, my love.”
“Uh huh,” he muttered and John clapped him on the back.
“Come, let’s get that drink. Who knows when we’ll get a chance to have another. I have a feeling that tomorrow is going to be a long day,” his brother told them, grabbing Tristan by the shoulders and pushing him away from the gawking sisters. “And Willow, I’d get over here before your man’s jealousy flares again,” the large man chuckled.
“Who was that?” he heard the baritone of the other elf ask behind him, as his wife came to his side and laid her head on his arm.
“My brothers,” the ranger answered and Tristan rolled his eyes at the answering snicker.
He forced himself to continue forward, resisting the urge to turn and make an issue out of it. With John’s arm around one shoulder and Willow’s around his waist, he was forcibly walked down the hall and away from the couple bringing up the rear.
“Tell me you saw that coming,” Willow suddenly said to the mage that had come to walk on John’s right.
Merlin simply smiled at her and gestured towards the palace doors. “Let’s get something to drink before the dwarves get it all.”
“Dwarves? Have you seen how much those men from Alamar drink? We’ll be lucky if there’s even Grog left at this point,” John muttered with a shake of his head, as they headed out the doors and into the night.
Chapter 15
Line in the Sand
I
“Are you sure this is wise?” Tristan asked the Elven King.
The three of them stood on the ramparts overlooking the massed armies before them and his heart was thudding rapidly in his chest. The time they knew was approaching had finally arrived. Now that it was here, he felt fear edging to break through his resolve and cause him to flee. He fought it down, focusing intently on the enemy army and the Four Horsemen leading it.
Merlin was a silent observer. His eyes were looking in the direction of the army but were seeing none of it, as they were misted over with white fog. He always got that way when studying the future and it was best if he left the mage be; he’d be cranky if disturbed.
Erik nodded in answer to his question; gazing down at his own forces arrayed before the castle walls. “If it were simply orcs and goblins we were facing, then using the fortifications to hold the enemy back would make sense. But after a serious discussion, it was decided that it was best to meet them head on.”
“What’s the point of having walls if you aren’t going to use them?” he pursued, looking at the massive horde arrayed against them and not seeing how they’d survive the day in open combat on the field. It went against everything he knew about battle strategies with concern to siege warfare. His tutors would be pulling their hair out if they saw what they were doing.
The King grunted. “What good is a wall when dragons, harpies, gargoyles, and other winged creatures can easily fly over it? How strong is a wall when magic users can bombard it with their spells and bring it down and gain entry? No, our only real choice is to engage them in the field and try to keep the fight away from the city. The civilians have been ordered to withdraw into the forest, but the evacuation is nowhere near complete. And if Forlorn gets destroyed, then what was the point of fighting in the first place?”
“I guess,” he finally remarked, not buying it. The enemy were just too large in number; they could be easily overwhelmed. He had a sinking feeling he would never see the moon rise again.
Assorted races of goblins and orcs made up the core part of the enemy army and had to number in the tens of thousands. No one knew for sure, because no one had seen how far the encamped army stretched west. Troglodytes and gargoyles had been spotted moving through the ranks of the enemy force and it looked like gnolls and kobolds would be serving in the skirmish lines. The enemy Cavalry were made up of jackyls, mounted on an orange and red bird-type creature that he had never even heard of, much less seen. Harpies flew here and there while the odd chimera took to the sky and flew over the enemy encampment; eager to get the fighting started. He even thought he saw a few ogres and giants back amongst the trees and John had mentioned trolls earlier that morning.
The Phoenix was literally throwing everything she had at them.
The only heartening aspect was that for the first time since the Freedom Wars, every free race that populated the lands were currently flying standards on the field below. The Elves had taken the vanguard position in the middle of the field, made up of not only Forlorn forces but of every elven city that populated the dense forest to the east. Earhen was the largest of those and had many standards dispersed throughout the contingent before him.
During the night, a large force had arrived from the south, made up of different armies, each from the human settlements that John had called upon to serve. They had once sworn fealty to Constantine, and even though they had yet to do so to John, had been compelled to march when called upon. His brother had spent the morning organizing them on the southern flanks, intermixing their forces with Noelani’s to better augment their chances of survival. Lancaster standards flew on the southern part of the field and he felt pulled to join his countrymen; to die at their side if needed.
Griedlok had agreed to act in support capacity, to fill gaps and counter moves by the enemy and were taking up the rear guard in-between the vanguard and southern armies. Cavalry units were constantly moving, strafing the rear of the army to keep the enemy guessing on where their positions would be during the battle.
Storvirk had insisted on taking the northern position, the contingent of battle ready orcs standing by their side. Kore had gone to be with his countrymen that morning and Tristan knew Kore would be personally leading them into battle. The orc’s sense of honor would never allow him to sit back and direct. He needed to be at the forefront; where the fighting was the heaviest.
The Fae were dispersed along the entire field amongst their ranks. As magic users, they would be best spread out rather than focused in one general area. It was easy to direct the bands of centaurs in battle, they acted more like cavalry and had a more traditional role, but what did you do with the rest? How did you direct a leprechaun or a dryad? He didn’t know the names of all the creatures that made up the Fae race, but there was constant movement below as fantastic creatures flittered through the army, in search of where they will be most needed. Hobgoblins, brownies, pixies, nymphs, gnomes, salamanders—it wa
s hard to distinguish and keep track.
He did not envy Erik in his position, as overall commander of the forces, in keeping it all straight in his head.
Elves rode Pegasus mounts and griffins, trying to match their flying counterparts in their constant movement across the skies, and he wondered how different an aerial battle would be when the armies engaged.
But then, it looked like he was going to find out.
The arrival of the red dragon had posed a problem. They would need to keep him occupied so he wouldn’t set fire to the fortress as the battle commenced. Wyrddlin had offered to take Tristan with him when things began, and they would engage Clint the moment he took to the sky. Kylee had wanted to go with them, but Wyrddlin had been insistent that it would be hard enough to maneuver like he needed to with one rider, much less two. He had promised the ranger that he would make sure Clint lived long enough to meet her knife, and he intended to follow through the best he could.
Merlin would work with Revan and Serix to direct the Fae and other magic users during the battle and General Jade was given command of the elven army, with Erik in charge of the entire host as needed. John was leading the human and dwarven armies to the south and Storvirk was handling the north. The Knights of the Realm were splendid in their silver armor, their standards whipping in the wind; squires running here and there to supply water to their knights as needed. He had sent Derek to help them, as he would not be able to accompany Tristan on his ride with Wyrddlin.
Pendoran was currently sitting on his horse to the rear of the knights, having refused an order to remain behind and let Tar Reiz take command of their men. He had started to regain his weight and was more steady on his horse. He felt capable and Erik could not persuade him otherwise.
The sun had risen a few feet over the horizon and the heat was starting to set in. He nervously looked at the army and knew the time was almost upon them. “I should get to Wyrddlin, he’s probably itching to take to the sky.”
Erik turned to him and held out his hand. He took it with a large grin. “I’ll see you on the other side, my friend.”
He almost chuckled. “Not the first time we’ve been here, and I swear it probably won’t be the last.”
His companion laughed in return. “Right you are. Seems to be our lot in life. Hopefully Willow didn’t get upset being told to remain near the palace grounds. I fear that when this is over, we’re both going to be answering to the women in our lives.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think Amysta was very happy when you asked her to lead the army held in reserve to protect the city,” he said, letting loose of Erik’s arm and shifting his swords as he made ready to depart.
A frown formed on the King’s face and he knew that the monarch was thinking of their daughter out there on the battlefield. “No, but she understands. Someone has to lead, and who better than her? Especially if something should happen to me.”
“Well, just make sure it doesn’t. I’ll see you up there,” he finished, gave the field one last look, then made for the stairs leading to the courtyard below. Erik would be riding Kallen during the battle, to better oversee the forces and issue orders. Sprites had been given the job of spreading them amongst the commanders of the armies and it should make it easier to shift faster when needed.
Riska hadn’t liked it, but he wasn’t welcome within the dwarven army; word of his exile had arrived from Grendweir and Noelani was insistent that the warrior not be amongst his ranks. So reluctantly, he had agreed to stay with Amysta and Willow, taking personal responsibility for Willow’s safety during the battle. It was a babysitting job, sure, but with the forces arrayed against them, he might see battle yet.
Kylee was on a griffin, her skills with the bow were unmatched, and being in the air would give her greater maneuverability. He figured she wanted a shot at Clint and when the offer came to take to the skies, she had jumped on it. The shrike had been seen flying at her side and he grieved for any poor soul that tried to engage either one of them in combat.
He hadn’t seen Reyna since the night before, but knew that she was planning on fighting with the Knights of the Realm. Despite her unwillingness to join their ranks, Pendoran had taken a liking to her, allowing her to accompany him onto the battlefield at his side. It spoke volumes, especially given her former allegiance, and he knew that it had meant a lot to the black knight; despite the snarky remarks about being a glorified bodyguard.
“Bout time you showed up,” Wyrddlin remarked as he finally made his way towards the silver dragon. He’d been waiting in the courtyard and was eager to take to the sky before the fighting started.
“You know I had to check in,” he replied, as he moved to Wyrddlin’s side, set his foot in a stirrup, a hand on the saddle, and pulled himself up. The blacksmiths had worked overnight to create a more comfortable one for this purpose and he was grateful for it. The one Merlin had provided was nice, but his ass was sore within hours of being strapped to it. They had offered to fashion armor as well, but Wyrddlin was strongly against it. He claimed it would slow him down and didn’t want to be more cumbersome than he already was with his advanced years.
The last of the leg straps were fastened and with a jerk of his head to make sure Tristan was in correctly, Wyrddlin spread his wings and took flight.
II
Drums began to beat across the field and the wind had begun to pick up. This would be about the time to make a speech to his men, but he doubted many would hear him; their commanders were busy boosting their morale in his place. Erik sat astride his griffin mount, several sprites floating nearby as he hovered over the main formation of their army.
The army defending Forlorn was impressive and beyond anything he had imagined. He was grateful to the other races that had come to fight by their side and had constantly made sure they knew how much he appreciated it. The commanders had all glimpsed Excalibur in one form or another and now he held it aloft, the last remaining shards of light making it flare so all could see.
Clouds were rolling in and it looked like the hovering storm had come to Forlorn at last. The first splatters of rain struck his helm as horns blew across the battlefield.
The Battle for Forlorn had begun.
He watched as the gnolls and kobolds began a ragged march in their direction, while the more disciplined lines of the enemy slowly inched forward. Harpies took to the skies as gargoyles hovered over the opposing force, whipping the orcs forward.
Each strike of a whip was painful to watch, even more so now that he had met them in a friendly manner. Kore was right, this slavery of the Orc race had to come to an end. They were an honorable people and didn’t deserve any of it. The other races before him had made a choice; the orcs hadn’t. Killing them would not give him pleasure, but nothing about war was fair, and he would do what he had too in order to ensure the survival of his race.
The men below were fidgeting as they prepared for battle and his archers were already readying their bows, ready to let fly as soon as the enemy was in range. He had expected enemy artillery but they must have been pushed to get here faster than expected and had left them behind; relying on superior numbers to do the job for them.
His, however, was ready and waiting.
Erik gave orders for the auxiliary to begin bombarding the approaching enemy and a sprite immediately took off in the direction of Agravaine’s position. Within moments the trebuchets had begun firing and he watched as projectiles started raining down upon the enemy positions. Harpies moved their way and sylphs had risen to meet them. Archers upon griffin back were letting loose their arrows as the creatures came into range and soon bodies began falling from the sky. Winged goblins were beginning to hover over the main vanguard and he figured they would stay close to their brethren, picking and choosing their targets.
He had to watch the entire army, but his eyes kept drifting back to the Horsemen and his breath caught as all four took to the air. War was tearing across the sky, heading straight for Forlorn’s interior when Wyrd
dlin roared a challenge to the red dragon and drew his attention. He saw a glint of Tristan’s armor and he wished his old companion well as his eyes fixed on the chimera winging his way.
Staying well above the fray, the chimera and its rider were seemingly following the march of the army, but also appeared to be waiting for a chance to push past the aerial defenses and enter the city behind him. He loved his daughter, but there was no way he could let her anywhere near his people. Riska had been very descriptive over what had happened in Kamdeac, and he was not about to let it happen again.
It was best to consider his daughter dead and mourn her loss, then let hope blind him to the reality of what the Phoenix had done to her.
Famine had started to move towards the northern armies and he hoped Storvirk had a plan on how to deal with that beast. From everything Amysta had told him, one touch could drain a man instantly; the minotaur could not be allowed to get into melee range.
He sent a sprite to order Revan’s druids to shift north as his eyes fell on the final Horseman; Death.
The gargoyle seemed content enough to hang back and watch. But should he engage in battle himself, who knew what kind of devastation he would bring upon his army? Merlin had assured him that he’d take personal responsibility in dealing with the creature, but what could even he do to combat Death Incarnate?
Archers began firing at the enemy lines as they closed on the elven vanguard. Shields began to rise as enemy archers returned fire and he watched as the skirmish line suddenly charged the field and closed on the elves waiting for them. For better or worse, they were engaged; he only hoped he had made the right decision facing them head on and not doomed them all to oblivion.
Phoenix Rising (the New Age Saga Book 3) Page 24