by Tony Donadio
Kay crawled slowly to Gerrold’s side. She looked out carefully.
“To our north, near the edge of the terrace,” she agreed. “They’re not a normal patrol, though. They’re moving too slowly. And it looks like they’re splitting up...”
Her head snapped back from the opening.
“They’re in a search formation. They’re looking for something.”
Randia and Stefan exchanged glances. “Us?” Stefan asked.
“It doesn’t matter,” Kay said. “Whether they’re looking for us or not, they’re going to find us.”
“What do we do?” Randia asked. She fought to keep the panic from her voice.
“You need to run, Your Highness,” Kay replied. “You and the prince. When I give the signal. Down the path to the east. We’ll scatter and create a diversion. If we’re lucky, they’ll miss you in the confusion.”
Randia’s eyes widened. “You can’t,” she gasped. “You’ll be killed!”
Kay smiled grimly as she unlimbered her bow. Crouching, she scuttled across the glade to Randia’s side.
“That goes with the job, Your Highnesss,” she said gently. “We fight to defend Carlissa — if necessary, to the death. For King, and for country.”
Slowly, she raised her fist to her shoulder in salute. “And for our princess,” she added.
Tears spurted from Randia’s eyes. She reached out and grabbed Kay’s hand.
“No,” she sobbed. “I don’t want anyone else to die for me!”
Kay smiled at her. When she spoke, her voice was thick with emotion.
“I never had a chance to tell you how much I admired you, Your Highness,” she said softly. “For so many things. For your independence, in choosing your own path in life. For becoming a bard, against all the expectations of the nobility. It helped give me the courage to make my own choices as well. That’s why I’m wearing this, today.” She gestured at her uniform with her free hand.
“Then there was the way you would walk through the streets of the city, playing and singing for the people. Talking with them, listening to them. Always kind, always encouraging, always caring what they thought and felt. We called you ‘The Princess Bard.’”
Randia sobbed again. She threw her arms around Kay and held her tightly.
“I came to every one of your performances,” she continued. “And not just for your skill with music, or your amazing voice. It was for the joy that I heard in your songs, for the enthusiasm they cried. For life, for everything good that we could make of ourselves. For the inspiration they gave me, and so many others, that all those things were truly possible.”
She slowly pulled back from Randia’s embrace. She was crying too, now. Her brown eyes stared deeply into the princess’ blue ones, holding them.
“Your people love you. And that is why you must survive the horrible thing that is happening today. It is why you must find the courage to let us die for you. I know that will be hard, and that it will hurt you terribly. But you can do it. Honor us by keeping our spirit alive. By fighting for life, and never giving up.”
A hard glint of determination formed amid the tears in Randia’s eyes.
“I will,” she said firmly. “In your honor, and in your name. And I will never forget you!”
Stefan nodded. There were tears on his face as well.
“When you give the signal,” he said. “We’ll break for the tunnel. We’ll run, and we won’t look back.”
Kay looked at the soldiers around her. Their faces were grim. The archers had already unstrung their bows, and the rest had drawn their swords. They knew what was coming, and they faced it with determination.
“Gerrold, Jean,” she said. “Take Richard, and make your way back along the path we took here. Quietly. When you hear my whistle, start making a lot of noise. Make it loud. Then run back toward the guard tower. Try to get any demons that see you to follow.”
She turned to Richard. “If the monsters break off or seem reluctant to pursue, use your bow. Pepper them with arrows until they adjust their thinking on the matter.”
“And the rest of us?” Kenn asked hesitantly.
Gerrold, Jean, and Richard ran quietly out of the glade. Kay turned to the others.
“Same drill, from here. Ten count after my whistle for the others to start their diversion. Then the prince and princess run. Another ten count and we start ours. By the time the demons reach us they should be into the tunnel and on the road to the Star. We make a lot of noise, and draw the monsters’ attention away from them. Pelt any demon that so much as looks to the east with arrows and rocks.”
The others nodded. Kay waited, looking as though she were counting down time in her mind. After a minute, she raised her hand to her lips.
Her whistle never sounded. It was cut off by a blood-curdling shriek from the way the three guards had gone only moments before.
Kenn’s head snapped around. “That’s Gerrold!” he hissed.
“Too late!” Kay barked. “They’re already closing in!”
She turned to the princess. “Go!”
Stefan and Randia leaped to their feet and sprinted toward the eastern exit.
~
Kay nocked an arrow and, rising to a crouch, aimed it at the path to the west. She could hear harsh cries now, and the sound of heavy feet on the alabaster stone of the walkway.
Another shriek pierced the air. This one was from Richard, she knew, from the deep timbre of his voice. It ended abruptly with a horrible burbling sound, in mid cry.
A dog-faced demon came running into view, crouching low to the ground. It raised its head, snuffling loudly. When it saw the fleeing princess, it let out a loud howl.
Kay put her arrow through its eye. It fell backward into a flowerbed with a strangled whine. She drew again, her hands a blur of confident, expert motion.
She fired again as a second demon ran into view. The arrow struck a bony ridge on its forehead, leaving an ugly gash in its wake. Another shot took it in the neck. Black ichor spurted through its fingers as it followed its fellow into the flowerbed, its clawed hands clutching frantically at the wound.
Another figure emerged from the archway to the east. It was bull-headed and heavily muscled, its body covered in a chain hauberk of dark metal. It straightened to its full height — nearly ten feet, and so tall that it had to stoop to get through the tunnel — and leveled a massive sword in front of it.
Randia’s eyes widened as she saw the demon loom before her, blocking their escape. She grabbed Stefan’s arm and tried frantically to stop. They skidded on the alabaster walkway, feet sliding out from beneath them. They landed on the ground, hard, and found themselves sitting directly under the point of the enormous sword.
Kay spun toward the monster and loosed again. The demon’s gaze swept toward her as she did, and it raised its hand in a warding gesture. With a loud spang the arrow ricocheted in mid-air, flying off to one side. She fired a second time, and then a third. The demon deflected each arrow with a contemptuous flick of its clawed hand.
Kay’s shots, however, had been meant more to distract the monster than to hurt it. Randia and Stefan back-crawled wildly away from the massive blade as it hung only a few feet above their heads. When they were clear they scrambled to their feet and ran back under the gazebo. The guards quickly formed a circle around them.
The bull-demon’s face twisted into an expression that might have been either a grin or a snarl. It stepped forward as more demons poured into the glade from the western entrance.
“Trapped at last,” Ashrach said. Its demonic voice sounded amused, and very satisfied. “You led my captain on quite a chase, little princess. But there is no escape now.”
It turned to Kay. She stood, arrow nocked and drawn, aimed at the monster’s face.
“You know you’re outmatched,” it said. “Surrender and disarm. If you resist, you will all die.”
Kay’s eyes arched in surprise.
“A demon, offering quarter?” she said
. Her voice was thick with mockery and contempt. “Isn’t that a bit out of character?”
“Quite,” Ashrach agreed. “Let’s say that your soldiers have stumbled onto a bit of good fortune. My captain’s orders are to take the royal alive, if possible. He wants to be the one to deliver her, intact, to the Master of the Horde.”
Kay stared acidly at the creature as more demons filed into the little glade. She could see that it was right. Their company wouldn’t last a minute against the force that was now surrounding them.
“But you humans are so fragile,” Ashrach continued. “If you put up a fight, she might end up being ‘damaged’ along with the rest of you. So to avoid that, it suits me to offer you an opportunity to surrender.”
Its monstrous gaze hardened. “One opportunity. A very brief one.”
Kay looked over her shoulder. The princess had drawn her knife. Her eyes were narrowed, and her face grim. Kay smiled at her, and then turned to the creature again.
“You’ll have to earn this victory, demon,” she said loudly. “Guards of Company Twenty-Three! Attack!”
Chapter 16 - Hero's Refrain
Prince’s Descent
Gerard breathed a sigh of relief. Traversing the length of the firth had taken longer than he’d planned, but he was finally approaching the cliff-wall above the southern terraces of Lannamon. His dangerous and unpredictable flight across the city was almost over.
The coming of the dragons had turned his crossing into a truly harrowing experience. Several of the great monsters had flown around and beneath him on their way to attack the palace. Their piercing eyes had sorely tested his cloaking spell, and he feared several times that it would falter. The power of the ring, though, had never wavered.
Unfortunately, the wind had. The tide of battle had turned on the slopes of the High City with the dragons’ arrival, and with it, the Queen’s command of the storm. The moving airs that had at first so quickly propelled him across the water had faded to an ordinary breeze. As a result, the last half of his journey had progressed with agonizing slowness. During it, he’d witnessed every detail of the progressive collapse of the Carlissans’ defenses.
He looked around. The clouds had dispersed, and the sun was descending toward the summit of Mount Cascade. The tower of the Silver Star Adventurer’s Academy still gleamed in its light. He noted grimly that it was still a good distance away to his left, and that it was under siege. Its closest entrance was also a full level below where he flew now, over the highest of the city’s southern terraces.
He examined the path he would need to take to reach his goal. He saw a walkway that emerged from a copse of trees and enclosed gardens on his right. It ran along the topmost of the city’s terraces and ended in a winding stair that descended toward the lower levels.
Gerard frowned. A rocky spur jutted from the bluffs there toward the firth. The stair was built into its eastern side, descending the face of a sheer precipice that marked the southern end of the High City. There were no gardens or orchards near that rocky eastern end of the terrace. The path was cut into the stone of the spur, and it was alarmingly exposed.
He shrugged. The exposure presented little difficulty, so long as his cloaking spell held.
His eyes were drawn by a sudden flash of movement below. A large demon was climbing down the shoulder of a stony crag that crossed the path, where it emerged from one of the enclosed gardens. The path ran through a cleft in the spur, surrounded by a set of arches that formed a short tunnel.
Gerard drew and held a deep breath. Was it making for the road to the stair as well? If not, then he could easily land further along the path to avoid it. But if it was planning to follow the same route — or worse yet, to block it — that might present a problem.
He watched cautiously as the monster scrambled down the rocky overhang and landed on the path. Without pause, it turned immediately and entered the tunnel. Whatever the monster was after, it seemed to be headed in the opposite direction from his goal.
With a sigh of relief, Gerard turned to look to his left. He prepared to begin his final descent toward the rocky path to the east.
A piercing scream stopped him. Alarmed, he turned back to look to his right, toward where the monster had gone only moments before.
He saw a pack of demons rushing along the path from the west. One of them was holding aloft a soldier in the livery of the city guard. He was dangling by one arm; the other had been torn off.
The sound of curses and ringing steel met his ears. A chorus of demonic battle roars immediately followed, harsh and triumphant. He couldn’t see below the canopy where most of the commotion was occurring — it seemed to be beneath some sort of gazebo, thickly overgrown with vines, trees, and flowering plants — but there was no doubt in his mind what was happening. A group of guards had been ambushed in the gardens, and was about to be slaughtered.
Almost without thinking he began to turn, to land on the road near the arched path, to come to their aid. Then he stopped.
He couldn’t see all of the demons the guards were facing, but the ones he could see already constituted a formidable force. Perhaps, with the power of the ring, he could defeat such a pack. Even trying, though, would likely compromise his cloaking spell. His presence would be revealed, and any hope of reaching the Archmage in stealth would be lost.
His eyes closed in pain. Every emotion in him cried out to help the guards, and that to turn his back on them would be an unforgivable act of cowardice. Would he ever be able to live with such a choice? To look at himself in a mirror, after abandoning them to their fate?
The ring seemed to sing to him with a promise of power, reassuring him that it would indeed grant him the ability to defeat the monsters. They were innocent people who would be butchered — brutally — if he did nothing. He could save them. He should save them.
Slowly, he shook his head. He had to think of the survival, not just of a group of soldiers, but of an entire kingdom — and perhaps, indeed, the entire world. His mission was that important. If he jeopardized it to save them, then his choice might end up consigning millions to slavery and death.
He was heir to the throne of Carlissa, now. He had to think, not just like a man or even a wizard, but like a king. The feeling tasted bitter in his mind and in his heart, but he knew what he had to do. He would remember and honor the unnamed guards who gave their lives to keep his mission safe. Indeed he knew they would have, without hesitation, had they known what was at stake. But he had to move on.
“Stefan!” a vibrant, female voice cried. “Look out!”
A bolt of horror shot through Gerard’s heart. He knew that voice.
He knew it from playing together as children. He knew it from endless talks as they walked the city, confiding in each other with their secret thoughts and dreams. He knew it from songs that had never failed to move him to laughter or tears. And he knew it from a thousand other treasured moments running across the span of his young life.
“Princess, get behind us!” another voice called.
There was no doubt. The guards — the ones he’d been about to leave to their fate only moments before — were defending his sister. If he didn’t act, she would be murdered by the demons.
Resolve burned in Gerard’s heart. He didn’t even think about what he did next.
He reached into the ring, drawing on its power with every ounce of concentration and strength that he had. He kept drawing on that power until he felt that he was about to explode with its force. Then, when he thought he could hold no more, he drew more still.
The ring’s energy flooded through him like a raging inferno. At a flicker of thought an aura of silver magic bloomed into being around him. It was stronger than any shield he had conjured before, stronger than any he had imagined possible.
He turned to face the gazebo, and drew his wand.
He had promised his mother — and himself — that he would save his sister if he could. A stroke of luck beyond all hope had brought him to h
er in the nick of time, armed with the power to do so. He would rescue her, or he would die trying.
And if he risked the world on that choice, then so be it.
With a cry of defiance, eyes blazing with argent fire, Gerard Killraven dropped like a falling star toward the battle.
Buying Time
Diana’s eyes widened as Orion fell to the street, but her fear was short-lived. Before the demon could rise to slay him, she saw Jameson leap onto its back. He gripped his sword with both hands, pointing it downward at the monster as it sprawled on the cobblestones.
“It’s hurt!” he cried. “Now’s our chance!”
He stabbed with all of his strength. There was an area of relatively bare flesh around the creature’s wing joints that its scales didn’t fully protect. It was a necessary feature to give the appendages the flexibility to beat properly. Jameson saw the vulnerable spot and drove his sword’s point into it. It was a quality weapon — an heirloom from service in the army as a younger man, Diana guessed — and it bit hard into the monster’s hide. The blade sank into its back, and black ichor fountained from the wound.
Nalef let out a roar of pain and fury as she rushed forward with several others to help. It beat its wings wildly, trying to knock Jameson off its back. The one with the wounded pinion flopped awkwardly, proving that the strike had done serious damage to the muscles and tendons that worked it. But the other had lost none of its strength, and it swatted the innkeeper with the force of a hammer. His sword was torn from his grasp as he flew through the air to land a dozen feet away, skidding and rolling on the hard cobblestones. He shook his head and tried to rise, but then stumbled and fell, his left leg twisted at an awkward angle.
Clubs and knives descended on Nalef as it surged to its feet, Jameson’s sword still protruding awkwardly from its back. It lashed out with its arms in a wild frenzy. One of its attackers fell screaming, disemboweled by the creature’s talons.
Diana smiled grimly as she ducked under a second blow that was aimed at her. She noted with satisfaction that Orion’s pitchfork had done nearly as much damage to the monster’s front as Jameson’s sword had to its back. The tool’s head still protruded from its midsection, just below the sternum. The tines had sunk deeply into its flesh, and the shards of splintering wood had left deep gashes in its leathery hide.