A Crown Of War (Book 4)

by Michael Ploof

  Krentz danced around the two dark elves as their swords sparked off of one another and the Draggard came rushing at them from the riverbank. Fyrfrost appeared out of the gray sky, pouring fire down among the three dark elves. Krentz turned to smoke as the flames were deflected harmlessly around her opponents. With an ear piercing shriek, Fyrfrost doused the Draggard yet again in dragonsbreath, causing fog to roll up in plumes from the river as he passed.

  Draggard charged past the fighting dark elves in pursuit of the soldiers. Dirk whistled the signal, and the blaring trumpets of the forward cavalry marked their charge. They came fast around the bend and met the Draggard charge with long, gleaming lances leading the way.

  Across the water, Fyrfrost descended upon those Draggard yet to make the leap. The dragon-hawk ravaged with tooth and claw and sent Draggard flying with sweeps of his long tail. Chief joined him in the fight, flying from one beast to the next, and violently snapping necks with his powerful jaws.

  Dirk bolted from his place behind the boulder to aid Krentz, as she exchanged blows with the dark elves. One broke from the fight and blasted a bolt of lightning that hit the cavalry and Draggard alike, sending man and beast flying limply through the air. The Draggard had absorbed the initial charge, and now engaged the knights at the bend in the road. From behind them came the charge of the remaining soldiers, as they poured forth by the hundreds to take on the nightmarish beasts. In their eyes shone the pain of their losses and the promise of vengeance.

  Dirk whirled as a spell sped by. He came down upon the dark elf with a flurry of sword and dagger, forcing his foe to take up his own blade. Their swords met, and sparks exploded from the contact angrily. The dark elf’s speed was incredible, and Dirk soon found himself on the defensive. His sword parried the enemy blade high and to the left as he bided his time, waiting for the dark elf to cast. He felt a pressure in his head and knew his opponent was attempting a mental assault. Dirk landed a blow to the dark elf’s side, and, though it was deflected by the energy shield, he saw surprise in the elf’s eyes.

  Behind them, the knights of Eldalon fought bravely against the towering Draggard, and though many fell to the beasts, they held their ground and even began to push the horde back. Krentz flew as a wisp around her enemy, solidifying only long enough to land a sparking blow against his energy shield. The dark elf gave a frustrated scream of rage, and with an outstretched hand, shot writhing black tendrils that wrapped around Krentz, binding her, even in spirit form.

  Dirk was distracted for a moment by her baleful scream, and his dagger was sent flying by the dark elf sword. His attacker sneered and slashed at Dirk’s face, forcing him to parry high. A spell erupted from his free hand, and lightning hit Dirk square in the chest. He was jolted painfully, though his cloak absorbed much of the blast. Still, he was shaken enough to be slow in his next parry, and the dark elf blade tore through the cloak’s enchantments, and those of the armor beneath. Pain shot through his shoulder, and he lost all feeling in his left arm. He parried desperately as the dark elf came at him, sensing victory. Another blast of lightning erupted from the dark elf’s hand, but Dirk quickly intercepted it with his sword, which absorbed the spell and glowed white hot with pent-up energy. With a cry of rage, Dirk released the energy in a powerful strike that the dark elf parried. The blades collided, and an explosion ripped through the air, sending them both flying backward. Chief came to Dirk’s aid then, and collided with the dark elf in a flurry of snapping jaws and raking claws.

  Krentz cried out again, and her form wavered as the dark elf bore down upon her with a maniacal grin, pulsing black tendrils tightening around her spirit form, causing it to waver. Before Dirk could move to help her, Fyrfrost swept over the river and pounced upon the dark elf. Krentz fell to the ground in spasms, as her body flickered in and out of existence.

  “Back to the spirit realm, Krentz,” Dirk commanded.

  She looked up at him from the ground with a pained expression which was not the result of the assault. She turned into a wisp that swirled around and around, as she fought the pull of the trinket in his pocket.

  Chief cried out as the same dark tendrils held him fast. Dirk threw a dart at the dark elf as he bore down on Chief; it hit the energy shield and exploded in a ball of fire.

  “Back to the spirit realm, Chief!” Dirk yelled.

  Through the thick black smoke and rolling fire, Chief came as a wisp into the trinket. The dark elf attacking him disappeared. Dirk looked quickly to Fyrfrost, who leapt into the sky clutching the other dark elf bleeding in his massive talons. The dragon-hawk’s powerful wings lifted them high into the gray sky. With a slash of his curved blade, the dark elf was free of Fyrfrost’s grip and fell. Dirk followed his descent and groaned when the dark elf changed into a large crow and flew up to meet Fyrfrost in battle once more.

  Behind him, the Eldalonian soldiers battled the last of the Draggard horde. Dirk scoured the woods once more, and, seeing no trace of the dark elf with his eyes nor through his hood, he joined in the fray. He tucked his useless arm in his belt and sped toward the three Draggard who held back the circling soldiers with spear and tail.

  A soldier saw Dirk speeding directly at him. “Down!” Dirk yelled at the man. The soldier dropped to his hands and knees, and Dirk took a leaping step off his armored back. Up and over the group of soldiers he went. He flipped four times as his cloak engulfed him in his flight. He felt spear and claws hit his cloak harmlessly and planted his feet firmly when he knew the ground to be near. Dirk landed in a crouch in between the three hissing and snapping Draggard, and his enchanted blade sliced through all of their legs as he spun in a full circle. Tails came at him but were sliced in half before they could connect, and their limbs flew in all directions as claws reached out to throttle him. The Draggard screamed in anguish, and tried to get away from the death dealer. They found their escape at the ends of Eldalonian spears.

  Dirk whirled his head to find the dark elf and Fyrfrost, but they were nowhere to be seen. The soldiers hooted, and cheered their victory, but Dirk swiftly brought his sword up and screamed for silence.

  The soldiers fell silent and listened as he did. After a time, they began to relax their still postures, but Dirk cocked his head and jerked his sword. Again, they listened to the silence, but then a baleful cry echoed from the road behind the, and an explosion followed. The soldiers stirred angrily.

  “That blast came from the wagon train!”

  “They are under attack!”

  “Hold!” General Reeves ordered and followed Dirk as he moved swiftly back to where he had bombed the dark elf. Soon, he found what he sought. He showed Reeves the footprints heading west, the direction they had come.

  “The other dark elf?” Reeves asked, even as another explosion sounded in the distance.

  Dirk nodded agreement as he scoured the sky. At last, he spied Fyrfrost and the large crow far off to the north. They circled each other and exchanged blows, but soon dipped beyond the horizon once again.

  “Can you defeat him?” Reeves asked with a glance at Dirk’s badly bleeding shoulder. Dirk followed his eyes. He had nearly forgotten about the wound in his worry for Fyrfrost. He worried too for Krentz and Chief. He had no idea if they were well or not; he did not know what the dark elves had done. He had his suspicions, however, and knew them to be necromancers.

  From the forearm band of his useless arm, he extracted a glowing dart whose vial was full of swirling blue tendrils. He jabbed it into the deep gash. Through the cut in his leather armor, the wound glowed blue, and soon the gash closed and the bleeding stopped. He still did not have much use of his arm, as the magic would take some time without the guidance of a healer, and, if not properly tended to, it would never be the same. But, for now, it would have to do.

  He rotated his shoulder gingerly with his good hand over the wound. Another explosion sounded, and Reeves moved to give an order, likely for the cavalry. Dirk stopped his words with a hand to the general’s arm.

  �
��Give me a fearless horse, and I will do what I can. And please, send scouts to search for my mount. I would know his fate.”

  “Of course,” said Reeves with a strong hand of his own over Dirk’s.

  “Gelhamond, your steed!”

  The horse was brought to him in short order, and Gelhamond, a tall knight with fierce green eyes and a winter beard of red, patted the mane of his mount.

  “His name is Shadow; he will not falter,” he said with pride.

  “Nor shall I,” Dirk promised him.

  He mounted and reared Shadow to his hind legs before speeding off down the road. He soon sensed someone following him, and turned to see General Reeves pacing him not far off. He slowed Shadow enough for the man to catch up and spurred his mount to pace his.

  “What are you doing?” he yelled over the biting wind.

  “If these devils can be killed, I would see how it is done!” Reeves hollered back.

  “So be it, but stay clear.”

  They rode the few miles back to the wagon train at a brisk pace that Dirk slowed as they approached the last bend. He wanted Shadow to have something left for the charge. Reeves slowed with him, his eyes staring expectantly as a glimpse of the valley in which he had left his people inched closer. A voice came then, full of authority and malice. It echoed over the land and seemed to speak to any who could hear. It was not so much threatening as promising.

  “You Round Ears, with your numbered years, your time has passed. The end is nigh. Your kind have no place in the new world; your ways are obsolete, your bodies, weak.”

  Dirk and General Reeves came around the bend and spied the valley below through weighted brows. The dark sky above hung still as if upon the spoken words, and the wind died to a whispering breath. Below in the valley, many wagons burned, and many dead littered the ground. The lone dark elf stood defiantly before the hundreds of villagers who huddled among wagons guarded by soldiers.

  “Behold!” his voice commanded and clapped like thunder. Even from their vantage point of a quarter of a mile, the far spreading spell of crackling green tendrils could be seen. The snaking spell engulfed all the dead it found and lifted them to their feet. The dark elf’s voice roared as he chanted his spell. Women shrieked, and a man charged forth. The brave soldier came in screaming, his sword arched back for the kill. But he never made it. The green tendrils engulfed him, and he froze where he stood. He too soon joined the raised dead. The spell ended, and the dead soldiers and villagers stood limply before their kin. Cries of blasphemy sounded, but were quickly silenced, as any who spoke was pulled from the crowd by an unseen force and torn apart by the Eldalonian undead.

  “My master offers life eternal, yet you balk at such gifts?”

  Dirk and Reeves charged toward the dark elf as he stood before the people. They sped past wagons, and any cowering nearby were forced to scramble out of the way. Reeves had not heeded Dirk’s warning. He paced his charge and unsheathed his blade with a war cry. Dirk could not help but smile and do the same. As he had expected, the dark elf turned toward them and, with a clutching fist, pulled them from their mounts to fly the hundred yards toward him. Dirk flipped through the air once, and, as he came about, threw three darts in rapid succession. They, too, were pulled by the dark elf’s force like arrows and collided with his outstretched hand. An explosion blasted snow and ice in all directions as the flames shot into the sky. Dirk and Reeves fell fast to the ground and hit the snow-covered field hard. When he had rolled to a stop, Dirk looked from the ground as the second dart’s spell took effect. A deafening hum sounded from the flames, and the explosion was pulled backward into itself, engulfing the dark elf in a churning fireball. Dirk leapt to his feet and charged the blazing elf as his third dart took effect. The fire subsided, and the dark elf stood before them, covered in searching blue tendrils of healing energy. The ground below him heaved and buckled, and the snow was pulled toward the dark elf from all sides.

  “Go!” Dirk yelled at the dumbfounded humans as they breathlessly watched the incredible show of magic. They seemed to snap to attention with his bellowing, and quickly, they began to scramble away from the dark elf and his undead.

  The third dart was one of Krentz’s newest creations, enchanted to release a spell that would attract all nearby water. Around the dark elf, a small blizzard had begun to form as more snow piled around him. He blasted at the snow with a multitude of different spells; some slowed the wind but not the snow, and others slowed the snow but not the wind. Soon, his enraged voice added to the chaotic whirlwind Dirk and Reeves charged into. Dirk timed his charge as he counted down to the spell’s end, and, when he reached zero, the snow dropped and the winds subsided. Furious by the attack, the dark elf shot his hands out wide in a rage. Before the spell was released, Dirk slammed his dagger, Krone, through the hole in the dark elf’s energy shield.

  “Stop your casting and drop your shield!” Dirk yelled in his face.

  The dark elf’s face twisted in rage as he shuddered and convulsed, fighting against the effects of Krone. He panted and wheezed, sweat beginning to dot his face. Reeves wasted no time in engaging the undead. He cried out with each strike in a keening voice of horror and sorrow as he struck down many he had once known by name. His living soldiers soon joined him and took down their undead kin.

  A cry of alarm rang out, and Dirk looked to the sky. Against the gray clouds, to the east, a large bird came quick and low.

  “Your friend has returned,” said Dirk, standing before the dark elf. Dirk bent the dark elf’s hand and stabbed Krone into his chest.

  “Hit the bird with everything you’ve got. Destroy him!” he ordered, and the dark elf screamed in pain at his resistance. He raised his other hand, staring at it, horrified, and his cries of protest became frantically-chanted spell casting.

  The crow flew low and changed to elf form as a spell slammed into his energy shield. Red fiery tendrils pulsed brighter as the screaming dark elf was forced to pour all of his stored power into the defense. The other elf was pushed back as he strengthened his energy shield against the attack. Spells shot out at Dirk from the opposing dark elf, and he took cover behind the one he controlled. The force of the spells intensified, and, with a final, ground-quaking blast, the dark elf’s power was spent.

  The one Dirk controlled wavered and fell to his knees, as everyone looked up hopefully from the ground. Many of the wagons blazed from the battle, but none moved to put them out. Dirk rose first and investigated the charred remains of the shape shifting dark elf. He kicked the smoldering bones and turned back to the kneeling elf.

  “How many are you?” he insisted.

  “We…” the elf coughed up blood and spat into the snow, leaving a long line of red spittle trailing down his chin. “We are legion!”

  “What are your master’s plans?” Dirk shook the dark elf as his eyes fluttered and rolled back, showing bloodshot whites.

  “My master will destroy the world of man,” the dark elf sneered.

  Dirk shoved the dark elf to the ground in disgust.

  “Reeves, send this one to the hells where he belongs.”

  General Reeves strode forth and placed his blade across the back of the dark elf’s neck. “Gladly,” he said and raised it high over his head. The sword fell and the head rolled across the snow to stop at Dirk’s feet. The eyes blinked and looked around frantically; Dirk lifted the head by the hair and stared into the dying eyes of the dark elf.

  “We shall not go easily,” he said, and tossed the head out over the field. With a flick of his wrist, he sent a dart sailing, and the head exploded in a fine red mist.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Open Waters

  Tarren and the group followed the Watcher through the thick jungle for what seemed hours. The dull roar of the attack still sounded far away. The idea of the beautiful elven city being destroyed saddened Tarren deeply. Lunara seemed to share his sentiment, as she followed behind them quietly.

  The jungle thinned, and the cra
sh of the ocean began to drown out the thunderous battle they had escaped from. The Watcher stopped and motioned for all to do the same. Tarren followed his gaze and was surprised by the steep cliff overlooking Cerushia’s harbor. Black smoke rose from the many destroyed ships and buildings within the bay. Hundreds of dark warships littered the harbor, anchored among the jutting masts of sunken vessels. The bay was a graveyard of torn fin sails and splintered wood. The bodies of both beast and elf floated among the wreckage.

  Tarren shivered as he lost count of the bodies in the water. He had seen such things before, but he doubted he would ever get used to it.

  “Come,” said the Watcher, and began along the cliff.

  The Watcher stopped many times on the way down to the shore, and, every time, Tarren froze, held his breath, and waited, but they remained undiscovered. After a particularly long wait, the Watcher ushered them down a stairway of stone leading to a dock. Tarren had no idea where the Watcher led them, but he trusted the old elf. Helzendar, it seemed, was not so keen on the idea, and did not keep it a secret.

  “Where the bloody hells ye takin us, ye crazy elf?” he said, but quiet enough as to not gain attention.

  The Watcher turned on him with one cocked eyebrow fluttering high upon his brow. He leaned in past Tarren and squared on the dwarf prince. “Good dwarf, why ask questions that will be known to you, but shortly? Hmm?”

  “Why ye be answerin’ questions with questions? Eh, elf?” Helzendar retorted.

  The Watcher cocked his head and let out a chuckle. “Yes, indeed, we are leaving, of course,” he finally said.

  “Leaving?” Lunara asked, concerned.

  “Yes, this is the path. Come, there will be plenty of time for chatter,” said the Watcher, dashing to the beach leading off the stone stair.

  Tarren and Helzendar shared a glance and ran after the elf. The two elven guards followed without a word. The Watcher led them away from the harbor and around an outcropping of land. Soon, they were well hidden from any prying eyes that may find them from the bay. Just when Tarren allowed himself to relax, the Watcher hissed, “Faces to the sand, and do not move!”