by Ben Hale
A blast of air streaked past him, catching black forms and tossing them like leaves before smashing them into the ground. Like a controlled weapon, the wind honed in on the thicker knots. Fiends filled the sky, until the wind died and they fell from hundreds of feet off the ground.
Without warning a giant black blade smashed into the earth where Taryn had been a heartbeat before. Whirling he saw the kraka already sweeping his sword low, intent on cutting through his midsection. Ducking at the last second, he managed to get underneath the weapon and flicked one of his swords outward. Ianna struck the white bone armor at the fiend captain's side. The strike chipped a piece off, but didn’t penetrate. Instead it succeeded in angering the twelve foot behemoth, and he bellowed in outrage.
Quicker than Taryn thought possible, the great fiend reversed his heavy sword and sent it whipping towards his head. Ducking again, he rolled between the fiends legs and cut both blades into the armor behind the ankle. Again his mother’s sword couldn’t make it through, but his father's enchanted weapon glowed blue as it sliced through the bone and penetrated flesh.
The Kraka stumbled, but somehow managed to turn around and send its sword into an upward strike that would have cleaved Taryn from knee to skull—but he side-stepped and darted close. Sheathing Ianna, he grasped Mazer with both hands and plunged it through the protecting thigh-guard.
The hulk bellowed in pain but Taryn was forced to dodge again as the huge form dropped to one knee, bringing a massive fist down to crush him. Anger at all the fiends and their master flooded Taryn, and he struck the obsidian blade with all his might. Blue magic cascaded across Mazer as it cleaved the great weapon in two. Before the Kraka could recover from the blow, Taryn grabbed a piece of bone on the fiend's arm. Launching himself into the air, he landed on the wide shoulder.
Pouring his fury into the strike, Taryn sank his father's sword deep into the back of its neck. Cutting through the spiked bone, it penetrated the spine and the Kraka stopped cold. Like a huge dead tree, it leaned forward until it smashed into the ground as Taryn leapt free.
Landing in a crouch, he came to his feet ready for more, but saw that only a few fiends were left alive, and his friends were finishing them off. One of the remaining quare, wounded but still mobile, began limping towards him. Taryn drew a throwing knife and, without mercy, sent it winging it into his chest. Crumpling to the ground, the quare died as Taryn moved forward to retrieve his blade.
Then he heard a cry of alarm from Liri. Whirling, he saw what she had seen. A single siper had escaped and was racing south. A blast of wind from Siarra reached out for him but the distance was too great, and the dog managed to keep his feet.
Sheathing his father's sword, Taryn drew his mother's and morphed it. Drawing back the magical arrow, he sighted at the fleeing figure before releasing it. Like a streak of light it flew through the air—but missed by a hair as the fiend disappeared into the tree line. Crying out in frustration he made to follow but Liri appeared at his side.
Her lean form crouched and she drew an arrow back, sighting on the siper that was already out of view and probably a thousand yards away. Letting out a slow breath she released. With a snap, her enchanted bow straightened and sent the arrow streaking across the gap. Taryn held his breath and watched as the arrow disappeared into the forest. Several seconds passed as Liri guided the arrow with the wind magic contained within the bow . . . until he heard a faint crash mirrored by Liri’s grunt of satisfaction.
“Nice shot, Liri,” Taryn said, and she grinned at him.
“I could see it all the way to him, like looking through a distance viewer,” she said, pleasure at her new weapon coloring her tone. Then she met his gaze, concern written on her features. "How are you?"
He grinned. "I took it slow."
"That was you taking it easy?"
Taryn's grin widened as he sheathed his sword. “And you? Did you get hurt?”
She grimaced and pointed at her arm where the bleeding holes indicated a siper had clamped its jaws. Taryn stepped forward in concern but she waved him off. “I’ve had worse.”
“Nice shot, Liri,” someone said behind them, and Taryn turned to see Siarra approaching, picking her way through the numerous bodies around her. Jack, Trin, Kell and Mae were behind her.
Liri grinned. “It was a lucky shot, and farther than I have ever done before. The only reason it was possible was because of the wind bow.”
“Don’t we look pretty?” Jack laughed dryly.
For the first time Taryn noticed how dirty each of them looked. Splattered with blood and pieces of sand from Siarra’s magic, they looked like they'd been through a massacre.
“I’m just glad we survived,” Mae said, her voice tinged with relief, and Taryn spotted the shallow wound on her leg. Trin nodded, echoing her sentiment.
“It was odd how they fought, though,” Jack mused, and after receiving questioning looks he gestured towards the bodies littering the ground. “A small group split off to kill the four of you, and when Taryn began slaughtering them they sent a much larger contingent. They hardly paid any attention at all to Trin and Mae and only focused on Siarra after she used her magic—except when Kell,” he nodded towards the rock troll, “joined the fight. Then the group split into three.”
“How is that odd?” Liri asked, confused. “It was a good strategy. Taryn, Siarra, and Kell were the biggest threats and they sent the greatest numbers after them.”
Jack shrugged. “I guess I just expected them to be more disorganized, like a rabble of ravenous beasts, not an organized fighting unit.”
Taryn looked at the dead fiends, frowning at the thief's words. Perhaps there was more to the enemy’s discipline than he’d first thought, and his mind turned to Braon at Azertorn. He hoped the young man could handle it.
Mae cut into his thoughts. “Thank you Siarra, for your magic. There is no way we could have defeated them without you.”
Jack laughed. “Kell and Taryn killed the rest.”
“I got my share,” Trin said defensively. “Did you get any?” he said, looking at Jack.
Jack smirked. “Every one that came close to Siarra.”
She turned and flashed him a soft smile. “Thanks for watching my back.”
“Taryn, I’m glad you took down the kraka,” Trin exclaimed. “I doubt if I could have.”
Taryn shrugged without comment and asked, “Who killed the other skorpian? Siarra?”
She shook her head and looked around at the rest in the circle. When no one answered, Liri said, “I didn’t do it.”
Trin and Jack said at the same time, “Me either.”
Taryn laughed and looked at Mae. “You?”
She shrugged and began walking away without response, but Trin grabbed her arm. Bug-eyed, he asked, “How did you do it?”
Her lips twitched as she stated, “I put my sword into him. He died.”
Taryn began laughing, and before long everyone joined in. They had been victorious in their first strike against Draeken, even if it was just a grain of sand compared to what was left. As they bandaged their minor injuries, Taryn found his thoughts drawn eastward, where innumerable fiends still lived with their master.
Their next engagement would not be so easy.
Chapter 32: All Gathered In
Braon rubbed his finger against his thumb and looked at the gathered group of generals before him, nodding in satisfaction. Only his seven generals, their Links, and Newhawk stood in the map room with Braon and Thacker, but the small collection represented nearly every race and person in the land of Lumineia. Looking at the seven men and women arranged around one end of the newly created map, a swell of pride rose within him, closing his throat for a moment.
“Generals,” Braon addressed them with confidence. “We have less than two days until the fiends arrive and the battle is joined, so forgive me if I dispense with formalities. There is simply no time for pride or custom.” He locked eyes with each of them to make sure his message had
been received, and then softened his expression.
“Welcome to the map room,” he said, sweeping a hand at the large magical map that dominated more than half of the huge chamber. “This will be the location from which Newhawk and I will coordinate the majority of the battle. I know that several of you have questions to ask, especially about this wondrous map. Allow me to cover the material that we have prepared and then we will answer any remaining questions. For the moment, please take your place behind the section of the map that you represent.”
As they sorted themselves out and moved to take their positions, Braon once again marveled at the supreme feat that the map represented. Sitting at over forty feet long, twenty feet wide, and three feet tall, the water map of Azertorn and the Giant’s Shelf had stolen his breath the first time he’d seen it.
Shimmering in detail, the multicolored water had been magically entombed in the space to form a flawless, moving map of the battle area. Even now he could see tiny pieces of blue moving all over the cliff and city like thousands of ants, showing their own army. Aside from the people, the rest of the cliff, city, and the forest below appeared as they did in real life, except in miniature. Including the features that he was about to demonstrate, it would be the perfect tool to view the engagement. Despite its value, every time he looked at it the faces of four dead elves flashed across his mind.
Forcing it aside with a deep breath, he strode forward and walked right through the enchanted liquid. A moment later he stepped out on the other side, dry. Astonished gasps escaped the onlookers, causing a faint smile to cross his features before he turned around. Now facing the city from the south with Newhawk taking a position behind him, he looked into the faces of the generals he had chosen.
Farthest to his left, the short spindly king of the gnomes, Talfar, looked very different from his counterparts. Dressed in a regal cloak and belt, he was the only one not dressed in some form of armor. In front of him was the gray section of the cliff, and the gnome king’s eyes gazed at the tiny blue dots that represented his entire people and the Gray Battalion.
Next to him stood the whip thin form of Val’Trisian, dressed in a light vest that glittered dully and a short skirt. The dark elf exuded confidence and menace while she examined her area. Flowing in detail, she could see the low point of the cliff that was her charge leading up to the wall. Despite her study of magic, her eyes were wary, but he couldn’t blame her. Her people’s presence and her appointment to general had caused a stir within the ranks, but until now she had kept her people firmly in line with only minor altercations to report. Indeed most of the scuffles had been members of the other races attacking them, and Braon had all but discounted the rumors that they were evil to the core. Even now her gaze searched the room, not in suspicion, but in cautious preparation. Their eyes met and she tilted her head at him. At some point he had gained her respect, but he had no idea when.
Onix, the dwarf general, crouched next to the dark elf and studied the West Falls Command, while casting occasional glances towards her. At first, he had been one of the most vocal in objecting to her presence, and Braon had needed to use all his skill to remind him that the enemy of his enemy was his friend. The short, stocky dwarf still glowered at his neighbor general, but the two had gradually overcome their differences, at least for the purposes of this engagement.
Behind the city, Deiran gazed proudly at the magical rendering of Azertorn. Armored in dark blue as usual, the elf fiddled with his fingers and leaned towards Onix to whisper in his ear. Braon knew the elf was anxious for the coming battle, and still secretly believed that his army could defend the city against all attempts to take it.
Prince Graden from the southern kingdom, now general of the East Falls Command, had knelt to examine his area. He was also the only one who’d gathered enough courage to try to touch the map. Braon almost smiled at the man, reminded once again of how grateful he was to have such a good general from his own race. Over the last several weeks, General Graden had worked harder than many, and the evidence of the lack of sleep appeared on every inch of his face. He’d also become an avid supporter of Braon and had silenced a brief campaign to remove him from command. Making a mental note to order him to get some rest, he looked to the next in line.
Dark-skinned and tall, Emeka from the Azüre people towered over every other general except for the barbarian at his side. His eyes glittered suspiciously at the harnessed energy before him and he stood a little further back than the others, but his gaze never left his men glowing in blue. As general of Ridge Battalion, Emeka had taken some time to accept his defeat in the leadership challenge, but seemed to have come to terms with it in recent weeks.
Golic anchored the line, the massive barbarian crouching to look at the Lake Road. Almost to a man, the other barbarians had protested Braon’s leadership, but after the tale of the phoenix’s support had been spread, by Golic himself, the protests had faded away. The Grunden of the barbarian people, and now leader of the amazons, had inexplicably supported his young commander without question, for which Braon was grateful.
Unable to resist, Braon surreptitiously glanced at Brynn, standing several feet behind Onix. She had apparently been looking at him, but she looked away when their eyes met. Braon forced the surge of heat aside before he lost the confidence of his men and raised his chin to draw attention to himself.
“Generals of the gathering,” he said, waving a hand at the map. “This map has been painstakingly created by the best magi the elves have to offer. It will allow us to watch every corner of the battle and ensure we stay ahead of the enemy as much as possible.”
“You can barely see the men,” Talfar said, his tone confused.
Braon smiled and walked into the center of the map. “This is not a stationary map,” he said, and placed both hands into the cool water. Slowly he spread his hands apart. In response, the map began to focus and everything grew larger in view, even though the dimensions of the map remained the same. As he heard expressions of astonishment from his generals, he continued to enhance the map into more and more detail. Both ends of the cliff disappeared from sight followed by the next two battalions, but Braon didn’t stop until the map only showed the city of Azertorn. Finally stepping out of the water, he returned to the edge of the map near Newhawk amidst exclamations of praise and wonder.
Before anyone could say anything, he bent down and “grabbed” the water. Sliding both hands in the same direction, the entire map glided west, and before long the entire city was gone, to be replaced by the human battalion in crystal detail. Now thousands of men could be seen training in the afternoon sun, since the view looked near the cliff.
“Impressive,” Emeka said, with grudging respect.
“Stunning,” Deiran breathed.
“General Graden,” Braon said, drawing their attention back to him. “Since this is your command, please enhance the view as much as you can.”
The human general hesitated, but nodded and eased his way into the map. After a moment’s pause, he smiled, and placed his hands into the magical field like Braon had done. As he moved his hands apart, the view became closer and closer, until the entire map stopped. With only a few hundred feet visible, the men shown in the fluid appeared about as tall as one’s hand. Swords struck swords with no sound, spears flew through the air, only to silently slip back into the water when they hit the ground. One man performed a complicated routine and disarmed his opponent, eliciting scattered applause and praise from the entranced generals, as well as their Links.
Braon caught Thacker's eye and frowned, and before long his children reluctantly stepped back to their posts. Suppressing the urge to throw Brynn an apologetic look, he said, “General Graden, if you would allow Val’Trisian to place the view back to where it was in the beginning?”
Nodding in response, he stepped from the magical field as the dark elf entered. Although Braon had not demonstrated how to cause the map to look broader, Val’Trisian had no trouble guessing correctly. Her
hands drew closer together and the view became larger. She had to repeat the maneuver several times before the entire cliff returned, and the last time she moved her hands so fast that the enchanted liquid veritably flew to bring the Giant’s Shelf gliding into place.
Braon waited until their conversation diminished to address them. “Generals, this map has been created for the express purpose of this battle, and we are more than fortunate to have it, despite the cost in its creation. With its help, as well as the Links assigned to you, I believe we will have an effective means of communication. The map lets us see the battle, and through Thacker we can order you in what needs to be done. Any questions at this point?”
Golic was the first to ask, “Even with the telepath and map there is no way for you to stay in touch with all seven of us at once. What are we supposed to do when there are no specific orders given?”
“Defend your area to the best of your ability, with whatever means necessary. However, there are a few specific rules that you must remember.” Moving forward, he pointed at the three obvious divisions within West Falls. “Use your front division as you see fit, as long as it doesn’t counteract our orders—but, do not send in either the first reserves, or wake the second reserves without permission. If it looks as if you are going to be overrun and we haven’t given you orders, send a message through your Link and we will focus on your battalion.”
“Why can’t we send in the reserves?” Val’Trisian asked, her expression annoyed.
“This battle is going to last seven days—hopefully. What that means is that if you send in your first reserves or rouse your sleeping second reserves to send them to battle, the following day or days will be infinitely more difficult. Newhawk and I will occasionally order you to send in the first reserves, but we will avoid calling on the second reserves at all costs. If we ever do, you will know that our entire forces are about to be overrun. Although we have gathered over a million to this cliff, it is vital that we fight as a single unit.” The dark elf lapsed into silence, but Braon noted that his answer seemed to have satisfied her.