The soldiers and servants started to murmur amongst themselves, and a few even took the time to ward themselves against evil.
“My turn,” the woman said, raising her staff and waving it around in the air. She started to chant in a mystic language, which caused more warding signs by those in the Ekos group. Soon clouds formed overhead and a gentle breeze quickly turned into a strong wind. The wind grew into gusts that caused most of the onlookers to seek cover from flying debris.
A small wind devil accosted the Kesh wizard, and the man started to laugh, his voice carrying along in the strong winds. Soon his bodyguards and the other Kesh troops around the group began to laugh as well. Kentos spoke, his voice shouting above the din of the wind. “Is this all you can do?”
Indeed, the magically induced winds seemed to do little more than blow everyone’s robes, cloaks, and hair around rather unceremoniously, and with the wizard mocking the woman, everyone laughed as well, everyone except Amsor, who started to look above them at the clouding skies.
Too late, the lightning bolt seemed to come from the heart of the grey clouds directly above them. The clouds did not seem threatening; they hardly looked like they could produce rain, for that matter, but a bolt of lightning shot down from above and hit Kentor square on his head, killing the man and leveling his body to the ground.
The laughter and wind died down immediately. Amsor was finally spurred into motion and cried out, “Kentos!” while running directly toward the scene. Within seconds, he arrived, stopping to check on his subordinate, kneeling and placing a hand on the wizard’s head. A second later, he stood and faced the woman.
The warrior man ran up to the woman and grabbed her, trying to pull her backward, but Amsor was too fast. He pointed his staff at them and spoke. “Ogon, Ubit!”
The air shimmered around the mage and then ignited into a huge ball of fire. The fireball suddenly moved from in front of the mage, hurled toward the woman and warrior. The woman held her staff up and spoke, causing the wind to whip around them and deflect the fires, but they grew and consumed the entire grove. For a moment, the pair was lost in the intense flames of the magical fireball. When the air cleared, the pair stood from where they were crouching, their clothes and hair smoked, singed from the intense heat of the attack, and the orchard burned, causing black smoke to drift high above.
Amsor wasn’t finished. He drew a carved statue from his inner robe pocket and threw it to the ground in front of him. It was a carving of a beast with the body of a wolf and three heads. One appeared much as a wild dog or wolf, the second was scaled like a snake and the last one appeared like a giant bird of prey with a sharp beak and all-seeing eyes. With a shout and a point of his staff, a ray of blue light hit the statue and gave it an unnatural hue; it glowed a bright blue.
The mage stepped back and allowed the carving to grow until it stood higher than a horse. It was animated, and the heads started to howl, screech, and hiss according to its nature. The claws of the beast rent deep furrows into the ground, and it turned to face the mage. What the mage said next was in the common tongue and clearly audible for all to hear. “Kill them,” he said, pointing at the woman and the warrior with his staff.
The beast turned to face the pair and started to run. An arrow hit the creature in its body and stuck there, not seeming to effect it at all. It seemed the beast would reach them and kill them in seconds, when suddenly a wall of dirt formed between the beast and the pair of humans. It grew from the very ground and reached a height taller than that of four men on top of each other. The creature jumped and clawed, trying to breach the earth wall, but it was too tall. It looked at either side and then started to run east where a hundred yards further the wall was no more.
“Curse you,” Amsor yelled at the now hidden woman and the warrior, and he pointed his staff at the wall, loosing a bolt of electricity that damaged it, sending dirt and rock flying like shrapnel in every direction.
A voice sounded from the other side, a female voice, tired and perhaps afraid, but defiant as well. “Maybe next time, Kesh.”
The wind picked up and the clouds descended onto the land until they were covered in an intense fog. Confusion overcame the group of Ekians and Kesh until the fog cleared when Amsor started to burn it off by igniting everything he could find that would burn, including their own carts.
After several minutes, the fog cleared and the sky was overcast with black smoke and wisps of debris from the intense winds earlier. The dirt wall had collapsed back into the ground, forming a small mound that ran in either direction for over a hundred yards. They could hear the sounds of the beast howling, screeching, and hissing as it pursued the pair deeper into the fields and groves of Vulcrest. It would not rest until it succeeded.
“Call for Keros and Kelin,” Amsor ordered, and several servants and soldiers took off at once to fulfill their master’s commands.
“What do you intend to do?” Prince Egden asked.
Amsor watched as the servants ran off to fetch his other two wizards. “I will kill them personally,” he said.
“What about the attack on Vulkor?” General Gores asked, motioning for his troops to prepare to ride out.
“It will go on under your leadership,” Amsor stated. “I’ll leave most of our troops here to assist you, but we will pursue those murderers and bring them to justice.”
It was more than odd to listen to the Kesh mage discuss justice in such an abstract way, considering the murdering and plundering that the Kesh had performed the last fortnight, but no one was going to bring this minor detail to the mage’s attention.
Amsor retreated to his tent a few hundred yards away where they had the main bulk of their force, not far from the city’s front gate. There was no movement there except an occasional arrow that tested their defenses. He had orders for Kentos’ body to be brought back to his tent and readied for burial. Whatever rituals that involved, the Ekians did not know.
“Well, that’s just great,” Egden said once they had returned to camp and found a moment amongst themselves to sit and discuss the matter.
“Actually this shows something very revealing,” Gores said, taking off his armor but keeping his shield close by, the memory of the bowman still too vivid in their minds to dismiss all caution just yet, despite being in a heavily defended military camp.
“What would that be?” Solvang, the advisor, asked, still shaking from the encounter and trying to drink a cup of wine to calm his nerves.
“The Kesh are not invincible,” Gores stated rather smugly.
“How does that help us?” Solvang complained.
Gores came back around, bringing his shield with him and taking a seat next to his prince and across from Solvang. A small fire was recently lit as the sun started to set in the west and darkness would soon engulf them. “We should reconsider our actions in light of recent events.”
The other two men looked at the general in shock. “What are you suggesting?” Egden asked, reaching for his own cup of wine.
“My lord, we have always had tension between our realm and that of Vulcrest, but it has been many a generation since we were at open war with them. Trade has already been seriously curtailed, and it could take generations to heal the wounds of this war.”
“So,” Egden replied, “we have new trading partners from the sea that the Kesh have opened to us, and we have taken what we have once traded for. I don’t see how that is a bad thing.”
“You are still bitter from their rejection of you,” Gores said, waving off a servant who tried to give him a cup of wine. The general knew he needed to keep his wits about him this evening.
“That is not fair.” Solvang defended his liege. “The stupid Vulcrestians didn’t know a good thing when it hit them in the head.”
“No,” Egden said, taking a moment to sip his wine and set his cup back down. Looking at both men, he continued. “The general is right. I’m taking all this too personally, but I don’t see how we could have done this any differen
tly. Besides, it was good to see them humbled this day. My father will be pleased at the news.”
“Perhaps your father will understand now the nature of the Kesh, and perhaps reconsider the Tynirian’s offer of alliance,” Solvang said.
“It’s too late for that,” Gores said, looking at the Kesh tents on the far side of the camp. Something the Ekians learned quickly was to keep the wizards as far away as possible. Their hearing was legendary, if not magical. “After our attack on Vulcrest here, both the king of Tyniria and the duke of Ulatha will refuse to consider any alliance with us. We are fated to endure whatever the Kesh have brought upon us, for better or for worse.”
“You don’t know that to be true. We’ve not even sent an emissary to their realms to discuss the matter,” Solvang countered.
“You think too much in terms of diplomacy,” Gores said.
“You think too much with your sword and shield,” Solvang shot back.
“Enough, both of you,” Egden said, waving them to be quiet and picking his cup back up again. This time, he’d keep it in his hands. He’d need it to be close by if their current conversation was any indication of the evening that was in store for them.
“You know, my father once told us of the great wood warriors who roamed these parts of the wild.” Egden sipped his wine after speaking.
“Us, my lord?” Solvang asked.
“Me and my sisters,” Egden said, looking up, searching for a distant memory from his childhood. “You know, my father said that these warriors roamed the wilds, protecting the woodsfolk and peasants from the dangers of the land.”
“Simple stories, my lord, from an ancient time,” Solvang said.
“I wonder,” Gores added.
“Yes?” Egden looked at his general.
“That warrior and that woman seemed to fit some of the stories that I heard as a child decades ago. If true, then they belong to a secret sect of pagans who worship animals and live in the forest.”
“I don’t remember hearing those stories,” Egden said, his brows raising in question.
“Well, the two of you come from very different upbringings,” Solvang said, explaining the difference in lore with a single sentence.
“Perhaps, but either way, the one thing that does stand out in my mind was what my parents always told me.” Gores nodded back.
“What would that be?” Egden took the bait.
“That if I ever encountered a pair of them wood pagans, I was to run home right away and not to stay and find out what they were up to.”
“Why would they say that?” Solvang asked.
“You know something?” Egden said.
Gores nodded again. “Only that if there was anything, or anyone, that could stand up to a Kesh magic-user, it would be one of them.”
“Today, we saw that with our own eyes, did we not?” Egden asked.
“Yes, my lord, we all saw it.” Solvang agreed with his prince.
“Which begs the question,” Egden said, taking a deep gulp of his wine.
“I hate to ask, my lord,” Solvang said.
Egden looked at both men and then lowered his voice. “What have we unleashed upon ourselves?”
The trio of men sat silently and allowed the question to hang, like a berry ripening on a vine. Finally, Gores spoke. “Whatever it is, we better hope the Kesh are stronger, because if not, it will spell doom for Ekins.”
Soon the sun set and the camp was bathed in firelight from the many campfires and torches set up to illuminate it and keep the enemy at bay.
The leaders of Ekins sat that evening and pondered their conversation, never seeing the small figure in the lone tree that had stood for a century, not more than thirty feet behind them. The figure was sitting on a branch, high in the leaves, listening intently to their conversation. She was dressed in a silk gown of green that blended in perfectly with the leaves, and her brown hair did nothing to give away her identity either.
She had waited for darkness to arrive before she jumped down, landing at the base of the tree, but on the far side from where a pair of sentries stood guard. They could see past the tree itself, and the idea that anyone could approach the tree, the camp, or their tents without being seen was impossible for them to comprehend. They had no idea that anyone could teleport to, or from, the tree, and took it for granted. This night they were focused on arrows and staves, not silken-clad tree nymphs.
“Did you learn enough to appease her?” a figure leaning against the tree bark said to the other as she landed and stood next to her.
Whispering back, the dark dryad answered her sister. “Enough to know that the Kesh and Ekins alliance is tentative at best.”
“Why is she interested in what these humans do so far from the forest?” the first nymph asked.
The other shrugged. “I do not know, but whatever it is that she has planned for them can’t end well.”
The other nodded in silent agreement, and one after the other, they teleported away from the camp, using the tree as their portal to another tree a hundred yards distant.
Tyranna would hear her news.
Chapter 12
Revelations
“Well, we are in a pretty pickle to be sure,” Beth said from her treetop perch.
“You shouldn’t have taunted them like that. What got into you?” Wulfric asked, tucking away his last arrow. It appeared that they did little to nothing to the beast, though the arrow that hit the snake’s eye seemed to blind that one orb but did little to slow the creature.
The pair had run toward the Greenfeld, with Beth having to use her earth wall spell to block the beast twice more. The third time, she was weak from the effort and could only cast it one more time, this time in a circle around a massive and tall oak tree. Beth called for a small sparrow and spoke to it, asking it to carry a message to her master. The bird complied, chirping merrily, and flew high above the treetops, heading northwest.
They did not know if the wall would hold, so they climbed the tree and now watched the beast below as it clawed and circled the thick wall of earth, looking for a weak section. Beth was too exhausted to do anything more than climb the tree. She needed rest, and despite the use of Agon’s force, she paid a price physically for her arcane exertions.
“I’ve never faced a Kesh before, though Master Greyson prepared us well. I guess I simply forgot my studies about the magic-users and how dangerous they can be,” Beth said.
Wulfric adjusted his position so he could strike at the beast should it reach their tree, ensuring he was on a lower branch than Beth was. “Your powers have increased dramatically. I’d say your awakening has arrived and you are ready, as indeed Master Greyson ordered, for your duties.”
“Thank you,” Beth said, feeling pleased that the massive warrior would compliment her so, though it was short-lived.
“It was foolish of you, however, to engage them without my counsel. That last Kesh could have killed us both.” Wulfric slung his bow over his back and drew his sword. It would be awkward to swing in a tree, but he had no choice.
“Who was he? He seemed rather . . .” Beth searched for a word to describe the man’s demeanor and power.
“He was a Kesh mage, not to be mistaken for a wizard,” Wulfric said. Seeing Beth’s look of confusion, the Ranger continued. “The one you struck down was a wizard, and deadly enough. Their leader is a mage, more powerful and older than his apprentices. We were lucky to escape alive.”
Beth pondered Wulfric’s words. Though she remembered him from decades ago, she hadn’t had any dealings with him in recent times. Still, she knew that of all the protectors that Greyson had introduced them to, Wulfric was the bravest, fearless and devoted to a fault. She marveled at what power that last Kesh had to strike this much concern into the huge man who stood watch just below her.
“He didn’t look any older than the first one,” Beth said.
Wulfric answered without taking his eyes off the beast that now paced silently around the wall, a head o
ccasionally looking up and ensuring its prey was still there. “They age much like you, the Arnen, do.”
“What do you mean?” Beth asked, curious now.
“They reach a certain age, and if they mastered their skills, then they slow the aging process.”
“How slow?”
“Did Master Greyson not tell you?” Wulfic asked, taking the time now to look up at her.
“Well, no,” Beth said, feeling as if she was missing something important. “He did discuss the cycles of rest that you and we partake in, but I didn’t think that it applied to the Kesh as well.”
“It doesn’t. They use their sorcery to prolong their lives, though some can slumber as we do, if necessary.” Wulfric looked back down, not trusting the creature for more than a few seconds unattended.
“What would be necessary?” Beth asked.
“Their pursuit for power, though that usually causes them to remain in an active state. It takes a very calculating wizard to pace himself. The Kesh don’t pace; they crave power and will seize it at any opportunity.”
“So why did he send his student to attack us? Why not do it himself and be done with it?” Beth switched gears, trying to understand the Kesh’s motivation.
Wulfric nodded in approval of her line of questioning. “They are calculating, and I suspect this particular Kesh mage didn’t know what or who he was facing. It is their custom to send in a weaker champion in order to preserve themselves, much like they did with their soldiers, until they realized that no one would be able to approach us—”
“Yes,” Beth interrupted, “your arrows kept killing them until finally they sent a wizard to deal with you.”
“Correct,” Wulfric said. “Not knowing that you would show yourself. They only knew that they were dealing with an expert bowman.”
“One beyond the ability of their soldiers to dispense with,” Beth finished for the Ranger.
“Correct again,” Wulfric said. “Only they could have sent a large force into the orchard to deal with us, but that would leave them thin around Vulkor. They decided to send a single wizard to deal with us.”
The Green Dragon: A Claire-Agon Dragon Book (Dragon Series 3) Page 13