by Jon Bender
“Your magic saved us. If you had not done what you did, many of us would be dead right now,” she looked up and met his eyes. “I am sorry if my reaction made you uncomfortable. It can’t be easy for you.”
With those few words, she soothed a raw nerve at his core. The one that was always ashamed of his power, the one that did its best to hide what he was from others, so they would not fear him. Not even Corin had ever acknowledged this feeling.
“Thank you,” he said, his voice wavering. “Why do you want to come with us to Ale’adar? Why leave your home for a place you have never been to and know nothing about?”
She looked out into the darkness. “Chams’dell stop being my home when my father died. There is nothing left for me there. I want to start a new life.”
“You know we may not make it out of this forest. What we seek is dangerous. If you wish to leave when we reach the city, it may be for the best,” he said.
“What are you are looking for?” she asked, turning to look at him again.
Sitting down next to her, Jaxom laid out the entire story. He described what he had seen in the memories of the shade--the great room and the man inside it.
“There is castle at the center of the city. That may be the place you are looking for.”
“A castle?”
“Yes, the city is well-preserved. It is set up like the wheel of a wagon, with roads circling each other. Avenues connect the circles in straight lines, and those lead to the hub where the castles walls begin.”
“How do you know this?” “You can see the castle from the trees, and it is not hard to discern how the streets run from the outside,” she said.
“Why does your family know so much about this forest when everyone else knows almost nothing?”
“My family has been in the north since the Mage Wars. I do not know the whole story, only what I was told by my father, and what he knew was altered with each telling,” she said. “After the Mage War, the great kingdom here was abandoned. The mages who ruled had been overthrown or killed, but before they left, they used their magic to alter the city somehow. They made it so no one who ever entered would leave again. Over the centuries, the forest grew up around it, and most of the kingdom returned to wilderness. The wolves and other creatures came later to claim it as their own.”
This magic made Jaxom nervous. Only a very powerful enchantment would keep people away for that amount of time. He kept going over everything they did not know but in the end they would just have to deal with those problems when they found them. Standing, Jaxom offered a hand to help Adriana up, and together they walked the short distance back to camp. .
Chapter 12
The morning of the second day brought no more attacks from the denizens of the forest. Jaxom’s pack shadowed the small group just out of sight. He periodically took control of one of the wolves, using their enhanced senses to check for threats nearby, but he never found much besides the scent trail of deer and small animals. The only concerning creature was one he had never seen, but the wolves’ memories revealed a large beast with six powerful legs, each ending in three deadly claws. It was the size of a horse and had a short snout containing dozens of sharp teeth. The creature’s grey and black fur made it as invisible as the wolves in the dark woods. One of these animals could kill half a pack before it was brought down. The scent had been moving away from them when he had discovered it, but he made sure to check for it as they moved through the shadowed forest.
Beyond a few words, Jaxom had not spoken to Adriana since the previous night. Instead he spent the day talking to Da’san, asking him questions about his life and connection to the goddess Sarinsha.
“So what you do is not casting?” Jaxom asked.
“Not as you think of it. I ask Sarin to bless me with power to do what I need. If I offend her in some way, she could remove her blessing and leave me helpless,” he said.
“Sarin? Not Sarinsha?”
“Sarinsha is not her full name. Her true name is Sarinsha’Tel’dareesh, but that can take a while to say in prayer,” Da’san said with a small smile.
“The powers you used the other day, you prayed for those?” Jaxom asked.
“In a way. I prayed for ways to help stop the wolves. Sarinsha spoke to me, and through me, she exerted her power, allowing me to form it as I needed,” he said. Nodding, Jaxom thought over how the priest’s magic worked. It seemed that the goddess only granted Da’san power if his uses for it were in accordance with her agenda. Jaxom didn’t think he could work that way.
When the sun began to set, Adriana stopped her horse. They made their camp with the surrounding trees looming over their heads.. Jaxom commanded his risen wolves to begin circling again, and the rest of the group dismounted to get a fire going and warm up some food. They spoke very little as they ate and then settled down for the night. The night was cooler than it had been when they had first left Ale’adar. Fall was coming with winter not far behind. Jaxom hoped the war would not last that long. Staring up at the trees, he doubted, not for the first time, his decision to undertake this journey. Would it matter who was behind the war if Corin lost because he wasn’t there to help? He knew it was prideful to think his involvement would be the deciding factor. Nevertheless, he couldn’t shake the feeling that he should be there, not here in this cursed forest. He drifted fretfully off to sleep.
The wolves’ warning jerked him from his blankets. He jumped to his feet, holding his sword out in a ready position.
“What is it?” Cribble asked, drawing his sword from its sheath.
“I don’t know,” Jaxom replied. He reached out to the nearest wolf.
The forest around him snapped into focus as he saw through the risen’s eyes. He could smell everything and his sharp ears caught even the softest sounds. He could see the shapes of men moving through the trees towards the firelight with weapons at their sides. Jaxom could hear the slight crunching of leaves under their boots, but something was wrong. They had no scent. Even from where the risen wolf stood, downwind of the men, he smelled only trees and earth. Jaxom felt the fur rise at the nape of his neck. The wolf brain somehow knew that the strange, odorless men had come from the cursed city in the forest. As Jaxom returned to his own body, the sudden loss of the enhanced senses left him feeling newly vulnerable in the darkness. With a command, his pack formed between them and the strangers, but he could tell there were too many for the wolves to handle.
“Men are approaching from the north, a lot of them,” he said to the group.
“Your wolves?” Jerup asked.
Jaxom shook his head. “They won’t last long against so many.”
“Do you know who they are?” Cribble asked Adriana.
“They come from the city,” she said. “I have never seen them up close and never within the forest. My father told me they have been here since the kingdom fell.”
“We have two options. We stay and fight, or we run,” Cribble said.
Looking around at their faces, Jaxom knew he had to make the choice. For once, he would like to have another alternative. Why could nothing be solved by talking? Berating himself for wasting time, he weighed their options. They couldn’t risk running in the dark from an enemy who knew the area. They could too easily lose each other in the blackness and be hunted down separately or savaged by animals.
“We fight.”Cribble grunted. “I knew you were going to get me killed.”
Jaxom checked in with his pack. Two had been hacked apart, but the remaining two still fought. Watching through his risen’s eyes, he saw the wolf rip the head off a man before jumping away to avoid a spear. Meanwhile, the other wolf tore an axe wielder’s arm away, only to see him pry the heavy weapon from the lost hand and attack again with the recovered blade. He commanded the wolves to retreat to their camp. A few seconds later, the wolves burst from the darkness into the small area lit by the flames. The group circled the fire, facing outward, while Jaxom commanded his remaining wolves to help Da’san and Brenin,
the two weakest in close combat.
The first man to walk into the flickering light wore leather armor and carried a curving one-sided blade. The blade was the same type used by the shades, but what caught Jaxom’s attention was the man’s eyes, which glowed a faint white. He had never looked into the eyes of a re-animated being that was not of his making. For the first time, he understood why people found them so terrifying.
“Risen!” Jaxom yelled. “Destroy the head!”
Da’san released an arrow at one of the enemy, sinking the arrow deep into one glowing eye. The risen dropped to the ground, the magical strings supporting it cut away. Two of the enemy rushed towards Adriana. Bringing her mace to bear, she knocked a curved sword away then reversed her swing to collide with the temple of the second attacker. Swinging his own sword, Jaxom removed the sword arm of the first, and the appendage landed with a thud on the ground. With the other arm, it grabbed Adriana’s throat in a powerful grip before Jerup struck it off as well. The risen stumbled forward, lunging at Adriana, and the huntress planted her mace in its face.
Risen flowed forward into the light, more than Jaxom could take the time to count. Pointing his sword at the largest group, he released the captured fireball. It roared forth from the enchanted blade in a blinding streak of red and orange. When the flame finally died away, five of the enemy lay unmoving on the ground, and six more had been turned into horrid silhouettes of charred meat. The risen moved forward, undeterred. The smell of burning flesh churned Jaxom’s stomach.
A shout from behind him shattered the air. Risking a look, Jaxom saw half a dozen risen thrown back as the ground was torn apart around them. When the powerful note ended, the scattered risen gathered themselves up and again moved towards the priest. An arrow slammed into one’s face before it could fully stand. Another, its spine broken, dragged itself on the ground. The wolves leapt at the enemy, crushing skulls and snapping necks in their power jaws as yet another wave of human risen emerged from the trees. The new group of enemies surrounded the remaining wolves, hacking and slashing until the wolves were reduced to a pile of blood, bone, and meat.
Jaxom raised his hand and cast the blight forth. The enemy risen were so tightly packed that the tendrils spread quickly, but the rot wasn’t fast enough stop the attack. Releasing the flow of magic, Jaxom swung his sword, lopping off an enemy’s head. One grabbed his sword arm while another latched on to his throat, immobilizing him. From the corner of his eye, he saw his friends similarly being restrained. The hand on his throat tightened, and stars speckled his vision then began to fade. He slipped down a dark tunnel, the light of the fire fading into the distance.
Chapter 13
Corin paced back and forth, casually inspecting Lord Telgrin’s men. Before him, five hundred soldiers stood rigidly in neat formation, their unmoving eyes facing forward. Leather and chain mail armor glimmered in the sunlight. Lord Telgrin walked next to him wringing his hands behind his back. These soldiers brought Corin’s total force to just over fifty thousand fighting men--less than what the southerners had sent against him, but not by much. The men looked ready, but only the test of battle would truly show their ability.
“You have fielded a fine unit, Lord Telgrin. You should be proud of your men,” Corin said.
Telgrin’s shoulders visibly relaxed at the compliment. “Thank you, your majesty. I am pleased that you find them satisfactory.”
“More than satisfactory. They will perform well when the time comes.” Corin nodded to the man and began walking back into his palace, two of his personal guard following.
The wagons and supplies they carried were almost ready. As Corin passed through the door, a pair of his men saluted, bringing fists to chests. Corin felt a pang of regret. The city guard would remain behind when they marched south, a decision he had spent hours speaking to advisors and deliberating over. The two thousand men of the guard were the best he had, better trained and experienced than those he had just inspected. They would stay to defend the capital against the small chance that a portion of the invading army would circle around to attack the city.
The throne room was full of people who had come to make requests or settle disputes. He had no wish to deal with minor problems at a time like this, but the kingdom would not run without these people. The merchants supplied a large part of the taxes that were now funding the defense. The armorers created the weapons his army carried, and farmers fed that army. An army could march with limited weapons and armor. They would even march without pay to protect their families, but without food, the war would be over before it began.
Corin looked up at the ceiling of the large vaulted room. The painting there depicted his ancestors’ great victories. Corin had lived beneath them all his life. The massive pillars supporting the ceiling were so huge that three men could barely encompass them with their arms linked. As he moved deeper into the room, his subjects bowed low at his approach. Corin stepped onto the throne dais and settled himself into the enormous ornate chair. Dozens of great kings had sat on this throne since the first had formed Ale’adaria, unifying the many lords who thought to claim power after the Mage Wars. It was carved from white marble and emblazoned with a large, golden falcon in the backrest. Gold had been hard to come by at the time. Nearly all of it had been spent to fund the widespread fighting after the mages fell from power. His ancestor, Tragon Baldwin, had commissioned the chair as a display of his power to the other lords, all of whom ultimately joined him under his falcon banner. Corin raised a hand, and his subjects rose. His chancellor waved the first petitioner forward.
After several hours, Corin called an end to the audience. While helping two minor lords settle a land dispute or hearing merchants’ requests for more patrols on the trade routes, his mind was occupied with other things. Jaxom in the north, looking for something they were not even sure was there; Nelix and Celia in the south, risking their lives to buy him time; and all the issues he had to deal with here, not the least of which was Serin and his mages. After sorting out a tax issue for one of his Holding Lords, he stood. His subjects bowed once more as he left the throne room. His back ached from sitting so long, a small price to pay for his kingdom.
When he arrived, officers and advisors already occupied the council room. Corin had called for one more meeting before the army marched south. Reports he had received from General Blackburn had not been encouraging. The enemy had gone against the usual tactics of keeping forces together when invading a territory, instead breaking into smaller groups to sweep across Ale’adaria, looting and foraging in abandoned holdings for supplies. To top it off, they had split the mages among the groups. Some would consider such a tactic unwise as it made the mages easier to pick off. Indeed, General Blackburn had confirmed killing a number since Celia’s disastrous discovery. His cousin had been the first to learn of their methods, a revelation that had nearly cost her whole unit. Fortunately, she had acted quickly and correctly, the first of the two far more important than the second. There was nothing worse than a commander who couldn’t make a decision, even if it was the wrong one. Corin had been concerned that she would not be able to do what was necessary and was happy to be proven wrong.
“Where do we stand with our preparations to march?” he addressed the room.
“We need another two days to have everything ready, your majesty,” Lord Garion responded from Corin’s left. He was responsible for a holding far to the west near the ocean. As they prepared for war, he had taken the position as his foremost advisor for the army. He was a competent man, but the slow pace of life from that part of the kingdom was evident in his manner.
“It has already been more than a ten-day, Lord Garion. Do you expect General Blackburn to win the war with only a thousand men?” Corin asked, his anger building. “He is losing men almost every day to buy us time.”
“Of course not, your majesty.” Garion replied, small beads of sweat forming at his brow.
“Have the remaining food stores been loaded?” Corin aske
d.
“That is part of the problem. Supplies have not yet arrived from the outer holdings.”
Corin could feel time slipping away. He had to move now. “You have till tomorrow to load whatever you can. Food is what we will need the most. I do not want to scavenge from the land while we fight.” Wars had been lost because armies had been too busy looking for supplies.
“Your maj--” Corin raised a hand, stopping him.
“I do not care how. If you have to have men run with sacks all the way to the city, I do not care. Just get it done.”
Garion nodded. Corin turned to address the others in the room. Henrick, his treasurer, wore a calculating expression. The older man had been a very successful merchant before he retired. He took his position only at Corin’s request and from the sense of duty, he felt to the kingdom that had made him rich. “How do our coffers fare, Master Henrick?”
“We have had many good years, your majesty, and revenue has been plentiful. All the necessary items have been paid for in full, and we have ample coin to pay the men.” He paused for a moment, considering. “I know it may not matter, but we will not be broke at the end of this.”
“Of course it matters, Master Henrick. Our victory would mean much less if our people freeze in the winter because they cannot afford coats,” Corin said. “Thank you.” Henrick gave a low bow.
When he could not put it off any longer, Corin addressed Serin Valsch. The mage had been standing quietly in the room while Corin spoke to the others. He had an air of boredom. Corin had never liked the man, sure that a majority of Jaxom’s alienation was because of him. Jaxom did not seem to care that he had never been accepted into the mages’ circle, not even allowed into the castle they called home. A castle that resided within Corin’s city. He had spoken to Serin on the subject many times, but the man refused to listen, stating blandly that Jaxom’s kind was not welcome in their home. Besides the mage’s obvious prejudice towards his friend, Corin believed there was another reason for his attitude. The society of mages was tight-lipped about their political structure, but Corin knew it was linked to ability. Sarin, who had been their leader since before Corin took the throne, was the most powerful mage in the castle. Jaxom was not always confident in his power, but Corin knew that his friend was strong. He may not be a match for the old man in raw destructive power, but Jaxom’s versatility made him far more dangerous. Corin suspected that the fire mage alienated Jaxom because he found him threatening.