Warrior of the Void

by M. R. Mathias

  "I won't, and Cryelos is next door," said Braxton as he pulled the covers up over her and pulled one of the wooden chairs close to the bedside. He then went to the window and pulled the curtain open a little bit before sitting back down.

  "I will be right here," he said, but she didn't hear him. She was already back to sleep.

  Braxton wasted no time seeking out the void. A white falcon leapt from his chest up onto the sill of the window and took flight out into the storm.

  Most of the heavy rain rolled off his wings, but some saturated his feathers, making them heavy, but not so heavy that he couldn't fly. If anything hindered his flight it was the strong, sudden bursts of wind that came from seemingly nowhere, and in all different directions. He was tossed through the dark sky like a leaf, but did his best to stay on course. The flashing lightning played havoc on his eyes. No sooner did they adjust to the dark, did another crooked shaft split the night with a bright yellow flash that stole his vision for a few moments more.

  He flew south along the cliff wall to where he remembered cutting over it above the forest. The rain slackened there, but only a little bit. It didn't take him long to find the rocky hill where he'd first seen the giant and his captors coming down. They'd been heading south away from the stronghold he remembered, so south he went.

  Why he was so worried about a child's dream he wasn't sure. Maybe it was because he'd recently seen a giant, or maybe because he'd just seen the fierce ogres in the tapestry crawling and scrabbling up the mountain, to do what?

  He didn't know the answer, but it somehow seemed important. Were they trying to kill the elf? If the Drar was right there, already released, killing Cryelos seemed a futile thing. None of it made any sense at all. How could a handful of gothicans make it across the world from Narvoza to Mount Preal, anyway? And by midsummer no less.

  He turned his head just in time to catch the glint of steel reflecting off a distant flash of lightning. He put his wings back and dove near where he'd seen it. He found a wooded valley and landed on a limb of one of the giant oaks there. The leaves kept the wind at bay, and with a shivering shake of his body, he threw most of the water off his feathers and let his eyes adjust to the darkness.

  There, on the ground, a half-eaten ogre leg lay amidst a pile of bones. The scavengers had been feeding on it but had been driven back by the heavy rain. Not too far away, an uprooted tree lay by another ogre's corpse. There were ogre footprints everywhere, but only one set of giant's footprints leaving the area. Braxton followed those and the trail of broken limbs that accompanied them.

  The mouth of the valley opened into the Green Sea right at the southern end of the cliff. From there, the giant's prints led north along the base of the cliff. On foot, Braxton thought it was probably a three day walk to Grey Rock keep for a man, and the way the grassy plain was flat and treeless, a group of ogres with a giant would be seen from the towers long before they could get there. There was no way they could expect to attack with any sort of surprise. Then lightning split the sky and in the distance Braxton saw them. At least he saw the upper two-thirds of the giant. Through the rain, in the brief flash, the green-skinned ogres blended well with the grass, but the giant stood out like a dark boulder rising above it all.

  Braxton flew closer and tried to count them, but it was hard to see the ogres. The darka stood out as much as the giant did in her black leather with her cloak swirling around behind her.

  Twenty darkons, a red-haired darka, half a hundred ogres, and an angry giant, all on their way to Grey Rock. Braxton could already imagine them feeding on the women and children hiding from the war.

  If Master Gilbert was correct, and the storm would last all the next day, then the following dawn, or maybe even the midnight hours before, would bring the attack.

  A perfectly timed storm, Braxton thought, or maybe a magical one.

  Suddenly, he was no longer being pelted with rain. It was as if it had just stopped, and only around him. He kept flapping his wings carrying himself toward the keep, but a glance up during the next lightning flash reflected yellow off blue dragon scales. Cobalt was flying directly over him shielding him from the storm.

  Braxton was thankful, but he couldn't help but remember how the darka had knocked mighty Emerald, and then Cobalt, from the sky with the same powerful magic that must've brought this timely storm. One thing was sure, there was about to be a battle at Grey Rock.

  Chapter Thirteen

  Every able-bodied male over fourteen years or so had been put on the wall to defend Grey Rock from the coming attack. A few of the braver women joined them. There were two defenders for every ten feet of wall, and only every third one of them was a skilled fighter. The southern end of the wall, near the cliff, was double manned, and most of the archers and crossbowmen were there. Buckets and barrels of fist-sized stones and flammable oil were spaced along the wall, and the better marksmen had cloth-tipped arrows soaking in the flammable stuff.

  Lord Amicuss was in command on the walls and said their job was to pin the giant against the cliff before he had a chance to get to the keep. The primary task was to put an arrow through the darka to neutralize her magic so that Cobalt, without a rider to hinder him, might contend with the giant without being stunned out of the sky. Cobalt had hissed to Braxton that he could fight on the ground as effectively as from the air, but Braxton told him that the concussion that brought him down would stun him just the same if he were on the ground, and that it might be better to crash in the distance than to go limp at the feet of the monstrous mountain giant.

  Braxton also told Cobalt and Chureal to refrain from attacking the giant right off. He'd come up with another plan for them that might take the giant out of the battle before it began. But it was a plan that relied heavily on Chureal's magic. The hardest part of it would be letting the ogres and the darka think they still had the advantage of surprise. One arrow loosed too soon from the empty looking walls and the plan Lord Amicuss and Sir Jory had made would be wasted, as would Braxton's plan to deal with the giant.

  The elderly, women, and younger children had been led deep into the caves that were hidden in the rocky cliff and several stages of guards and traps were in place to keep them safe. By true nightfall, all was ready.

  "The attack should come between now and dawn," Master Gilbert said to Braxton. He'd been correct at predicting the weather. Preparations had gone slow in the pouring storm, and there was no doubt that he was correct now, for the last time Braxton had flown over the approaching creatures, they'd been less than a day's walk away, and that was just after midday. Thinking the ogres would stop to rest, a midnight attack was likely, but Braxton told everyone he thought they would stop, feed, and regroup, then attack at dawn.

  It turned out that he was only half-right. Near midnight, Braxton was standing on the southern wall directly over the south gate near where the wall met the cliff face. He was looking down at Chureal fussing with the dragon in the torchlit bailey yard. He didn't see the four darkons skittering like spiders across the cliff face above them all. The storm had slackened, but still the clouds hid the moon and a slight drizzle was falling. No one else saw them either, except for the dragon. He jerked his head away from Chureal, who'd just finished what she was doing.

  "On the wallsss," he hissed loud enough for Braxton to turn just in time to see. The acrobatic darkons dropped down and sliced the gate man's throat, while another started to remove the heavy wooden bar.

  Shouts rang out and arrows streaked down into the two darkons in a humming cloud that left them both looking like porcupines. Cobalt wasted no time leaping into the air to chase the other two.

  Braxton hadn't seen any of them until it was almost too late. What he did see was all their carefully laid plans coming unraveled around them.

  "Quiet on the walls," Lord Amicuss yelled through clenched teeth. "Silence."

  Braxton echoed the command along the south wall, and with a gesture of pushing his hands down, urged the defenders to get thems
elves back out of sight. It was still possible that the ogres and their giant hadn't seen them.

  Then Cobalt lit up the night with a bright sizzling blast of his dragon breath and melted the two darkons still clinging on the cliff. Those two had almost made it to the north gate, and Braxton was suddenly aware that there might be more than one group attacking. He had tracked the enemy coming from the south their whole way but never once thought to look to the north.

  The sound of little feet thumping up the stone stairs from below distracted him from the burning cloth that was still fluttering into the Wood Haven from where Cobalt attacked. By the torch light, he could see that it was Chureal, and he closed his eyes and let out a sigh to clear his worry.

  "Quiet and down," he whispered to a young man who stood to gawk at what remained of the dragon's attack.

  Braxton snatched Chureal up and pulled her close. Under the tower where the southern wall met the wall that ran parallel to the cliff, a commotion started and shouts rang out. A pair of darkons came over the wall like silent skittering insects. Already, they were circled by a ring of dead or dying men that they'd slain with their swords. Arrows suddenly sprouted out of friend and foe alike at the corner.

  "Stop! Stop loosing," Lord Amicuss's voice was plain. "You're killing your own, you bloody fools. What is wrong with you?"

  Just then, several more men yelled at various places along the southern and eastern walls.

  "Light it up," Lord Amicuss yelled, and all along the wall, torches and lanterns flared so that they might see their attackers.

  It would have been a foolish idea, Braxton thought, if darkons and ogres used bows, but neither favored the long-range weapons, so being silhouetted on the wall top wasn't so dangerous.

  An arrow hissed by Braxton's ear and struck the wooden lantern pole beside him. A glance told him that it was Cryelos's arrow. The elf had sighted the ogres out there somewhere in the dark.

  Braxton scanned the walls and saw only two small groups of men battling the enemy. The darkons who had topped the walls were slain, and the last one was being cut down now.

  "Douse the lights," Braxton yelled. The whole keep fell back into a darkness that was intensified by the red-orange splotches that still burned inside everyone's eyes. In the distance, Cobalt lit up the night, and the whole of the keep's defenders gasped at the sight of the giant and his escort of ogres when they were visible for those moments.

  In that instant, Braxton knew that something was very wrong with the scene. They were too far away. Why would the darkons come so soon and leave their strength behind? The ogres and their giant wouldn't be there for several long moments, even if they ran the whole way.

  He found his answer in the distant shouts that erupted far behind him at the north gate.

  "Damn," Braxton yelled and started to run down the stairs. He nearly fell over Chureal and off the wall to a forty foot drop that would have no doubt broken something, if not killed him. Luckily, he caught hold of the wooden lamp pole and stopped himself.

  "Do you remember the plan with the giant?" he asked Chureal quickly.

  "Yes, Braxton, but I fixed Cobalt's—"

  "No buts. Stick to the plan." The shouts from the north were turning into screams. "Be safe," he called over his shoulder as he went down the stairs, taking three at a time.

  When he looked back, Chureal was sticking her tongue out at him defiantly.

  I have a better plan, Chureal said to herself. If you would've listened, Braxton, you would know it.

  Terrified shouts erupted all around her when the young blue dragon came thumping down in the middle of the wall, displacing half a dozen defenders. He lowered his neck for her, and she climbed on.

  Fly, she said to him with her mind. She was already deep in the void and was holding Cobalt there as well.

  Where? Cobalt asked.

  To the north gate.

  Out in the dark sea of grass, Cryelos had taken five of the best archers and two swordsmen. Sir Monster, had been smart enough to forego his normal armor for leather and chain. Cryelos had to make another man stay put while he and the rest of the group crept on the advancing ogres because his plate mail clanked and rattled so much.

  Hunter had taken the others around to the north gate after Lord Amicuss had signaled to them that the wall had been breached there.

  If the darkons just wanted to take the place, Cryelos knew that they could have easily done it. The way they scaled the walls like spiders, and the speed at which they moved, gave them a huge advantage over even the most seasoned human fighters and trained defenders of the garrison. Most of the men on the wall were clumsy, scared, and young, with little experience at all. It was clear to the elf that the enemy wanted to destroy the place. The giant would be able to pull the stones down and smash the walls to bits. They could have succeeded easily if they would have stayed together, he thought. Now, the few darkons that were left were going to get slaughtered at the north gate before the ogres even got their giant to the wall. Unless there were more darkons coming or more already there. It was then, as he strained his keen elven eyes to the cliff face above the keep, that he saw them coming down like a swarm of roaches. Half a hundred of them, maybe more, it was hard to say until the sky lit up with Cobalt's breath and the loud shriek of the dragon's roar filled the night from somewhere further north.

  "Come on," Cryelos ordered his archers as he started on a path that would intercept the ogres and their giant. "Make every arrow count and let none of them reach the wall."

  Braxton grabbed up a bow and let loose a dozen arrows at the black clad enemy swarming along the top of the north wall. But for each one he killed, two more came over, or dropped down from the cliff unhindered. It wasn't until a misty yellow blast of Cobalt's sizzling breath incinerated nearly half of the darkons on the wall that it looked like they might keep them out.

  Braxton, to his horror, saw that Chureal was riding Cobalt. Stupid! Stupid! He cursed himself. I should have known she couldn't stay out of it.

  "Chureal," he screamed at the top of his lungs. "Cobalt!" But it was no use, they were already flying overhead. He followed them with his eyes, and when Cobalt roared and sent another cloud of his crackling breath across the cliff face, Braxton saw two dozen darkons fall like rocks and a few more burst into flames from the heat of it. Still, three times as many were coming. The dragon blasted them again, and it looked like they'd cut the enemies number in half, but Braxton needed the stubborn little girl and her over obedient dragon to deal with the giant, like they'd planned, not here against the cliff on the north side of the keep.

  A growl off to his left turned Braxton back just in time to see a pair of darkons about to pull down Lord Amicuss. Braxton loosed on one of them with the last arrow he had and was relieved when it struck true. The big lord's sword came around and took care of the other one.

  Down in the bailey several battles had erupted. Over here a knight and a pair of young stablemen had a darkon surrounded, and over there a man with a bent short sword and a young boy dressed in finery finished off another shrieking darkon that had fallen or been knocked from the wall by the dragon. Under the north wall, half a dozen guardsmen and a few knights fought a small group of those that had made it over, but it wasn't looking good for them.

  Braxton closed his eyes and sought the void and all at once the world around him seemed to slow.

  Chureal, he called out in the blackness.

  Yes, Braxton, she answered as calmly as could be.

  I told you not to —

  A clap of thunder so thick and loud that he felt it in his chest blasted around him, and he immediately knew that the darka was trying to take Cobalt out of the battle with her magic concussion.

  "Chureal!" Braxton screamed as he leapt from the wall the full forty feet down into the bailey, landed with a roll, and charged toward the south wall where the darka had last been seen coming with the ogres.

  "Cobalt," he yelled. He heard a low grumbling growl and an oomph in his
head. He was sure it came from the dragon. "Chureal," he called again. In the moments it took him to get all the way across the keep, she hadn't responded, and he was terrified that something bad had happened to them.

  Three at a time he took the steps up to the top of the south wall and nearly ran headlong over the arrow-slitted parapet out into the empty air over the Green Sea. He would have, had an old man not snatched at his ankle when he stepped on his fingers.

  "Watch your step, boy," the old fighter said weakly, but with heat in his voice. "I ain't dead yet."

  Braxton looked out over the plains. Dawn had slightly lightened the sky, and what he saw nearly made him cry out with relief.

  Cobalt swooped down out of the air and blasted an ogre away from the leg chain he'd been holding, and with the talon of a hind claw, he grabbed another one by the shoulder, screaming and kicking as it went. Chureal was still on his back and pointing at the collar around the giant's neck. It turned liquid before Braxton's eyes and dripped away.

  The giant roared out his anger, but it wasn't directed at the dragon. The huge man-ish thing flailed one of his arms, yanking the ogre at the end of the chain through the grass as if he were but a child. The giant was battling for his freedom amidst a horde of ogres, who were sprouting arrows from their necks and chests. All gifts from Hunter and Cryelos, Braxton was sure.

  Braxton looked up and saw Cobalt and Chureal swooping in again, and then a bright red jagged ray shot straight up at them from the hands of the angry darka below. A sound like a swarm of angry bees filled his ears. Cobalt tilted his wings, and the deadly magic swept past them, missing by only a finger's breadth. Braxton's anger flared, partly out of a sense of protectiveness for Chureal, and partly because he was getting tired of messing with these strange creatures.

  "Menger Bloish Wraxenmen," he heard himself say. His hand pointed directly at the strange red-haired darka. She was pointing as well, but at Cobalt again. A short red blast left her fingertip but was cut off when a roaring streak of blue-green energy leapt from Braxton's finger at her like a hawk coming down on an unsuspecting field mouse. His magic enveloped her and turned white hot. She and everything immediately around her were consumed in its power.