Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga)

by Alexander, Ian

  Smoke-like arrows struck down the soldiers, dozens at a time.

  // DIE IN THE BITTERNESS OF YOUR FAILURE //

  Blood oozed from Lao-Ying's ribs as the points of Volfoncé's claws dug in. She dangled him over the jagged crags. He felt his life pouring out. This was not how he had hoped to die. Not before he was to behold his beloved once again. That was the entire reason he had accepted his fate as an immortal, the reason he'd suffered half a millennium. To be with her again, even in the lifting of the eternal veil.

  Valhandra, if thou still livest, grant thy servant but one last effort...

  Lao-Ying squeezed his eyes shut. He clung to his last shred of faith even more firmly than he did to Volfoncé's claws.

  Faith.

  The power behind the spirit potential.

  And then something wondrous happened.

  Like the rush of hot air from the opening of a fiery furnace, energy flowed through his body. He saw. He intuited. He began to transform.

  With a final surge, Lao-Ying swung his bare feet up just as they turned into talons. He dug them deep into the monstrous bird's belly and punctured the flesh with a fierce grip.

  Instead of an angry screech, the pained gasp of a woman came out of the vulture's beak. Its yellow eyes widened in shock as it let out a shriek.

  Then they fell.

  Turning over and over, neither the vulture nor the eagle relenting their grips.

  Lao-Ying struggled to right himself, but could not catch the wind under his wings.

  // WRETCHED OLD MAN, WE'LL BOTH DIE! //

  "I am prepared," said Lao-Ying smiling calmly in his heart as only an eagle can. "Are you?"

  Right away, the balance of power shifted.

  The violence in Volfoncé's eyes turned to fear. Black pools which once boiled haughtily, now darted from side to side as she tried in vain to flap her wings and catch the wind.

  They fell faster and faster, the razor sharp points of the rocks jutting up beneath them.

  Lao-Ying struggled until he found the strength to spread out one wing. This caused the two of them to turn over one more time, and now he angled his weight just so the air rushing up prevented Volfoncé to unfurl her own wings.

  Then came the crack of bones.

  The sinking of petrified stone points into flesh.

  A strained cry.

  Cut short by the hiss of expiring breath.

  Lao-Ying rolled across the enormous aviary form of Volfoncé and pushed himself up with human hands. From the vulture's neck, bent at a perverse angle, and the stillness of its breast, he knew she was dead.

  He climbed down, careful not to cut himself on the sharp rocks, and wrestled himself to his feet. Blood poured from his punctured side, but it was not the pain that sent him down to his knees. It was the chill of blood loss.

  He was dying.

  He had stopped Volfoncé, but would not live to see the promise for which he had waited over the past five centuries. And worse still, down in the valley below, he beheld a ghastly sight now threatening Render and Ahndien. Something he had not seen since the fall of the Sojourners at the hands of Malakandor's legions.

  The demonic cloud.

  CHAPTER EIGHTY-NINE

  The maniacal laughter stopped just long enough for Mooregaard's words to echo into the valley. "Valhandra is dead!"

  Render shuddered at the thought. It must not be so. Yet, where was He? Why did he not come to help at this most desperate moment? Render glanced around. The few soldiers that could actually move stumbled and backed away. They cowered as the dark horde rushed forward like a demonic swarm of locusts. Their smoke-arrows pierced many who tried to flee.

  He could sense the mass panic amongst the thousands of immobilized fighting men of the two kingdoms, many of whom murmured, groaned and screamed in terror, but could not move.

  Speak to the valley...

  Was it his imagination? His memory playing tricks?

  Apart from the charging demon horde, which howled unlike anything he'd ever heard or would ever want to hear again, there was nothing in the valley but dying soldiers and the dry bones of fallen Sojourner warrior, centuries dead.

  Where was Valhandra now?

  // SPEAK TO THE VALLEY...AND PROPHESY //

  "Sire?" The voice within resounded unmistakably.

  Valhandra.

  Render lowered himself to the ground, even as the thundering hooves of demon horses filled the air. A smoke arrow screamed past his face carrying the stench of decaying flesh with it.

  // SPEAK AND DO NOT FEAR, RENDER, FOR I SHALL GIVE THEE THE WORDS //

  He shut his eyes, facing the onslaught which would overtake them all in moments. The ground began to shake, rattling the thousands upon thousands of dry bones in the dust.

  Then, a pulse of light filled his chest—it was not blazing hot, but cool, refreshing. Render's mind and soul became clearer than it had ever been in his life. It was as though he could see for miles unobstructed, hear things clear over the mountains, and smell the fragrance of Valhandra's presence. The pulse rose up to his mouth and his tongue became loose. It practically moved on its own, though he seemed to already know the words.

  "Warriors of truth! Arise!"

  At this, a mighty cry of opposition rang out from the dark horde, just a few hundred feet away. At first Render wondered if the Torian or Tianese soldiers would receive these words. But as he spoke again, he realized that it was not they that he addressed. Light shot out from his mouth as he spoke again.

  "Rise up, warriors of spirit and truth!"

  The light spread like a mist and raced out into the sand, straight at the demon horde.

  "THUS SAITH THE KING OF ALL KINGS! THUS SAITH VALHANDRA!"

  Demon horses screamed.

  Thundering hooves stopped.

  White light, the inspired words from Render's mouth, enveloped the entire valley. The demon hordes stopped dead.

  Everything faded into a dreadful stillness.

  A beauteous terror filled the entire valley.

  And then it began.

  CHAPTER NINETY

  It was not the blinding light.

  Nor was it the sudden cessation of the hordes.

  It was the melodious tones of a Tianese flute that flooded the valley. From behind the white veil which enveloped nearly everything within an arm's reach, Ahndien emerged, her lips pursed over the end of her instrument.

  She played a simple yet haunting melody that seemed to cause the hills to tremble, the ground to shudder.

  Render turned and regarded her. Of course it was her. Who else could be responsible for such an otherworldly sound?

  Head held high, her brown eyes fixed Render with a courageous smile as she strode past him. Then she looked sharply into the light-filled expanse. Render followed her into the cloud.

  The cloud grew manifold tendrils, supernal and restless. They wove under and around the innumerable bones on the ground, caressing them, lifting them into the air.

  Ahndien's song grew louder. Stronger.

  Render didn't realize that he'd stopped until the words returned.

  // SPEAK TO THE VALLEY...FROM WHENCE COMES THY HELP //

  With one punctuated note, high and shrill, Ahndien's song stopped.

  But the music continued.

  The echo of one flute became a chorus of many.

  Though Render didn't understand, yet in his spirit he must have comprehended fully, for it drove him to speak again.

  "ARISE, IN THE NAME OF VALHANDRA!"

  At the sound of the name, a bristling wave of grunts flooded through the ranks of the demon forces.

  The fingers of light lifted hundreds of thousand bones into the air. Render could not believe what he saw. Nor could the weakened human warriors behind him, for they gasped in wonder and fear.

  Ahndien came running back to Render's side. She put away her flute and exchanged it for her father's sword and pointed to the peaks of Handara. "Over the hills..."

  A blazing
ball of white fire shot through the air and rushed towards them.

  On closer observation, Render saw that it was a mass of small, bird-shaped light entities, flocked together as one.

  The demon warriors stepped back as the flock rushed past them. The few who did not move out of the way soon enough disintegrating into ashes.

  "Get down!" Render grabbed Ahndien by the shoulders and jumped forward. The flock hit the ground and exploded in the midst of the host of bones, now fashioned into the skeletons of thousands of creatures.

  Render lifted his head.

  Before his very eyes, flesh and sinew stretched around the bones quicker than he could observe. In an instant, the valley teemed with life: Eagles, tigers, bears, men and women girded for battle.

  Before he could even blink, legions of spirit creatures haloed with white light stood ready. This seemed to enrage the demon horde though none of them dared take a step forward.

  Render blinked in amazement. He had finally done as Valhahdra had commanded and spoke to the valley. From whence cometh thy help.

  In the distance, Mooregaard transformed into a giant vulture once again, flew into the air and shouted at his demon army. "Why do you hesitate? By Malakandor, destroy them all!"

  The hordes charged forward with a horrific battle cry—something that resembled the shriek of mountain lions and the howl of wolves. For a brief moment, the sky darkened with thousands of smoke arrows flying at them. But this time, the resurrected warriors threw up a wall of fire, extinguishing all but a few.

  From the ranks of resurrected Sojourner troops, a tall and formidable man with flowing white hair, a silver breastplate and shield—upon which was emblazoned a royal blue dragon—turned and approached Render and Ahndien and pulled them to their feet.

  At first glance, from the wizened face and sagacious eyes, the man seemed hundreds of years old. But from the powerful arms, sturdy posture and chest, he could well be a young man, but a few years older than Render. He inclined his head.

  "Hail, Great Deliverer! Mikahl, High Commander of the Sojourners reporting. I await your command."

  Even then, the demon horde fell upon the front lines. A furious battle ensued. Beasts of light wrestled, twisting and writhing against the dark shadow hordes. Mikahl did not so much as blink.

  Render looked to Ahndien and nodded to the hapless Tianese and Torians. Understanding, she agreed. "Yes."

  "Very well then, Commander," said Render. "Assemble a battalion to protect the Tianese and Torians. If they become ready to fight, employ your best judgment."

  "Sire." Mikahl turned, put two fingers in the corners of his mouth and blew a loud whistle. Right away, a flock of seagulls—much larger than usual—formed a line before all the human troops.

  Had he blinked, Render might not have witnessed them transform into a solid wall of mail-clad warriors, swords and crossbows at the ready.

  Gently placing a hand on the back of Ahndien's head, he pulled her in close and kissed her. "You should stay here."

  "I am charged by Valahandra to protect you. I will not leave your side."

  "You could die. Did He consider that?"

  She turned her eyes downward. For a moment it seemed she might change her mind. But then lifted her face and with the same blazing glare as when they first met she said, "I only know what He told me. And I will obey."

  He knew better than to argue with her.

  "Then we'll die together." Render took her by the hand, but to his surprise, she began to lift off the ground by her own power.

  "You shall surely not die," Ahndien said, as he flew up and joined her. "You've a kingdom to deliver and establish."

  Aloft, with Ahndien by his side, Render drew his sword, gave Ahndien a grave nod, then to Mikahl—who also raised his sword, indicating to the remaining Sojourner troops they were to join the battle.

  "And now," Render said, all Sojourner eyes fixed upon him and ready to engage, "For Valhandra!"

  A mixture voice both of human and beast, the Sojourner battle cry shook the air. "For Valhandra!"

  CHAPTER NINETY-ONE

  Flying directly into the battle, Render took heart. The glowing Sojourner warriors, resurrected from ages past must have been spirit creatures because only they could effectively combat the demon horde. No human mortal seemed able to stop them as they passed through solid matter. Mikahl, however, led the charge and repelled the first wave.

  By Valhandra's wisdom, the help had come.

  But could they stop Mooregaard and the unending stream of demon warriors pouring out of the black whirlwind? As they hovered over the battlefield, swords held out, both Ahndein's and Render's blades touched, his crackling with bridled azure lightning and hers ablaze like a long golden torch.

  "They're coming!" Ahndien said, her voice taut with dread.

  The next wave of smoke spewed out of the whirlwind, past the ground battle, and straight at Render and Ahndien. The dark smoke snaked out at them, then dispersed into countless bats the size of hawks. All round them Render could see nothing but blackness. All he heard was the shrill shrieking, the relentless flapping, as they engulfed them.

  He could barely breathe.

  The rancid stench of decay and of blood choked him. Even before he could swing his sword, Ahndien began slashing into the swarm. Every few seconds the fire from her sword sliced an opening in the flying pitch, affording a ray of sunlight to come through. But it never lasted more than a moment. Even more bats filled the space.

  Render shouted in pain as one of them bit into his shoulder, piercing his shirt and skin with its fangs. With his left hand charged with power, he grabbed it. Instantly, it turned to ash. But the wound from its bite still burned with pain.

  He continued to slash at the bats, each time cutting open a swath of sunlight, each time watching the blackness fill it again. They could continue this for a while, but it kept them from the real battle below.

  Ahndien strained and shouted as she struck dozens with each stroke. "I can't stop them, Render!"

  From the corner of his eye, through the opening in the swarm, he saw the vulture. Mooregaard, ominous and massive in size, slowly hovering towards the Tianese and Torians. "We've got to get out!"

  As though in response, the swarm closed in even tighter. Bats fluttered in his nose, ears, hair. They bit into his neck, arms and legs, faster than he could burn them off. But he kept his eyes on Ahndien.

  She fought them off well with her sword until a dozen of them knocked or pried it from her hands. It fell silently into the black stream which swallowed it into the whirlwind.

  Render sheathed his sword, flew straight at Ahndien and wrapped her in his arms. "Shield yourself."

  "You'll burn!"

  "Just for a moment."

  "No!"

  // AHNDIEN, PLEASE. IT'S OUR ONLY WAY OUT! //

  The swarm became like a solid wall, closing in on all sides, biting, pulling on hair and clothes with sharp teeth. They would tear the flesh from their bones if this continued.

  "Trust me," Render said. "Just one quick burst."

  She agreed, then hid her head in his chest.

  The swarm was so tight around them he could hardly breathe. Each time he tried, it constricted even more.

  // ONE BURST, AHNDIEN. READY? //

  He felt her nod tightly.

  // NOW! //

  In a flash of blue and gold light, a deep thunderclap that deafened Render's ears momentarily, Ahndien's fire melded with his lighting. The collision of forces detonated. Heat, lightning and fire shot out in all directions. The energy sphere exploded, incinerating the swarm in an instant.

  It also sent Render and Ahndien flying back in opposite directions. Render remained aloft, but Ahndien seemed to have lost consciousness and plummeted into the melee below.

  Eyes still stinging from the smoke and smell of burnt hair and bat flesh, he fought the backwards momentum. Tried to fly over and catch her. But he was too far. She would be dashed against the rocks or killed in th
e midst of the swords, spears and arrows. "Ahndien!"

  Then, out from behind the rocks, along the outskirts of the valley, a singular body came bounding at incredible heights and speed. It was Branson!

  Bouncing off the heads and shoulders of the unsuspecting demon warriors, he knocked them to the ground before they even knew what hit them. He gave a loud whoop and caught Ahndien in his arms just yards above the fighting.

  "Follow me!" He said and pointed his chin to the eastern edge of the valley. "Mooregaard's over there!"

  Fully recovered, though tiny needles prickled every inch of his body, Render flew after Branson and Ahndien, who was now awake and able to fly on her own.

  It was difficult to discern if the Sojourners or the forces of Malakandor were winning. Thousands of both had fallen. The Tianese and Torian troops, now released from their enchanted frozen state, cheered and rattled their armaments behind a fiery line of Sojourner spirits. "Let us fight!" they shouted. But their natural weapons would have no effect on the mist-like demon troops, no matter how real they appeared.

  "Hurry, Render!" Branson led them to a rock ledge which overlooked a secluded area below. As Render alighted, he touched Ahndien's face tenderly. Her hair was singed and dark burn marks covered the edges of her clothes, but she was otherwise unharmed. He turned to Branson.

  "Why, you're like some kind of..."

  "Don't even say it. All my life, I knew there was something special about me. I just never expected to manifest the spirit potential of a blasted frog!"

  Ahndien kissed his cheek. "Frog spirit or not, I'm grateful."

  He wiped the moisture off as though it were poison. "There'll be none of that, now!"

  "Where's Mooregaard?" Render whispered.

  "Down there."

  He glanced down but saw nothing but sand. But from beneath them, under the space over which the precipice hung, a whooshing sound caught his attention. All he could see below was a flash of light. Then came the smell of sulfur and smoke.