by Adam Blade
The flame bird sent an urgent message throbbing through Tanner. Don’t think about that now! You’re playing into his hands! She was right.
“I will take you apart, limb by limb,” Tanner said in a voice like steel.
Varlot opened his mouth in a throaty bellow: “Not before I destroy you.”
There was a flash of movement. A single figure launched himself from the front of the allied line, charging at the Beast. “You killed my wife!” he yelled.
“Affren, no!” Gwen called.
Two more men broke after the villager to pull him back. Affren brandished his sword as he charged straight at Varlot, swinging it wildly. “For vengeance!” he shouted.
Varlot simply swung one of his enormous fists, catching the rebel leader under the chin and snapping back his head. Affren slid across the ground, tripping the two men who had followed. Tanner could see his neck was broken.
The other men picked themselves up and fled back to the lines.
Laughter broke out over the chill silence. Gor folded his arms across his chest. “Who’s next?”
An uncontrollable rage surged through Tanner as he looked at the broken body of his comrade. He squeezed with his knees, and Firepos climbed higher. Gulkien sprang into the air, joining them with thrusts of his sinewy wings. Falkor lifted his head, and his scales glittered an angry scarlet.
General Gor drew his blade — a black, serrated broadsword.
Tanner leaned forward, lifted his sword, then shouted with everything he had.
“Attack!”
The varkules prowled forward, their striped fur pulsing with muscle and their ragged claws extended. They paced ahead of the infantry, snapping drooling jaws. Tanner saw an ax spin through the air and bury itself in one of the creature’s chests. Gwen! The varkule collapsed backward, crushing its howling rider.
Gulkien snarled as Gwen pulled another throwing ax from inside her cloak.
The death of an enemy soldier seemed to give the Avantians courage. They pushed on in a wave of war cries, with the cavalry galloping ahead of the charge. At the same time, the enemy broke ranks and rushed forward, past Gor and Varlot. Their weapons met with a deafening clash. Tanner saw a mass of writhing varkules smashing into horses, thrusting and slashing swords. Screams and grunts filled the air. Falkor surged through the throng with Rufus astride his back, seizing a soldier in his fangs and tossing him from side to side until he was dead. His tail scooped up two others and squeezed their life away in his powerful coils while Rufus sent out beams of magic from his fingertips, scorching men or making weapons leap out of soldiers’ hands. A clutch of enemies cowered as Gulkien spread his wings over them, descending with his claws outstretched to tear their flesh.
Tanner spotted Gor striding back toward the fortress with Varlot at his side.
“You’re not running away from this fight,” Tanner muttered. “Let’s finish him, Firepos!” he yelled.
The flame bird responded at once, rising up to gather herself. For a moment she hovered, then dipped her golden beak toward the general and his Beast. Drawing her wings to her side, she dove.
Flames sear across my feathers and I drop like an arrow at the Horse Beast who has pledged his loyalty to evil. He turns, his eyes rolling angrily as he lifts his fists to throw me aside. I open my beak with a screech, folding my wings and reaching with my talons. They slip through the cracks in his armor and rip into his flank. I grip tightly as he bellows, sinking my red-hot talons deeper into his flesh.
I hear the clash of metal on metal and see that Tanner leans over my side, swinging his sword against Gor’s dragon helmet. The general staggers back but recovers and lunges with his own blade. Tanner deflects the blow and slashes in a blurred arc. The sword catches Gor’s arm, sinking into the muscle of his shoulder. The general hisses and spins away. With a single wing beat and a thrust of my legs, I push above them. Varlot sinks to one knee as blood seeps from his wounds over the plates of his armor. His eyes blaze with pain and anger.
“Take me back down!” yells Tanner. “I have to finish him!”
The flames of the lava blind my vision. Something is wrong here, and I wheel away from the fortress.
The army is in danger. I sense it. We must go to them.
Tanner looked back in frustration as the general placed a hand against Varlot’s leg to pull himself upright. He couldn’t understand why Firepos was taking him away.
“Gor was in my grasp!”
The army needs you, Firepos replied.
Tanner tore his eyes from his foe and surveyed the battle. The allied forces had been pushed back across the scrubby plain, and the ground was littered with the corpses of the dead and the dying. Horses lay on their sides or limped away.
In the center of the battle was Falkor. Several arrows protruded from his scales, but the Beast was still fighting, coiled among a trio of varkules and a small group of Avantians. His black eyes narrowed as he darted at the legs of one of the vicious creatures. It tried to wriggle away, but Falkor yanked back, tearing the limb free.
The enemy troops had kept their shape better than the village forces, but Tanner noticed a spot where Gor’s men were only two or three deep. He urged Firepos to swoop over a group of Avantian horsemen. “Form into a row!” he shouted. “Make a charge over there!”
The Avantian cavalry wheeled around and stormed forward, their horses smashing through the line. The foot soldiers followed through, spilling into the empty space behind and attacking the enemy from the rear.
“Tanner! Help!” shouted Gwen.
Tanner turned toward her voice and saw her desperately swinging her rapier at a crowd of enemy soldiers on her right side. Five others had managed to seize Gulkien’s left wing so he couldn’t fly.
“Help them!” Tanner shouted.
An orange glow formed under Firepos’s talons as she swooped. She released it at the band of soldiers keeping Gwen busy, turning them into columns of flames. As Tanner rose again, he saw Gwen set upon the others with her rapier, slashing and stabbing until they released Gulkien’s wing. The wolf turned on the ones who remained, savaging them with his teeth.
Tanner and Firepos swept over Rufus, who moved through the battle on foot, blasting bolts of blue light from his staff and spilling enemy soldiers to the left and right. One raised his shield, deflecting the beam of light at the fortress walls. With a crunch, the masonry cascaded into the lava below, incinerating instantly.
A scream sounded beneath him, and Tanner looked down to see a soldier driving back a woman with his pike. She only had a rake to defend herself and stumbled onto her hands and knees. Firepos landed and Tanner leaped off her back, rolling across the ground. As he stood, the soldier raised the pike to impale the woman. Tanner hacked at the soldier’s neck with his sword, and he fell with a gurgling cry.
Tanner climbed onto his Beast once more and took to the air. The tide’s turning, he realized. Only a handful of varkules remained, and many of those hobbled from their wounds. Gradually the Avantians were steadying their lines, holding their own as the enemy numbers thinned. Many lay dead or dying over the plain, and a thousand cries of pain reached his ears.
Without their sacrifice, we wouldn’t even have gotten this close, Tanner thought.
“It’s time to find Gor,” he said to Firepos.
His Beast suddenly banked sideways, dipping dangerously in the air. Tanner had to pull her feathers to keep her steady.
Pain surges like a lightning strike from the old scar beneath my wing. My eyes are turning blind and I trust my rider to guide me. Derthsin is near. His evil poisons the air I breathe, quenching my flames. My wings feel heavy and it’s all I can do to stay aloft.
Tanner must not know the agony I suffer. He must focus on the battle ahead. My life is not important anymore, and if he knew this, hopelessness would sap his strength, too.
What’s the matter? he asks.
Nothing, I lie. Keep your eyes on the fight, my rider.
Firepos seemed
to gather herself and rose up on strong wing thrusts. Tanner felt in control once more as he spotted Gor striding toward a wounded Avantian, who was trying to stand but bleeding heavily from his thigh. Varlot had disappeared. Perhaps he’s mortally wounded, Tanner dared to hope.
Gor planted a boot on the man’s side and pushed him onto his back. He drew his sword, the edge glittering and stained with blood.
“What’s it to be?” Gor called to Tanner. “Shall I end his suffering?”
A fireball was too risky. Tanner directed Firepos in a low glide and leaped off midflight, landing a few paces from Derthsin’s general. His fist clenched around the hilt of his sword. “Step away from him,” he said. “It’s me you want.”
“You dare to face me, boy?” Gor sneered.
Firepos hovered overhead.
Help the others, Tanner commanded. The flame bird lifted away.
Gor tipped back the face guard of his helmet to reveal his dark features. Tanner drew his sword with an icy hiss from its sheath.
“You killed my grandmother,” he said. “I promised myself that day I would see you die.”
Gor smiled and swung his blade in a slow figure eight, then snapped down the visor. “I can reunite you with her, if you wish.”
Anger pulsed through Tanner’s veins, but as he stepped forward, he noticed Rufus come into view a few paces to his right. The wizard was swinging his staff to drive back two enemy soldiers. As he turned, his cloak billowed. The world seemed to slow as Tanner saw the outline of the mask pieces inside. For a moment, he forgot about General Gor completely. His grip on the sword loosened.
Come to me, said a voice. The Mask of Death calls to you.
Rufus swiped the end of his staff against the jaw of one of the soldiers and came closer to Tanner. As he did so, the voice in his head grew louder.
Take the mask. Wear it. The power calls to you.
Tanner turned just in time to see Gor swinging his sword. He stepped aside as the edge bit into the ground. Gor lashed at him with the back of his gauntleted hand, sending Tanner sprawling across the ground. Tanner shook his head clear and climbed to his feet dizzily. As he did, he felt the draw of the mask nearby. Beyond Gor, a varkule closed its jaws over a prone villager’s throat. Bloodlust prickled over Tanner’s skin at the sight. This won’t go on! he promised himself.
He threw himself at Gor, taking him by surprise and driving the hilt of his sword into the general’s face. He collapsed full-length like a felled tree, blood pouring from both nostrils.
Tanner lifted his sword to deliver the final blow, but something dragged his eyes away.
The mask! Rufus was just a few paces away. It’s right there. I could take it….
Gor scrambled to get up from the ground, picking up a nearby severed arm. As Tanner turned to face him, the General threw it at his chest. Tanner ducked and battered the limb away.
Gor regained his feet.
“Your mind’s not on the battle,” he leered, eyes gleaming triumphantly behind the slits of his helmet. “My master was right. You’re thinking of another prize.” He slashed at Tanner, who met the blade with his own in a shower of sparks. The blow jarred Tanner’s shoulder painfully, but he stood his ground. Part of him knew he should counter, but with the mask so close, he could barely concentrate. Gor lunged again, and Tanner blocked low, driving the general’s sword tip into the ground.
“Impressive!” growled the general. “Your sword skills have improved, Tanner. Anyone would think you had tasted a Beast’s blood.”
His words penetrated the fog of Tanner’s brain. Rage took over, and he rushed at Gor.
The general stepped aside, seizing Tanner’s sword arm, and thrust out a foot to trip him. As Tanner fell on his back, he felt his sword being twisted deftly from his hand. Gor stood over him, the point of his blade leveled at Tanner’s chest. He lifted the face guard again and grinned. Spots of blood from his nose dripped over the front of his breastplate.
“Tell me,” he sneered, “which part of you shall I remove first?”
General Gor pulled back his blade, dark clouds swirling beyond him. Tanner waited for the serrated edge to sink into his chest.
But the general’s face creased in a smile as something seemed to occur to him. “Perhaps I won’t kill you quite yet,” he goaded, kicking the toe of his boot into Tanner’s side so that his ribs thrummed with pain. Tanner rolled onto his side, groaning, and another fierce kick to his kidneys made him writhe in the mud.
The general knelt beside him, holding the point of Tanner’s own sword against his cheek. The tip pressed harder and harder against his skin until red-hot pain blossomed across his face, making his eyes water. He licked his lips and tasted the salt tang of blood. General Gor was pressing the sword so hard now that Tanner could feel its point against his teeth. He couldn’t speak and he dare not fight back.
“You were never going to get the better of me,” the general said, bringing his face close to Tanner’s. “Boys and their pets should know when they’ve met their match.”
Gor pulled the blade free and shoved Tanner onto his back again. Tanner felt blood trickling down his throat and he swallowed hard. His enemy lifted the sword in both hands above his head, ready to strike it down into Tanner’s heart.
But the general’s body shuddered and his eyes suddenly widened. His face twisted, his brow creasing into a look of confusion. An odd gurgling escaped his open lips, followed by a thin trickle of red-stained saliva. He jolted again as if waking from a doze, and the point of a sword pushed through the armor on his chest. With a strangled moan, the general looked down as the rest of the blade broke through. His own sword clattered from his hand and his eyes rolled back. Slowly, the general began to tip forward.
Tanner rolled out of the way as Gor’s body smashed face-first into the ground, the blade pulling free. A familiar face looked down at the sword with grim satisfaction.
“Castor!” said Tanner.
His old friend breathed heavily, his broad chest rising and falling. He wore no armor, and his clothes were spattered with blood.
“You didn’t think I’d miss this, did you?” Castor said, wiping his sword on the back of Gor’s cloak. “I couldn’t risk you messing up all my well-laid plans.” He offered his hand.
Tanner took it and stumbled to his feet. The smile faded from Castor’s face as his old friend gazed at Tanner’s cheek.
“Here,” he said, reaching into his tunic and pulling out an old rag. “Hold this against the wound. Press hard.”
“How bad is it?” Tanner managed to ask.
Castor shrugged. “A pinprick!” His laughter died away. “Seriously, though. It’s not as bad as it probably feels; it could have been a lot worse. The bleeding will stop soon. Nera found you,” he added, nodding past Tanner.
Tanner turned to see the giant cat leaping through the mass of soldiers, lashing with her claws. One of Gor’s men twisted with a scream. Nera growled and pounced, closing her mouth over the arm of another and ripping him in two.
“She didn’t want to miss out, either,” said Castor with the hint of a smile.
The battle still raged in various parts of the field, with Gwen guiding Gulkien in low swoops over the enemy soldiers, the flying wolf snatching them up in his jaws and throwing them back to earth. Firepos hurled a rolling fireball at a line of soldiers, scattering them in a shower of flames, and Falkor plunged his fangs through the back of a soldier before hurling the body over his head.
Tanner scanned the battlefield until he saw Rufus, sheltered behind the carcass of a varkule while archers fired from the walls. Every so often he leaned out and cast another bolt of energy at the walls, blasting the bowmen back or spilling them into the moat to meet a fiery end. He leaped onto a rock and his blue shirt billowed against his chest. His shoulders were pulled back as he sent more bolts of magic from his fingertips, his eyes dark with intent.
That isn’t the boy who cowered in a cave, Tanner thought, holding the rag to his che
ek. Rufus was changing before his eyes, becoming a warrior with strong magic. He twirled his staff in his hands and rammed one end of it into a soldier’s chest, so that he fell to the ground. A bolt of blue light followed, blasting the man’s armor from his limbs, and there was a sudden flash of movement as Falkor descended on the man, jaws closing around his ribs. There was a snapping sound and Tanner turned away.
How many more soldiers lurked inside the castle? There was no more time for mopping up blood. Tanner seized his sword and lifted his arm to summon Firepos. The flame bird dropped the enemy soldier she was carrying into a group of his comrades and wheeled around to fly to her rider.
Tanner punched Castor on the arm. “You saved my life,” he said.
Castor smiled meekly. “You’ll have a nice scar to show for your troubles, though,” he said, nodding at Tanner’s wound. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. I acted like a coward. I …”
Tanner shook his head. “You don’t need to explain. You’re here now.”
Castor’s grin widened. “Well, you could hardly manage without your best swordsman!” He lowered his eyes. “And besides, I missed you three.”
Firepos landed beside Tanner and nudged Castor aside with a wing.
“It’s all right,” said Tanner, laying a hand on her beak.
Your face … Firepos sent an anxious message to him.
“It’s nothing. A flesh wound,” Tanner said, willing the Beast not to ask any more questions. Gripping the scruffy, dense feathers behind her neck, Tanner heaved himself onto the flame bird’s back. The ground shook with a deep rumbling as she sprang into the air and wheeled over the clashing armies. Tanner’s eyes were drawn upward to the volcano’s crater, where sparks exploded into the air. Great, roiling clouds of purple smoke billowed out and poured menacingly down the slope toward the fortress.
“Derthsin’s angry,” muttered Tanner.
I wheel about on tired wings and release a series of sharp caws to alert my fellow Beasts. Gulkien’s muzzle snaps around, matted with the blood of our foes. Falkor draws himself in a coil of shimmering silver, and Nera’s eyes blaze as orange as the lava itself. She roars to me, her hot blood pulsing through her muscles, her fangs dripping gore.