by J. K. Barber
The hunter, the swordswoman, the sorceress, the priest, and the scout started walking towards the Ice Queen’s camp. None of them spoke. All that needed to be said had been spoken before this moment.
In the distance Jared heard the cry of a coyote, its mournful song picked up by a handful of others on the surrounding dunes.
Jared was not surprised by the bewildered and amused looks on the faces of the Easterners as the five Illyanders crested the hill and began walking towards them. To stride so brazenly into an enemy camp, outnumbered over a hundred to one, the dark clothed men just stared at the hunter and his companions. They must have looked as though they had spent too much time in the sun, driven insane by the heat of the Aishe.
Jared raised his bow and put an arrow into the throat of the first man to openly laugh, his snicker turning abruptly into a wet gurgling death rattle. Two more Easterners went down to the hunter’s bow before they could react. One shaft took a dark skinned man in the center of his chest while another fell to the sand, the feathers of Jared’s arrow protruding from his eye. To drive the point home, Sasha tossed the head of one of the Eastern patrollers that they had come across on their way to confront the Ice Queen’s forces. The dark skinned man’s cranium rolled down the dune, coming to rest with its lifeless eyes staring up at the starry sky above. The face, with its slack mouth open looked as though it wore a shocked expression, was a perfect mirror to the looks the living Easterners wore.
The Master Swordswoman drew her sword, stepping forward to provide cover for her sister. The Master Sorceress, years of training taking over, slipped behind Sasha as the other half of the vaunted Snowhaven warrior-sorcerer pair. Not to be outdone, Katya raised her staff above her head, wisps of azure energy pouring forth from the ground beneath her feet and coalescing around her staff in a cloud of arcane radiance. Almost faster than the eye could see, the blue haze was sucked into the rune-carved length of ash and a fan of lightning sprang forth in a wide arc in front of the Illyanders. A score of men fell before the sorcerous onslaught, the power so intense that some of the Easterner’s bodies exploded, their blood spraying those around them. The smell of burnt meat came to Jared’s nose on the wind and he fought down the urge to vomit.
“Show off,” the hunter said to Katya, using humor to cover his nausea. Jared loosed half a dozen more arrows before the Easterners could collect themselves. A vulpine grin lifted the corners of the Master Sorceress’ mouth, as she gathered more energy for another spell. She’s enjoying this, Jared thought to himself, remembering the look on Katya’s face in the herb shop back in Valshet when she had suffocated a man with a wordless waive of her hand. Unfortunately, the approaching army, having figured out that standing there to be slaughtered was a poor battle strategy, did not give the hunter much time to be concerned for the sorceress’ moral disposition. They had begun rushing forward, relying on their far superior numbers to overcome the Master Sorceress’ power.
“We don’t have time for this,” Jared shouted above the rapidly oncoming din of shouting Easterners. “Send the signal,” he yelled at Katya, her staff already beginning to glow with another spell.
“Already?” she replied, raising her voice as well. The sorceress wore the disappointed expression of a child being told that she had to stop playing and get back to her chores. A chill ran down Jared’s spine.
“Yes, already,” the hunter said. “They’re recovering too fast and we can’t waste the energy. Call in the damn dragons!”
“Fine!” Katya retorted. The sorceress stepped up to stand beside Sasha and swept her staff wide in front of her with her left hand. Jagged bolts of electricity flew from the tip blowing up torrents of sand every time the lightning struck the desert. The resulting miniature sandstorm brought the charging men to a halt. The Master Sorceress raised her right hand above her head, and a blue orb of arcane power lanced towards the heavens, flying high into the night sky before exploding into a shower of incandescence. The spell was not meant to cause damage; it was mainly for show, a signal to their draconian allies.
Jared held his breath for what seemed like an eternity as no reply came.
Just as the hunter was about to tell Katya to cast the spell again, a deafening roar tore through the night, echoing off the surrounding dunes in the distance. The entire camp stopped, looking away from the Illyanders as an enormous shape hove into sight above the far side of the small valley. Even from this distance Jared felt the sound in his chest, so powerful was its resonance.
“Go!” Sasha called over her shoulder, keeping a close eye on the cloud of sand in front of them. “Get to the tent. I’ll cover our rear.” Talas was the first to spring to action, taking the lead around the Ice Queen’s harried men. The priest ran towards one of the nearby tents, slipping in between it and its neighbor. Olivia trailed him closely. Katya and Jared followed them with Sasha bringing up the rear. Although the Master Swordswoman was running, she kept looking over her shoulder to see if any of their enemy pursued. As the intervening tent obscured his vision, Jared could see the first of the Easterners stumble through the clouds of sand thrown up by Katya’s spell. They were rubbing their eyes, but if they cleared their vision enough to see where the Illyanders had gone, he could not tell before losing sight of the dark robed men.
As they ran, taking a circuitous route through the tents towards Salamasca’s main pavilion near the oasis at the center of the valley, Jared’s eye was drawn upward by the massive draconian form that flew overhead. The hunter had witnessed how large Sirus was becoming as his body matured and had seen how enormous Walron’s corpse had been where it had fallen in the desert. However, nothing had prepared Jared for the gargantuan dragon that passed above them. Its bulk blotted out the stars, while a single beat of its wings as it flew overhead nearly ripped the tents around them out of the ground. An immense bolt of electricity poured from Tomas’ maw, the luminosity making Jared squint his eyes. The screams of fleeing men and the sound of explosions washed over the hunter’s enhanced hearing, and he winced against the clamor. The peal of thunder that followed was infinitely worse. It reverberated in the woodsman’s chest, a force that he felt physically push him sideways. Jared’s head exploded with pain. He fell to his knees, dropping his bow and holding his hands over his ears.
The hunter felt a hand on his shoulder, and he turned to see Sasha looking at him, her face full of concern. She was speaking but Jared could not hear her, his ears still ringing from Tomas’ attack. He shook his head to indicate he could not understand her, fighting to hold onto the gifts he had borrowed from the puma, though every survival instinct he had told him to let go.
Sasha gestured to the other Illyanders. Though Jared could not hear her words, he guessed their intent. The swordswoman wanted them to wait until he recovered. The hunter knew that every precious second counted though, and they needed to get to the Ice Queen before she figured out that Tomas’ attack was a distraction, as well as how weak the great dragon truly was. Jared turned to Talas, Olivia, and Katya, motioning for them to keep going as he forced himself to his feet. As his hearing slowly returned, he heard Sasha’s voice yelling at him above the chaos that Tomas was sowing in the enemy camp.
He turned to tell the redhead that he was fine to continue, but she must have seen his eyes widen in fear.
Without hesitation, Sasha pivoted quickly on her lead foot, instinctively bringing her shield up to block the Easterner’s sword. Though he could barely hear the impact of the blade, he saw Sasha’s arm give with the force of the blow. Before Jared could take a step forward, the Master Swordswoman continued her spin, striking out with her sword, slashing her attacker across the gullet with practiced ease. The black clad man dropped his thick curved sword to the sand, blood pouring from his severed throat. His hands clamped feebly at his neck, as he collapsed to his knees and then fell to his face. His lifeblood poured out, greedily absorbed by the sand of the Aishe Desert as the man quickly expired.
After a brief glance to make sure the
man was alone, Sasha turned and began urging her companions on once more. “What was that all about,” Jared finally heard the swordswoman say several minutes later as they spotted Salamasca’s pavilion. The hunter’s hearing had mostly returned. He was now able to hear as well as he would have had he not retained the puma’s gifts.
“What was what all about?” Jared said, trying to sound unconcerned.
“Don’t give me that,” Sasha replied, her voice indicating her suspicion.
“It was nothing,” he said, his voice sounding guarded even to his own ears. “With my hearing the way it is, it just got too loud for a moment.” He tried to fill his next words with as much confidence as he could. “I’m okay now.”
Though her face indicated she didn’t quite believe him, Sasha let it pass. Her expression of incredulity turned to one of concern. “If you need to let the cat’s… gift,” her voice stumbled over the word. “If you need to let it go, then do it. We’re almost there.” The swordswoman raised her blade to indicate the large white tent several hundred paces ahead. Though they still had a goodly distance to cover, they could now finally see the colorless cloth of the Ice Queen’s pavilion between the other smaller tents.
“I’m fine,” Jared said again, this time with more conviction. “I’d rather have them and not need them…,” his voice trailed off. Sasha nodded, understanding what he meant without having to finish the old saying.
Up ahead, Jared heard the clamor of voices getting louder. “Talas!” he cried, hoping to warn the priest of the approaching men.
As the first man rounded one of the tents, the former sellsword bashed him in the face with his shield and kept moving forward, bringing his mace up and over his head to crush another’s skull. With practiced ease, Olivia, who was half a step behind her husband, stabbed the staggered man in the chest with her long dagger, rapidly pulling it out as she followed in Talas’ wake. Jared couldn’t help but admire the woman’s precision.
The priest continued to advance through the narrow path between the tents, striking opponents with his shield and mace. Some of his victims he simply knocked off balance with a strong thump of his shield, while others were dispatched or stunned by a swift blow from his mace. Those that survived Talas’ initial onslaught were dealt with by Olivia’s flashing blades. Though the couple had spent nearly two decades apart, they still fought in concert as if nary a day had passed.
Again, Jared felt a pang of jealousy and again he fought it down. There would be time to lament the years that he and Sasha would never have at another time.
From farther away came Tomas’ roar and the screams of panicked men. However, this time, there was another response to the dragon’s bellow besides the Easterners’ screams. A trio of shrieks split the night as shadowy figures screeched overhead. The noise was like the unearthly blending of a dragon’s call and the scream of a wounded animal. Some part of Jared feared to look up at what caused such a sound, but in his mind he knew. The Death Drakes had joined the battle.
The hunter dropped his bow and unslung his sword from his back as he ran forward to close ranks with Katya. The hunter would have waved Sasha forward to join her sister, so they could fight side by side as they had trained their entire life, but the path between the two tents was too narrow. The Illyanders could barely move single file in the cramped corridor. As Jared joined her, the Master Sorceress was doing her best to keep up with the older pair, fending off attacks with her staff. The hunter lunged the last step, slipped the point of his blade under Katya’s staff, and took her attacker between the ribs. The Easterner staggered back, his hand going to the wound in his side. The way the breath rasped in his opponent’s throat, Jared could tell he had punctured the man’s lungs. Blood frothed up from between the dark-skinned man’s lips, as he fought for air and fell backwards. It was a horrible way to die.
Katya took advantage of the breathing room afforded her by the hunter’s strike and lifted her staff above her head. “Everyone!” she cried above the din. “Close ranks on Talas!” It was at times like this Jared remembered that Snowhaven, the town in which the twins had been raised, was a border town designed and trained to fight off the orcs of the Frozen March. Discipline had been bred into its daughters since birth. Talas stopped and the other Illyanders hurriedly moved in tightly behind the priest. Without a moment’s thought, Sasha stepped up next to Jared and turned to cover their rear flank.
The hunter didn’t have time to wonder what Katya was up to before a blinding ring of lightning formed around the Illyanders. As swiftly as the torus of electricity appeared, it exploded outward, blasting everything in its path. Easterners were knocked from their feet and tents were blown from their moorings in the sand.
“That won’t hold them long,” Katya said, her voice revealing only the slightest tinge of fatigue after such a display. Jared was impressed by the Master Sorceress’ stamina. “We need to hurry,” she implored. The hunter noted the truth of her words; the fallen Easterners were already beginning to stir, though some looked a little more singed than others.
Before any of the Illyanders could set their feet to motion however, there was a horrific and deafening cry in the distance. All eyes were drawn upwards, as a great bolt of lightning split the predawn sky, followed by a resounding clap of thunder. It was hard not to watch the rare sight of dragons in aerial combat. Luckily for the Illyanders, the display caused the Easterners to pause as well.
Flying above the Ice Queen’s camp Jared saw four large winged shapes engaged in the throes of battle. Though Tomas and the Death Drakes were some distance from the Illyanders, they were not difficult to see, given their size. As the hunter watched, the largest of the dragons grabbed one of the smaller draconian forms by the shoulder, just above the tattered wing, and sunk his massive jaws into the foul creature’s long sinewy neck. With a powerful jerk of his head, Tomas ripped the head from the smaller dragon, black ichor spraying into the night air. Before the first drake hit the ground below, the former Administrator flipped in midair, thrusting one of his enormous taloned claws into the chest of another Death Drake. When Tomas pulled his claws away from the draconian abomination, the sorcerous creation went abruptly limp, like a marionette with its strings suddenly severed. Again, Tomas released his prey, letting it fall to the ground far below.
Katya cried out at her mentor’s victory, but her shout of triumph quickly turned to one of warning. Swooping out of the night sky, the remaining Death Drake pounced on the elder dragon’s exposed belly, his wicked talons driving deep into Tomas’ flesh. An inhuman howl of rage and pain pierced the night, cowing all the small humans below into silence. With so much of his strength spent on ridding Sirus of the Ice Queen’s corruption, the older dragon had only a fraction of his former power to destroy her foul creations. Tomas reached out with all four of his claws and sank his talons deep into the corrupted body of the dead dragon. As the great dragon gripped the last of his lost charges, he drove his massive fangs into the Death Drake’s shoulder. With the final dregs of his strength Tomas pulled back his huge head, tearing the wing from the undead creature’s body. The purple-scaled leviathan, spattered with the corrupted blood of the young dragons he had failed to protect, gave one last roar of defiance and then wrapped his enormous wings around the Death Drake in his grasp. The gesture was almost tender as Tomas surrendered to the pull of gravity and began to plummet to the sands below. Jared could see that the fluttering wings of Tomas’ true form had no life left in them as the great dragon fell from the sky. He had given all that his great body could give. Saving Sirus and destroying the Ice Queen’s foul creations had finally taken their toll. A single bright spark flew from between Tomas’ massive slack jaws and then his great bulk was lost behind the tents that still stood between the Illyanders and the far side of the encampment. Jared felt the impact up through his feet as a massive torrent of sand was thrown up by the force of the dragon’s body hitting the Aishe. It was as though a small sandstorm had suddenly sprung up from nowhere, th
reatening to engulf the enemy camp.
For several moments silence reigned. On some instinctual level, even the Easterners knew that a great being had passed from Aronshae and that the world would be a lesser place for his absence. Jared’s hand went to his chest, feeling the unadorned silver disk that hung there; the symbol of his mother’s faith.
Jared whispered softly into the still night. “Great Mother, receive now your servant into your embrace. Forgive him his mistakes and set him free to run across your world again.”
“Let’s go!” Katya shouted, breaking the Illyanders from their reverie. Sasha was the first to react to her sister’s command, placing her hand on Jared’s shoulder and pushing him forward. As the hunter returned to his senses, he realized how exposed they were now that the tents which had concealed them had been blown down by Katya’s sorcerous blast. Talas recovered next, urging Olivia forward until the scout began sprinting on her own. Soon all of the Illyanders were running, making a desperate dash towards the large white tent at the center of the camp.
Straight into the cave, Jared thought to himself as he ran. And we know that the bear is inside. The hunter grinned a grave smile as he darted through the tent flap, following Talas, Olivia and Katya into the den of the Empress of Ice.
Jared gasped as the cold washed over him. Even after the cool night air of the desert outside, the chill inside the tent was shocking. There was a bite to it that nagged at something in the hunter’s memory.