Fury of Molith (Fengysha Series Book 2)

by Jordan Cramm

  “There,” she said calmly, “that looks good.”

  “Tonight we say goodbye to soldiers of Akartha and of Orenty alike m'lady. I have never had to do anything like this before. I...I mean...This hurts inside. I don't know how else to say it.”

  “I know. And you shouldn't ever forget how it feels Wolflen. These are dark times we face now. But we stand for the light. You use to have a saying back in Peludeen during training. Something of your own I believe. 'Until The Day Dawns'...wasn't that your motto when training was hard and seemingly endless?”

  Wolflen nodded and explained it meant he wouldn't give up, that he would persevere.

  “Well let me add to it now,” Katrina commented, “Defy the dark, until the day dawns.”

  “Defy the dark,” he echoed.

  “Until the day dawns.”

  He smiled at her softly and held her a moment. He stared deeply into her eyes, recalling a simpler time in the wild as they were on a trek toward her home city of Peludeen. His thoughts drifted a moment before snapping back. She could tell that the events since that time were weighing heavy upon him. She also knew however that there would undoubtedly be more to come, and more people to say goodbye to along the way. It was a stark reality knowing that, but it was one that couldn't be changed or helped. Each of them were doing what they had to do, and as a believer in destiny, she believed that it was all for a purpose, though she herself had not yet learned all the details of what that might be.

  “Defy the dark,” she repeated, “until the day dawns.”

  He nodded once more and then left the bedroom. In the main room of the tent, she watched him walk to Ayvock's cot and kneel beside him. She knew he still struggled with the fact that his best friend was injured. Ravenshade had visited only once, and that was while Wolflen slept. She had stated that she would prefer not to pester them with her presence, and that knowing he wouldn't wake for yet another day, she didn't want to be a constant bother. Katrina had almost wished for her company more than once, but knew that Ravenshade was also dealing with things in her own way.

  It had after all been a victory at the Bloodgrounds, though it had come hard fought and at a price. Ravenshade herself had needed her own healing afterwards, though she insisted that the other wounded more in need be healed before she was. Her loyalty through it all had proven valuable, as had her service in battle. She was a far cry from the crazed Shadow Knight that was once bent on killing Wolflen and stopping the destiny of the Izenian War Mage. Katrina hoped to see her at the funeral services.

  “Get well brother,” Wolflen said as he knelt over Ayvock, “and know that you will be missed at the service tonight.”

  After that, Wolflen and Katrina both left the main tent. The night air seemed warm to Wolflen, but he recalled that his recent trip to Akartha had him adjusting to colder weather. He wore no helmet, as had seemingly become his custom in all situations Katrina thought, and he walked hand in hand with her to the end of camp where multiple pyres had been set up.

  Chapter 29: Pyres And Words

  There were no benches put out, nor tent pavilions where the services would be held. The ground was for the most part dry now where they were, though still stained with the blood of friends and foes alike. The pyres were set in rows. There were ten pyres for the Izenians, and seven for the Elves. The Izenian pyre line was behind that of the Elves, and in front of them both was a single large pyre for Trevel alone. Standing beyond the lines of pyres, the whole of camp had gathered. The pyres were also arranged in such a fashion to be in the shape of a pyramid, starting with Trevel at the front, followed by the Elven line, and then lastly the longer line of Izenians. It was a three row set, and those that gathered looked on, many with torches in their hands.

  Wolflen and Katrina both took the lead, pushing their way from the back of the assembly of those gathered toward the front until at last they stood between the line of pyres and those still living who had gathered. Wolflen noticed that Jakarta was in the front row, standing with Carra. King Janureen was next to him as well. It was a somber and quiet crowd that looked on as Wolflen tried to find a voice loud enough for all to hear.

  “Tonight,” he began, “we gather to honor the fallen dead. Soldiers of Akartha, Soldiers of Orenty...we both share in this great loss. I am not going to stand up here and tell you that I knew every soul that fell here at these Bloodgrounds. I won't dishonor their memory by pretending I was the best friend to each of them. Instead I will tell you what I know about them now. I can tell you that every man and woman upon these pyres died fighting for what they believed in. I can tell you that these soldiers all, made it their personal responsibility to fight for their way of life, and for the person they stood next to in battle. Tonight we mourn their passing, and we offer our prayers for each of them to reach the afterlife with high honors. These soldiers gave their lives in service of what is right and good and true. To all of your credit, I have heard no complaints, but know that I myself will carry the weight of these fallen brothers and sisters with me wherever I go. Know that each of them will be missed. Now, we will begin by lighting the Izenian pyres first. Is there anyone who would like to say anything before we do this?”

  Flint Calmbreeze pushed his way to the front of the assembly and stepped toward Wolflen. As he approached, he hugged Wolflen quickly in a strong embrace before turning to face the crowd himself.

  “Soldiers of Akartha,” he began, “this is a sore time for us all. It would be worse however if the metal of everyone gathered here was less than true. Through combat, solid bonds are formed. Turn to your brothers and sisters gathered here now. When we return home, it won't be as we came. Many will be absent from our ranks. But each of us Izenians down to the last man and woman chose this life. Let us honor our dead now then with the sound of salute.”

  All at once the Izenians still breathing roared a loud roar, raising fists in the air and roaring again. The sound echoed once more and again, and then one final time as it quieted once more.

  “You are all of you warriors,” Flint shouted again, “that's something death cannot take away from us. To the honored dead!”

  The crowd erupted again, and this time the Elves joined in as well, echoing “To the honored dead.” Flint turned and approached someone nearby holding a torch, then with a few hand gestures, he motioned to the other Izenian torch bearers to follow. Wolflen himself was given a torch, and he turned to walk beyond the Elven pyres until reaching the Izenian pyre on the far left while the others fanned out down the line to take position before lighting their own respective pyres.

  “Funeral detail,” Flint barked to the men on the pyre line, “light the pyres!”

  Wolflen lowered his torch as did the others, and at once the wood and oil that had been previously applied to it ignited, and the flames burst to life. There, behind the Elven line of pyres the Izenian torch bearers watched a moment before walking again to their left and passing both Flint and Wolflen. Wolflen had remained a moment, feeling somehow that maybe he could have done more to save more. It was a nagging thought.

  Flint seemed to notice, so he paused a moment to speak again.

  “Wolflen lad, you have to let this go now. People die in war. It's not your fault, and you can't change it.”

  Wolflen wiped a single tear from his eye.

  “These were good men and women of Akartha...of OUR city.”

  “Aye they were. Look now though to the many you were able to save rather than the few who had to fall here. They are all looking to you now. They all want to know what comes next.”

  “I wish I had answers for that.”

  “You do lad...you do. You have to be strong now you hear me?”

  Wolflen looked up at Flint and nodded. Flint had always been like a second father of sorts for Wolflen, so it was comforting to have him present now, especially since his own father Shamus was currently absent.

  “Come on lad, the Elves are waiting.”

  Wolflen nodded and straightened himself
and together he and Flint walked back to the general assembly so as to watch the fires burn. Already, King Janureen had moved to address the Elves gathered.

  “My people,” he said loudly so all could hear, “this is a time of trouble for Fengysha. But we have faced such times before and come through them. Let your thoughts turn now not to the tragedy of war, but to the hope that is yet before us. We must see this thing through to the end—for those who have gone before us, and for those who may yet follow. Be strong in this time brothers and sisters. For the end is not yet upon us. Our people behind me have seen the end of their war now. Let us honor them with thanksgiving for their sacrifice. Let us carry on and finish what we started.”

  Like Wolflen, King Janureen took a torch of his own, and with the rest of the Elven funeral detail, he spread out, eventually lighting one; the first one on the left, just as Wolflen had done. When the Elven pyres were lit, the Elves in camp began to sing an honorary Elven song for the dead. None of the Izenians knew it of course, but they remained silent as the melody went on. When it was finished, that left only Trevel's pyre to be lit.

  Jakarta came forward slowly, letting go of Carra's hand for the words he himself had to offer. He came forward with a heavy heart, and everyone knew that the loss of Trevel was a huge blow for all, but especially for those close to him like Jakarta. He turned and faced the crowd now, mustering strength from within in order to be able to speak now.

  “Trevel was my greatest student. He was next in line to become First Knight of Orenty once I retired or fell in battle myself. His sword and tomahawk axe defended our people and our way of life right up until the very end. It's funny, but when we first met Wolflen and his partner Ayvock, we laughed about both of them. It was hard for us to see potential in the two boys that would alter the destinies of so many, and change the lives of many more. Trevel and I were like that ourselves often enough; two boys bonded together by a friendship that transcends the boundaries of most friendships. We had each other's backs countless times, and we could always count on each other. In fact, I wish he were still here now...he would likely be better at offering these words than I am. Trevel was my friend, my ally, my brother. Orenty will not soon forget all that he has done for our people, and nor will I. I had the benefit of his company more than most, and I can tell you, he was one worth knowing. Tonight as we say goodbye to this hero of Orenty, I ask you to remember him in your prayers and thoughts for as long as you are able. I have lost a student today, but in this I am not forsaken. As Wolflen Darkmoon and Ayvock Calmbreeze came to Peludeen, I became mentor to Lord Darkmoon in some of his training, as Trevel became for Ayvock. So in Trevel's memory, and if Ayvock will allow it, I will continue training both of them as time permits. Our King spoke truly; there is hope yet before us. I ask each of you keep that in mind as you remember all of our fallen here this night. Trevel fought to his very end. We honor him by committing to do the same.”

  Heads were nodding in the crowd, and tears were shed my many. As Wolflen stood with Katrina, both of them began to walk forward with torches in hand, knowing Jakarta's speech was over. Wolflen had two in hand, one which he gave to Jakarta. King Janureen also joined them once more with a torch in hand of his own, and then the four of them each took a corner of the large pyre, lighting it together.

  The fires were roaring now, creating a great heat wave that everyone could feel, even at a distance. The fires blazed, lighting up the dark night, and Wolflen stood with Katrina hand in hand once more.

  “Defy the dark,” he whispered, “until the day dawns.”

  She could tell he was adopting that phrase as a new mantra or something, and she echoed it in response. He said it again, louder this time, and others began to echo it as well until the whole assembly had said it in unison. It was a sad and difficult time, but it was also stirring many to press on, whatever the cost.

  Chapter 30: Deceptive Fury

  Everyone rested as well as they could that night. Wolflen and Katrina were awake some time around dawn, and the camp was already lively they could tell. No one would soon forget the fallen, nor the battle at the Bloodgrounds Wolflen knew, but it was somewhat encouraging to see that as a whole, the group was up early, and functioning to prepare for what was still ahead of them. Wolflen knew they still had the Dwarven army to deal with, and he had some thoughts about the matter, especially in light of the Elven King's refusal to head for Elender once more in retreat.

  The Izenians as a whole had already began their trek back though, and with them, King Gorak and his followers left as well. Wolflen had urged them to go with the Izenians after the ceremony, telling them that their presence on the field might give Gral incitement for further anger. Not only that, but if Lord Eklar's plan was still in play, then certainly seeing Gorak might give away the secret that they somehow escaped Dwarven custody underground, and that might raise further questions.

  Wolflen readied breakfast as Katrina woke and dressed herself. When she entered the main room, she found Wolflen there setting a bowl of hot biscuits on the table. She was also pleased to see Ayvock risen, sitting at the table with Wolflen and eating as well as drinking some water to help recover his own strength. Katrina smiled when she saw Ayvock and said it was good to see him up and moving again. He thanked her as he continued to listen while Wolflen told Ayvock about everything that had transpired during the time Ayvock had been out.

  The news of Trevel's death did not sit well with Ayvock at all. At first, he simply denied it as though it were somehow a lie. He didn't want to believe it. As he listened further, he began crying, and he didn't bother apologizing for it. Trevel had been one his great mentors in life, and the two had bonded in a way that Wolflen understood personally, having such a bond himself with Jakarta. After a few moments, Ayvock just asked if there was any Izenian Rum, and Katrina said she would fetch it from their pantry.

  When Ayvock was handed the bottle, he uncorked it but didn't bother using a cup. Instead, he simply turned up the bottle and started chugging.

  “Woah,” Wolflen said, “take it easy. There's a lot more you need to hear still, and we may be battle pressed again very soon.”

  “Tell me everything,” Ayvock retorted as he set the bottle down, “what has happened?”

  ~

  The Dwarves marching under Gral and Brosha were quick in their pace. Those that rode cave rams or in chariots of course had an easy time of it, while others marched on foot. No one complained, apart from not yet being in battle. They were bloodthirsty, and they were anxious.

  As Lord Eklar Felken marched in Dwarven form, he constantly scanned his surroundings, looking for the right time to make his move. At last, when he felt like he had moved up through the rows of Dwarves far enough to be heard by the two Kings, he made his move. With lightning speed, he drew both axes he had with him now, striking and instantly killing the Dwarves to his left and to his right. Then he yelled, shouting loudly for all to hear.

  “Right; you foggin bastards. I'll hear no more talk of Gorak or his mad schemes in these ranks.”

  As his axes struck, the Dwarves around him backed up, almost creating a circle around him, not knowing what was happening. They listened as he continued shouting, watching him pull the two axes from the throats of his victims.

  “Now is there any other bastard here who would speak of treachery? If any of you mad slobs would dare follow Gorak like these bastards, step forward now and meet my axe!”

  All of the ruckus had gained the attention of both Kings and their guards (which is what Lord Eklar hoped would happen). They joined the circle round Lord Eklar now and demanded at once to know what the disturbance was. Lord Eklar took a knee and bowed his head quickly.

  “Sorry sires. These two foggers here were going on about a plan of coming against you King Gral. I overheard them and shut their mouths forever. Forgive me sire, but I can't abide traitors.”

  Gral smiled from the back of his large cave ram.

  “What's your name soldier?”


  “I am Frip sire. Short for Friprimar. Rogue by trade, but warrior at heart.”

  “These men planned to kill me you say?” Gral asked curiously.

  “Yes sire. Please forgive my rash behavior. But right is right and wrong is wrong, and I can't abide that kind of wrong. Let any man here,” Lord Eklar said, growing louder now for all to hear, “who will not bend the knee to King Gral or King Brosha come forward now. You can join your co-conspirators here in blood!”

  Lord Eklar looked around, holding both axes outward in a challenging posture. King Gral looked on as well, admiring the Dwarf who thwarted the attempt on his life. Of course, no other Dwarf came forward.

  “Come on,” Lord Eklar jeered, “my axes are sharp and ready for more blood. Nobody? Come on? No takers? Right, then I better not hear another word spoken against my King or I'll have your blood upon my axe.”

  King Gral was still grinning and looking around.

  “Frip you say your name is?”

  “Yes sire,” Lord Eklar returned, “at your service.”

  “Indeed. Dwarves of Gral look to this man. He has done each of you a great service today. He should be admired, and rewarded I think. Bring this man a cave ram at once. He rides at my side for what is to come.”

  Lord Eklar bowed his head, knowing his deception had worked, and glad for it. He knew that just as easily, his own throat could be cut if he were found out, or even if Gral had suspicions. Now though, he was being invited to ride alongside the mad King Gral. In other circumstances it might have been considered a great honor. For Lord Eklar however, it was only a means to an end.

  His cave ram was brought to him after another officer among the Dwarves had been told to give it up. The thought was funny to Lord Eklar, but he dared not show it. Instead, he showed great humility and apologized to the officer for having displaced him from his own mount. The officer merely grumbled, saying it was okay before Lord Eklar joined the front ranks and began riding at King Gral's side.