The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  “In Ulren’s name, what was that?” Ruthalis asked, bewildered, as the hot steam dissipated. Sar-gathos’s light had disappeared along with the magical shield, and as they gazed down the length of the wall, their hearts sunk with despair at the destruction before them. The burned bodies of their comrades’ lay everywhere. Not a living soul remained on the wall except for them. At least a hundred men had died in that one pass.

  “A dragon, although I have never seen the likes of that beast. We must leave the wall!” Sar-gathos shouted. But no one needed his urging as they heard the great gusts of the beast's wings swoop around for another attack.

  The courtyard was in chaos as hundreds of the defenders frantically raced for cover. Captain Hadrick ran down the causeway towards the front of the bridge. “Free Legion, follow me!” he yelled. In the ensuing chaos his men managed to hear their captain and sprinted after him. They had left their shields and armor at the entrance of the bridge and it was there that they headed. They would not have time to don their armor but their shields would be invaluable when fighting in close quarters.

  The dragon swooped down and landed with a resounding crash on top of the gatehouse, its immense claws gripping the edge of the battlement, talons as strong as iron gouging holes in the stone surface. Again it roared, sending a shockwave of sound into the courtyard, scattering men and horses alike. It then drew in a deep breath of air before spewing forth another searing burst of steam. Those in its path died horribly, their skin literally melting off their bodies. Agonizing screams of the wounded and dying filled the courtyard, while the survivors added terrified screams of their own as they scrambled to get away from the giant creature.

  Tuvallis had lost sight of Seli as she ran to join her brothers in the Free Legion. He had to remember that she was not a defenseless woman and that she had been a warrior for most of her adult life. In the chaos he ran and took shelter through an open door in the gatehouse. As he ducked through the door he heard a loud crash that shook the timbers of the gatehouse as the dragon landed above him. In seconds the courtyard in front of him was filled with the beast’s scorching breath and for the second time he again recoiled at the sickening odor of burning flesh. Suddenly another deafening crash shook the very walls around him, followed by another, this one accompanied by the sound of splintering wood. “The gate,” he whispered to himself.

  With that knowledge he ran through the door and headed for the edge of the courtyard, taking shelter as he moved. The crashing sound came again. Tuvallis stopped behind a stack of water barrels and glanced back at the dragon. The black beast’s wings were spread wide and its long neck reared high into the air. Tuvallis could see the muscles in its back suddenly twitch and contract and was just able to catch a glimpse of its huge tail before it disappeared behind the wall to crash into the gate, which cracked and caved inward. Another couple hits, Tuvallis reasoned, and the gate would shatter.

  Lord Dynure and General Ruthalis were finally able to bring some control to the chaos. Their men were hardened warriors who had faced many dangers, but the thought of being cooked inside their armor was something for which they were not prepared. Nonetheless, the two war leaders hastily formed a line of men across the causeway that led to the bridge. The dragon had frightened most of the horses away but some of the Finarthian Knights had been able to regain control of their mounts. There were probably twenty mounted knights and twice that number of footmen lining up behind them.

  It was then that the gate crashed open and everyone froze. The dragon lowered his horned head and glared at the defenders with blazing eyes. The dragon then raised its head and roared into the early morning sky, as if to announce the hundreds of orcs, goblins, and ogres who now rushed through the open gateway, screaming and howling as they stormed the causeway, like hoards of hungry cockroaches.

  Durgen wanted to stay and fight but he knew he would be needed at the bridge. It was too soon. There was no way they could drop the entire bridge. But it might be possible to collapse the first and last span. That would create two gaps, over thirty paces wide, in the bridge. It would only stop Malbeck for a week or so as they could build temporary ramps over the gaps, but it was better than leaving the bridge entirely intact.

  Several dwarves joined him and they ran down the causeway, past the Free Legion soldiers who were strapping on shields and forming up. Durgen led the dwarves a quarter of the way across the bridge and looked down at the support structures holding up the first span. Ropes and scaffolding had been built so the engineers could be lowered down to the supports underneath. “Lower me!” Durgen ordered. He jumped onto the narrow wooden platform and the dwarves lowered him to the network of hastily built scaffolding below. Five dwarves were there, scurrying around one of the huge supports like worker ants. A giant wedge had been cut out of the stone support and two iron rods as thick as a man’s arm had been placed into the gap. Each pin narrowed to a point which fit into a hole on a metal plate. The plate was engineered so that a section of it could be hammered out which would cause the pins to slip and slide out. The support would crack and that end of the span would fall into the water. More than likely it would be enough to cause the other end to crack, bringing the entire span down. Durgen ran to a portly dust covered dwarf who was securing the plate into place with giant swings of a heavy hammer. “Gormly!” he yelled over the pounding.

  The dwarven engineer stopped his hammering at Durgen’s urgent voice. “What is it?”

  “We be needin' this support down!” Durgen said.

  “I be knowin' that, why do ya think I’m here?!”

  “I mean now! They are almost upon us!” As if on cue they suddenly heard the clash of battle.

  “We are not ready,” Gormly retorted.

  “What can ya do now?” Durgen asked.

  Gormly looked around at the support and the other columns up and down the river as he thought about the situation. “We can take this support out and another on the far span. But we don’t have the plates in place on the opposite support.”

  “Will the two spans fall with only those two supports gone?”

  “They may, hard to say though, I didn’t build this bridge,” Gormly replied.

  Durgen grimaced. “Send word to the engineers at the other support. We need to get as many people across the bridge as we can. Then, on my order, knock out the pins and may Moradin be with us. And Gormly, don’t forget to jump into the boat.”

  It was a major risk for the dwarf who was picked to knock out the pins. The plan was for the engineer to leap into the boat that was tied to the base of the support and hopefully float down river before the structure fell. Timing was everything, and they were counting on the current moving fast enough to carry the dwarf to safety.

  Gormly just smiled. “That be the fun part,” he said.

  “See to it, and good luck,” Durgen said as he ran back to the platform and hailed his men to haul him back up.

  Everything was in chaos near the bridge. The hundreds of orcs and goblins had forced the defenders backwards and they now fought on the bridge itself. Durgen found General Ruthalis on horseback behind four thick walls of soldiers. Most of the knights on horseback had fallen. The remaining soldiers on the bridge were now mostly from the Free Legion.

  “We have to get everyone across the bridge! We're going to try and drop the first and last sections!” Durgen yelled up at the general.

  “Do it!” the general said. “Retreat across the bridge!” General Ruthalis bellowed to the warriors in front of him.

  Hadrick blocked blow after blow on his shield, slowly stepping backwards as the enemy pressed them harder and harder. He parried and thrust, blocking attacks aimed at his shield brother to his right while cutting into the enemy with precision. The Free Legion soldiers had worked together for countless campaigns and their skill in formation fighting was obvious as they held off the hoard of orcs, whose swords and axes smashed into their shields as they tried to cut through their defenses.

  General Rut
halis’s words sounded behind him. “Free Legion, retreat across the bridge! But stay in formation!” They had to hope that they could get across the bridge before it fell, then, if any orcs or goblins made it across with them, they could dispatch them easily enough as most would have fallen with the bridge or been caught on the other side. By now the morning sun had risen higher overhead, bringing a red orange glow to the sky and illuminating the strange black dragon swooping towards them from above. “Dragon!” was all the captain had time to yell before the scalding steam roared toward them. Without thinking Hadrick dropped his sword and shield and jumped off the edge of the bridge to the cold water below. A handful of others did the same, but the ones that didn’t died upon the bridge.

  Durgen, seeing the dragon descend upon them, ran to the side of the bridge, and grabbed one of the ropes used to lower the platform, and then leaped over the edge. Luckily he wore leather fighting gloves layered with bands of steel, protecting his hands from the burning friction as he slid down the rope to the scaffolding below. “Now Gormly! Drop the bridge!” he screamed as he raced to the boat tied to the edge of the support. Gormly grabbed a huge metal hammer, ran to the support pins, and slammed the heavy hammer head into the mechanism on the metal plate. Four powerful swings sent the plate flying into the water and the two support pins slid across the metal trough created for just that purpose. “Hurry!” Durgen yelled as he readied his axe near the rope that held the boat in place.

  The weight of the stone bridge caused the pins to slide out forcefully, shooting them like missiles far into the water. Immediately the stone began to crack along the support. Gormly dropped the hammer and ran the five paces to the boat, leaping as far as his little legs could launch him. He hit the wood bench in the boat and tumbled to the bow just as Durgen brought his axe down on the rope freeing it from its hold. The span above them began to crack and give way as their little boat grabbed the current which carried it quickly away.

  The dragon’s scorching breath had killed most of the Free Legion defenders along with dozens of the attacking orcs. But as soon as the hot mist disappeared the army of monsters ran forward over the bridge. The weight of their numbers pressed down on the damaged support and within moments the support gave way, cracking in half and causing the span to shift and drop to one side. Gravity then took over and the other support broke under the pressure, bringing the entire span into the water with a tremendous splash.

  Durgen and Gormly had drifted fifty paces down river when the first span crashed into the water. Several moments later the last span joined it, leaving a lone section of bridge still standing directly in the middle of the river. Gormly did not have time to pass word to the other engineer on the far span, but they must have seen what happened and once the first span fell they dropped their own. Another boat drifted down river on the far side and the four dwarves inside it sat gazing dazedly at the destruction they caused. “That ought to give us a few weeks,” Gormly said

  “Aye, but at what cost?” Durgen said somberly as he looked upon the destruction. Almost all of the defenders at the garrison were dead and the few that had survived struggled as they splashed through the water trying to get to shore. The poor souls wearing armor had either perished in the dragon's burning breath, or had sunk to their doom when they hit the water. Just under a thousand men had died trying to protect the bridge. Durgen wondered, was a few weeks of time worth those lives? That was a question that wouldn’t be answered until Malbeck and his forces arrived at Finarth’s gate.

  Nine

  The Sword of Ela

  A few moments after Tolvar drank the healing draught he was standing and firmly gripping his axe. The burns on his face were still visible, the skin red and lightly blistered. He looked as if a fire had literally been lit in his beard.

  “Impressive,” Lor-telliam said as the Dakeen warrior stretched his arms wide, testing the movement of his muscles and assessing his residual pain. “He should be dead.” Tolvar growled in response as if it would lessen his pain as he continued to stretch his stiff limbs.

  “Well?” Cade asked.

  “Hurts it does, like me skin has peeled off,” Tolvar replied through clenched teeth.

  “It has,” Lor-telliam said, “you were severely burned and the potion is only strong enough to get you on your feet and lessen the pain somewhat. I’m afraid there will be serious scarring and the wounds will be painful for sometime.

  “Can ya fight, Brother?” Cade asked the important question. Tolvar didn’t even bother to answer; he just spit on the ground and hefted his axe.

  Jonas had sat down on a nearby bench while everyone else was peering into the hazy grayness, nervously gripping their weapons as they waited for Tolvar to ready himself.

  “Wizard, see to Jonas so we can get off these stairs,” Kromm said. The king no longer had his shield as it had become a contorted mass of melted metal. His left arm was seared badly and blisters could already be seen on his forearm.

  Lor-telliam walked over to Jonas and placed both hands on his shoulders. As he began to chant Jonas immediately felt the familiar warmth flood through his body. The pain began to ease as the elf did his work, and the pressure he felt in his bowels began to subside until he felt normal again.

  “It is done,” Lor-telliam said as he lifted his arms from Jonas’s shoulders.

  “Thank you. I am in your debt,” Jonas replied.

  Lor-telliam just nodded in acknowledgement and turned towards the stairs that led further up the hill. “Before we go, everyone eat some of this bread,” the Ekahal said as he brought forth a small bundle of white paper from the small pack he wore on his back. Inside the paper were various small lumps of bread, each about the size of an egg.

  “Elven bread,” Allindrian said with a smile as she reached for a piece. “Eat it,” she advised. “It tastes plain but it will revive your exhausted bodies.”

  Everyone eagerly complied, hoping to find any relief from their exhaustion. They knew that they probably weren’t safe yet.

  “Follow me, we are almost there,” Lor-telliam ordered as he put his pack back on and began their ascent.

  Jonas and Fil followed from the rear. He was worried about Tulari as she had not reappeared. The night wolf and been struck by the Banthra’s fire and had jumped over the wall to escape the flames. He hoped she was okay but there was nothing he could do about that now. He couldn’t even heal her if she needed it and the knowledge that he also couldn’t heal his friends continued to anger him.

  They made it to the top landing that led to the monument without further incident. And although there was still a layer of mist surrounding them, they could now see the subtle outline of the massive pillars surrounding the statue of King Ullis Gavinsteal.

  “Where is the secret entrance?” King Baylin asked the Ekahal.

  “At the base of the statue. Stay alert, there are sure to be more enemies,” the elf cautioned as he moved up the last set of stairs towards the monument.

  The landing at the top was deserted, and before them was a circle of ten huge stone pillars that were each thirty paces high. They rested on a raised stone platform that was flat except for the huge statue that sat directly in the center. The circle within the pillars was at least forty paces in diameter. The white marble statue itself was over fifteen paces high, and stood on a raised dais as tall as a man.

  “There,” Lor-telliam indicated as he walked across the expansive platform to the statue. “The dais hides the entrance to a set of stairs that lead to a room underneath. The armor and sword will be there.”

  “Let’s get on with this,” Allindrian said nervously as she turned from the statue and looked out into the shadows that surrounded them. But nothing was there, at least not that she could see.

  “This spell will take a few moments and it requires my entire concentration,” Lor-telliam announced as everyone surrounded the elf with weapons drawn. Then he began the incantation, slowly chanting as the elven words, hypnotically melodious, drifted fr
om his mouth. He continued to softly chant as he faced the dais, and after a few moments he began to raise his voice.

  Jonas looked back and noticed that the wizard now had one hand resting on the base of the dais while the other still gripped his staff. The incantation grew louder still, but Jonas could not understand the words, nor could he retain any of them in his memory. They resonated momentarily in his mind, then disappeared like a leaf in a gust of wind.

  Then something began to happen. Words began to appear on the base of the statue, slowly taking on a moon-like glow, the graceful lines of the text emerging character by character as if someone were writing them. They were elvish, but of a dialect so ancient that no one in the group could read except for Lor-telliam.

  Lor-telliam suddenly stopped chanting and the silence was followed by a grating sound. Everyone turned towards the statue and saw the giant structure actually moving. It was sliding backward, slowly revealing a dark passageway underneath. As the entrance was exposed, the glowing writing slowly faded until the white stone was clear again.

  “All this time,” King Baylin muttered in awe as he looked into the dark hole. “It was here all this time.”

  “Follow me,” Lor-telliam said.

  As the elf placed his foot on the first dust covered step, a series of sconces suddenly lit up, shedding a magical orange light along the stairway. Everyone moved quickly down the steps and emerged into a square room that was about the same size as the platform above them. It was simply built, using the same stone blocks that had been used to construct the monument. Like the stairway, everything was covered in dust. Sconces lined the entire room and they too emanated a soft magical light.