The Cavalier Trilogy: Book 03 - Glimmer in the Shadow

by Jason McWhirter

  Kromm blocked a sword swing on his shield and kicked his metal shod boot into the chest of an advancing orc. As the beast flew backward, Kromm turned and ran for the opening of the stairs.

  Just as he did so there was a sizzling sound and the flaming fire walls crackled and disappeared in great billows of hot steam. Something, probably the Banthra, had dispelled the magic walls of fire. When the walls vanished orcs caved in on Tulari and Cade like an avalanche.

  “No!” Kromm screamed from the opening as the black clad orcs surrounded the duo. He attempted to join them but a firm hand grabbed his arm. It was Allindrian. She was covered in sweat and blood and her eyes reflected a mixture of sad resignation, anger, and determination. Her hand was small on his muscled arm, but her grip was like iron.

  “You will die. Your son needs you,” she said. That was all that was needed. Kromm growled with frustration and despair, then turned away from the Blade Singer and moved off the stairs into the chamber. “Can they enter this place?” Kromm asked Lor-telliam who was busy drawing a symbol with white chalk on the stone ground.

  He looked up quickly. “I don’t think so. But guard the entrance nonetheless. I need a few more moments.”

  Jonas looked at Tolvar’s body lying on the stones near the entrance. He was clearly dead and his eyes were open and vacant. He sighed heavily and went to Fil who was sitting against the stone wall. His face was pale and he looked even worse than everyone else. He held his left arm close to his body. “Where are you hurt?” Jonas asked as he knelt next to his friend.

  “My arm, it is broken,” he said, obviously in great pain. Jonas looked at his arm and cringed at what he saw. His forearm was clearly shattered and a sharp blood soaked piece of bone protruded from his flesh. “I can’t move it, Jonas. I can’t fight. You’re going to have to leave me here.”

  “Not an option, Fil,” Jonas said firmly.

  Cade frantically continued to battle the relentless onslaught of orcs, spinning his battle axe in great circles and cutting down several more of the beasts. Tulari, growling in fury, twisted and turned, snapping her jaws and clawing at the countless number of orcs attacking her. Cade began to chant a dwarven war song and despite the cuts he suffered he continued to swing his axe with deadly efficiency, killing the creatures as they came at him from all sides.

  “Enough!” a gravelly voice echoed behind the throng of orcs, shattering the sounds of battle and Cade's war song. The orcs surrounding Tulari and Cade immediately shuffled backwards to make room for the Banthra. Cade gripped his axe firmly and stood solidly before the entrance to the stairs. He glanced backwards thinking to make a dive for it. “You can try it, Dwarf,” the Banthra said as he floated closer, his long black sword crackling with blue lightening.

  At the bottom of the stairs, the group noticed the sudden silence.

  “He stopped singing,” Allindrian whispered. Beside her Kromm gripped his sword handle with evident apprehension and frustration.

  “They fight no more. Whatever you’re doing, Elf, hurry up,” Kromm said as he fought to restrain the urge to run up the stairs to Cade’s defense.

  Cade knew he wouldn’t get another chance. To stay there was to eventually die by orc steel or at the hands of the abomination before him. So he simply smiled, turned quickly, and jumped for the opening.

  Tulari, seeing Cade’s move, spun, and with lightening quick speed leaped far into the air and over the edge of the monument. She disappeared into the darkness before anyone had a chance to blink.

  But Cade was not so quick. The Banthra was expecting the move and sent a sizzling bolt of lightning from its sword towards the Dakeen warrior. In a flash the bolt struck Cade in the back, the force of the strike lifting him off the ground, slamming him into the stone face of the dais just above the opening of the stairs. Then he fell through the opening, tumbling down the stairs to land at Kromm and Allindrian’s feet in a smoking heap.

  “I’m done!” Lor-telliam said. “Everyone, come stand in the center of this drawing.” Jonas helped Fil up and they stumbled over to stand with the rest of the group. Kromm had picked up the smoking form of Cade and he and Allindrian ran and joined them.

  Then they heard loud chanting from above the stairs and the opening of the chamber flashed with crackling energy. “We must hurry! The Banthra is trying to unravel the spell that is keeping them out,” Lor-telliam yelled as he checked to make sure everyone was inside the symbol he had drawn.

  The symbol was round with an outer circle surrounding it. Inside the space between the inner and outer circle was a series of intricate runes that looked to be some sort of writing. It appeared similar to elven script, though it was not exactly the same, perhaps a different dialect or an ancient form. The strange writing encircled them completely.

  As Kromm set Cade down, the dwarf groaned in pain, his eyes fluttering open. “Where is my brother?” he asked weakly.

  Allindrian knelt next to the injured warrior as Lor-telliam went through the last of his preparations. “He is there,” she said, pointing to his body in the corner. “He did not make it.”

  “Leave me. I want to be with him,” he whispered.

  Allindrian looked closely at his wounds, shocked at the severity of the damage. He was bleeding from dozens of cuts, but most damaging was the lightning bolt that had struck him directly in the back at less than ten paces. The Blade Singer didn’t know it at the time, but the Banthra that delivered that attack was twice as powerful as the Banthras that they had fought on the stairs. The skin on Cade's face had peeled away, revealing the red and blackened flesh underneath. His hair and beard were almost completely gone and his left hand was burnt so severely that it had fused around the shaft of his axe. His armor had been burnt so badly that in some places it had melted into his flesh. She glanced up at Lor-telliam. He sadly shook his head, verifying what she already surmised. “Kromm, carry him to his brother.”

  Kromm looked at the Ekahal and back at Allindrian. Then he looked at the dwarf at his feet and for the first time saw the extent of his injuries. He gritted his teeth, the muscles of his jaw flexing in frustration. But he reached under the dwarf and carried him quickly to his brother.

  “Hurry, the weave is almost broken!” Lor-telliam yelled as Kromm made sure that Cade was next to Tolvar.

  “It was an honor to fight with you,” Kromm said, his voice cracking with emotion.

  “Aye, same fur us,” Cade replied as he closed his eyes and put his right hand on Tolvar’s body.

  “Now!” Lor-telliam yelled again.

  Kromm raced to the symbol and the Ekahal took the stone from the tip of his staff and put it on the ground by his feet.

  Allindrian saw what he was doing and her eyes went wide. “No, Ekahal, you can’t!”

  “I must, it is the only way. The sword must leave this place,” Lor-telliam said with gentle fierceness.

  “But at this cost?” Allindrian pleaded.

  Suddenly there was a loud pop and a bright flash followed as the ground shook all around him. The magical weave blocking the entrance had disintegrated and orcs now raced down the stairs, their heavy iron clad boots pounding on the stone steps.

  In a flash the Ekahal glanced at the Dakeen brothers. “A cost that others have paid!” he yelled as he brought his foot down upon the stone. There was a flash of bright light that caused the orcs to stumble backwards and cover their eyes. When the light disappeared the white symbol in the middle of the room was empty. They had all vanished.

  Ten

  Out of Time

  Tuvallis struggled to pull himself onto the muddy river bank. He was soaked and exhausted but his concern for Seli’s whereabouts and the others gave him the strength to climb the brushy river bank to the flat grassland above. The current had washed him far down river but he was still close enough to see the destruction of the bridge and the fire and smoke from the garrison as the orc army destroyed and plundered it. He shivered as he saw the colossal black dragon raise its head over the smoking
battlements, roaring loudly as it flicked a body into the air and swallow it with one great gulp. So that was why the dragon wasn’t hunting down any stragglers, it was feeding on the dead and wounded that lay about the garrison.

  He had fought his way to join the Free Legion and help guard the bridge, knowing that Seli, if she still lived, would be there. But the dragon had swooped in, unleashing its devastating breath before he could find her. Dozens of the Free Legion had leaped over the edge with him to escape its searing breath, choosing the possibility of drowning over being cooked alive in their armor. Indeed, it was likely that many of the men had drowned, exhausted by their struggle with the current and the weight of their armor. He had to hope that Seli was not among them.

  He also worried for Hagar. The last he had seen of the ogrillion he was fighting for his life in front of the garrison gate. Things had not looked good for the courageous beast, but he also knew that Hagar would be a difficult opponent to bring down.

  Tuvallis had dropped his sword when he hit the water and now he stood alone and unarmed. It was still early in the morning and the air was bitter cold on his wet body. He couldn’t see any of the refugees that had been camped along the river bank. They had most likely fled when the fighting started, and terrified by the appearance of the dragon, they had hastily grabbed their belongings and headed west to Finarth. They would only be an hour or two along the road by now.

  He only had a few options at this point. He needed to warm himself, arm himself, feed himself, and find any survivors. All of these things he hoped he would be able to find safely along the river bank where the refugees had camped. He was betting on the fact that the group had left fast, leaving behind various things as they hurried to flee from the dragon. So he crouched low, moving from bushes to tree clumps, scanning the open ground as he went.

  It didn’t take him long to find a small group of men that had already found each other amongst the survivors. They were huddled close together behind a screen of low lying bushes near the river’s edge. They looked just as Tuvallis felt, cold, wet, tired, and hungry. But he was grateful to see that Captain Hadrick was one of the men.

  “Captain, I be glad knowin' you’re alive. But what of Seli?” he asked as he crouched down beside the four other men.

  “Likewise, Tuvallis. Seli was near me when the dragon hit us, but I know not if she survived,” Hadrick replied sadly. “Damn it!” Hadrick swore. “If it weren’t for that dragon our little tactic would’ve worked and we’d be warm and ready to defend those walls another day. Now nearly all of my men are dead,” Hadrick growled.

  Bositch was one of the survivors and he asked what everyone else was wondering. “What do we do now, sir? We need to warm up and we will need food. And we have no weapons.” Their clothes were drenched and they looked like drowned rats. It was not yet spring and the air was still cold. Everyone was visibly shaking in the morning air.

  Hadrick looked at the men. Groban, the grey haired veteran, was among them, along with Jons, the brown haired youth who was a new recruit. Torum had made it as well, and despite the bleak situation the warrior tried to lighten the mood. “The bridge is down, that is good. They won’t be able to follow us or the refugees for at least a few weeks.”

  “I think we should try to catch up with the refugees. They will have some food and perhaps some weapons to arm ourselves,” Hadrick said.

  “Agreed,” Groban affirmed the suggestion. “We should check the camp as well. They left so quickly when the dragon arrived that they may have left something useful.”

  Groben suggested exactly what Tuvallis had been thinking. The five of them scooted along the river bank and made it to the deserted camp. They didn’t run into any other survivors. They cringed hearing the howls and roars from across the river, though they knew they were relatively safe since the bridge had been broken in two different spots. Their only immediate concern was the dragon, though the beast was no longer visible.

  “Perhaps the demon beast left, sir,” Jons said as he stood above the undergrowth along the river and scanned the garrison on the far side.

  “With luck,” was Hadrick’s response.

  It was obvious that the refugees had cleared camp quickly, panicked by the terrifying apparition of the dragon. There were several smoking fires still burning, some with cook pots containing the morning breakfast of boiled oats and salt, still steaming. Several canvas tents had been abandoned, and various odds and ends of supplies were lying about.

  They quickly stuffed their bellies with what food they could find, grabbed some old cloaks and other clothing items that had been left behind, and prepared to move out on foot to try and catch up with the refugees.

  “I’m stayin',” Tuvallis announced to Hadrick as he took off his wet tunic and replaced it with a dry but dirty overshirt. They had built a fire behind a stand of trees, taking enough time to warm their bodies, eat, and dry their clothes before they moved out. They were all fit and well trained men and they had no doubt that they could catch up to the refugees in short time.

  “You think she is alive?” Hadrick asked.

  “I know not, which is why I’m stayin'. Hagar may be alive too. I’ll catch up to ya with or without them,” Tuvallis said as he used his hand to shovel another bite of warm oats into his mouth.

  “Good luck, Tuvallis,” Hadrick said as they shook hands in the warrior's grip. They all said their good byes and then the four men ran down the western road toward Finarth without a glance back.

  “You too,” Tuvallis whispered as the poorly equipped remainders of the Free Legion disappeared in the morning fog.

  “Now, where would ya be if ya survived?” Tuvallis asked, addressing only ghosts, as he looked back down the long meandering river.

  Hagar couldn’t believe that he had escaped the orcs. He had expected to die defending the gate. There were so many of the beasts that even his great strength and powerful mace would eventually succumb to their relentless attack and sheer numbers. But ironically the dragon had saved him. Its deadly breath had forced the orcs back just long enough for Hagar to sneak away along the wall. By the time the steaming vapor had dissipated Hagar was fifty paces north and far from the focus of the enemy whose goal was the destruction of the gate.

  He found the six long boats that had been beached that night on a sandy embankment. That was when he again heard the roar of the dragon in the near distance behind him. It wasn’t long before the bridge collapsed and great waves of water rushed downriver, crashing into the bank and rocking the boats.

  He had left his armor there since Tuvallis had instructed him to take it off when they were preparing for their night attack. That night everyone had removed their heavy armor in place of leather armor or no armor at all, hoping to lessen their load and reduce the noise they made as they stealthily approached the unaware enemy army. Hagar was reluctant to leave his armor behind, but he trusted the human, and none of the others had worn their armor so he thought it would be okay. He was now glad to put the familiar armor back on, and as soon as he did he felt renewed strength flow through his tired body. Now what, he thought. He knew he had to get across the river, but he wasn’t sure if one of the long boats could hold his weight. The current was strong and the river was wide and deep. And swimming was not his strong point. In fact he’d never really swam in anything larger than small ponds and creeks that he had come across deep in the mountains. Besides, he was sure he would sink to the bottom with his armor on while carrying the giant mace.

  He sat down on the sandy ground near the boats to think, which was not high up on his list of strengths. He heard screaming and fighting, followed shortly by orc howls and roars from that terrible dragon, and yet he had no idea how he could help his new friends. He couldn’t go back the way he had come. He needed to get across the river. He looked again at the boats and wondered if he should try it. He knew he couldn’t stay where he was forever.

  “Hagar,” a soft voice came from behind him. The ogrillion jumped to his fe
et, spinning quickly towards the sound and holding his long mace before him defensively. Seli crept from the undergrowth near the river bank and slowly moved towards him. She was soaked through and her dirty clothes were wet and stuck to her cold body. She had no weapons and her skin was pale and bluish in color. “It’s me, Seli. I’m your friend.”

  Hagar recognized her as Tuvallis’s friend. He smiled broadly and tapped his armored chest with his meaty hand. “Friend,” he confirmed.

  “I’m glad you’re alive,” she said, not sure if he understood her. He just kept smiling at her. “Have you seen anyone else?” she asked.

  It was obvious that the ogrillion didn’t understand her but he looked at the boats and pointed towards them. “Boat…go,” he said in choppy common. “I…go,” he said.

  It took her a second to realize that he was asking her a question. Seli looked at his massive body and back at the boat. He was huge, but the long boats easily carried six men, and they could probably carry ten if need be. She figured a boat would carry them both. “Yes, we cross river,” she said.

  That had been her plan all along. She had been near the edge of the bridge when the dragon had attacked. Sar-gathos was nearby and they were frantically fighting off the enemy hoard that was relentlessly pushing the smaller force farther onto the bridge. The elf had been struggling with three orcs when the dragon had swooped down upon them. She had slain her opponent and looked up just as the breath came at them like a storm of death. The attack came so fast that no one, not even the enemy, had time to react. Its scalding breath scorched her back as she flew over the railing to the water below. She had no doubt that Sar-gathos and most of the others had died instantly. Her heart ached for her friends and comrades that made up the last of the Free Legion.