Made to Suffer (Journeyman Book 3)

by Golden Czermak

  MERIDEN AT LAST reached the staging area, another wide tract of plains just north of the camp. There, she commanded all the magical barriers and protections to be dispelled.

  “No longer is this a time for hiding,” she stated, gazing to the north. Like a great waterfall, the air roiled around the army and from the sky all the way to the ground spells shimmered with a golden aura before fading away. Once again, they were exposed to the world.

  Then, she turned about to face them, taking stock of the many determined faces that had rallied to this cause and to her.

  She saw elves first, as they were the most in number. Regal and lightly armored in purples and gold, they comprised the bulk of her infantry – brandishing sharp swords and axes amidst a forest of pikes and long lances.

  Ahead of them, currently lining the front, were archers equipped with physical shields and fine longbows at the ready. Amongst them too, mages were set, skilled in all manner of spell-casting, both offensive and defensive.

  A thicket of creatures similar to earth elementals lumbered amidst the sea of bodies, their rocky forms were man-like but bound by leafy green and brown vines. They hailed from the forests, fiercely protecting their allies. Between them weaved herds of puca, their dark fur and antlers standing out against the vibrant greens.

  There was another even larger creature that strolled near the rear. Hailing from the Giant’s Causeway of Earth, Finn was his name, and he had apparently found a way to while away the time: playing with the much more dainty fairies that were scattered amongst the troops.

  Finally, at the very rear, shifting like a crashing tide of feathery leather, were her riders. They were perched proudly atop their flying mounts; cockatrice mainly, but lesser known things, too.

  “The time has come,” Meriden said, her voice of authority cascading over the hushed crowd. The sun had climbed and the way ahead was bright and clear. Meriden sparkled like a jewel in the light and all eyes were upon her.

  An ivory unicorn approached and bid her mount it. She did and once settled, addressed the crowd again. “Soldiers of the Otherworld, another part of this task about to begin – perhaps the greatest part. War has come to us and threatens to spread like a raging wildfire. We must douse the flames, so we can be better prepared for the future. First wave to the north! To the river!”

  EIGHT LEAGUES LATER, the sun had advanced west on its way toward twilight and Meriden's company crested the slope of the last gentle hill, looking out at the plains at the bottom the valley. The land sprawled out from them to their destination, where the waters of the picturesque river Alainn tumbled in frothy bliss. Spanning it was the Bridge of Tuatha, it's narrow breadth a chokehold that prevented them rushing full on to attack the river’s north shore and beyond.

  Speaking of the shore, Meriden halted and the front line stared across it. Over the river, like insects plaguing the land, was an enormous army advancing its way south.

  So this is the sum of Fenran's forces? she asked herself, all the host of the great city of Dún Gorias laid out before her. Their numbers were three times her own at least, with a substantial cavalry of horsemen, too. Many in her company seemed to waver in fear of loss and death, just at the sight of it.

  As if they could smell the nervousness mounting, the forces of Gorias chanted their war cries, the harsh roars combining with the clashing of swords against shields and it all rumbled like a sudden storm in the distant mountains.

  There would be no talking their way out of this, no words exchanged in negotiation of promises soon forgotten.

  “Do not despair!” she called out to the company and the light of the sun caught in her golden hair such that it looked aflame. “For there is no need. Although we stand before the brink of this battle, where things look and feel their darkest, know that you have within each of you a light. Together that power will shine out from here across the entire Otherworld and beyond. Elvendom shall once again be free from those who have corrupted it, allowing us to work with friend and foe alike in the struggles ahead. Yet, that is for another day! This day, let us end this! Let us reclaim what is ours.”

  At the close of her speech came the sound of a horn; at first just one but then joined by many. The melodious sound they made enhanced her words in their hearts, lifting up their spirits in a swell of positive emotions.

  They were set and the company advanced with renewed vigor, marching until she was just ahead of the shore. There, she ordered a halt and archers on the flanks nocked their arrows in preparation to fire.

  The forces of Gorias had already taken heed of their approach and redistributed their formations. Fenran ordered his crossbows ahead, along with a few catapults for good measure. His infantry remained behind while ahead and center of them his horsemen laid in wait.

  Like a giant game of chess, the board was laid out and all the pieces were in place, waiting for someone to make the first move. There was a long silence in which no one did, nor spoke, nor even breathed.

  Meriden shut her eyes and had she not known where she currently stood, she could have fooled herself into believing she was anywhere in the worlds. But that was fantasy and this was reality; the silence rushed away as she thrust her brilliant eyes open.

  “Fire!” she cried with arm overhead and her troops complied.

  A shower of missiles was loosed, whistling overhead, northward as a prelude to death. The spent bowmen fell back to rearm, a second unit immediately sweeping forward to fire again. The processes repeated several times like clockwork while mages stood at the ready with shield spells if needed.

  As more arrows came down on Fenran’s crossbowmen, they didn't delay in responding with volleys of their own. The storm of bolts was so great that it blocked out the sun like a swiftly passing cloud, whining as they fell hard from the sky.

  The barrage continued between the amassed forces, whittling them down bit by bit with each successive exchange. Arrows glanced off magic barriers Meriden’s forces had summoned, falling harmlessly to the ground in sharp heaps and she appeared to have an advantage.

  Fenran saw to it that this was short lived, ordering his elves to switch their quivers, firing different bolts as the catapults were engaged, lobbing gigantic rune stones across the river. The bolts zipped through the barriers with ease, their golden tips felling many mages and bowmen in the process. The runed boulders exploded in turn, abundant bursts of lava scorching the ground, armor, and flesh alike. The edges of the river steamed from the heat, the forest elementals taking point amidst the fog.

  Their stony hands were like massive shovels, thrust into the alluvial soil before sending huge chunks of the ground hurtling across the river and down upon Fenran’s forces. They struck such force the ground shook as armor was splintered and their bones were crushed.

  Though rock and bark were more resilient than flesh against piercing attacks, they were not as much against fire. The catapults flung their loads again, bringing with them massive swaths of flame to burn them all to ash.

  Meriden rode to the front of the chaos and then banked west until she was aligned with the bridge. She studied it at as the wind whipped her hair and indeed, it was incredibly narrow, no more than five abreast could ride across it. If that weren’t enough of a problem, the garrisons on either side of the bridge were full of defenders that would rain fire upon them from the battlements.

  “What is she doing?” Fenran muttered atop his stallion, eyeing Meriden as she regarded the crossing. “She cannot be seriously thinking to cross it?” His mind raced, unwilling to concentrate his force but unable to risk letting too many of her forces across. A decision had to be made.

  “All, move toward the bridge!” he commanded. “Take this rabble down!”

  Seeing Fenran's forces converging made her smile. Her hand raised skyward, she dropped all but two of her fingers before riding forward, light trumpets sounding from behind.

  Meriden’s light trot became a gallop. As she rode, mages riding atop the dark pucas joined her along eit
her side while her infantry ran behind. The bridge loomed ever closer ahead and they continued on unhindered by the narrowing path.

  The trumpets blared again and suddenly the infantry spread itself outward like great wings with living feathers, sweeping out to east and west while still climbing northward.

  The mages neared the bridge with Meriden, casting shield charms at the same time lightning cleaved from their fingertips. The rain of death from the garrison was reflected and the blasts saw to it they would remain unbothered.

  “Now!” she cried as they thundered across the bridge and the infantry neared the shore.

  The mage’s hands spiraled with sigils, so great in number it hadn't been seen before. Fairies and sprites zipped ahead of them, carrying frost stones between pairs and of those, there were hundreds.

  Trembling as frostbite overtook them, powerful ice spells spooled up behind the sigils and in unison, the puca riders hit the raging waters of the Allain with everything they had. From both sides of the bridge, spells driven by sheer force of will careened against the waves with a deafening crack, chilling the water until, at last, the river snapped solid.

  On the other side, ahead of the bridge, the fairies and sprites dropped their frost stones in an expanding line, forming a solid barricade of ice that forced the oncoming soldiers to divert. Successful in their duties and having crossed themselves, Meriden and the puca riders broke off to the west.

  The frozen water bore the boots of Meriden's infantry as they crossed the river without worrying about the choke point. Loud moans and cracking came from beneath the ice to join in the cadence of footsteps, but the spells held.

  “Riders!” Fenran screamed and his cavalry raced off like an unyielding wall of horses and spears. Outward they spread to assail the company spilling over onto their side of the river.

  Meriden’s infantry responded with arrows again and blasts of magic that decimated some, but the oncoming rush seemed insurmountable as it grew ever closer.

  Emerging between the archers, pikemen came, lancers behind them still. Planting the ends of the poles into the dirt, a piercing wall of defense was erected just as the riders broke upon it like a crashing wave. A horrible noise rose out of the mess, full of pain and suffering. It was the sound of hacking and slashing, underscored by the agonizing wails and neighs of the dying. Bodies accumulated on the ground and the cavalry became spread out thinly, ineffective.

  “You like to speak of demons and Hell, Meriden!” Fenran shouted. “Fine then, I'll show you when all hell breaks loose!” Upon his order the Gorias infantry began their advance, charging at the mass of company soldiers before slicing through.

  Meriden watched as the battle fell into chaos and Fenran's forces seemed to overwhelm them. It was then that her very own words rang out in her mind.

  Where things look and feel their darkest, know that you have within each of you a light and together that power will shine out...

  Her light was about to do just that.

  A shuddering roar broke free from the chaos and rose above it, shrill and clear. Another wave had arrived and her riders atop their flying beasts tearing their way though the soldiers by means of talon, blade, and spell.

  The lead rider swooped past Meriden, yet the cockatrice looked to be alone. Yet tucked in its feathers was the tiniest streak of red.

  “Aye, I thought we’d never get a chance!” came a highly charged, yet diminutive voice. “Come on lads! Attack!”

  If she hadn't been there to witness it herself, she never would have believed the stories should they be told. Leading the second wave was Brennan, wearing wee leprechaun armor of his own making. His beast whooshed over the battlefield, scooping up soldiers in its claws and spinning skyward before dropping them to the ground.

  More elementals and the giant Finn stormed onto the battlefield, joining the fight as the sounds of death and clanging metal filled the air.

  Brennan looked down from on high and spotted Fenran, who looked to be retreating toward the city.

  “Heya, laddie,” he spoke softly his mount, patting the side of his head. “Ya see that one there, the stuck up elf? Let's get him!”

  The creature roared and Brennan ended up laughing maniacally as the two of them plummeted from the sky toward the ground. As they neared, he conjured up a gold coin and flung it at the elf’s head.

  Fenran turned when it struck, wide eyed and afraid as the mighty beast bore down on him.

  “Heya, lad!” Brennan shouted over the rush of air with the biggest shit-eating grin across his ginger beard. “Methinks there's plenty of me to go around…”

  Fenran and his horse were scooped up by the cockatrice and taken high, then hurled through the air. The elf screamed as the horse struck the ground first, dead, then was joined by Fenran. Inertia carried them on, tumbling end over end until both came to rest in the middle of a soggy patch of sullen grass, not far from the gates.

  Blood pooled behind Fenran as he was looking to the sky, the faintest twinkle of the first stars reflected in his eyes. His mangled horse was sprawled over the top of him, their bodies staining the ground as all went dark.

  It was quiet again and thus passed the General, former councilor of the Order of Journeymen, into the long and lonely night.

  THE STENCH OF war rose up amidst the fires and pockets of lightning that still sputtered and burned across the battlefield. The last remnants of the day’s sun attempted to shine in from the low west, its dwindling might barely able to overcome the mottled darkness that clung to the air.

  The battle had ended and an eerie silence had fallen across the entire valley, but there was no end to torment. Some of the survivors were already hard at work, tending to each other’s injuries in makeshift triages, using herbal, medicinal, and magical means to heal what they could. For some, the damage was too great and they passed beyond, nary a whisper to say goodbye.

  Others were focused on weaving spells to counter the physical and environmental damage. Winds were called to clear the air, water tamed to douse the flames, and earth called to suffocated the rest. Long did those teams wield their powers and many collapsed from exhaustion, only to rise and try again.

  A final group was tasked to tend to the dead, arguably the most challenging and wrenching of all positions. Countless carcasses of beasts and elves burned and frozen, crushed and impaled – littered the whole valley.

  Meriden observed the devastation in all its sad glory as she walked, a beacon of hope and strength amongst the overpowering gray. She had to be, now that she was Queen, ruler of these lands that had been torn asunder.

  Ahead of her, she arrived at the site where the battle ended. A black horse lay dead on the ground, crossing the body of a fallen elf beneath. The soldier was wearing armor befitting a righteous general, ornate and proud like his unmoving expression, locked in place at the moment of his death. A shame that was only a façade… the truth of him far less glorious – as she knew all too well.

  Meriden stepped up close to the body of Fenran, gazing down at him longingly before a mist filled her eyes with the threat of tears.

  “Why did it have to come to this, my love?” she asked and revealed to the vastness of no one, knowing that the answer she sought would never come.

  Something deep had corrupted Fenran's heart along the way. She supposed it might have been during the time of the Incursion, but whatever the case, its effect was such that his pride became priceless while keeping the Elvish people, and her, safe became worthless.

  There would be no fitting funeral for him, nor songs song of any remarkable deeds in life. He would only be remembered by the death and devastation he caused this day.

  A traitor.

  A murderer.

  Alone.

  Kneeling in the bloody soil, her gleaming dress stained with the grime of war, Haldran’s Gift shined on his finger. Grasping it gingerly, she slipped it off and brought it to her lips before placing it on her own hand. Before standing, she took stock of an unused r
une stone nearby, picking it up. She examined it closely, the symbol etched on it that of fire. Holding it close to her lips as if to kiss it, too, she blew across its smooth surface and the symbols sparkled with life.

  “Ignis,” she whispered, placing the thing in the center of Fenran's chest. Sullen flames were conjured that quickly grew and began to consume his body, along with her love.

  As she stood, the wind caught in folds of her flowing dress and it rose, billowing sorrowfully in the smoky twilight. She gazed upon her surroundings and realized that the long task of healing hurts, re-forging trust, and rebuilding a kingdom was about to begin. It wouldn’t be easy, nothing ever worth seeing through was.

  However, before any of that would get underway, she had one promise left to fulfill, made to a couple of Journeymen that had paid her kingdom a visit in the interest of friendship.

  The Ring sat quietly upon her finger, a radiant symbol beneath the smoking sky.

  BACK ON EARTH, it was afternoon and the sun hung high in the clear skies over New York, filtering into the council chambers. There, the team had gathered on Jane’s request to deliberate the last few day’s worth of activities, mainly as an excuse to bide their time before discovering the outcome of the elven battle. Rumors were aplenty and it was hard to sift fact from fiction, but the mood was good with the general consensus Meriden was successful against Fenran.

  With the main part of the meeting completed, the group spread out into different pockets of conversation. Jane was with Gage and Adrienne, while Drogir and Tyrol were again busily chatting amongst themselves. Joey had found himself occupied with shadow puppets on the wall, showing Quileth some rude ones he had picked up from Marcus. Speaking of his normally proper friend, Quileth's yellow eyes darted over and beamed when he spied Marcus talking excitedly with Allete and Timothy. He tucked away Joey’s little bit of anecdotal blackmail before returning his attention to him.