Dark fear pulsed forward, sweeping the room. The fear gripped Scarn and threatened to drive him to his knees.
“A war is coming. One that will shake the foundations of the world. Everything you have ever known will be torn asunder. The darkness is stronger but not undefeatable. There are certain weaknesses exposed.”
Scarn shook the demons from his head. He didn’t much care about wars or darkness. He didn’t care about anything but finishing this job and putting it all behind him.
“Where is the stone?” the Hooded Man pressed.
“Not far. I’ve been tracking…”
“You’ve been tracking a whisper. Nothing more.” the Hooded Man drew to his full height. “The old man no longer holds the stone.”
“I know. I came upon his grave in Rellin Werd.”
The Hooded Man cocked his head in thought. “Where then did he go? I have not felt him for some time now. Winter’s Day is soon upon us. I need that stone, Scarn.”
“The current keepers can’t be more than a day away. Two young boys have it, and the travel with a Dwarf,” Scarn said.
The same two who killed the Gnaal? This was unexpected.
“They are more than three days from here.”
Scarn didn’t ask how he knew. He wanted the man to leave.
The Hooded Man began to pace. “This is becoming more dangerous than I thought. You must leave at dawn, for our enemies will soon be in Paedwyn. Take the King’s Road and ride hard. The only way to succeed is to get ahead of them and reach the city first.”
“What do I do then?”
“Leave that to me.”
The window flew open and a stiff wind blew out the lantern. Tolis Scarn waited until he knew he was alone before closing the window and relighting the room. His mind was filled with questions. The most prominent being why was Winter’s Day so important? Too disturbed to think, Scarn strapped his weapons back on and headed for the common room.
* * *
Sidian, the Silver Mage, slumped back into his throne of dragon bone. Cold sweat poured down his face. His old body felt used and broken beyond the strain of his years. His weathered hand caressed his aching temple. The magic was taking more out of him these days. He felt more alone. More fragile since the war began. His fires weren’t enough to keep him warm anymore.
A heavy knock took away the pain and weakness.
Two slender Goblins with mottled skin eased their way to his feet and bowed. Behind them walked a strong man with evil eyes.
“Milord,” the man said. “We are making progress against the enemy forces in the mountain pass, but our losses are mounting. We need the dragon.”
Sidian’s eyes flashed. “I will use the dragon at the time and place of my choosing, not a moment before. Am I clear, Grelnor?”
Grelnor bowed. “Forgiveness. I do not presume to overstep my bounds, but losses are heavy. The enemy is much craftier than we believed.”
“The lives of Goblins and Trolls do not concern me. They are easy enough to come by. Have the reinforcements come in from the east yet?”
“I’ve heard nothing. Only recently did I return from the front lines,” Grelnor told him.
“Wagon trains full of wounded leave daily and there are few enough healers here in Gren. We could well lose this war with the outcome of the siege.”
Sidian didn’t ask for a progress report. Daily reports and random visions showed him the carnage of the pass. War was an uncivilized affair and it sickened his stomach. With the two largest kingdoms in Malweir embroiled in conflict, his personal task went unnoticed. The continued self destruction kept the world’s concentration, allowing him the time needed to complete his task.
“The eastern clans have yet to march,” the taller Goblin rasped. “My runners return with word of cowardice. Their leader claim to be waiting for the final thrust into Averon.”
The speech was slow and broken, for most Goblins had a limited grasp on the common tongue.
“Perhaps they need… persuasion,” Grelnor offered.
Recent losses meant little in the terms of manpower to Gren, but the more Goblins killed were going to cause serious problems when the war moved down onto the open plains.
“I will dispatch my Gnaals to hasten their preparations. Commander Grelnor, we will be out of the mountains in less than one week. Do not stop the attack and do not fail me,” he told the once proud man. “Redouble your efforts and break their will.”
“As you command,” Grelnor bowed again and stormed from the chamber, the Goblins
fast on his heel.
Sidian resumed rubbing his forehead but the ache only grew stronger.
* * *
“Where are you leading me I wonder, pony?” Tarren asked through a light yawn. She was tired of traveling and sore from riding so much. She cursed her decisions for the thousandth time. The pony merely snorted as if to say trust me.
Tarren supposed matters could be worse. She shuddered to think what might have been if she were caught by the storm in the open. Winter Day was three and half weeks away and already the weather changed for the worse. Her motivation for finding Delin and Fennic grew sharply with each passing day.
They stopped occasionally so the pony could browse on the last of the fall grasses and Tarren could relieve herself. They had no shortage of water, which was much the opposite of her food stores. Food was a serious issue and seeing how the pony stuck to grass and berries, Tarren wondered how much longer she was going to make it with the pony in the lead before she found herself starving.
“We need to find food soon. I don’t want to starve out here,” she told the creature while stroking its muzzle. “Oh, I wish you understood me.”
The pony swished its tail.
Tarren stretched awake with a mighty yawn. After ducking behind a boulder, she came back to find the fire stoked and a large bundle close by. The pony was nowhere in sight. She knew better to question a helping hand so she went to the sack, hoping her pony was coming back. Inside were dried fruits and meat, venison from the smell, and a large wedge of cheese buried under a loaf of dark bread. All told, there was enough to last her another four days, five if she rationed carefully. Tears of gratitude clouded her shining blue eyes.
The pony returned shortly, tail swishing and walking with the same carefree attitude. It was all Tarren could do to run up and wrap her around the soft neck and cry.
TWENTY-TWO
Thunder and lightning pushed out from Gren. The wicked land grew stronger, spreading evil with the passing hour. Dark clouds filled the red and black skies. Lightning wreathed the jagged mountaintops and hidden crags. Howling winds tormented the world down to the foundations. The Gren Mountains were dangerous any time of the year. War and invasion merely increased that threat. Mountain Trolls worked beneath the surface to bring down the ancient rock and dirt while the armies battled.
High above, lodged in a forgotten pass, stood two slender figures in green cloaks. Each had a full quiver and a bow strapped across his back with long rapiers at the hip. Dangerous as they were intelligent, the Highland Elves watched the battle play out in secrecy.
Catapults barraged the surging ranks of Goblins and Men, destroying troops and equipment at an unprecedented pace. Fires burned and raged behind the enemy lines. The Elves keen eyes spied a long line of wagons laden with wounded moving back down the pass. Human losses seemed considerably less though they were far outnumbered. The Elves saw evidence of a tremendous landslide leaving a trail into the invading army. Bodies and siege machines were wiped out in an instant.
“The humans have no chance,” the younger Elf remarked dispassionately. “Not even with the weight of our people behind them, Celegon.”
His long blond hair flowing in the strong winds, Celegon said nothing.
Another major assault was beginning. Human archers slew scores of Goblin foot soldiers. Many tried to break and run, and would have succeeded if not for the three battalions of Ogres pushing them forward. Arrows darkened
the skies. Return fire struck down many of the defenders. Celegon caught sight of a mass of heavy cavalry waiting off to the side of the main avenue of approach. They looked tired, both horse and rider.
“We shall see, my friend,” he finally said. “These humans are most resilient. I see thousands dead, and how many more have already been taken back to Gren? The humans are deserving of our help.”
“Alsenal has said the Dwarves are ready to commit. Our people aren’t needed here.”
Celegon smiled. “I disagree. Man isn’t strong enough to handle the fate of the world alone. And the bearded folk were never many. We need to help.”
“As we always have,” the Elf replied. “Man cannot grow if we continue to hold his hands. They must unite and be held accountable for their actions.”
“And must we sit by and watch this evil spread across Malweir until even we are no longer safe? Or have you forgotten the horrors of the Mage War? I have no desire to see my children’s children buried before me,” he argued back.
“The powers of life and death are beyond our control. As is the destiny of Man.
Celegon, surely you must understand the potential danger in our involvement? How many died in the last war? How many friends and brothers did we lose? Man has learned nothing in the time since. Nothing! They continue with their petty wars and idle fantasies while the world disintegrates around them. Our paths must separate before both our peoples are destroyed. Your father sees the truth of this. Why can’t you?”
“I’ve always held a soft spot for humans, Derlith. You know this,” Celegon said in a quiet voice.
The Ogres joined the battle. Most of the Goblin lines were shattered and combat ineffective. A healthy majority of the Ogres were riddled with flaming arrows and barbed pikes. The humans were bringing ballistae forward to counter the murderous foe. Giant wooden arrows a foot around and six long were loaded and aimed at the charging Ogres.
“Look at them. Not even Elves would stand against so many Ogres,” Celegon said.
“Each and every one of them is scared to wit’s end and still they stand. If only my father had that same courage for our people’s future.”
“It would be a future laden in grief,” came the answer. “Come, we need to get out of this pass before the storms get worse.”
Being a prince of Elves had both advantages and disadvantages. His opinions were generally held in high regard so long as they mirrored the consensus of the Elves. Most policies and legislation remained beyond the scope of his authority. His father often included him in private conversations and, every once in a while, allowed Celegon’s reasoning to win through. Alsenal alone was accountable when it came to the welfare of the Highland Elves.
High pitched screams and wails drifted up to them. Ogres were starting to die badly. A further look showed many already on the ground in growing pools of blood. But it was not enough. The defense was folding. Desperation sent the cavalry charging into the Ogre flanks. It was a suicide charge. They had to know that horsemen were no match for the armor skinned warriors of Gren. Tears filled Celegon’s eyes.
“When was it last you witnessed such bravery?” he asked.
The Elf prince stood transfixed on the gruesome scene.
“They need our help.”
“So that we may suffer the same fate? I am not so ready to die for Man.”
Celegon knew better than to continue the argument, but the courage of the defenders demanded more.
“Think what they could do with a handful of our companies at their side, Derlith.
We’d stem the enemy tide and drive them back into Gren long before the war had the chance to spread,” Celegon said.
“Join them if you wish, but I’ll have no part in it,” Derlith replied. “My orders were to scout the battlefield and return with what I saw. Nothing more.”
He leaned closer to his prince and said, “this is not our war.”
“And when it becomes so?”
“Come on. We need to go home. The outcome of this battle was decided before it even began. Time will come and pass and nothing Men or Elves do will stop it.”
TWENTY-THREE
A light wind tickled Norgen’s beard though he laughed not. He and Hallis stood together, arms folded across their chests and watching the distant riders. Two more days of hard pressed travel brought them almost full circle back to the King’s Road. The game of cat and mouse with the Goblins had been a series of hit and miss. There were few casualties and nothing more.
Woodland gave way to rock strewn fields which eventually turned back into lightly forested hills. Hallis stopped the column, instructing Jin to set up a defensive perimeter before he and another rider went down into the valley. They already had one over strength company of Goblins hunting them and he wasn’t about to be caught in a trap so close to Paedwyn. Most of the morning was gone before Hallis, Norgen and the boys left the protective circle of sentries and pickets to await Jin’s return.
“A good sign,” the dour Dwarf said. “Of course we’d be able to hunt down them Goblins if they had more riders a coming.”
Precisely what I’d do if not for the urgency of the times, Hallis thought.
“Unfortunately matters demand otherwise,” he replied. “Averon has greater need for trained soldiers. A company of Goblins is of small concern.”
“At least there’s one less Gnaal to trouble us,” Delin beamed.
It took all their combined efforts to defeat the demon of Gren. They bonded that day, in an irrefutable fellowship of warriors since time began. Hope returned and the boys saw the light of the sun again. Even the hard pressed recruits found a new life and hungered to reach Paedwyn and gain their revenge for the ones left in that cold, distant forest.
“Indeed. We owe you both a debt of gratitude. Were not for your sword and quick thinking we’d all be dead,” Hallis said with a smile. “I like you Delin Kerny. My son was much as you are.”
Fennic couldn’t help but ask, “Where is he now?”
Hallis closed his eyes and his attitude turned sour. “He joined the army against my wishes and went to one of the Troll hunter companies. The last we heard of him was before his company was dispatched to the Thed Mountains north of Braem to put down a local uprising.”
The looks in their eyes suggested naivety so he answered their unasked question.
“That was nigh on six years ago. Less than a score of men returned. None of them were in the same frame of mind as when they left. When my days of service end I will go and learn what fate befell my son.”
He was suddenly thankful for the closeness of the riders. The story was hard to tell and it pained him immeasurably with each telling. Jin reined to a halt a few meters away and dismounted.
“What news, Jin?” Hallis asked.
“Good news, Sergeant! The road ahead is clear all the way to Paedwyn. This is Corporal Storr. He’s been sent as a guide to escort us in.”
Storr nodded his greeting. His dark eyes betrayed his surprise at seeing the Dwarf.
“Sergeant, I’ve been assigned to take you to the outpost at Dill Rock. There is a company of lancers awaiting you. The King has heard of your peril and wishes to speak with you once all is settled,” Storr told them.
This was news for Hallis. He’d thought none but his own men knew of their plight from Alloenis. “Very well, young Storr.” Hallis motioned for the last rider, an unknown boy from a small hamlet west of Alloenis. “Go back and tell Blaron to marshal the men and break camp. We are going to Paedwyn today.”
“Yes sir,” replied the boy before riding off.
“Tell me, Storr, what is this Dill Rock outpost? I’ve heard nothing of the capitol’s defenses since returning to the flat lands,” Hallis asked.
“High Commander Steleon thought it wise to place a series of outposts in a great circle around Paedwyn. He knows that Gren Mot cannot hold the enemy forever and the host has not assembled yet. The outposts are designed as an early warning device should the enemy flood th
e plains.”
“You make it sound like the war is underway,” Hallis replied.
Storr swallowed hard. “The fortress is sorely under siege.”
“What? That can’t be! Gren was nowhere close to attacking when I left.”
“Sergeant, matters changed greatly over the last few weeks. We received a messenger from Gren demanding we surrender the fortress. King Maelor laugh at this and dismissed the messenger without a response. Gren Mot was already under attack.”
Hallis thought of his friends and comrades fighting for their lives without him at their side. He was supposed to be there. Supposed to be standing the wall side by side with all of them.
“Fynten is a good man, but even he can’t hold long,” Jin broke in. Plenty of his friends were trapped in the mountain pass as well.
“What plans for relief does Steleon have?” Hallis asked.
Storr stood stone faced and cold. Like the professional soldier he was, he kept his emotions in check. “He’s been instructed to build the host. Gren Mot will see no reinforcements for some time.”
“There are over two thousand troops there. Does Steleon expect them to sacrifice so much?” he gasped in shock.
“He asks only what the king commands. When the host is ready we will march on Gren. King Maelor desires an end state with this long conflict.”
Jin felt his heart sag. “What news from the front?”
“Messengers arrive daily. The enemy is still far from reaching our walls and a great number have fallen. But our own wounded flow back in an unending stream.”
He didn’t say what was next. He didn’t need to. They all knew it was a hopeless mission. The rustle of men and equipment ended their conversation, which Hallis was most grateful for.
Blaron presented the troops with a wry smile and professional salute. “The column is formed, Sergeant. May we please go home now?”
“By all means,” Hallis said with a smile. “By all means.”
The younger Blaron turned towards the men and barked, “Forward…… march!”
Armies of the Silver Mage Page 13