Razel. The name conjured up the dwarf’s last few moments covering her escape. Sera never would have expected that the dwarf’s death would have affected her so. A tear formed in the corner of her eye. Rhone reached out and patted her leg. He looked up at her expectantly.
“Rzzzlll?” he said.
Sera bent down and took him in her arms, willing the tears back. “Razel’s gone to the Light, Rhone. Someday, someday a very long time from now, you will see him again.”
She looked up and caught several of the others staring at her. Tem rubbed at his eyes. Dain will be saddened by the news of Razel’s death, as well. Perhaps more than anyone. Damn Koren for this. Still, a leader had to be strong in such moments, and allow others to draw from her strength. She squared her shoulders and slung Rhone to his favorite place at her hip.
“Please, show us your device, Tem.”
The dwarf coughed and cleared his throat. “Of course, my lady.”
Hexen and Tem led Sera and Neive up to the keep’s highest point again. Outside, the pounding of stone against stone rang louder.
Tem lowered a rope and pail over the keep’s side to a runner waiting below. The runner drew a message from the pail and took it to the dwarves operating the catapult. One of the dwarves looked up at Tem, who nodded. He threw a lever, and the catapult’s counterweight dropped away. In one smooth motion the firing arm swung up, arching forward in a snap, and a man-sized boulder flew outward.
The first shot fell fifty yards short, and Tem snapped the bucket back up, pumping his arms like a bellows. He muttered under his breath, scribbled out a note, put it in the bucket, and dropped the bucket back to the bottom.
“What did you tell them?” Neive asked.
“Fifty yards short and to the left,” Tem said. “They’ll adjust the weapon and fire again.”
Neive furrowed her brows. “What about the weight of the boulder? Doesn’t that make a difference?”
“It would if they were different. We carved them all from granite and to exact dimensions and then weighed them against each other on a balance beam. I do have a set of heavier shots and some clusters full of lighter ones, as well, but most everything we’re slinging is set at two hundred pounds.”
Having the dwarves here was good fortune, Sera knew. Their manners sometimes left much to be desired, but they knew their warfare. Her people owed a great debt to Razel and his kin. The twins too would be devastated to learn he was gone. Rhone didn’t yet fully understand, but Luren and Telar would feel his loss keenly.
The catapult below sprang into motion again, and the heavy ball soared and landed with a spray of black earth and grass just beside the nearest of the enemy’s catapults. The orcs operating it raced to remove the stakes anchoring it in place. Large demons took up the heavy ropes they’d used to drag it.
Tem let out a whoop and sent down another message. The dwarves below scrambled and reloaded the catapult.
After so much waiting, it was now a race. Sera watched the actions of both sides, praying the dwarves would prove quicker.
The orcs pulled the last stake, and their catapult lurched a few feet before Tem’s next shot smashed through the firing arm. The dwarf raised a fist in triumph and yelled down at his team. Sera and even stoic Hexen cheered. The threat wasn’t completely destroyed yet, and the dwarves hurried to reload and fire another shot.
The demons strained against their load now, trying to save what they could, but Tem’s shot struck just inside one of the catapult’s wheels. The boulder snapped the catapult’s axle and the broken ends stabbed into the ground, pinning the weapon in place.
The next shot broke the damaged catapult’s back. With most of its structure destroyed, it sagged in the middle like a sinking ship. As a final insult, Tem fired another boulder while demons and orcs fled from their doomed weapon. Sera felt the golden elf mages drop their shielding over it, and she ordered one of her mages to throw a fireblast on the wreck for good measure.
Spurred on by the sight of the first broken weapon, the orcs moved their second catapult closer to the old cobbled road. The dwarf swore a particularly vile curse. Neive covered her mouth in shock, but didn’t say anything.
“What is it, Tem?” Sera said.
“They’re moving the other one out of range. We’ll get no more easy kills, I’m afraid. Next time they’ll position it in the dark, and we won’t be able to hit the towers until they roll them up to use them. Best case, I’ll get a pair when they attack. That’s the best case.”
“I want someone to inspect the mortar where they were firing,” Sera said. “I don’t want to be surprised if it shatters on us.”
Trumpets blared in the distance then. The sounds of steel on steel and shouting were coming from the invaders’ camp. Tem raised his looking glass and Sera used her abilities to sharpen her senses. In the day’s fading light, she saw a group of cavalry formed into a wedge plunging through demons and Risen like a driving spear. A weaponless figure in gleaming silver armor led them. Behind the cavalry, more armored troops followed on foot.
“Who are they?” Tem asked.
“Golden elves,” Sera answered. A force of golden elves was striking behind the invaders. Hopelessly outnumbered, they fought to break through.
What new madness is this?
“Can’t fault their bravery, but what fool leads them? They’ll be surrounded for sure,” Hexen said.
The cavalry outpaced the trailing footmen, but when a roiling black mess of demons tried squeezing into the gap, bowmen swiftly picked them off. The tail of the footmen came into view then, and Risen closed ranks behind.
Sera watched as the cavalry split into two groups. One raced for the retreating catapult, and its riders destroyed the demons dragging it. At least one of the riders must have been a mage; the weapon went up in a fiery blue blast.
Led by the man in silver armor, the second cavalry group attacked the towers. Blue flames rose from two of them before the Risen rallied to protect the others or the enemy mages could throw up their shields.
Horse, rider, and steel met the Risen head on, and they ground against each other. Trailing behind, the footmen found themselves in the clear. They ran for the castle’s gate without hesitating.
“Baroness, what are your orders?” Hexen asked. “They’ll be cut down if we do nothing.”
“Open the gate!” came a cry from below. Gashan was suddenly on top of the outer wall. “Now, open it now!” he said, eyes alight.
The wood elf guards froze. Sera did as well. Never in a thousand years would she have contemplated opening her gates to the Golden. If she did nothing, though, they would surely die. They had to know that before they charged, she realized, and still they came.
“Baroness, what do we do?” Hexen repeated. The remnants of the cavalry were back with the main body of Golden now. The pack of demons and Risen and orcs drew tighter against them like a fisherman’s net.
It was a trick, it had to be. The Golden had made their choice; they followed Koren and her demons now. But Jin and Dain had asked her to trust them. They’d bet their lives on Gashan and his men. How could she not?
“Open the gate!” Sera commanded. She flung streaks of lightning into the mass of demons over the wall, fingers twisting. “Help them!”
Archers ran to the walls. Their bows sang, and arrows flattened the first rank of rushing demons. The wood elf mages formed up and threw lightning out over the wall alongside Sera, their white-hot bolts leaping. The gate lowered and the golden elves rushed inside like water draining from a tub. Demons and Risen alike followed close on their heels, with several reaching the castle’s courtyard.
“Form up! Protect the gate and push the demons out,” Gashan ordered his men. The guardsmen and Hexen’s Paladins joined the other Golden and rounded on their pursuers. The dwarves formed int
o a tight wedge and rushed the gate to cut off the flow of attackers. They held firm, fighting on all sides, and the gate’s chain tightened and slowly crept higher.
“Archers, keep focus outside. Protect the dwarves,” a ranger shouted.
In the courtyard, the invaders started to fall. Their numbers dwindled, and then the Golden rushed to aid the dwarves.
For a moment, Sera’s heart stopped in her chest. She imagined the Golden murdering the dwarves and allowing the demons back inside.
What have I done? Have I only quickened our fall? Forgive me, Father. I’ve failed all of us.
The first golden elf reached the dwarves. His sword rose. A demon lurched forward, screaming, and the golden elf struck it. More golden elves and Paladins joined the dwarves, and their wedge grew larger. As the gate rose and the archers stemmed the tide of demons, the invaders retreated. Sera remembered to breathe again.
“Hexen, will you and Tem find out what just happened? Have Gashan and the commander of those elves brought to the main hall. Bring a half-dozen of your Paladins with you,” she commanded. “And place a strong guard around the Golden. All of them.”
“Baroness, surely you don’t still think—” Hexen started.
Sera cut him off with a look. “Too much is riding on this. We took a risk letting them in. I will not take further risks until we know more. Do you understand?”
“Understood,” Hexen said.
Standing under the dark pines, Verdant watched the burning pyre. The ruined wreck of a siege tower collapsed inward, and black ash rolled out in a cloud. He could only shake his head, perplexed.
The golden elves were supposed to be their allies, and yet a party of them had torn through Risen, demons, and orcs alike, torched the siege equipment, and then took refuge in the castle. Tendrils of wispy smoke rose from the charred hulk of a second siege tower. The armor encasing it glowed a dull red.
Siam and the other Risen he’d gathered stared along with him.
“The situation has changed, and I know neither how nor why,” Verdant said. “But we will stay the course and remain patient. There is much to be done, more allies to gather.”
“Agreed,” Siam said, and more Risen nodded along.
All told, they numbered just over a thousand now. Souls Verdant had touched and freed. In their former lives, all had been wood elves or humans. They’d yet to find a dwarf, and Verdant took care to avoid any who’d been golden elves in life. If they followed Elam in life, in death they might prove loyal to his daughter as well, he reasoned.
Quietly, Verdant and his followers moved to the army’s western end, close to the rushing Wessen. In many ways their plans remained unclear, but the former priest had no intention of fighting a war on behalf of Koren, the very woman who’d killed him. In fact, he would do anything he could to oppose her.
Now his memories were clear and, he suspected, close to complete. The overall picture of his former life was a puzzle with only a handful of pieces still missing. He could remember his parents’ faces, if not their names. He remembered the hospital in Galena having a pair of priestesses who worked under him, but nothing else about them. It was like trying to catch a handful of mist; these were trivial things in comparison to life’s bigger events. Still they frustrated him beyond reason, and of late he had begun to doubt they would ever return. His fists clenched in rage.
The group of golden elves under Koren’s command was encamped at the army’s center. Last night while they slept, he’d snuck through their sentries and prowled among them.
He wanted nothing more than to strike Koren down and avenge himself. Living, he never would have been a match for her. Now, though, things had tilted. He felt the awesome power of his limbs, and he could sense within himself a great churning storm of dark energies. Instead of warring against the warm Light at his core, the energies roiled and raged around it.
In the end, Koren hadn’t been there. The girl they’d dressed up as the Queen resembled her, or had been made to, but she had none of Koren’s demon stench. Murdering her would have thrown the army into disarray, but it also might have shown his hand too early. Now is not the time to strike. Not yet.
Keeping his face shrouded in the depths of his hood, Verdant wrapped his cloak tighter. Some of the flesh he remembered having once had knit back over his bones, and it felt the night’s growing chill.
In his memories, colors and sounds were crisp and sharp and clear, but in this bleak undeath the world was dull and grey-tinged. Since the Light had awakened him, his senses had improved, but each sensation paled in comparison to his memories. The dullness on his tongue seemed particularly cruel. After rising, he needed neither food nor water. His strength was drawn from the invisible currents of magic swirling around the valley. He knew that they alone sustained him.
Verdant pushed these thoughts from his mind in frustration. He had no time for them. There was work to be done tonight, more Risen to free. Leaving Siam and the others behind, he stalked through the camp alone, seeking more of his kind. He found a single Risen wandering near the camp’s rear, close to the trees and the old road to Galena. Verdant’s instincts told him it was a wood elf. He followed it north into the forest until it stopped at the base of a great tree, running its hands over the bark.
Verdant peered around to make sure they were alone.
“Do you have a name, brother?” he asked.
“Name…Name…Yes, I have a name,” it said in the peculiar, halting pattern of the Risen.
“And what is your name?”
“I am Yalveen.”
“Why are you here among the trees, Yalveen, instead of with your own kind?”
“I dreamed…” it started. “I dreamed I was a great bird soaring over the land on mighty wings. I felt the warm thermals…I rode them up to touch the clouds.”
The Risen’s eyes closed. Its head tilted back as if staring up, and its mouth curled into a smile.
Verdant crept closer. He seized it around the throat and felt the familiar sharp, hot spark ignite into a blaze. The Risen thrashed in confusion, struggling for freedom. Verdant felt the Light rush from his chest into his arm and then out through his fingertips before jumping into Yalveen. It kindled there, mirroring the Light in his own core.
“Stay silent, brother,” Verdant whispered. “We are patient. We wait for our moment, and then we will have our vengeance.”
“I understand,” Yalveen said. His eyes were clear, and an intelligence shone in them that hadn’t been there before.
Looking for another lost soul, Verdant wandered on. He wasn’t sure if he was doing the right thing. With or without his intervention, one by one, the Risen were each finding some measure of freedom. This spark of Light he carried sped up the process and seemed to sever the unknown something that demanded obedience to Koren and the demons, and he felt a deep craving to use it. It was a gift that wanted to be shared.
Idly, he wondered if he was being selfish. Did the Golden not deserve this gift, as well?
No, it isn’t worth the risk. And if he had the right of it, they would free themselves in time, with or without the Light. There was no harm in being cautious. There were too many humans and wood elves yet to free.
And what will the Golden do with their freedom? What will we do with ours?
Questions haunted him. He had no answers—not yet, anyway—and those answers were critical to his own cause. Cause? Was that what he had? The word felt right, though he couldn’t yet define what his cause was. Certainly he wanted Koren to pay for what she’d done—both in killing him and later in raising him from the dead. When he thought of her, the Light inside of him flared.
Koren hadn’t acted alone. No golden elf had the power to raise the dead. To his knowledge, limited as it was, such a thing had never been done before. Baelzeron, the demon who’d helped h
er, the one she and Slerian called Master—his power had raised them. He too was responsible for the Risen.
Vengeance, then. A cause needed more than just vengeance.
In life, Verdant remembered trying to save the wood elves. At the time it seemed important, but now he couldn’t remember why it had mattered so much. After all, in time, everything died. The Golden had murdered his brother-in-law, Maib, and then Verdant himself. That was reason enough to hate them, but he no longer felt any obligation to the wood elves. They were potential allies and nothing more. Once he’d killed his enemies, the wood elves were not his concern.
Then what is, he wondered. What might he and his brothers and sisters do after they’d taken their vengeance? He did not think he could return to the grave, no matter how much he desired it. Though his senses were dulled, there was too much in the world he longed to experience now that he’d been given this second life.
Lost in his thoughts, he passed beneath a pair of ancient, moss-covered oaks. A shallow, stony brook wound beneath them, and in it a lone Risen stood ankle deep in the water, his head buried in his hands and a snarl on his face.
Just before walking into his back, Verdant noticed him in the stream. Listening for the instinct within, he reached a tentative hand forward.
Half-distracted by the questions that haunted him, he didn’t properly feel the sense of warning; not before his hand brushed the Risen’s bare shoulder. As before, the spark immediately ignited into a raging inferno. An answering blaze flared in the other Risen, and Verdant knew at once it had been a golden elf in life—one of Elam’s guardsmen, in fact.
The Risen raised his head as if waking from a dream. His hands lowered and the snarl melted away. Verdant stepped ahead of him. Paleran, that had been the golden elf’s name. He’d felt it in the spark. Confused, Paleran looked down and studied his hands, then muttered to himself.
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 40