“What am I? What happened to me?” he said, voice hoarse.
Saying nothing, Verdant walked on without comment. The transfer of knowledge might flow both ways. Paleran might now know Verdant’s aim. His desire for vengeance.
He would watch this one in the days to come and see what developed. Siam or some of the others could help him, perhaps, and if Paleran showed signs of knowing too much or of betraying them, they would destroy him.
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
Koren’s hard black nails clicked on the temple’s warded door.
Her left hand was a talon now, the soft flesh of its fingers having been replaced with thick, brown scales. The transformation that had begun years ago was finally accelerating. Soon, very little of her elf form would remain. She smiled at the thought of leaving so much weak, disappointing flesh behind her.
Baelzeron promised her this would be so. Promised her that she would be glorious, made new. A small portion of her would always resemble an elf, but for that she was surprised to find she was glad. It would mark her as unique. A queen should be different from her subjects, above them, and she would have the strengths of both races.
She and her demons had spent a full day backtracking to get here. At the fire-topped column she’d kept to the larger trail and continued south. The first time, there hadn’t been any tracks down either trail. The second time, though, there were signs that someone had passed into the shadowed valley, and further along there had been scuffmarks where hard-soled boots had marked the mossy boulders.
She ran her fingers over the wood. Runes flared brilliant blue as she touched them and she felt their heat, but the marks didn’t burn hot enough to do any real harm.
One of the demons behind her hissed at the light. It seemed they were not so impervious. She turned to face them.
“We have found Baelzeron’s Well, my children. The means for our master to enter the world. I will bring down this temple’s defenses. Follow me inside,” Koren said.
“Yes, mistress,” they agreed as one.
She understood them perfectly now and could communicate with them effortlessly both in their tongue and her own. Another change. More than that, she knew now how much they feared her. At first, the demons had followed her only at Baelzeron’s command. They followed now because they knew her power, and they feared it. That too is good, Koren thought. Subjects need to fear their rulers.
Using her elven hand, she slammed her dagger into the door’s lock. A sliver of metal broke free and she hit it again. By the fourth strike, the mechanism was ruined. With the dagger’s tip she flipped open the bolt and swung the door open. She smiled and examined the hundreds of intricate runes that covered the door.
So many defenses, all targeting demons. Against me, they are all for nothing.
The second door proved more difficult. In the end, she split open a panel in the wood, reached through, and opened its lock from the other side.
Once through, the power inside stole her breath away. She drank it in like a drowning man gasping for air. Every breath brought her both strength and pain, and she needed more.
The demons around her squealed in delight, panting alongside her to draw more of the chamber’s air in. As Koren watched, their bodies began to change. Yellow horns sprouted on their heads and their fangs grew longer. Their muscles bulged and rippled with power. Still, she felt their fear of her. Koren laughed. She loved the sensation. Soon she and the Master would rule this world together. In all things their will would be supreme and unquestioned.
I will fulfill my father’s purpose. I will restore my people to their greatness and we will worship Baelzeron as one.
A stairway wound down through a great hole in the room’s center. Tendrils of intoxicating power flowed from it like enticing wisps of steam from a cookpot. What she felt now could be but a fraction of the power concentrated below.
Eager, she ran for the stairs. The steps flared to life under her feet, each like a burning furnace. Koren didn’t care. The pain didn’t slow her. She bounded them in great leaps.
Her escort followed. They were not so fortunate. Only two arrived at the bottom with her, the largest and most powerful. The bodies of the others blazed like torches on the steps above, and the air became choked with the acrid scent of their burning flesh.
Ahead stood another warded door, this one far smaller than the others.
The Well must be behind it, Koren thought, nearly rabid with anticipation. Soon, she would drink from the Well itself. The power would be hers, and then she would open the way for her master’s return.
And then I will be his queen and we will remake and rule this world together. He had promised her it would be so.
She stepped forward and reached for the door.
Helpless, Gashan could only watch as the remaining towers crept ever closer.
Their progress was slow but full of steady dread, much like the rest of this infernal siege had been. The rain had done its work well, at least. Thick, wet clay stuck to the wooden wheels, bogging each tower down as they cut deep ruts into the sod.
Tem’s catapult was useless now; the enemy siege engines were too close to hit.
The first few flights of arrows shattered against the tower’s armored cladding, and the wood elf bowmen turned their focus on the demons that pushed and pulled them. Their arrows scored and killed, but for every demon they killed another quickly replaced it. They were an endless wave, a tide of seething, snapping hatred. One that kept rising.
The demons wailed. Fists and claws pounded and scraped against the wall, battering at Birke’s mortar.
This was a far cry from the daily attempts they’d been making. Thousands were attacking now—the bulk of the army, consisting of demons primarily with a sprinkling of Risen and orcs mixed among them, was all at the wall. All but the golden elves, who hung back, attacked.
The ram was at the gate. It beat out a steady cadence.
Reinforced by Alpere’s forces, there were now two thousand Golden soldiers in the courtyard. They stood assembled into tight rows and ranks. They were fearful; Gashan could see it in their manner and in their eyes. He was sure his own fear shone in his eyes, as well.
Calm, a commander must be calm in the storm, he cautioned himself.
“I too am afraid,” Alpere said beside him. The man no longer wore the ornate silver armor. Gashan couldn’t imagine how the old councilor had managed to bear the weight of it during the charge. “I’ve fought in dozens of battles, many larger than this, and hundreds of skirmishes, and I was fearful before all of them.”
“I am not afraid for myself, or even for the men,” Gashan said. “I am afraid for all of our people. If we fall here, there will be no one to save them from these monsters.” He nodded to the small group of rival golden elves behind the advancing army. “And yet some of us still seem determined to rush headlong into destruction.”
“In some ways, I think we have already lived longer than we should have,” Alpere said, shaking his head. His tired eyes looked out over the enemy below. Gashan wasn’t sure if he was seeing the enemy of today or ones from the distant past. “Sometimes, I think the best part of us died when the Skree came, swallowed up by their desert alongside our buildings, fields, and homes.
“Other times I think the core of us, the truest part of our people, were those who escaped to carry on.” He clapped the younger man’s shoulder. “Walk me to the Baroness. It will be some time before they break through the gate or the towers arrive.”
Gashan offered the older man his arm, escorting him off the rampart and into the main keep. The guardsmen saluted as they passed. “To Alpere and Gashan, honor and duty,” they said.
The two men passed between them with nods and small words of acknowledgment. Inside the keep, the Baroness and her young son awaited them. A number of bodyguar
ds surrounded them. Neive too was present.
“Baroness, I thank you for your hospitality,” Alpere said, bowing slightly.
“I thank you for your troops, Councilor,” Sera said. “I would offer you a tour of the grounds, but our uninvited guests are making trouble again.”
The Baroness’s attitude hadn’t changed completely toward the golden elves since Alpere’s surprise arrival, Gashan had noted, but it had shifted. Most of the iciness was gone from both her tone and her manner, and she listened to what he and the councilor said.
“At my age, I find good company preferable to almost anything,” Alpere said. He eased himself down into a sitting position, then he pointed to the toddler. “My son was about his age when I lost him.”
“I didn’t know,” Sera said, face falling.
“He and his mother were taken from me. Casualties of Elam’s cleansing.”
“My sincerest condolences,” she said. She reached for her son’s hand and he beamed up at her.
“She was one of your people,” Alpere continued. “Lovely as a sunrise, with green eyes and flame-red hair to her waist. I smuggled her and our son to safety, but never heard from either again.” Alpere bowed his head. He wiped at his eyes, and then straightened. “I received word from the mixed that she died a year or two later. Nothing about my son.”
“I am sorry, Councilor, truly,” the Baroness said, her voice soft. “I have heard that there was a great deal of confusion in those days.”
“And a great deal of suffering,” Alpere agreed, nodding. “I always held out hope that my son was alive, that his mother’s people, your people, overlooked his heritage and took him in and sheltered him. One day, many years ago, I had a chance to repay that debt.”
Alpere shifted in his chair. He leaned forward and locked eyes with the Baroness.
“I was the one who found Jin after they’d changed her shape. They were holding her in a small cage. There were no guards.”
The councilor had her full attention now, and everyone else’s. The whole room seemed to be holding its breath.
“I knew who she was. I knew then as I know now that she was the future of our people. I was younger then, a little more spry,” Alpere smiled, “but it still took half the night to get her out of the city. I spoke to her, but never knew if she understood or not.
“We were separated at the outer gate, and I lost her in the dark. I was so relieved to hear that she had made it to safety.”
Like everyone else, Gashan was speechless. No one had ever quite figured out how Jin had escaped all those years ago, and in the chaos that had followed there had been too much else to concern them.
Sounds of fighting shattered the silence.
“They are on the wall,” one of the guards said.
Gashan rushed out to the courtyard, heart pounding. Both towers leaned against the wall. They’re early. They must have found harder ground further along. At the top, men and demons fought, steel meeting claw. Hexen and his Paladins held one side of the wall. Light flared from their weapons, blinding in the inky darkness of the night.
The other tower was bringing trouble. The demons were advancing. Men fell into the courtyard, their chests, limbs, and faces torn open and bleeding. A handful of elves held the center, but these were swiftly driven back as the demons took control of the space, putting even more pressure outward. Some leapt off the wall into the courtyard, where the waiting golden elves hacked them into pieces.
On either side of the keep, Regan’s Black Corps—those men left of it after the uncovering of the demon imposters—waited. They killed any stragglers that tried slipping away.
Still, there could be only one outcome. The demons were virtually endless. Like a river of rage, they poured over the wall in the hundreds with no sign of stopping.
The wood elf mages, along with the few Golden spellcasters Alpere had brought, unleashed their fury. Fire and lightning stemmed the flow of demons at the wall for a time. The defenders started to gain ground. Demons fell by the score.
“The towers!” Gashan screamed. “Smash the towers!”
On the approach, both towers had been spellshielded. Now there was a chance that those shields had been forgotten in the general chaos of the fight, or that the mages who maintained them had fallen. Either way, if they weren’t brought down, the castle would surely fall.
One of the castle’s mages must have heard him. A white-hot blast engulfed the tower on the left. It rocked backward, careened to one side, and finally collapsed out of sight. A cheer erupted from the defenders.
Lightning sizzled and popped as it struck the second tower. Thin wisps of smoke rose from inside, but it refused to catch flame. More casters focused on it, straining, but the spellshields protecting the sole remaining tower held firm.
Gashan shoved his way through the fighting to reach Hexen. He looked out over the wall, trying to locate the mages shielding the tower. Fifty yards behind were two casters with their hands raised and faces contorted. Hundreds of demons squeezed forward all around them, forming a web of protection with their bodies. Gashan ground his teeth in frustration. The archers were all fighting hand-to-hand now. In any event, there was no room on the crowded wall to try a bow. There had to be a way to strike at those casters, but he couldn’t see it.
Or maybe there is a better way to bring the tower down. The shields protected it from the outside; they wouldn’t guard it from the inside.
Yelling over the maelstrom, he told Hexen of his plan. The Paladin selected two others to join him and started pressing his way to the front. All three charged their weapons and began cutting their way through the demons. Light flashed, howls tore up and out through the demons’ throats and, at a glacial pace, the three advanced along the wall.
Gashan gathered another pair and formed into a second wedge to follow them. One of the first Paladins took a hard blow to his helm. He spun on his heel and then careened off the wall and into the carnage below. Gashan rushed forward to take his place. Five feet and four demons remained between them and the tower. More demons still poured from it, but they fled away from the Paladins and dove into the guards below, apparently preferring their odds against steel not charged with Light. Gashan spared a moment to look down at his men. Some were dead, their bodies trampled by the black tide. The bloodied survivors fought in a rough battle line extending to each wall. The humans reinforced them, firing bows into gaps between soldiers and winnowing the demon numbers. Still, the line was thinning. If the flow of demons wasn’t stopped soon, all would be lost.
Roaring, Gashan pressed forward. He cut through the first demon while Hexen chopped at the second. Another demon sprang at the other Paladin, and he went down under a flurry of screams and ripping claws.
Hexen turned his attention to his comrade, and a demon struck his chest. The big Paladin fell. Gashan stabbed the demon that had toppled Hexen, and then found himself alone at the tower’s very edge. Demons streamed by into the courtyard, mostly ignoring him. A few turned and tried to face him, and he fought as a man possessed. His sword sang, and each strike drew thick spurts of steaming black blood. His lungs burned and his muscles felt aflame. Finally, another of Hexen’s Paladins sprang up to relieve him, and together they reached the tower.
Now what? For his plan to work he needed Hexen.
Hexen suddenly stood at his side, and Gashan almost fell to his knees in relief to see the big man alive. A nasty cut crossed half of his face from his eye out to his ear. A flap of skin hung from it.
Without speaking, the Paladin closed his eyes. His sword started to glow with Light. It crackled and hissed, turning first yellow and then a hotter white. Gashan had to shield his eyes from it.
The man protecting them fell with a yelp, and a demon leapt for Hexen.
Without time to raise his sword, Gashan lowered his sho
ulder and tackled it bodily. The demon fought itself loose, claws ripping, then slipped and flew off the wall with a wail.
Hexen yelled. He stood at the tower’s edge, sword raised and pulsing with Light. He swung for the tower. The Light blazed impossibly brighter, and then everything went silent.
Gashan could see nothing. The world was white with the radiance of a thousand suns. He yelled and couldn’t hear it. He felt like he’d been struck by lightning. If this was death, he would not go willingly. He’d been knocked to his knees, and he tried using his sword to help him stand. Halfway up, his knees buckled and he fell, his back crashing on the cold stone of the wall.
The castle’s defenders rushed by him to reach their enemies. Exhausted, he could only watch and try to catch his breath.
Verdant hadn’t found any humans, elves, or dwarves among the Risen in several days. None were left, he was certain.
He huddled with Siam over a small fire. The orange flames offered little warmth, but after the coldness of the grave, they were grateful for what little there was.
“He’s done nothing?” Verdant asked.
“I’ve watched that Golden for days now, and he’s done less than nothing. There’s been no indication at all that he’s different from any other,” Siam said.
“I don’t understand. I felt…something when I touched him—and he spoke, asking questions just like one of us. What about the others, have they seen anything?”
“No. One of the humans, Brandt, thought Paleran may have ducked into Slerian’s tent once, but he couldn’t be sure. That was days ago, though, and nothing has changed since then.”
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 41