by Marc Secchia
There must be a portal inside the mountain, but it was guarded like the greatest treasure on Equinox.
“Tayburrl’s standard,” whispered Zaranna.
“Wolf rampant upon a crimson field, with crossed swords in the background?” asked Sanu.
“That’s it.” She could not see the detail, but the description was spot-on. “What does this mean for Sentalia, do you think?”
“They will not risk the Vale,” Sanu said, spitting out a sour teldis berry and helping herself to another, hopefully tastier specimen. “And they will not risk your Prince.”
Zaranna refused the bait. “Will Kesuu’s Tribe join the war here?”
“That’s a good word, Horse-girl. How’s Alex?”
“Gorgeous. How’s Kenzo?”
“Invisible. Which worries me.”
“Hmm. Since you tore him apart last time, you can’t be concerned about fighting him.” This drew a quick, grim smile from Sanu. “Will he be hunting us?”
The Outlander pointed at the sky. “The Red One hunts. He is the canniest of all, but I suspect Kenzo also has powers. The Hooded Wizard does not give his troops much latitude. That makes our Safeways-exploring friend unusual. Unusual equals danger. Ah. Here we go. Tap the signal as Raging Torrent told you to.”
“That’s Imagined Reflection. I don’t see anything.”
“Too much pretty fringe dangling in your eyes?” She joked, but edgily. Perhaps Sanu only sought to downplay her fears. “Here comes your favourite Prince, all decked out like a walking jailhouse. A Wizard’s invitation to the Dreamer to play.” The girl stiffened, as did Zara. “Ancestors, I don’t like him. Just by the crack. Dark robes, general air of evil and decay?”
After tapping two message-sequences on the water, from the five Imagined Reflection had instructed her to memorise, Zara said, “That’s the Hooded Wizard. Why does messaging work up here but not between the River Horse villages?”
“Interference?” said Sanu. “Figure it out later. I don’t like those barrels.”
“Is there anything you do like about Darkwolf Clan?”
“Murdering them in creative ways?”
Under the watchful eyes of hundreds of Gryphons and a dozen Dragons, the Hooded Wizard’s troops filed down the long canyon. Halfway down, Imagined Reflection waited. A test of strength. A chance to see what Worafion had hiding up his dark, dangling sleeves. Something in Zara’s chest felt small, constricted to a nub of dread. Even a River Horse could experience a dry throat. Pellucid Pond had suggested the earliest they could expect help from Sentalia was two and a half days’ time. They would have to hold off Worafion’s army until then.
The troops marched briskly, disciplined and grimly intent even to Zaranna’s untutored eye. A walking forest of spears. Here came the massed ranks of heavy infantry, armed with tall, curved shields and broad-bladed swords. Their helms featured stylised nosepieces and mouth guards made to resemble wolf’s muzzles, each sporting a short spray of grey bristles. Their heavy, synchronised tread made the stones jump beside her hooves and conducted through the rippling water to her heartbeat. Thud-thud. Thud.
Jesafion’s cortege drew nearer. The Pegasus still wore that strange collar and such a pile of chains, Zara wondered how he could walk. How would they ever release him from that mess?
The hillsides stirred. Heavens! Her heart leaped in anticipation.
Proudly, Pellucid Pond had described how water underlay every inch of these mountains and Amorix Vale itself. Now, at the River Horses’ magical summons, springs and rivers gushed upward at a dozen points along the clifftops either side of the canyon and surged over the edge, displacing boulders and bushes and soil with them. In seconds, swathes of mountainside turned into mudslides and half of the world, it seemed, was on the move, growling as if the very mountains chose to voice their enmity. The army froze, then … drew together. She gasped at the drama. The wolves broke, but the Human soldiers and Darkwolf Clan drew into ranks by some unseen miracle, locking shields to surround the Hooded Wizard. He raised his arms. Clearly, a signal. Here and there, she saw other similarly hooded men also raising their arms to the sky. No. They could not stop a landslide, surely?
Seconds separated the mud from the troops.
The earth shuddered. Black fire flickered briefly before great rods of stone leaped forth from the ground like a porcupine shaking its quills, protecting much of the line. BBRROOOAAAMMM!! The canyon shuddered beneath the impact. Screaming men and an entire troop of Obsidian Chargers vanished beneath the dull brown flows. But Worafion kept a section hundreds of feet wide and long, entirely clear. His fellow-Wizards achieved the same on a lesser scale; but instantly, the column was cut into four parts. Now muddy waters surged around the troops, but the Dragons and Gryphons were already hunting, chasing the River Horses as they fled lithely along the flows. Trapped by the swarming enemy, the Equines suffered casualties almost immediately.
Zaranna trembled in readiness, but Sanu laid a hand on the Ripplemane’s chest, near her heart. “No. Jesafion’s the key.”
So she watched helplessly as the Dragons and Gryphons ran down the nimble River Horses. Several vanished downriver, including Imagined Reflection, racing between the troops which had been spared the landslide. Immediately men rushed to the waters, swinging their swords. The waters ran red, but many soldiers were also dragged to their doom.
She shoved her head under the bushes and vomited.
“Peace.” The girl patted her flank. “This is war; there is worse to come.”
“That’s meant to comfort me?”
“No. That’s meant to make you angry. As angry as I am.”
“I thought you hated Equines?”
“I hate war and needless destruction. Zaranna, has anyone told you the histories of when Wizards and Equines, and Dragons and Men last went to war? No?” Sanu scratched her head quickly. “Well, I’m not great with the historical details, since I was more interested in playing with daggers than listening to our tribal storyteller …”
Some people comfort-ate; Sanu seemed to comfort-talk, Zara thought, watching Worafion’s Wizards smoothing out the base of the canyon with their Earthen Fire powers. Black fire ripped into the earth, twisting and turning stone and sand into new formations. They did not pause to search for any survivors. At the same time, they capped each and every spring and dammed up the river. No more surprises. Unfortunately, her Ripplemane Pony disguise did not seem such a smart idea any more. With no river to use, her mobility would be severely compromised.
“I guessed about the daggers,” Zara said.
“There are Vales which no longer support life. That’s all I remember. I was a rotten student, right? But I’m trying to … let’s just steal the Prince back, alright?”
Trying not to have an attack of conscience? Zara said, “How do we get close enough?”
“Tonight. Here’s the plan.”
* * * *
Tonight never came. Not the tonight Sanu had hoped for.
The invasion presaged a night of horror for the Amorix Horse Clans. Worafion’s forces filed into the Vale and began the systematic work of scorching the earth. First the posse of dark Wizards raised a wind torn from the depths of some nameless desert hell, as dry and desiccated as the mouth of the Sahara. Then, massed flights of Gryphons dropped the barrels ahead of the advancing army. The barrels smashed open, spilling a dark, oozing oil that poisoned whatever it touched. Worse, it allowed the Wizards to summon Earthen Fires, the black flame which consumed everything it touched, even water. Towering walls of wildfire roared upward, enveloping the breadth of the Vale and the cliffs to either side, fires stoked and impelled by that pitiless northerly wind.
Sanu and Zaranna hiked back over the ridge separating Amorix Vale from the secret canyon to the False Vale, seeing the first columns of smoke rising from Amorix even as Zaranna skated down a waterfall with Sanu clinging to her back like a monkey to a vine. They barely reached the valley floor ahead of the Earthen Fires, where they
found Pellucid Pond and her people struggling in vain to contain the blaze, to fight, to shoot water over the roaring wall of flames or to attack from the flanks and the heights, where the River Horses were vulnerable and the Dragons and Gryphons picked them off relentlessly. The heat was brutal, rolling over the defenders in stifling waves. Huge clouds of ash collected beneath the overarching, sheltering magic of the Vale, veiling the sun and turning a preternatural twilight to darkness, save for the flickering flames.
They saw nothing of Worafion’s troops. They did not even enter the fray, but simply marched along behind the conflagration. By dawn, five miles of the Vale were lost and laid waste. By noon, eleven.
Zaranna fought alongside Imagined Reflection, who had escaped the first abortive ambush, learning by imitation to summon water from beneath the ground and to raise flood levels or to shoot spurts of water through the air. Gryphons who swooped too close fell prey to targeted jets that knocked them from the sky. Sanu bloodied her daggers over and over again helping to finish downed Gryphons.
As they rested briefly toward noon in a pond which would be engulfed within the hour, soot-streaked and bloodied and winded, Imagined Reflection turned to Zara and said, “How can you help us, Dreamer? Does our magic fail? It the magic of our protective waters not nullified by this fey oil they bring, and the Earthen Fires that result, destroying all the goodness of liquescent life?”
“Could I bring a storm? Rain? Storm-Pegasi?” Zaranna wondered aloud.
“Don’t the Earthen Fires burn water? And can a storm breach our great River Pegasus magic? Would the Storm-Pegasi not portend a fate more terrible than death, exposing us to every whim of wild magic beyond our Vale?”
Aye. Zaranna recalled the storm she had experienced on the Obsidian Highlands. Terrible indeed. Lightning and water. The River Horse Clans, utterly reliant on water, would be fried more surely and swiftly even than Worafion’s troops could achieve. Perhaps she could summon the Sky-Fires and complete the annihilation herself. Great. Exactly what Whiz, bless his slicked-back fake Italian hair, had warned her about. Power was not the issue for a Dreamer. Knowing how and when to apply that power was the greater challenge by far.
Glad whinnies split the sky!
A troop of Blue Sky-Clan Pegasus came winging up-Vale from the South.
“HRRAAAA!” shrieked Imagined Reflection, earning herself a tired reproof from Pellucid Pond. “Now they’ll have a battle on their hands!”
“And hooves and paws,” Sanu chirped tiredly.
With a massed fluttering of wings, the Pegasi descended in their azure splendour to surround the small, battered remnant of Pellucid Pond’s forces. Wow. They all looked similar to Cyantoria, but this group of mares and stallions were armoured and clearly spoiling for trouble. Zaranna could practically smell the magic seeping from their hides. Her heart lifted. At last, the Hooded Wizard would feel the sting of that much-vaunted Pegasus-magic!
“I am Suhanoria, Queen of the Blue Sky-Clan Pegasi,” said the foremost. Cyantoria’s mother, every bit as elegant as her daughter, clearly primed for battle. No jewels and fripperies for her. “Brief us, noble River Horse kin. You have fought bravely and at great cost. Thus we shall be honoured to serve you to the utmost flare of our wings, and the expiring breath of our souls. We just caught wind this morning of attacks on Aladasar, Rimmina and Intoridal Vales, but nothing of this scale.”
Her eye fell upon the Human girl, and her eyes narrowed in shrewd assessment – by magic, and sight, and even a sniff in the girl’s direction, she tasted all that was Sanu. “This is one of the Outlanders who fights at the flanks of Equines? Impressive.”
Sanu nodded warily. “Well met, noble Pegasus.”
“Unlike our illustrious counterparts of Sentalia Vale, we welcome your alliance,” said the Queen, tossing her mane in a gesture that clearly disapproved of the Council’s actions. “The healing of nations and peoples is close to the heart of all River Equines, high-born and low. I repeat, you are welcome in our Vale, noble ally. May your daggers be ever sharp.”
The Human girl startled visibly. “You know the customs of my people?”
The Queen’s dark blue eyes twinkled. “A shrewd guess. Examining the mind helps.”
Sanu glared at the Pegasus, hands on hips. “Stay out. First and last warning.”
“If you are present, where is the Plains Horse, your cohort in this alleged act of high treason?”
“Is she fighting with us?” said Imagined Reflection, nuzzling Zaranna’s neck affectionately. “Is she learning the flow of water?”
“This droplet of a Ripplemane?” From her great height, Suhanoria towered over Zaranna. She had already been overshadowed by the Pegasi, now she felt as if she stood among giants.
“I call her Squirt,” said Sanu. Royalty or no royalty, she remained Sanu Sass-Meister the Irrepressible.
“The Dreamer?”
“I am the Dreamer.” Zaranna dipped her mane toward the pond’s surface. “Your daughter, Cyantoria, helped me when I needed it most. I am indebted. But Queen Suhanoria – uh, pleased to meet you and all – we are sorely outnumbered and short on ideas. Pellucid Pond will brief you, but the problem is Earthen Fires wielded by the Hooded Wizard’s stooges. His troops barely need to lift a finger to drive us backward.”
“And how fares your mission to free the Prince?” asked the Queen.
“Badly,” said Sanu.
Zaranna hung her head. Good old Sanu and her brevity. But she was right. Her mind was as dry of ideas as the Wizardly wind blighting this land.
Suhanoria stilled an area of the pond they stood in with her horn-magic, then sketched rapidly. “Downstream, three flares gallop from here, is a place we call the First Confluence. Here, three canyons come together and this is where we will make our strongest attack. What are your thoughts, Pellucid Pond? Will a wall of water overwhelm these Earthen Fires? We must draw their army into the attack. Then we will stand a chance. Four battle-groups will secure the heights at these points, River Horses protected by River Pegasi. Keep the battle going. The rest retreat and prepare a trap for Worafion.”
Zaranna’s head jerked to the sky. “Don’t speak his name!”
Too late. In the skies above, Rhenduror’s burning eye appeared through the shifting grey veils of smoke, fixed upon them.
“Ruddy cracked canyons!” groaned Sanu. “Now we have trouble.”
* * * *
With the advent of the Pegasi, the battle reached a new pitch. Suhanoria’s group were clearly experienced warriors, flying with deadly skill against Draconic foes and Gryphons alike and providing much-needed cover to the River Horses, who were now able to raise their waters with renewed liberty. Time and time again they overwhelmed the Earthen Fires, only to discover that the black flames burned underwater until the oil was consumed, which took many hours. Meantime, the water bubbled and boiled, releasing great gouts of superheated steam that rolled downstream and downwind, endangering the lives of the Pegasi and River Horses.
Darkwolf Clan and Human soldiers clambered up to the heights and advanced steadily upon the River Horses and Pegasi, driving them southward step by step and hour by hour.
In the late afternoon of possibly the grimmest, most exhausting day of Zaranna’s life, Worafion himself ascended to the heights just shy of the very confluence where Queen Suhanoria planned to attack. There he took his stance upon a reddish outcropping which overlooked Amorix Vale. His dark cloak flapped in the hot wind; his face, as always, obscured by that deep hood.
Magically amplified, his voice boomed over the crags and valleys. “Worthless Equines! Listen to me. You know my power and relentless will. I will give you until dawn to surrender, Queen Suhanoria, failing which, when the sun rises, I shall send you Prince Jesafion’s head and burn all of Amorix to the basal rock. My Dragons and Gryphons are poised at a dozen locations downriver.”
Downriver? Imagined Reflection gasped and wilted visibly; Zaranna touched muzzles with her, gently. “Courage.”
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The small group of leaders – Zaranna, Sanu, the Blue Sky-Clan Queen, Pellucid Pond and Imagined Reflection – exchanged dismayed glances.
“Until dawn!” thundered the faraway figure. Then he turned his back deliberately, before vanishing.
The Queen whispered, “We just don’t have the numbers to defend that many locations. Forces from Sentalia will not arrive for another day, at best.” Then, she clucked her tongue sharply. “It’s a trap. Your mission to save the Prince, Zaranna – the Wizard knows something, and he’s betting his hooves on the fact that you must try to rescue Jesafion tonight. He doesn’t want a Prince. He wants the Dreamer.”
Zaranna tried not to quail under Queen Suhanoria’s stern regard, but failed. Her heart was a tiny bird quivering somewhere in the region of her hooves. Courage? She sought to instil courage in others, when she herself had none?
Sanu said, “This Dreamer has other resources, in another world.”
Oh. Yes. But what could the Whiz do? And Brains … could those two concoct the magical equivalent of a Molotov Cocktail, drop it in the lap of His Evilness Personified and run off laughing? She prayed for inspiration, arrow-swift.
Then, she said, “I’ll need perhaps four to five flares of sleep. Sanu, can you help?”
The girl cracked her knuckles meaningfully.
“Not that kind of help! I mean, can you wake me in time? I’m going to go consult the Winter Wizard.”
Whinnies of shock surrounded her.