A Dark Tide (Book of One)

by Jordan Baker

  "What did they sacrifice?"

  "Madness," Ehlena said.

  "Ashan talked about that too, and I don't understand."

  "The dragons became mad, in a way. To others, it is a kind of madness, but to dragons it is simply the way they are," Ehlena told her. "I can't really explain it because I am not a dragon, but perhaps you will learn more when we reach the elven forest."

  "I have never met an elf," Lexi said. "The Darga do not like them."

  "No," Ehlena said. "And I would imagine the elves do not like the Darga very much, since they are attacking their forest. But it is not the elves that can help you understand what it is to be a dragon, it is the dragons who are there, fighting the Darga."

  "There are dragons where we are going?"

  "Yes," Ehlena said. "One of them is a prince, and a friend to Aaron, and the other is a dragon from the north."

  "Are there many dragons in the north?" Lexi asked.

  "Yes, there are very many," Ehlena said.

  "I would like to go there some day and meet these dragons."

  "Perhaps you will," Ehlena said with a smile.

  Lexi stared at Ehlena, who she knew was a goddess, but sometimes seemed just like a normal girl, the way she had often wished she could become, and she smiled awkwardly for a moment. Ehlena said nothing, but she was pleased to see such an expression on Lexi's face, and she realized she had never really seen her smile before. It only lasted for a moment, then her look turned serious again.

  "Do you want me to give you back your power?" Lexi asked.

  "You really would do that?" Ehlena asked.

  "Will it make it harder for me to fight?"

  "I don't think so," Ehlena said. "You said you felt like you had too much power, right?"

  "I drank too much water once, when I was captured in the desert, and I felt like I was going to burst," Lexi told her. "It is like that."

  "Then it might be a good things for both of us," Ehlena said. "I am slowly regaining my power, but this will make things easier."

  "Will it hurt?" Lexi asked, seeming very young, all of a sudden.

  "I will have to cut you," Ehlena said. "But it will only be a small cut."

  "All right," Lexi said, and she closed her eyes. "Do it."

  Ehlena shook her head as she drew one of the godswords from her belt, then she took Lexi by the hand. Lexi opened one of her eyes and looked at Ehlena.

  "Hold out your hand, Lexi," she said.

  Ehlena stepped back and touched the edge of the sword to Lexi's open palm. A drop of blue tinged blood dropped from the blade to the ground and Ehlena felt energy begin to flow through the sword. It was how she remembered it from long ago, the memories of a different life, in a different age and she felt the power fill her up inside and she could now hear the world whispering through the trees, over the mountains and the streams, across the seas and through the skies. Ehlena's eyes fluttered open and she pulled the sword away, breaking the flow of power. Lexi looked at her, with a questioning expression on her face.

  "Did it work?" she asked.

  "How do you feel?" Ehlena asked.

  "A little better, I think," Lexi said. "I don't feel like you took much."

  "You have Stroma's power, Lexi," Ehlena told her. "Even though, in this age, he was weaker than he once was, he was still very powerful."

  "Was Stroma the strongest god?" Lexi asked.

  "The strongest?" Ehlena smiled. "That depends on what you mean by strength, but we can talk of such things on the way."

  Lexi shifted form and she lowered her wing for Ehlena, who climbed up onto her shoulder, with the godswords weighing heavily on her belt.

  "You will have to change back, once we reach the elven forest," Ehlena said. "The elves are a little sensitive about outsiders, especially dragons." She shifted her thin, white dress to a similarly white outfit of cloth and leather armor. The belt around her waist shifted to match, though the swords remained naked blades, and an elven mask appeared over her face. Lexi turned and looked at her.

  "Is that what elves look like?" she asked.

  "When they are at war, yes," Ehlena told her.

  "I will try to make the same," Lexi said. She might not be able to change what she looked like when she was out of her dragon form, but at least she could change her clothes and blend in a little. And while the blue color of her skin, the permanent effect of the poison from her time in the fighting circles was something she knew she could not hide, Lexi liked that she could wear a mask.

  *****

  Thousands of dead soldiers marched through the narrow gorges that led up toward the giant limbed trees of the elven forest, while archers picked their way precariously across the ridges above them, keeping a watchful eye for the enemy. The Darga and the special captains had already gone ahead, bounding over the dangerous area without any trouble, while the regular forces had to plod their way on foot. The soldiers did not care, for most of them had become increasingly mindless as their bodies continued to rot, their remaining thoughts on marching where they were told and killing the enemy. Few of them noticed when the archers above them fell down upon them, and they remained oblivious when the roots of the trees that ran through the rocks and earth above them, began to move and shift, causing the rocks to break and the earth fall. The dead soldiers continued their march until they were completely buried. A Maramyrian scout, who was one of the ensorceled but not one of the dead, ran back to the command tent and found Berant returning from his survey of the troops.

  "Lord General!" he yelled as he approached. "The grey forces we sent through the gaps have been killed by the enemy."

  Berant stared at the man. "How?" he asked, even though he already suspected the likely cause. "We had archers positioned to protect them. What happened to them?"

  "Killed, sir, by enemy archers, then the elves used magic of some kind on the tree roots and made the ground fall atop our soldiers. They are completely buried."

  "That is unfortunate," Berant commented, even though he had expected such a thing might occur, for he was well aware of the elven ability to manipulate trees. "What does the ground look like now?"

  "The ground?"

  "Yes, soldier, the ground," Berant said, his tone sharp. "Is the ground passable now that the gaps have been filled?"

  "I suppose it is, but what about the trees? What if the elves..."

  "Carry word to the commanders," Berant said, cutting him off. "All forces are to move forward at once." He paused, remembering the word the scout had used to describe the soldiers who were dead, but still walked and fought. "Have the grey forces take the lead. The Darga will have cleared a way by now. Drive a wedge, deep into the forest, full march."

  "Yes, Lord General," the man replied and gave a sharp salute before running off to relay his orders.

  The dead soldier, through whom Calexis had spoken to him earlier came walking toward him, and Berant felt the familiar tingling in his neck.

  "Berant," the soldier said. "Why have you sacrificed so much of my army?"

  "It was unfortunate," Berant said. "A miscalculation on my part, your highness, however it has solved the problem of moving our regular forces through this part of the forest."

  "Do you think that pleases me?" Calexis asked. "Those soldiers were worth ten of the others. Almost half of them have been killed."

  "I humbly apologize, your highness," Berant replied. "This is war, and there will certainly be losses. The army remains strong at twenty five thousand soldiers, in addition to the thousands of Darga under Prince Draxis, who has also reported some losses. I have just sent our new Captains forward to support him."

  Calexis stared at him suspiciously, through the soldier's faintly glowing eyes and Berant pictured thousands of soldiers charging into the forest and killing elves, and he felt the tingling in his neck subside.

  "Very well," she said. "The Darga you sent to me have not yet arrived. Has there been some delay?"

  "Orders were dispatched to Draxis, some time
ago," Berant told her. "I do not have direct command over the Darga, nor do I believe they would take my orders, even if I did try to command them."

  "Is there some problem?"

  "They are wild and unruly creatures, highness, and much more so the more powerful they become. Draxis seems to be keeping them in line, but it is a constant challenge, even for him."

  "Yes," Calexis agreed. "They are becoming powerful. I am surprised you do not use that sword I gave you."

  "I am old," Berant said. "My days of swinging a blade are long over."

  "I could command you to use it," Calexis said. "You could be strong again, perhaps even younger."

  "You have said as much before," Berant said.

  "You are a stubborn man," Calexis said. "But you are an able commander and it would be a waste to subvert your thoughts completely."

  "I am yours to command," Berant replied.

  "I command you to personally speak to Draxis and ask him why his Darga have not yet arrived," she said. "There are many hundreds of poison gems here that I have made myself. They sit in baskets, waiting to be fetched, and I want the elven forest destroyed, completely."

  "As you wish, your highness," Berant said, bowing his head.

  "Carry on, Lord General," Calexis said, and the glow in the dead soldier's eyes faded back to milk white.

  Berant breathed a sigh of relief as he watched the massing tide of soldiers begin to move toward the thick, dark forest that loomed ahead. He ordered several soldiers that his command tent be disassembled and moved, then he sent out messengers to find Draxis, while wondering how many of the dead soldiers were destroyed by his most unfortunate mistake and how long it would take for the elves to finish off the rest.

  *****

  Draxis pulled his axe from yet another dead elf and he blinked as power flowed through him, thickening the scales on his arms and legs, which grew longer and more powerful. The axe that had once been oversized in his hand no longer seemed so large, and he felt a strange warm feeling deep within his stomach. With every kill all he wanted was to kill more, and luckily the elves were obliging creatures for several more of them appeared from the trees, leaping down from the branches to join the battle upon the forest floor. Arrows rained down from above, flying directly toward Draxis and he knocked most of them aside with his axe, while the others glanced harmlessly off the thick scales on his arms.

  He leapt forward, swinging his axe at one of the elves, knocking the sword from its hands, then he spun and cut the elf down, cleaving a deep gash from the forest creature's shoulder, halfway to the center of its torso. Another elf ran around behind him and Draxis turned and caught his sword in his clawed hand, lifting him off the ground. His axe moved quickly in a clean, horizontal slice that the elf barely saw before his entrails began to spill out. The forest creature let go of the sword and fell to the ground, holding her stomach and Draxis touched his axe to the dying creature and watched its eyes roll back as his life essence was drained.

  "Lord Draxis," snarled one of his Darga, as he landed, one of many that had not only gained wings and great size but were becoming nearly as powerful as Draxis himself. "General Berant asks to speak with you."

  "What does he want?" Draxis asked.

  "He did not say," the Darga rasped. "It is orders from Calexis."

  Draxis growled in irritation. "I will leave the rest of these elves to you and the others," he said, then he leapt into the air and began making his way back through the forest to where the weaker part of the army was slowly marching its way through the path his Darga had cleared. He found Berant riding alongside the army, riding a dark grey horse that matched his dour expression and he circled around and landed next to him.

  "Prince Draxis," Berant called out, as the half-Darga fell in beside him, and he was a little surprised at how much larger Draxis had become, now standing head and shoulders taller than the horse he rode.

  "What is of such important that you must pull me away from the battle?" he asked.

  "It is word from your mother, Queen Calexis," Berant said. "She tells me that your winged Darga have not yet arrived at Maramyr and asked me to personally ask you what is the cause of the delay?"

  "I received your earlier order, Berant," Draxis growled. "Though I know it came from the queen, I do not appreciate receiving orders from you. I command this army as much as you do."

  "Yes, of course, I will have to remember to word things differently in the future," Berant said. "What of the Darga?"

  "Six of them were sent," Draxis said. "It is strange that they have not yet arrived, for they fly with great power."

  "Then perhaps something has befallen them," Berant suggested. "Or they may have deserted. I hope it is the former, for if it is the latter, it would not bode well for your command."

  Draxis raised the head of his axe, threateningly.

  "You dare to question my command?"

  "No," Berant said. "I would not presume to question you, Prince Draxis. I simply suggest that the queen might not be so understanding. She wants this forest destroyed and has crafted many of those poison gemstones for that purpose, but they are sitting at Maramyr, completely useless."

  "I will deal with the queen," Draxis said. "If she speaks with you, tell her to expect my arrival, for I will see to this task personally."

  "Of course," Berant replied. "Is there anything else you would like me to pass on?"

  "No," Draxis said, then he leapt up into the air, spread his wings and flew back to the forest to gather several Darga.

  As Berant watched him disappear into the trees, he found it interesting that Calexis appeared to have no way to speak to Draxis except through the dead soldiers in her thrall, and while he was fairly certain that she could spy on him through whatever magic she had cast in the temple at Maramyr, it was not all the time. As long as he was careful to keep his mind occupied when Calexis looked in on him, he seemed to have regained his will, and he wondered if it had anything to do with the sword at his hip that he continued to refuse to use.

  He looked down at the weapon and saw the faint movement of a dark swirl of energy in the jewel in its pommel, and when he rested his hand on it, he could almost feel the dark, empty feeling slowly being pulled out of him. Berant wondered if it might be possible that he could somehow be free of the magic that bound him to the foul creature that now sat upon the Maramyrian throne. It was a hope that he dared not dwell on too deeply, for there was no telling when Calexis might try to look in on his thoughts, and he knew he would have to be careful, for any of the ensorcelled dead soldiers, who were fully under her spell could be keeping an eye on him.

  *****

  "Lord Quenta, the Maramyrian army is moving into the forest," a scout reported, leaning her hands on her knees as she caught her breath.

  "How many were killed among the rocks?" Quenta asked.

  "Several thousand," she said. "Most of them were the rotting ones."

  "That is some good news," Quenta replied, though the destruction of several thousand of the enemy was only one small step forward and the elves were now being driven back, deeper into the forest, overrun by the Darga, who were becoming noticeably more powerful. He gave the scout a nod. "Return to where the main enemy force is and keep watch on their movements."

  "Yes, Lord Quenta," she said and she turned and leapt up to a high branch, as he turned back to Borrican and Storm, who had just helped him to dispatch another group of Darga.

  "Quenta, the Darga are running rampant in the forest, already threatening the secondary defense lines, and an army of many thousands now marches among the trees," Borrican said. "Will you accept our help or would you like us to continue hunting?"

  Quenta frowned beneath his mask. "I should like to accept your offer, Prince of Kandara, but I cannot justify it unless the lines break. What I do not understand is how these Darga have become so powerful."

  "It is perhaps the swords they carry," Storm said, looking at the blade at Quenta's waist. "Is that blade you carry o
f elven make? It resembles the swords crafted by the people of the north."

  "I took this from one of the lizard men," Quenta said. "Mine was eaten by the acid the creatures bleed."

  "And yet you have killed several Darga with this blade and it is impervious," Storm commented. "It appears to be made of silvergold, like the one I carry. They are strange weapons of power."

  A young woman floated down from the trees, like some kind of deadly apparition, dressed in traditional elven battle dress made of stark white leather and ringed with six of the jeweled blades at her waist.

  "They are godswords," Ehlena said.

  "Lady Ehlena," Borrican said, bowing deeply. "You have come."

  "Yes, and I have brought a friend."

  Another figure appeared, falling straight down from the high leaves above and landing on the ground next to Ehlena. She too wore traditional elven battle garb, only hers was a combination of faded blue and grey, and the skin of her hands and what they could see beneath her mask appeared to be a darker shade of blue.

  "I do not recognize you," Quenta said. "And the clothing you wear is of an ancient style. Who are you?"

  "Forgive me, Prince Quenta," Ehlena said. "It has been some time since I spent time in these forests, and longer since I have seen your people at war."

  "There has not been a war in this forest for a thousand years," Quenta commented.

  "As I said," Ehlena replied. "It has been some time."

  Storm sniffed the air and looked over at her companion. "Who is your friend?"

  "She is Lexi," Ehlena said. "She has come to help fight the Darga."

  "You are also dressed like an elf, but I can see that you are not," Quenta said.

  "No," Lexi said, lifting her mask, to reveal a face that looked familiar somehow. "I am not an elf. I am like them." She pointed to several dead Darga that lay upon the nearby ground.

  "You are not like them," Storm said, sniffing the air. "Your scent is dragon."

  "Wonderful," Ehlena said. "Now that you all have met, I must visit the queen, but first, I would like for you to have one of these swords." She turned to Borrican and drew one of the blades.