by Jim Galford
From what Nenophar had told her when she had first proposed the idea of flying to Lantonne, the entire ride would take about three hours, as opposed to the many weeks it would take to walk the same distance, mostly owing to navigating through the mountains. She had not believed him, but she could see in the time it had taken for Ilarra to brave looking around, they had nearly left the mountains behind in favor of the foothills.
The forces of Turessi are already larger than I had anticipated, Nenophar said, his voice clear in her mind despite the roar of the winds. Below and left, you may be able to see them. I will circle to allow you a better view.
Shifting her head, Ilarra saw what he had been looking at. Far below, a legion of small black spots moved across the hills toward the southeast. She could not make out any details, but they looked like an ant colony, many thousands of individuals moving as a large unit that covered a huge swath of the land. Farther east, a second group moved in much the same direction. South of those, several smaller groups also marched.
“How many?” screamed Ilarra in return, then coughed and choked as she swallowed a bug or something.
Twenty to thirty thousand leaving Altis, the dragon answered, banking somewhat more southward. I can see more to the east. We may be looking at a hundred thousand, all told. It looks like they have conquered lands north and east of here and are bringing in reinforcements. Lantonne may be the last walled city in the region…certainly the last large city with any living in it. Defending it may be a waste of time.
Ilarra spent the rest of the flight watching those moving spots in fear, knowing Nenophar expected her to somehow do something against them. Prophecy and gifted magic or not, she felt incredibly insignificant in the face of so many undead. The army of Lantonne might not matter nearly as much as she had hoped. Even Nenophar suddenly seemed small by comparison. Surely other lands had stood up to the Turessians already; making any stand here seem already hopeless.
When Nenophar did speak again, it startled Ilarra, and she realized she had been lost in thought the whole time she had been watching the army, having missed most of the land between his cave and Lantonne. All she could remember of the time were the thousands of corpses walking steadily toward the city, a war in waiting for their arrival.
We are nearing the city, but something is wrong. Hold on tightly.
Ilarra looked ahead, trying to see around Nenophar’s neck and head. She finally got a glimpse of the countryside and recognized the miles of farmland that circled Lantonne on its south, west, and east. They seemed exactly as she remembered them, at least from several hundred feet higher than the last time she had seen them. Even the glimpses of the city looked perfectly normal, though she knew that would change as soon as the military knew of the approaching armies.
Then Ilarra saw the northern plains, specifically the quarry where she had survived the explosion so many months earlier. Where there had been a rippling crack in the air the last time she had been in Lantonne, now a vast whirling cloud of utter darkness roiled and reached out in all directions with tendrils of light that stood out against the cloud appearing to birth them.
“What is it?” she screamed back.
Magical, but I know nothing more for certain, Nenophar told her, abruptly banking hard to his left, nearly unseating Ilarra. Be ready. Things are coming out of that hole straight for us. If it is what I suspect, that is why we are here.
Ilarra struggled to hold on, but caught a glimpse of something else in the sky between flaps of Nenophar’s wings. Whatever it was seemed to soak up the light the same way the hole in the quarry did, but Ilarra got the distinct impression it had wings.
I will get you to the city, but you will need to jump off and run. There are too many of them, and I cannot land long or they will catch up with us. Once you are off, I will distract them.
Ilarra squeaked and fought to stay on Nenophar as he partially tucked his wings and threw himself sideways, spinning mid-flight so the ground raced past over Ilarra’s head before the sky returned. When she was able to look around again, she saw a dozen or more of the dark creatures were circling Nenophar, trying to close in on him, with more on their way.
Count to eight and then jump. Nenophar pitched forward, plummeting toward the ground.
Ilarra could barely manage to think, let alone count as instructed. Her heart raced and the ground came rapidly closer. Soon, she could make out individual bushes and several farmers running for cover, but Nenophar showed no sign of slowing his descent. If she had counted right, they would slam into the ground on eight. Biting her lip, she kept telling herself that she trusted him and would not scream.
As Ilarra counted seven, Nenophar pulled up very slightly, aiming to skim the ground. He then tilted slightly, scraping the ground with his left foreshoulder. He was still falling somewhat and could not keep up the angle long or his wing would strike the ground.
Throwing herself forward, Ilarra tumbled through the air for only a moment before she slammed hard into the ground. She rolled and flipped before skidding to a halt on her back, staring up at the sky, tasting blood in her mouth and feeling thousands of scrapes all across her body. If she had to guess, perhaps as many as a dozen bones were broken as well and she had to clench her jaw to keep from screaming in agony.
Nenophar had pulled up and was rapidly accelerating away from Ilarra, the dark winged creatures in pursuit. From where Ilarra lay, she could see they were shaped similar to Nenophar but far smaller and much more agile. As they passed Ilarra, she could feel the warmth leave the air, as though something about the winged monsters sucked it away. It was more than warmth, she quickly corrected, it was the magic that held her body together that was all but ripped from her flesh when the creatures came near. Once they were gone, the sunlight began warming Ilarra again.
She lay there a long time, willing herself to move but unable to make her aching limbs do the work. Slowly, the pain of hitting the ground began to fade and she was able to breathe normally again. With great effort, she rolled onto her side and got up. Stubbornness combined with the curse the Turessians had put on her healed her body gradually, the bones knitting again and even her clothing mending itself. Eventually, she was able to stand again about the same time a group of farmers who had seen the dragon returned, though they seemed unaware she had been on that dragon.
Ilarra took a bit of time trying to get her bearings. She turned until she spotted Lantonne, no more than half a mile away, then looked for the mountains to determine where she was in relation to any of the city’s gates. She found she stood on the eastern side of the city, which meant Nenophar had almost completely circled Lantonne as he fell from the sky before leaving her. It also meant there was no nearby gate and it was going to be a very long walk.
The sun was getting low and Ilarra wondered if she could get to one of the gates before it had set. With the threat of war, she had no idea if the gates would stay open after sunset, making it that much more difficult for her to get into the city. She had to avoid any unnecessary questions, lest Therec find out she was coming. That meant either getting there before dark or waiting until dawn.
She set off as quickly as she could manage, wincing with each step as her knee flared with white-hot pain. Within fifty feet, the pain diminished and she could walk normally again as her body finished healing itself.
Whatever the downsides of being undead might be, she thought to herself morosely, the benefits often seemed to outweigh them. She would take her odd state of unlife any day over the condition she would have been in after falling off a dragon without the ability to heal as she had.
Brushing away the dirt that coated her dress as she walked, Ilarra made her way toward the south entrance of the city. She had initially thought to go to the north, as that was the entrance she had used every time she had visited in the past, but after seeing the creatures from the quarry near that end of the city, she opted to avoid it entirely. Likely, that gate would be heavily manned.
While the nort
h end of Lantonne was mostly filled with homes and shops that had grown beyond the walls of the city proper, the south region had been entirely dominated by farms sprawling far off in all directions. On several, Ilarra saw hundreds of tents set up as though squatters had taken over the fields. She guessed they had begun moving many of the unemployed members of the city to the fields to help work them and provide for all the new mouths that sought shelter in Lantonne during the war. With most of the northern cities and their farmlands overrun, it seemed most likely the case. A tent city was hardly high among her concerns.
Ilarra reached the southern gate during twilight as many other people hurried to get into the city before dark. She slid into the crowd and through the gates without so much as a glance by the soldiers stationed there. All the concerns she had about being spotted were dismissed as Lantonne welcomed her home.
Stopping just inside the gate, Ilarra looked back at the soldiers manning the area and wondered how many others like her had made their way into the city. Turessians could be anywhere, waiting for their moment to strike. It was a chilling thought, but here, she had to assume she was competing with others like her to find the undiscovered Turessian relic that Nenophar said held the only chance of saving the city.
Unlike the last time Ilarra had been in the city, soldiers were everywhere. Previously, there would be anywhere from four to ten soldiers at each gate, with others waiting off-duty just inside the city. This time, there were no less than twenty soldiers working either the gate entrance or the walls above, with twice that many within sight inside.
Ilarra hurried past the soldiers, doing her best to keep from drawing attention to herself. She doubted any of them had reason to look for her after being gone so long, but she could not help worrying. All it would take was one overzealous soldier, and she might never have a chance to begin her search in the city for whatever had made it a target to the undead. Sitting in Lantonne’s prison would waste precious time and bring her far closer to Dorralt’s control.
That thought made Ilarra stop part way down the arterial road that went from the gate toward the center of the city. She looked around at the thousands of buildings and the people rushing to and fro everywhere. Anywhere she turned her gaze, there were crowds of elves, humans, dwarves, even halflings and the occasional wildings and fae-kin. All of these people would die if she did not find some way to divert the undead army or, far less likely, find a way to stand against it. Failure meant every face she saw would one day march beside the other undead on another land.
All she saw would burn to the ground, and for what? Greed or pride? Nothing warranted what could come of the undead arrival, no matter how much one man might covet something hidden in the city. Even kings with their private wars rarely would go to such an extreme. Whatever Dorralt’s reasons for doing this, she could not fathom anyone willing to lay waste to entire lands.
Nenophar’s explanation of where to look for the staff had been very detailed, giving Ilarra some hope that she could have it in her hands before the next morning. Finding it quickly helped ensure the undead were diverted long before reaching the city. She just had to hope that any other Turessians in the city had no idea where Nenophar had hidden it centuries earlier.
Ilarra made her way into the southwestern part of the inner city, avoiding patrols as she went. They might not specifically be looking for her yet, but her clothing was the same she had worn when she escaped the city the last time.
Stopping in an alley, Ilarra looked down at her old dress and the traveling boots she had worn for months. She had barely registered the garments had repaired themselves along with her flesh when she was hurt, but that meant her magic extended beyond her body itself. A change of appearance might help her considerably in avoiding detection.
Picturing a different outfit in her mind, Ilarra tried to hold that image the way Nenophar had taught her to envision her wounds healing. The dress she pictured was one her father had sent with her to Lantonne to be her graduation outfit when she left the school. She could not imagine anything more fitting to how she felt, returning now to save the city that had turned her away so long ago.
Opening her eyes again, Ilarra could not help giggling as she saw her battered, heavy green dress had been replaced with the elegant blue one she had lost during the first hours in Lantonne. Her old leather belt was now deeply adorned and bore pouches of varying sizes and shapes, as many of the elder wizards tended to wear to carry supplies. Even her boots had changed into sandals that laced nearly to her knee, visible through the slit sides of the dress. Nothing of her outfit had been entirely removed or added from what she wore before, but every piece had changed into something else.
“I may not have the title, but I do look like a magister now,” she mused, looking over the outfit with amusement. Clearing her throat and trying to look like she had not been staring at herself, Ilarra smiled in greeting to an elderly woman that she caught watching her.
The thumping of heavy boots alerted Ilarra to approaching soldiers, and she moved behind a row of abandoned crates barely in time to avoid being seen. With the moon high overhead, she had no doubt they would have questions for a wizard wandering around the streets alone.
Once the guards were gone, Ilarra continued toward the walls and made her way into one of the plazas in the southwest section of the city. Nenophar had been quite specific on which and where she should look for the staff. From what he had told her, he had placed the staff far up on the sculpture of a tree that dominated the wall, in a hidden compartment among the stones. He had then rambled for nearly an hour about how bad the writing he had marked the hiding place was, though most of that Ilarra had ignored. Getting to it might prove difficult, but Ilarra smiled happily at getting to the staff’s location so quickly. Knowing that the key to getting at it would be speaking Turess’ name in old Turessian, she began reciting the word over and over, hoping she could say it right the first time.
Ilarra approached the wall and felt a sudden dizziness. An abrupt tug against her body forced her to stop walking and yanked her head up to look at a specific location on the wall. Even in the dark, she could see a black spot where a hole had been opened in the tree sculpture.
“Looking for something?” asked a man’s voice inside her head. “I intended for you to retrieve it, but you have let me down, Ilarra. The time for that was long ago. If you wish to serve, you can fetch it for me from the man who has it now. I won’t tell you who, but if you promise to obey me…”
Shaking her head and trying to remain focused the way Nenophar had taught her, Ilarra made her way around the plaza, trying to look for any other location resembling the spot Nenophar had described.
“Ignoring me does little to help you. I am pleased you have given up on whatever was inhibiting your training.”
Ilarra dug her nails into her left palm, trying to let the pain be something she could pay attention to rather than the disembodied voice. She paced at the base of the wall, knowing deep down the hole was her target but wanting to find something else, if only to prove the voice wrong.
“Ilarra,” continued the man, sounding disappointed. “Your father resisted longer than most, and I must say, I am pleasantly surprised by the wizards of your little village. None have chosen to continue their old lives for more than a few weeks previously, but here you are, trying to keep me out after the greater part of a year. You will not be punished for such an accomplishment…instead, I wish to reward you. All you have to do is show me how you did it. I’m guessing it has something to do with that mangy creature that you traveled with.”
Cursing, Ilarra hurried from the plaza as a group of soldiers arrived on what appeared to be routine patrol. She ducked into an alley and thought of Raeln, wondering where he was. That man had protected her in the past and now she needed him more than she cared to admit.
The voice in her head chuckled. “The wildling? That’s who you think of to save you from me? He’s as useless as the rest. Another savage creature like t
he rest of his ilk. Your father had one like him, but that did not keep me out long. There has to be something else, some spell or conjuration you’ve been using. Raeln is strong, but not strong enough to stop me for more than a few weeks.”
Screaming, Ilarra clutched her head and began running, trying to find anywhere she could hide from the whispers at her ear.
“We did not manage to break your will the traditional ways,” continued the man. “It would have been easier on you if you simply killed the wildling and accepted your fate. Now, we must get creative. How do you feel about being the reason this city falls? Tens of thousands will curse your name and the historians will list you as the reason Turessi rose to power in this region once again. Maybe the burning of an orphanage? Do you know where those are in Lantonne?”
“Leave me alone!” she cried, huddling in the dank corner of the alley she found herself in. The run between the plaza and that location was a blur, lost in her struggles to push out the voice. “I’ll find a way to stop you, Dorralt. You won’t take Lantonne!”
The voice laughed openly this time. “Ilarra, my child, you’ve already done what I want,” he told her, the whispers moving from one ear to her other. “When my armies arrive, you will take your last step and join us. This is my promise to you for now. Once you join your brothers and sisters on this side of the wall, I will make you a general of my armies. You will personally see to the deaths of all the cockroaches that inhabit our cities. You will tear the life from those who resist and cast their children from the walls. You will be my right hand, if only because you so adamantly resist me. It will be your deepest desire to kill every wildling between here and Turessi as punishment for letting Raeln come between us this long.”
“I’ll…I’ll find a way,” she answered in a near whisper, unable to find the strength to argue more forcefully.
“How little you understand,” Dorralt replied.