War Of The Wildlands

by Lana Axe

  Taking a seat at the workbench, Yori’s mind raced with the different possibilities of runes to carve into the ring. Whichever word he chose would determine the strength of the enchantment as well as its overall effect.

  Settling upon a word, he took out his chisels and began etching. The runes formed a word he had learned while reading Master Eldon’s scrolls. Not only did the word mean power, but it literally translated to “magical strength”.

  Peering over Yori’s shoulder, Eldon nodded as the word took shape. “Excellent choice,” he said.

  Yori’s eyes blazed with green fire as he completed the etching. The runes immediately responded with a purple glow. He placed the ring onto his forefinger and held it up to admire it. “This is an expensive gift,” he said.

  “Consider it an offering to one who is less fortunate,” Eldon said. “Let’s see if that’s solved our problem.”

  He brought out the same dagger that Yori had worked on before. Eldon handed him a new red stone that felt warm to the touch. Taking a deep breath, Yori set the stone into the hilt and attached it to the blade. The entire dagger took on a faint reddish glow.

  “Well done!” Eldon exclaimed. “I knew it would work. The answer was so simple I had forgotten it.”

  Yori beamed with pride. The ring had indeed done its job, providing him with the extra power he needed to set the enchanted stone without damaging it. He admired the dagger and glanced back at the ring on his finger. It felt warm as well, its runes shining brightly.

  “It seems we’re all finished here,” Eldon said. “There isn’t anything else I can teach you.”

  “Thank you for everything, Master Eldon,” Yori said sincerely.

  Waving his hand, Eldon dismissed the comment. “Don’t forget to retrieve your things before you leave.” He sat down at his workbench and did not look up again. It would seem their master and student relationship had come to an end. Yori took the hint and left.

  The sun was just coming up as Yori walked back to Eldon’s tower. Once again, he made the long journey to the seventh floor to retrieve the rest of his belongings. He packed his clothing into his leather bag and started back down the stairs. Chaos had erupted on the first floor as two apprentices were having an argument. They had resorted to tossing magical blasts at each other.

  “I’ll roast you alive!” one of them yelled.

  “I’d like to see that, you lizard sucking coward!” the other replied.

  Energy blasts flew through the room, toppling books and displacing the furniture. Master Eldon was going to be beyond angry when he returned home. Yori didn’t understand how two such educated elves didn’t have enough sense to take their fight outside, but he was not about to interrupt them. I’m getting out of her just in time, he thought.

  As he made his way to the docks, Yori paused near the stall where he had purchased his robe. Hoping for one last glimpse of the pretty elf inside, he leaned his head into the shop. No one was around except for her father. Instead of risking his anger, Yori decided to keep moving.

  The docks were already buzzing with activity at the early hour. Yori strolled over to the nearest ship and approached one of the sailors. “Are you heading to Al’marr?”

  “We make a stop there before heading on,” the man replied, looking slightly uncomfortable.

  “Do you have room for a passenger?” he asked. “I can pay with silver.”

  The man glanced nervously from side to side. “No payment is necessary, sir. We’d be pleased to have you aboard.”

  Surprised by the generosity, Yori replied, “That’s very kind of you.” As he ascended the ramp to the ship’s deck, he realized he was still wearing the green robe, and the sailor must have thought he was a sorcerer. He smiled to himself, pleased to have pulled off such an illusion. Perhaps his new ring had given him a more magical appearance as well.

  After an hour or two, the ship was finally loaded and ready to set sail. Once again, Yori looked upon the vast blue of the ocean and felt its salty breeze on his face. This time, the sea was taking him home, but to which home still remained to be seen. With all the studying he had done on the isles, he had not spared a thought for where he would live. He stared out into the blue hoping that both of his families were safe from the war.

  Chapter 48

  Prince Aelryk rode to the front of the army to be at his father’s side. “Father,” he said. “I don’t think you should lead this attack.”

  The king looked at him with disdain. “I don’t care what that old wise-ass prophet has to say. I’m the most capable war leader who ever lived. Without my presence, these idiots will surely fail.”

  “But Father, Orzi has never been wrong. He has foreseen your death, and you should heed his words.”

  “Away with you!” the king shouted. “Go and lead your own troops. They’re too stupid to do this without you.”

  Clenching his teeth, the prince turned and trotted back to his company. Stopping next to Mi’tal, he said, “My father is a fool.”

  Mi’tal remained silent, not wishing to openly criticize the king. He was well aware of Orzi’s prophecy. A few days back, he had predicted that the king would fall in battle. Orzi, however, had not been specific about which battle and had simply stated that it would be in a battle against elves. King Domren had dismissed the warning, believing it impossible for him to be slain by elves. The prophet, however, had not mentioned whether it was an elf or human who killed the king.

  “You must help me and keep a close watch over him, Mi’tal. He believes himself invincible, and that is a dangerous way of thinking.”

  “I will do my best to watch him, my lord,” Mi’tal replied.

  Up ahead, the king gave the signal to move out. Mages moved to the front of the line, preparing a shield wall to protect the king and those who would fight next to him. The elves were hidden deep in the forest, and there was the possibility of an ambush. The remaining mages were distributed within the ranks to avoid having the entire group wiped out in one shot. If the elves still had a store of exploding arrows, this would not be an easy battle to win.

  They entered the forest at a snail’s pace, each man holding his weapon at the ready. The elves could be hiding anywhere, waiting for the right moment to pounce. Silence filled the forest, broken only by the soft footfalls of the Na’zoran horses. King Domren rode proudly at the front, protected by his mages and personal guards.

  As the army moved deeper into the woods, the elves had indeed been alerted to their presence. With great stealth, they eased their way through the trees, surrounding the human army. This time, they would not be defeated by the mages. Their first priority was to eliminate the conjurers before turning fire on the rest of the army. The sword maidens crouched in the thick brush, waiting for their opportunity.

  A bone-chilling shriek pierced the air, disrupting the silence of the forest. Startled, the Na’zoran army came to a halt, searching for the source of the cry. In response, two more shrieks went up. The elven archers were announcing their presence and letting each other know that the army was now surrounded.

  Arrows fired from all directions, striking the red-robed mages. Despite being surrounded by soldiers, they were easy targets to hit. The mages surrounding Domren continued to hold their shield, hoping to protect the king and themselves. Soldiers moved in to protect the mages, but they too were pierced with arrows. Nearly half of the mages had fallen before anyone discovered the treetop locations of the elves.

  Noticing the source of the arrows, the mages began to return fire. They blasted energy at the treetops, and the archers struggled to maintain their balance. The arrows kept coming but at a much slower rate. Some of the mages scrambled to protect one another with magical shields, while the rest continued to fire.

  With most of the mages subdued, the sword maidens sounded the charge. Essa dove into the melee first, her broadsword coming down hard on the thigh of a mounted soldier. From behind the soldiers, Reylana’s group charged into the action. Their battle
cries startled the horses, sending many riders to the ground.

  Chaos descended upon the ranks, sending men in all directions as the maidens charged into the fray. The archers continued to fire relentlessly, focusing mostly on the mages. As the mages continued to use power to shield one another, they were quickly becoming too drained to return fire. Their magical strength weakening, they were unable to shield each other on every angle, and the archers wasted no time exploiting the weakness.

  Reylin could see that the battle was in his favor, so he decided it was time to use his last few runed arrows. Knocking one to his bowstring, he aimed for the center of the army where no maidens had yet invaded. Loosing the arrow, he watched with pride as it struck the ground, sending flames and sparks into the enemy ranks. Men scattered and horses reared in fright, throwing their riders. Nat and Sal followed suit, releasing the last of their runed arrows as well.

  Aelryk managed to avoid the flames and keep his balance on his horse. Mi’tal sat on his mount, ever-faithful at his prince’s side.

  “Can you see the king?” Aelryk cried.

  Mi’tal craned his neck to see over the fighting. As he did so, a sword maiden charged him, swinging her sword wildly. Without a moment to spare, he maneuvered his horse out of the way, sending the maiden crashing into another soldier. He caught a glimpse of a shield wall that still protected the king. “He’s up ahead, my lord,” he called to the prince. “He is still protected.”

  The prince’s horse was struck with an arrow, sending the poor creature into a panic. It threw Aelryk violently to the ground as it attempted to outrun the pain. Mi’tal immediately dismounted to help the prince to his feet. Grabbing Aelryk’s hand, he pulled him upright. The men barely had time to draw their weapons before two sword maidens rushed in on their position.

  Mi’tal swung his hammer with great force, coming down hard on the maiden’s arm. The bone cracked audibly, and she dropped her sword to the ground. Her fighting spirit was not quelled, however, and she grabbed a dagger from her leather bodice. Once again she advanced on Mi’tal. With another swing of his hammer, he landed a fatal blow to her skull.

  Mi’tal searched the crowd to find that the prince had managed to fight off his attacker as well. The mages’ shield was no longer glowing in the distance, and Aelryk was pushing his way through the crowd in an effort to reach his father. Mi’tal saw an opening to the side and took it. If he could reach the king before Aelryk, he might have a chance to end the war. He had no intention of fighting the prince, should he choose to defend his father.

  The few mages who were left continued to bombard the trees with energy blasts. None of them had the strength left to produce fire, but they could still dislodge a few elves from the trees. Three of them concentrated their blasts at what they believed to be the most aggressive archers. They were firing more rapidly than the others, and the mages were determined to take them out. With their powers combined, they fired an enormous bolt of lightning at the tree. As it fell, its massive roots were ripped from the earth, and elves came tumbling from the limbs. Reylin was among them, his right leg shattering as he hit the ground.

  With every ounce of his strength, Reylin pulled himself back to his feet. The fallen tree would provide some cover, allowing him to continue to fight. His broken leg was bleeding heavily, and he could barely breathe through the pain. As he moved a hand over his chest, he could feel that several ribs had been broken when he came crashing out of the tree. Steadying himself as best he could, he knocked an arrow and searched the crowd for any sign of Domren.

  Chapter 49

  Managing to avoid the raging battle, Mi’tal moved quickly toward the king. He had been dismounted and was swinging away at a sword maiden. His guards were focusing on the elves as well and would never suspect Mi’tal’s true intent. Tightening his grip on his hammer, he made his way behind the king. His heart raced as he lifted the hammer high into the air, intending to kill with a single blow. For Na’zora, he thought. He was certain the king’s guards would immediately strike him down, but his life was a small price to pay to free his kingdom from tyranny. He hoped that Aelryk would forgive his treason one day and remember him as the friend he had always been.

  Out of nowhere, an arrow struck the king through the neck just as Mi’tal’s hammer was about to come crashing down. The king toppled to the ground with the arrow still sticking out of him. Blood gushed from the wound, staining his bright armor a crimson red.

  “Save the king!” a guard shouted as soldiers rushed in to lend aid.

  Aelryk, who had not managed to make it to the king’s side, looked to the tree line where the arrow had originated. A lone red-haired archer stood, leaning to one side. It was obvious he was wounded, but the prince felt no pity. He plowed through the fighting, knocking soldiers and sword maidens alike out of his path. Reylin looked up as the prince approached, but made no effort to defend himself. He was far too weak from blood loss, and his broken ribs prevented him from taking in a full breath. With a single stroke of his sword, Aelryk slashed Reylin’s chest. Blood poured from his mouth as he fell to his knees, collapsing onto the soft earth.

  Hurrying to his father’s side, Aelryk once again blasted through the crowd. The king lay motionless on the ground, his eyes staring blindly at the sky. Aelryk felt a chill on his spine as winter sent a cold blast of air against the perspiration on his skin. His father was dead.

  “You are our king now,” Mi’tal said, coming to his side.

  Aelryk stared blankly at his father’s body, not hearing Mi’tal’s words.

  “Your Majesty,” Mi’tal said, attempting to catch Aelryk’s attention. He laid a hand on the prince’s shoulder. “You are our king. You can put an end to this war.”

  Aelryk looked up at him, the shock of his father’s death being put aside. Remembering his promise of peace to the elven people, he nodded to Mi’tal and patted him on the shoulder. Now the king of Na’zora, he had sworn to put an end to the fighting.

  “The king is dead!” he shouted to the soldiers. The ground fighting continued, but at the sound of the prince’s voice, the few remaining mages ceased their fire. “Stop this fighting at once!” he commanded, trying his best to shout above the noise. He feared the elves would not heed his words, but he intended to do as he had promised.

  “Fall back!” he shouted. His words echoed throughout his army as the men did their best to break away from the fighting.

  Hearing the prince’s words, Essa commanded the maidens to stop as well. “Maidens to me!” she cried.

  Reylana lowered her sword and backed away slowly from her opponent, who took the opportunity to retreat. As she turned, she caught sight of Reylin lying lifelessly on the ground. She ran to his side as tears clouded her vision. “Oh, Reylin,” she sobbed as she fell to her knees beside his body. At the death of her parents, she had not wept openly. Her grief for her twin was far greater, and she could not hold back the tears.

  Finally managing to take in a breath, Reylana ran deep into the forest. The war had claimed her brother just as it was coming to an end. It’s just as well, she thought. He never would have accepted peace. Continuing to run deeper into the forest, she pushed the thoughts of her brother from her mind. The time would come to grieve more for Reylin, but for now, she had a mission to accomplish.

  Aelryk moved to the front of his army to face Essa. He laid his sword flat across his hands and thrust it into the ground at her feet. Retrieving her sheathed blade from her scabbard, she thrust it into the ground beside his.

  “From this day forth, let us have peace,” Aelryk said.

  “No elf will attack a citizen of Na’zora without provocation,” she replied. “King Domren is dead, and you are now the king. You must ensure your people no longer attack us.”

  “I swear to you, I will see it done. I will draft a peace treaty along with the leaders of the elven clans. Together we will come to terms and end this fighting.”

  Essa nodded, her eyes fixed on Aelryk. She believed
him to be a man of his word, and she intended to be a part of his peace treaty. “The elven leaders will negotiate with you,” she said. “We desire peace for our forests, just as you do for your citizens.”

  Aelryk extended his hand to Essa, who grabbed his forearm and gripped it tightly. Grasping hers as well, he looked into her stern, dark eyes. He felt a sense of relief that he had not encountered her during the battle. She was probably the fiercest warrior he had ever encountered, if she could be judged by her eyes alone.

  From the trees behind Essa, a blonde-haired woman emerged followed by an auburn-haired elf. Reylana had brought Lisalla to her prince as an offering of peace. Lisalla hesitated and looked back at Reylana.

  “Go on,” Reylana said.

  Lisalla drew in a deep breath and slowly made her way to her betrothed. Aelryk stood in awe of her beauty as she came ever closer. Her blonde ringlets danced on the wind, and her stunning blue eyes reflected the cold, piercing the frosty air as a needle through cloth.

  Aelryk stepped forward and took Lisalla in his arms. They embraced for the first time, and Lisalla’s eyes filled with tears.

  “The king is dead?” she asked. Her voice was soft and quiet.

  “He is,” Aelryk replied.

  “Perhaps it is for the best,” she said quietly. “If he was half the tyrant I heard he was, Na’zora will be better for it.”

  “He was my father, Lisalla,” Aelryk said. “He was also my king, and his loss pains me.”

  “Yes, but now you are the king,” she replied with a smile. “Now you can have peace.”

  Aelryk turned his attention back to Essa. “Your delegates can return to the palace with us. I can guarantee their safe passage.”

  Essa, Reylana, Nat, and Sal all agreed to accompany the king to the palace. Some of the remaining clan Overseers would be sent, and at least five members of each clan would be present for negotiations. All of their futures depended upon this treaty, and none of the clans would be left out.