The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  “Have there been any incidents anywhere else along the wall?” he asked.

  “All is quiet, sir!” one of the men said.

  “Good. All of you, find the other council members and tell them what is happening.” The men nodded and rushed back down the stairs.

  “Jon, Swen, do you think you can hit him?” Tad asked, pointing out the commander.

  The two men looked over the side and nodded. They were the best archers in Dremaldria and quite possibly the only ones that could have made a shot at that distance.

  “They’re opening the cart!” Willum said.

  One of the ogres opened the door in the side of the cart and out stepped a figure clad in bulky green platemail. The figure walked up to the gray giant and nodded in response to something that was said. Then one of the ogres handed it some kind of harness, which it proceeded to strap on.

  “Ready your bows,” Tad said.

  The gray giant grabbed the back of the harness and lifted the armored figure off the ground. It pulled in its legs and curled up like a ball, wrapping its arms around its knees as if it had practiced this move before. The giant grunted in satisfaction and began his spin.

  “Fire when you can!” Tad said. “Take that bastard down!”

  Swen and Mad Jon fitted oversized arrows to their bows and pulled the arrows back. Wood creaked and muscles strained. They fired just as the commander released his throw. Both arrows found their mark, one arrow piercing his left eye, the other burying itself in his throat. The gray giant clutched its wounds in surprise and fell to the ground.

  But the giant’s throw had been just as accurate. The green armored figure hurtled right at them like a cannonball. As it neared their position it opened up, spreading its arms and legs wide. The figure looked intimidating up close, its armor covered in spikes and ridges, its head covered in a bony helmet with slits for its eyes. It landed nimbly on the top edge of the wall and reached for the short swords sheathed at its back.

  Tad the Cunning was ready for it, waraxe in hand.

  He swung before the armored figure could pull a sword, putting all his strength into the attack. The thick blade of his waraxe struck its armored chest with a sound like an enormous bell. The figure was blasted from the battlements, its armor rent in two. It rocketed towards the earth, trailing a red mist behind it, and struck the ground with an audible thump.

  Willum saw smoke rising from the body below and looked back to Tad with wonderment. This was the first time he had seen Tad fight. Unlike the other instructors, Tad preferred to train away from the eyes of the students. Still, his prowess was legendary. Even Faldon the Fierce said he wouldn’t want to risk fighting him. Now Willum understood why.

  “You used your axe.” Mad Jon said in surprise.

  It was the first time Willum had seen the weapon unsheathed. It was about two feet long. The head had a wide flat blade on one side and a wicked spike on the other. The surface of the weapon was covered in runes, their impressions painted red.

  “I had a bad feeling about that thing, Jon.” Tad placed the weapon back into the half-sheath at his waist. “There was something . . . unnatural about it.”

  “Well, it’s definitely dead, sir,” Willum said. From this height it looked like little more than a smoking green puddle. What did Tad’s axe do to it?

  “It had better be. I don’t have many of those left.” Tad turned back to the archers. “Jon, I want you to go get Bill the Fletch and tell him I want two ballistae brought up from storage. Have the engineers mount them at the corners of this wall.”

  “But the plan-,” Mad Jon began.

  “It is ahead of schedule, I know. But I want any giant that tries to throw anything at this wall put on a spit.”

  Mad Jon nodded and headed down the stairs. Swen went to follow him, but Tad laid a hand on his arm, “I’m sorry, Swen, but I need you to stay here and man this wall.”

  “Yes, sir.” The large man nodded and though his tone was even, there was a hint of a smile around his lips.

  Willum knew that there was no place Swen would rather be. Archery was the thing Swen cared about most. In fact, it was all Swen ever thought of. When he wasn’t practicing, he was crafting arrows. He was quiet and people thought it was because he was shy and dull, but Willum was pretty sure that was just because Swen was thinking about shooting. The wall was the only place where he could actually put his skill to use. Swen had once told Willum that he liked being perched atop the highest structure around, looking at the army below, and knowing that he was the deadliest man on the wall.

  Willum envied him that; being the best at something. Willum knew he was pretty good at a lot of things. He scored near the top of his class in several subjects, but was never quite good enough to stand out. He supposed that was one reason why he chose twin scythes as his weapon of choice. They were farmer’s weapons, not commonly used by professional warriors. It wasn’t until after he was accepted that he found out there were four other students using the same weapon.

  He glanced back down at the giant army and started in surprise. The commander had shoved aside the giants that were dragging him away from the wall and was climbing back to his feet. He tore the arrow out of his throat and glared up at the wall with his one remaining eye. Ignoring the blood spurting from his wound, he barked out an order and the ogres rushed over to open the boxed cart again.

  “Uh, sir? He’s back up!” Willum said. Tad didn’t hear him. He had moved further down the wall and was barking out instructions to the other soldiers at their posts. “Tad the Cunning, sir!”

  Tad looked back at Willum, then down at the army below.

  The ogres had dragged something out of the cart that looked like an enormous shaggy ball. They began rolling it across the ground toward the commander, but one of the ogres cried out and clutched his arm. Willum saw a gout of blood pour from its arm as both ogres backed away. Willum swallowed. This could be bad.

  “Swen!” Tad shouted. “Don’t let him throw that thing up here!”

  “I see him, sir.” The tall man said, an arrow already notched to the string. He began to draw it back towards his ear. “He just needs to come a little closer . . .”

  The gray giant staggered over to the place where the ogres had left the ball, then stood in front of it and pointed to the top of the wall, his remaining eye glaring at Swen. He shouted something and the giant army roared in approval. Though he couldn’t hear what was said, Willum knew it was a challenge.

  Swen’s voice was as monotone as ever. “Just come closer, Giant.”

  The giants began a rhythmic chant, punctuated by clapping and stomping. Their commander turned and reached down and gripped the ball’s shaggy exterior with both hands. He lifted the ball and took several steps towards the wall before starting his spin.

  “Stop him!” Tad shouted.

  “Almost there . . .” said Swen, his bow drawn to its fullest extent, his arms quivering ever so slightly.

  The chanting grew louder and the commander spun, picking up speed with every step.

  “Now!” Tad shouted.

  Swen shot. The arrow whistled as it arced towards his target.

  The arrow destroyed the gray giant’s remaining eye. Willum shouted in celebration, but the chanting didn’t stop and neither did the blinded commander. He ended his final spin with a mighty heave and the ball left his hands, soaring through the air straight for his target.

  Swen stared at the oncoming ball in disbelief and Tad had to pull the large man out of the way.

  The large ball barely cleared the top edge. It struck the walkway right where Swen had been standing before rolling up to balance precariously on the edge of the inside wall. It stood still for a moment and Willum was able to see it clearly for the first time. The enormous ball was about the height of a man and was made of leafy tentacles. Willum’s heart thumped in recognition.

  “Whip beast!” he cried, drawing his scythes.

  Tad moved Swen aside and raised his axe, but bef
ore he could strike, the ball shivered and began to open. The movement caused it to teeter and the weight of its unfurling pulled it off the wall. It tumbled into the academy proper, a writhing mass of tentacles.

  The whip beast struck the ground not far from where the dead man had landed. A crowd of villagers that were still gathered together talking about it cried out and backed away as the whip beast spread out. Its thick roots dug into the hard packed gravel and its willowy fronds extended towards them. A single stalk rose from its tangled center, the tip opening to reveal a large eye.

  “Get away from it!” Willum shouted.

  It was too late. The beast’s whip-like tentacles lashed out and people began to fall. Screams echoed from the streets below.

  “Swen, you watch those giants!” Tad grabbed Willum and rushed for the stairs. “What do you know about that thing?”

  Willum followed closely on his heels. “It’s the same kind of beast that attacked my father by the Wide River! I recognized it from the memories he showed me. We need to keep people at a distance. It moves slowly but its attacks have a decent range!”

  They reached the bottom of the stairs and ran down the path at the base of the wall. The area around the beast had been cleared of citizens and it was ringed by a group of wary guards with spears.

  “Stay back!” Tad commanded. By the looks of it, they had already learned that lesson. Several of their spears were missing tips and two men had been wounded and pulled aside.

  The scene around the whip beast was a massacre. It had cut down several citizens during the confusion and its willowy leaves rustled as its tentacles whipped about, slicing the bodies of its victims into smaller and smaller pieces. The white root-like vines at the beast’s base slowly pulled it over their remains.

  “Tell me more about it, Willum. What are its attacks?” Tad asked.

  “Uh . . .” Willum tried to remember everything he had seen in Coal’s memories. “It whips about with those tentacles, sir. They are very sharp and can take a man apart but shouldn’t be able to cut through heavy armor.”

  Tad nodded and his shrewd eyes picked out two of the graduates that looked the most frightened. He called them by name. “Narl. Vaughn. Go and get some Defense Guild troops here, now.”

  “Shields too.” Willum said.

  “Tell them we need shields!” Tad added. The two men nodded and ran. “The rest of you, keep the citizens away from here.”

  One of the men raised a quivering arm to point at the base of the whip beast. It had moved its bristling bulk forward and settled back down on the bloody ground, its roots digging in. The beast was feasting. “But sir, it’s . . .”

  “Don’t focus on that, graduate. Just watch its whips and stand clear, understood?” Tad turned back to Willum. “How did your father kill it?”

  “Uh, he used magic to dry it out and they set it on fire,” he said.

  “Get me oil and torches!” Tad commanded. Two more men ran off. “Anything else?”

  “Not as far as weaknesses, sir,” Willum said. “But as far as father could tell, it absorbs the bodies of its kills to heal itself.”

  A guard in heavy armor ran up and Tad took his shield. He pulled his waraxe free of its sheath, the red runes along its length seeming to glow. He eyed the beast with a calculating gaze and stepped forward.

  “Sir!” Willum said. “It’s best to attack it from a distance. It will be difficult to avoid its tentacles up close.”

  “These men need to see it fought,” Tad said quietly, his eyes not leaving the beast. “I will stall it until the fire arrives.”

  Tad took stepped towards the beast, but a man darted in ahead of him. Willum’s eyes widened in surprise.

  Dann Doudy ran at the beast, his gaudy jeweled sword swinging. The whip beast lashed out at him, but Dann was quicker than he looked. He dodged the attacks, his stocky body always seeming to move aside just enough. His sword arm was just as fast. He severed each tentacle that came at him and the beast shuddered. More tentacles grew to replace the ones lost, but Dann moved in close, cutting wide swathes of leafy fronds. Wherever his blade touched, the leaves shriveled and browned.

  The whip beast shook, its roots digging deeper into the ground. Tad ran up to help him, but tentacles lashed out at him and he had to raise his shield to block the attacks. The stocky man kept dodging attacks and swinging his sword, hacking and slicing, the ground around him littered with shriveling plant matter.

  The beast flailed at him in a panic, but Dann upped his speed, dancing about nimbly as if he knew where each attack would land ahead of time. He severed tentacles quicker than it could replace them. Great patches of the beast turned a sickly yellow and the beast shuddered and contracted, pulling its leaves in, but Dann’s attack was unrelenting.

  He lopped off its eye stalk just as the two men returned with a bucket of oil and torches. Dann saw them coming and smiled. He strolled over and grabbed the bucket from the surprised graduate’s hands, then doused the beast as Tad stared in stunned silence.

  “Torch it, lads!” Dann Doudy said with a grin.

  The graduates tossed the torches onto the beast and it went up in flame. Dann laughed and turned towards the people watching. He raised his sword in triumph and cheers erupted from the crowd. He sheathed his sword and walked towards them, shaking hands and accepting pats on the back.

  Willum looked at the burning beast and the bloody remains of its victims and he didn’t feel like cheering. He looked around and saw others with similar somber expressions. It would be difficult to identify the bodies from what was left of them. They would need to question the people who escaped. There were families that needed to know. Funerals to be held . . . He glanced over to Tad the Cunning and he could see that the instructor was thinking the same thing.

  Tad walked over to Dann who was chatting with the crowd gathered around him. He had unsheathed his sword again and was pointing out the runes that snaked around the jewels on its hilt. “It’s called Wither. It’s been in the Doudy family for generations. My father slew-.”

  “Dann,” Tad interrupted. “You shouldn’t have run in there. That was very dangerous.”

  The nobleman smirked. “Come now, Tad. It was just a hedge that needed trimming.” He walked off, laughing and talking to the people that followed in his wake.

  Tad’s eyes narrowed, but he busied himself organizing the soldiers. He assigned men to keep the fire under control and set others to cleaning up and finding people that might be able to help determine who had died. The grounds were as crowded as ever and people called out, asking questions about what happened. He handled the citizens remarkably well considering the circumstances, assuring them that an investigation was underway.

  Willum thought back to the fight, frowning. Something about it just wasn’t right. Doudy’s skill and dexterity, the ease with which he battled the beast had all been a surprise, but it was more than that. There was something else . . .

  He was still worrying it over in his mind as Tad walked by, headed in the direction of the infirmary.

  “Sir!” Willum said, jogging to his side. “About that fight-.”

  “You should return to the wall with Swen, Willum. Make sure that the giants aren’t causing more problems,” Tad said, his eyes lost in thought. “I need to go check on the body the giant threw over.”

  “Sir, the whip beast! What was it doing here among the enemy army? Not only that, but my father spoke of a green armored figure like the one you struck down that attacked his friends. Both of them were constructs made by Ewzad Vriil.”

  “Interesting,” Tad said, still walking forward.

  “Interesting?” Willum said in exasperation.

  “This information doesn’t change anything. You convinced me that Ewzad Vriil was behind this long ago. It’s the rest of the council we have to prove it to and unfortunately, it still just comes down to your father’s word against his.”

  “But sir! There was something else I realized. Something that was bot
hering me about the way Representative Doudy fought that beast.”

  “You mean besides the way he stepped in and made me look a fool?” Tad asked with a weary smile.

  Willum shook his head. “Not possible. He didn’t do that, sir. No, its . . . well, first of all, you saw the way he moved.”

  “I was just as surprised as you, but you can’t judge a man’s skill by his appearance.”

  Then it came to him. “His appearance! Sir, you’ve watched him during council meetings. How does Representative Doudy react to the slightest bit of stress?”

  Tad shrugged. “He turns purple as a grape.”

  “Exactly,” Willum said. “And he acts as if he can barely restrain his anger. But during that fight . . ?”