“Arrows!” came a call from down the line, and Lenui saw a black cloud streaking down on them from the orc camp ahead.
He got his shield up just in time to deflect several that might have hit his face and he still felt two skip off his helmet. He looked around and saw that the most of the other dwarves had done the same. The orcs weren’t as fortunate. They went down in heaps all across the front lines, their bodies filled like pincushions.
“Hah!” shouted Rahbbie to his left. “Friggin’ orcs decided to give us a breather!”
“Durn right,” Lenui laughed. He turned and punched Pall in shoulder but the older dwarf didn’t respond. That’s when Lenui noticed the arrow fletchings sticking out of his friend’s throat.
“Close the gap!” He shouted and tossed his shield to another dwarf that moved to take his place. “Nobody moves back, you hear that Rahbbie? Forward!”
Rahbbie nodded, his face ashen as Lenui pulled Pall’s staggering form away from the front lines. He barked at the fresh-legged dwarves in the back ranks, “Get a blasted healer!”
Lenui tossed his gauntlets to the ground and Kile ran up to help him unbuckle Pall’s breastplate. Kile wasn’t much of a healer, but more of a field medic and he had plenty of experience from past wars.
When they got the armor off, the damage looked much worse. The neck wound had soaked Pall’s shirt and armor padding with blood and they found the fletchings of a second arrow, previously hidden by the armor, that sprouted from just above his collarbone.
Lenui checked Pall’s back, but the arrowhead hadn’t gone through. It was embedded somewhere in the core of him.
“Damn!” Kile said. “Arrow had to have hit just right. Probly deflected off his helmet and down through the gap in his breastplate and backplate.”
“Dag-nab it, Pall!” Lenui snapped. “Always wearin’ yer armor too loose!”
“You hear me, Pall?” Kile said. “Can you hear me?”
Pall blinked, his eyes darting between the two of them and his jaw worked but no sound came out. Kile broke off the arrow head that protruded from the back of Pall’s neck and pulled out the shaft. There was a quick rush of blood, but Kile shoved some herbs in the wound, causing the blood to harden instantly.
The neck wound was nasty, but dwarves were hardy. Lenui knew Pall could survive that. It was the other arrow that worried him. “What ‘bout the other’n, Kile? What ‘bout the other’n?”
“I’m looking, Lenui!” Kile fingered the end of the fletchings and pulled on it slightly. Pall cried out. “It’s stuck in there good. I couldn’t yank it out without taking his innards along with it. Blast it, Lenui, he needs a master surgeon, and even if one was standing right here . . . I mean look at the size of that wound. I’m pretty sure it was a broadhead.”
Lenui swallowed. He knew what that meant. Pall lifted his hand and placed it on Lenui’s shoulder. His voice croaked, “It’s fine. I’m done . . .”
“Cow turds! You got another two hunnerd years left at least.”
“Five hu- . . . nerd’s enough fer me,” Pall said with a grim smile. “My Sweet Patty’s gone. My sons . . .”
“I know, Pall. They’re a waitin’,” Lenui said.
“Help me . . . sit up,” Pall gasped and Kile helped push him upright. No dwarf wanted to die laying down. “Do . . . me one favor, Lenui.”
“Whatever the hell you want,” he promised.
“Hold . . . still.” Pall drew his arm back and threw a surprisingly stiff punch right into Lenui’s face.
Lenui clutched at his nose. “Dag-burned son of a-! I think you broke it!”
“You . . . dag-gum liar . . .” Pall chuckled and went still.
Lenui closed his old friend’s eyes. His heart felt empty, yet there were tears dripping down his cheeks. He reached up and felt them. They were old man’s tears, earned by experience at watching his friends die. He slammed his fist into the ground. He was too blasted young for old man’s tears.
Kile coughed and Lenui noticed for the first time that smoke was filling the air, blown their way by a westerly breeze. He turned and felt the heat of the flames on his face. Their line was steadily moving forward as ordered, but they were hard pressed by screaming orcs and trolls, some of them on fire.
Eastern Reneul was burning.
Justan swore as the heat intensified. Troll trails! He couldn’t believe he had forgotten to account for troll trails! The east side of Reneul had been occupied by trolls for weeks and in that time the trolls had trailed their flammable slime everywhere. His fire arrows had started a conflagration.
Hot! It’s hot! Gwyrtha complained as she ran down the center of the street, trying to stay as far away from the burning buildings as possible. The air was filled with the screeching of flaming trolls and the screams of pained and terrified horses.
The cavalry had been forced to split up to avoid being burned alive and now that there was no need to fight, they were all merely searching for a safe route to the academy walls where the open space would bring them relief from the fire.
Samson led one large group, Master Coal using his magic to help part the flames. Justan led another column through the widest streets, hoping that by staying in the middle they could avoid the worst of the heat. So far he had only been partially right. The troll slime crisscrossed the streets as well and though most of it had guttered out fairly quickly, there were still places where the horses had to run through open flame.
“You okay, Beth?” Hilt shouted from the horse behind him.
Beth had laid forward across Gwyrtha’s neck and buried her face in the rogue horse’s mane, ignoring the heat. She lifted her head briefly to yell back, “No questions! Concentrating! The witch is fighting back!”
Justan knew Beth was putting all her effort into keeping her cloud of interference going. Gwyrtha’s energy levels had dipped suddenly a few minutes before and he had realized that she was somehow pulling what she needed from the rogue horse directly.
Hot! Hot! Hot! Gwyrtha complained and Justan could sense that her feet were blistering.
I’m sorry sweetie, I’ll heal you as soon as we get out of here, I promise, he sent.
The front gates were only a few blocks away. Just one more turn and they would see the market square. They were nearly there.
They turned the corner, Gwyrtha trampling a couple burning trolls that ran in the way and Justan noticed with alarm that the square ahead was completely blocked by fire. They were going to have to run through it. They had no choice. There was no way to backtrack now.
He quickly pulled out an arrow tipped with a blue glow. Hoping that this element worked as well as the others had, he fired into the street ahead. A torrent of water exploded into existence where the arrow struck, flooding the street in a ten yard radius.
“Yes!” Justan cried and picked through the quiver, looking for more. He found two and fired them ahead in succession, clearing a path through the blazing market bazaar.
The arrows left deep impressions in the ground hidden by the water. Gwyrtha slipped a couple times. Justan winced as he heard one of the other horses go down behind him, but he couldn’t stop. He fired every water arrow he had until the way was clear. The academy gates rose just ahead.
As they approached, he heard shouting and cheering from the wall above and a smile spread across his face. They had done it. They had broken through. He stopped before the gate and turned, watching as Captain Demetrius and Coal’s columns of cavalry rushed out of the burning city streets to join them.
Faldon’s forces on the other hand were still making their way to them, hard pressed by orcs on every side. Captain Demetrius shouted and led the men west, rushing to Faldon’s aid. Justan wanted to go with them, but Hilt called out.
“Stop, Edge! Beth should stay right here, keeping the witch from knowing what’s going on at the gate.”
Justan nodded reluctantly. Hilt was right and Beth needed Gwyrtha right now as much as she needed anything else.
“Don�
��t worry,” said Coal, who had withdrawn from the bond and sat up on Samson’s back once again. “Captain Demetrius knows what to do.”
There was a great shuddering sound and Justan turned to see that the great portcullis that stood in front of the gates was being raised. Once it had disappeared into the wall above, the gates slowly swung inward and Justan’s heart caught in his throat. The first person to walk out was his mother.
Chapter Thirty One
Darlan led a flood of warriors through the front gates of the academy. While they ran to secure the area, she headed for her son.
“Mother!” Justan jumped down from Gwyrtha’s back and met her in a fierce embrace. “I’m so glad to see you!”
“Oh, I’ve missed you so much!” she replied and hugged him back just as fiercely. Then she held on a bit longer.
“Um . . . mother.” Justan said, feeling a bit self conscious with all the other warriors around. A couple of them smiled and shook their heads. “We’re kind of in the middle of a battle.”
“Oh, shut up, I haven’t seen you in two years. A mother gets to embarrass her son when it’s been that long.” She gave him one more tight squeeze and pulled back. “Justan, you’ve grown. My, you look so much like your father, I can’t believe it. Why if it wasn’t for your hair and eyes I would have no idea there was any of my side of the family in you.”
“Except for the magic, you mean?” Justan asked.
Darlan’s smile faded slightly. “Yes well, we’ll have plenty of time to talk of that later, won’t we?”
“Yes we will,” Justan said, then hugged her again. “Mother, I have so much to tell you and so many people to introduce you to, I-.”
“Justan, where is your father?” she asked in concern, pulling back from him again.
“He’s still fighting his way here,” he replied. He could hear their explosive arrows going off in the distance. “But he’s fine. A few scratches maybe, but Fist says they will be here soon. Captain Demetrius has cleared the way for them.”
“Good,” she said, looking relieved. “Fist is your ogre friend, right?”
“He is my bonded,” Justan clarified. “I assume Willum told you what that means?”
“I grilled him about it thoroughly,” she assured him. “I must say, though. An ogre? What odd luck.”
“It’s not luck, mother. There was a reason we bonded, and believe me once you meet him, you will adore him,” he said, watching as she walked toward Gwyrtha.
“Oh, I’m sure I will. And this is your rogue horse?” Darlan reached out to touch her enormous head hesitantly. “You must be Gwyrtha.”
Gwyrtha nodded excitedly. Mother! She recognized Darlan’s look and scent from Justan’s memories.
Darlan smiled at the intelligence in those large eyes and ran her hand across the scales on Gwyrtha’s snout to touch the horse-like pelt at the top of her head. “My you are . . . different, aren’t you?”
Yes! she replied happily.
Darlan blinked and stepped around her to look at the woman laying along Gwyrtha’s neck. Her hand went to her mouth. “Why Beth Puddle! What are you doing here?”
Beth raised her head and her eyes widened. “Wizardess Sherl?”
Then they both said at once, “I don’t go by that name anymore.”
Beth’s brow wrinkled in confusion, her eyes going in and out of focus. “Not sure if this is a dream. Can’t talk now . . . later,” she said, and buried her head back into Gwyrtha’s mane.
Darlan gave Justan a questioning stare.
“I didn’t realize you knew each other. Beth is here to-!” Justan saw Gwyrtha’s eyelids droop and reached out through the bond in alarm, seeing that her energy levels had dipped deeply. Beth was taking even more energy than before. Gwyrtha are you okay?
Tired, she said. My feet hurt. I like your mother.
Right! He had forgotten about her burns. Hold on, sweetie. Justan closed his eyes and soothed her feet, healing the burned tissue as well as he could. He was going to have to reduce her size or get rid of her armor if he was going to make up for the energy that Beth was siphoning away. Justan wished he had known Beth was going to do that.
It’s okay, Justan, Gwyrtha said. She asked nice.
I’m glad to hear it, Justan sent and focused on reducing Gwyrtha’s size just enough to increase her energy to a comfortable level.
Sir Hilt walked up and placed his hand on Beth’s forehead. He frowned and whispered something in her ear. She gave a slight nod and his frown faded. Hilt looked at Darlan. “Wizardess Sherl. I’m glad to see you’re here. No one told me that you’re Edge’s mother.”
“That’s because no one knows,” she said, eyeing him a bit dubiously. “Sir Hilt, right?”
“Yes, we met at the Mage School years ago when I went before the bowl,” he said. “Sorry, but Beth is a bit busy right now. She’s concentrating.”
“So Beth Puddle is the wizardess that Willum was talking about? The Beth who’s your wife, that’s supposed to be disrupting the mother of the moonrats?” Darlan looked as confused as Justan had ever seen her. “But how can she do that? Beth was quelled. And what happened to that boy she left the Mage School for?”
“Well, Beth’s not using elemental magic. She’s using spirit magic and . . . It’s a long story,” Hilt said.
“I’m sure he’ll have plenty of time to tell you about it when this is over,” Justan said.
One of the academy warriors ran up to them. “Mayor Darlan! We’re ready! The area is secure!”
“Tell them to get moving,” she said. “The evacuation starts now.”
The soldier ran back through the gates and people began to stream out.
“There’s one problem with that, mother.” Justan said. He pointed to the conflagration behind them. “Our escape route is on fire.”
“That’s not a problem, honey. In fact, that’s perfect!” she said with a smile, the fire reflecting in her eyes. Then her smile faltered just a bit. “Though I am going to miss our house.”
“How is that perfect?” Justan asked.
She turned and waved as Captain Demetrius’ cavalry rode back up the streets towards them. Faldon was riding right beside the captain and when he saw Darlan, a wide grin spread on his face despite the jagged wound that ran across his cheek from nose to ear. He leapt down from the horse and ran to scoop his wife up in his arms, twirling her around.
Darlan laughed out loud the same way she did whenever he came home from a long campaign. To Justan watching them was like reliving a memory from his childhood. Except this time as she kissed his father, Justan saw elemental magic leave her lips and enter Faldon’s body to stitch his wounds closed.
When she broke off the kiss, Faldon reached up to feel the smooth skin where his wound had been. “It’s been a long time since you did that, Darlan.”
“Well, I missed you,” she said. “Now put me down. We don’t have time to dally.”
Faldon let her down and looked at the inferno that was eastern Reneul. “Oh, that’s a shame. Still I suppose it’s perfect for our escape.”
“And how is that perfect?” Justan asked.
“The enemy won’t be able to follow us through there,” Faldon explained. “By the time the mother of the moonrats figures out what has happened, she’ll have to send her armies around the flames, buying us precious time.”
Darlan patted Justan’s cheek.
“I know this is going to surprise our neighbors, but it’s time I came out of hiding anyway. Faldon, dear, can I borrow your horse?”
He helped her into the saddle. She yelled to the academy warriors to have the people follow her and led a column down to the streets. The people following slowed as they neared the fire, glancing at each other in concern.
The flames parted before Darlan like great curtains. Justan switched to mage sight and saw a protective barrier of red and black magic pushing the fire to either side of the street. He stared at his mother in awe. His father had said she was powerful, but
the forces involved here were stunning.
“Sherl was always a genius with fire magic,” Coal said.
“But how is she going to be able to keep a spell like that up long enough for everyone to get through?” Justan said. “Surely she’s not that powerful.”
“She doesn’t have to be. Don’t you see what she’s done?” Coal said. “She’s set the structure of the spell so that it feeds off the energy of the fire burning around it. As long as the buildings continue to burn, the barrier will stay active.”
“Amazing . . .” Justan shook his head slowly. All of the new things he was learning about her made her seem different than the mother he knew and the thought gave him chills.
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 46