Willum grabbed the big man’s arm and they ran for the west corner of the wall. Silent Josef and Lyramoor had ignored the evacuation order and were running towards them. Willum motioned frantically. “The other way! The other way!”
“Go on,” Lyramoor said and the two assistants jumped up to the wall’s edge to let them pass.
“On your right, Willy!” shouted the imp and Willum turned just in time to see a round black ball the size of a wagon wheel appear above the wall right next to Silent Josef.
It rolled over the edge and rose above them, propelled upwards by four rope-like legs that shot out from its central body. It stood there like a spindly spider and a wide smile full of straight teeth opened in its side. Silent Josef threw two daggers in quick succession, burying them into the ball, and it quivered, then let out a high pitched giggle. Lyramoor slashed out with his swords, severing two of the legs, but before it could fall, two more legs shot out from its body to replace them.
“Force!” Willum shouted and swung the axe at the center of the ball’s creepy smile. There was a heavy bell sound and the black ball was blasted off of the wall, its thin legs flapping behind it.
Two turtle-spiders had gained the top of the wall now and as Willum watched, Sabre Vlad stood on one of their backs and swung his sabre in a vicious arc, slicing an armored orc in two. The other orcs came at him but stumbled when the shell tipped as the spider started down the other side of the wall. Vlad spun and shoved one orc off the edge, then dropped to his stomach and clung to the shell with one arm as it went vertical. Lyramoor ran and jumped off of the edge of the inner wall. The elf latched onto the shell next to Vlad, kicking another orc loose.
“Come on!” Swen yelled and Willum ran after the tall archer. Silent Josef, no longer hesitating, ran right behind them.
They turned at the corner and ran along the western wall, boulders still crashing into the buildings below. Willum looked back over his shoulder and saw more beasts climbing over the north wall, some running down the stairs into the interior. There was a rumble at the base of the wall and one of the giant glowing snake things burrowed up from underneath.
“Behind you!” cried the imp and Willum looked back.
“Watch out, Josef!” he yelled, seeing one of the hairy beasts running on all fours along the top of the wall behind him.
It leapt just as Josef turned. The hairy thing grabbed onto him, knocking the assistant off balance. His lower back struck the outer wall and Josef started to topple backwards. Willum reached out for him, but he wasn’t quick enough. The weight of the beast pulled the assistant off the wall.
Hurry! Coal said.
Willum looked down as Silent Josef fell and saw even more of Ewzad Vriil’s beasts running along the base of the wall outside. Swen yanked at his collar and they ran on towards the stairs at the southern corner.
Faldon the Fierce and Stout Harley stood at the bottom yelling and motioning at them as they rushed down the stairs. They hit the ground and the two warriors shoved them towards the front gates where Hugh the Shadow waited, the great pin to the portcullis in his hand, ready to pull it as soon as everyone was through.
There, just outside, stood Samson, Coal on his back with his hand outstretched. Willum stopped under the portcullis and took one last look back. Boulders fell, some even striking the giant monsters that crawled across the grounds. On the south wall, one enormous shape larger than the others rose up and flowed over the wall like a living river of quivering black jelly.
Willum backed up and Coal grabbed his arm. His father yelled something as he pulled him up on Samson’s back behind him, but Willum didn’t hear. He saw Lyramoor drag a limping Sabre Vlad through the gates, followed by Faldon and Stout Harley. Then Hugh pulled the pin and dove, just clearing the great portcullis before it crashed to the ground.
More of Ewzad’s creatures came around the outside of the western corner, heading right for them. The men climbed on horses and Willum wrapped his arms around his father’s waist. Samson rode away, the others close behind him. Then somehow they entered a tunnel of fire, riding through the blackened streets of Reneul. Flames surrounded them but he didn’t feel any heat.
Willum looked back and saw that Ewzad’s creations had entered the tunnel after them. There were armored orcs and black balls on skinny legs and large cats with swords bristling from their bodies and they were right on the heels of Hugh the Shadow’s horse.
Hugh threw some things on the ground behind him and plumes of colored smoke rose up, causing some of the creatures to clutch their throats and stumble. Then he turned in his saddle and threw tiny blades and stars and other items he had hidden throughout his armor. Each projectile caused a different effect as it hit; freezing, burning, exploding. The creatures directly behind him scattered, some collapsing to the ground, some falling into the fire. A few others dodged or simply slowed down, but either way, none of them were on his heels anymore.
Then Samson burst free of the fire corridor and out onto the path beyond that led into the grassy hills. Darlan stood at the exit with her arms raised, a look of pure concentration on her face. Coal reined Samson in and waited as the others escaped.
The moment Hugh darted out, Darlan threw down her hands and shattered her spell, releasing all the pent up energy at once in an explosion. A plume of flame shot upwards along the corridor from where they stood all the way through to the entrance by the academy. Everyone paused for a moment, watching as something came out. One armored orc took three stumbling steps towards them before collapsing and deflating. Nothing else left the corridor alive.
Willum swayed in the saddle, the edges of his vision dimming.
“Willy! Breathe stupid! Breathe!” shouted the imp. Something hit him like a punch to the gut and Willum gulped in a deep gasp of air.
“Willum, are you alright?” Coal asked.
“Yes,” Willum gasped.
“What kind of warrior forgets to breathe?” asked the imp
I don’t know! It was an old habit of mine. Something I used to do whenever I got too excited as a child, but I haven’t done that since I was ten.
“Ho-ho, until today, Willy!” the imp laughed. “Wee Willy back again!”
Shut up, imp.
“I was afraid the traps were going to go off before we could get out of the way,” Hugh said with a smile.
“Look!” said the Daughter of Xedrion, pointing back at the school.
Everyone stared back at the south wall of the academy as two giant turtle-spiders climbed to the top of the wall, orcs and other beasts clinging to their shells. The enormous glistening black thing flowed up and over the wall beside them.
“What if they don’t try to break through the portcullis?” Faldon asked. “What if they all just climb over the walls?” His concern was rendered moot as something heavy and red and full of teeth struck the portcullis and crashed right through it.
They saw it happen before they heard it. The walls of the academy bowed inward as if sucked in from the inside. There was a flash of light somewhere within the center of the place and the walls blew outward, the individual stones scattering into smaller and smaller pieces, taking Ewzad’s creatures along with them.
The blast radiated outward, leveling the closest half of Reneul’s buildings, then pushing their debris outward in an expanding circle. Willum knew that the same thing was happening all around the academy, thousands of goblinoids being tossed like motes of dust in a windstorm.
Then the shockwave struck them.
The wizards threw shields up hastily. A bright red one came up around Darlan and the academy council. A blue and gold shield appeared around Sir Edge and his enormous rogue horse. Coal threw up a much weaker black shield of his own and Willum saw a line of gold magic shoot from his axe to help bolster it.
Debris and dust blew past them followed by a wall of fire.
Chapter Thirty Two
Deathclaw froze against the side of the hill as Justan’s emotions flooded his mind. There wa
s fire and light and fear.
“What is it, lizard?” asked Sir Lance, crouching next to him. Why the grizzled named warrior had decided to scout with him, Deathclaw had no idea. “What’s going on with yer master?”
Deathclaw hissed. “He’s not-.”
The ground was rocked by a big thump and a sound like a long peal of thunder. They turned to look back in the direction of the academy and saw a great plume of smoke rising into the air.
“By the gods . . .” Lance said, his mouth hanging open. “What just happened?”
“The school is . . . gone,” Deathclaw said. “Justan is not dead.”
“Gone?” said Lance in disbelief.
He started to stand, but Deathclaw caught his shoulder and pulled him back down.
“What?”
Deathclaw shook his head and placed two fingers over his mouth and pointed towards the other side of the hill they were on. They crept up slowly and peered over the top.
There, standing in the plains, was a large cat-like creature with long flat quills sprouting from all along its body. Sitting astride it was a green orc covered in armor much like the one Deathclaw had fought before. It was staring towards the plume of smoke that rose from the academy.
Sir Lance reached up and grabbed the pommel of the great two-handed sword that rose from his back. But before they could make a move, the cat ran on past their hill. “They’ll see the cave!”
Deathclaw and Lance ran after it, but they were too late. The cat stopped at the top of the next hill and crouched. The orc climbed down from its back and watched the line of academy retirees that had just arrived entering the cave.
Deathclaw raced up the hill after them, his sword drawn, and they did not notice his approach until the last second. The orc turned and time slowed. Deathclaw brought Star down in an overhead chop and the orc brought its arm up to block. In the full light of day Star was at its weakest, and Deathclaw knew that the blade would not penetrate through its armor. So he hit the crease in the orc’s armor at its wrist.
The blade made it most of the way through, cleaving through bone before binding up in the skin on the far side of its wrist. It screeched and rolled to the side, tearing the sword from Deathclaw’s fingers.
It stood and reared back to release a stream of acid just as the tip of Sir Lance’s sword caught the back of its head. The edge of Lance’s blade cracked with energy and sliced clean through, sending the top half of its head spinning through the air. Leaving the rest of the body to collapse and melt.
The cat hissed at them and ran towards the line of warriors. They saw it coming and pulled their swords, but before it reached them, it was struck by a gust of air. The cat was bowled over, then swept up into the air. The beast rose, soaring higher and higher, spiraling upwards until it was but a small dot.
“Don’t you think that’s high enough, Wizard Beehn?” Locksher asked, his hand shading his eyes from the sun as he watched its ascent.
“Oh, I suppose,” said the squat man in the wheeled chair. He cut off the spell. “It’s just that I never get to fight beasts. It’s such a rush.”
Deathclaw watched the speck above grow larger as it fell until the cat struck the hill behind them with a thud, sword-like quills spilling everywhere before smoking and beginning to melt.
“Are there more?” Beehn asked eagerly.
“We didn’t see any,” Lance said. The warrior folded his arms. “How’d you get so fat Beehn? Last I saw you, you were trying to get the other wizards to keep their bodies in shape.”
Beehn scowled and Deathclaw didn’t stay to hear them argue. He left to return to his scouting and noticed Locksher examining the body of the melting orc. He walked closer and watched the wizard pull a knife from within his robes and cut a piece of rubbery armor from the corpse. Locksher turned it over in his hands, rubbing the sticky residue between his fingers, and wrapped it in treated leather before stowing it away back in his robes.
“You want that?” Deathclaw asked.
“It may help me to figure out the process that Stardeon’s rings use to create these creatures,” he said and he eyed Deathclaw. “In fact, you may just be the secret to this whole thing. If I had a small piece of you to study, I just might be able to understand it better.”
Deathclaw took a step back.
“Uh-oh!” Locksher said, looking back at the melting body. He moved the orc’s rubbery arm to the side and stabbed into its armpit with his knife. When he pulled the blade back out, a shriveled green orb was stuck on the end. “Deathclaw, I think you should tell Sir Edge that the mother of the moonrats now knows where everyone is heading. He needs to hurry.”
Jhonate got to her feet, coughing, the air full of dust and smoke. Fire burned in the hills around them in patches, but she didn’t expect it would last. The new growth of spring grasses wouldn’t let the fires spread quickly.
“Jhonate!” yelled a voice from the smoke ahead of her. She barely heard it over the ringing in her ears. Gwyrtha’s huge form soon appeared out of the gloom. Justan jumped down from the beast’s back and rushed over to embrace her.
He pulled back. “I’m so glad you’re alright. I didn’t have a way to throw a shield around you.”
“I am fine,” she said, holding up her hand. “Once again it seems your ring protected me.”
“It’s not my ring. It’s yours,” he said, grasping her hand with his own. “Let’s make sure the others are okay.”
They didn’t need to search long, a great gust of wind swept past them, pushing the smoke away and they saw the others standing pretty much where they had been when the academy exploded. Master Coal dropped his hands and released his wind spell in relief. The shields thrown up by the wizards had protected them.
“That was much bigger than expected,” Oz said.
They stared sadly at the place that used to be their home. The academy was gone. Not a wall stood, just torn and blackened ground. The same was to be said of most of Reneul. The few houses still standing on the outer edges of the city were in shambles and from where they stood, the training grounds were unrecognizable.
“You are kidding me,” said Hugh the Shadow. He pointed to the Scralag hills and they could see movement. Large lumbering forms were making their way out of the hills towards them. “They’re still coming?”
“That blast had to have killed most of the army,” Faldon said. “There can’t be many.”
“There doesn’t have to be,” Stout Harley said. “You saw what they could do.”
“Wizardess Sherl!” said Sir Hilt. He ran over to Justan’s mother, his wife hanging limply in his arms. “Beth isn’t responding. Her heart is beating and she seems to be breathing fine, but I need to make sure.”
Darlan placed her hands on the woman’s head and chest. Jhonate switched to mage sight and saw black and red energies passing through her into the witch.
“She is just asleep, Sir Hilt. She’s exhausted,” Darlan said with a smile. “We just need to get her to the Mage School. She’ll be fine.”
“That means we’re no longer protected from the mother of the moonrat’s gaze,” said Oz.
“We need to go!” shouted Justan. He climbed atop his enormous rogue horse. “Deathclaw says that one of Vriil’s monsters just appeared at the cave. It had a moonrat eye with it.”
“She knows where we’re going,” Jhonate breathed. Everyone mounted their horses, and Hilt put Beth in the saddle in front of him. Jhonate tightened her jaw and jogged over to Gwyrtha. She hated to admit it but she found the beast frightening. It reminded her of stories her nursemaids had told her as a child. She pushed those silly feelings away. “I am riding with you, Justan.”
Justan helped her up behind him and she held onto his waist as they galloped up the path towards the cave. It wasn’t long before they saw the line of pursuit coming after them, but they had a good lead on the enemy and the first two miles of the journey went rather well. Then Jhonate heard Faldon swear from the horse just ahead of them.
Jhonate leaned as far out of her saddle as she could and saw a group of students including Jobar, Poz, and Qenzic in a fierce battle with a group of four orcs in overlapping green platemail. There were already two students down and Jobar looked pretty beat up. Poz was the only one that seemed to be having any success against his foe. The orc facing him was missing one arm from the elbow down.
“Those are armored orcs. They’re fast! Fast and strong and their armor is part of their skin!” Justan shouted. He started to pull the bow off his back and groaned. “All I have with me are explosive arrows and everyone is fighting too close!”
The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls) Page 48