by D A Godwin
Start with the lowest point.
Shalindra pointed to a saddle in the mountains. “Let us begin our search there.”
It took little time to reach the base of the mountain near where she had indicated, but finding an easy way over was far more difficult than when it had only been the two of them. After a day and a half of searching they had explored many potential routes but remained stuck in the eastern foothills. Each potential path had proved too steep for the horses or were blocked by some natural obstacle before reaching the top.
“Riders,” Tormjere said. “From the south.”
They looked where he pointed and saw a trio of armed men on horseback, watching them from a hill.
“We knew they would find us,” Edward said.
“Hobbes!” Birion called. “Discourage them from following.”
Hobbes saluted, and soon a squad of knights broke off from the column and headed for the scouts. Before they were halfway there, the scouts disappeared back over the hill.
“We need to know how many are following us,” Edward said.
“Too many,” Birion said.
Where the scouts had been, a troop of horsemen now crested the hill. More followed, spreading into a wider formation.
Edward swore as they continued coming. “That’s at least a thousand. We need someplace we can defend.”
“To that hill,” Tormjere said, pointing to the closest defensible place, perhaps two hundred yards away.
“We’ll screen while you get there,” Birion said, turning back to take command of his men.
Edward turned his horse around and began barking out orders. The footmen dashed towards the high ground, following Shalindra as she pushed her mount up the steep hill and into the trees at the top.
“Shields!” Edward yelled. “Shields! Two deep!”
The footmen rushed into position, hastily forming a wall of overlapping shields around the top of the hill. Archers took position behind them, while the unarmed followers moved farther into the trees.
Edward came riding close. “If we’re crossing into the mountains, we had best do it soon.”
“Agreed,” Shalindra said. “Perhaps our Rangers could find something workable, even if we had to abandon the horses?”
“Aric and the other Rangers left us at Tiridon.” He pointed to one of the archers. “Anders! We’re crossing here. Find us a way over or make one yourself.”
Anders turned and sprinted into the trees, heading up the side of the mountain.
“We’ll make a stand here,” Edward said to Shalindra. “It’s decent cover, and they won’t be able to charge us.”
“How long can we hold?” she asked.
“All day if they don’t bring reinforcements.”
“And if they do?”
“Then I’ll hope Anders’s found us a way out first.”
“I can help,” Honarch said. “Call your riders back.”
Edward looked to Shalindra.
Trust him.
“Do it,” she said.
Edward nodded to the trumpeter, who blew a sharp pattern. Moments later, Birion’s men began disengaging and rushing back towards the hill. Edward ordered a gap opened in the shield wall, and the horsemen rode through.
Honarch gestured, and a line of fire sprang up in front of the advancing Ceringions. He waved his arm in a sweeping motion, and the flames surged upwards, rapidly spreading through the grass. The Ceringion charge pulled up short of the flames.
“Loose!” someone yelled. A volley of arrows flew over the flames to strike man and horse alike.
“That won’t hold for long,” Honarch said. “The grass will burn out shortly.”
The Ceringions dismounted and formed into a wedge-shaped formation that bristled with spears. As the fires died, they advanced at a fast walk.
Archers sent a volley into the tightly packed formation, but it wasn’t enough to disrupt their charge.
“Brace!” Edward shouted.
Shalindra’s fingers drifted across the cool metal of her symbol.
Should we help?
There aren’t any demons. Stay here.
The two sides slammed into each other, shield against shield. For a moment, each held their ground as they strained against the other. The mass of Ceringions was too much, causing the shield wall to rotate and begin to cave. As the Ceringions broke through, Tormjere was ready for them.
He ducked beneath the spears and sliced under their shields. So tightly packed were they that his blade cleaved through the legs of three men, collapsing the point. Those immediately behind stumbled over the bodies at their feet, disrupting their momentum.
A twisting ball of fire arced over his head and exploded in the midst of the Ceringion formation, close enough that flames licked against his arms. The wave of intense heat drove the Ceringions apart.
Tormjere forced his way into the split. His sword cut through chain and plate alike, leaving a string of mangled bodies behind. It was so much easier than against a demon.
Suddenly, the Ceringions were running. Tormjere cut down the last man before him and took stock of the situation. Burning bodies littered the field, and several of those running were still on fire. He heard Edward and Argus shouting to reform the line and sheathed his sword as he moved back behind the shield wall.
“That will buy us some time at least,” Edward said.
“Bring the wounded to me, quickly,” Shalindra said. “And find Enna.”
Edward stepped close to Tormjere. “Anders’s a good enough scout but he’s no Ranger, and might benefit from the aid of someone with a better eye for the forest.”
Tormjere took a deep breath and settled himself, then let his senses extend through the woods and up the side of the mountain. “I know where he is. I’ll get him.”
Do not be gone long.
I won’t.
Tormjere flew through the trees, up the steepening slope of the side of the mountain. He came upon Anders suddenly, as the man stood watching the horizon from atop a boulder.
“By the arrows of Lithandris, you scared me,” Anders exclaimed as Tormjere jumped up beside him. “Look there, over the trees. I begin to question the wisdom of joining you.”
Tormjere followed Anders’s gaze across the rolling hills. Beyond the retreating Ceringions, clouds of dust rose.
“How many, do you think?”
Anders just shook his head. “All of them?”
“All of them.” Tormjere nodded grimly. “Perhaps the entirety of what was at Tiridon.”
“I think there’s a gap we can use to get beyond the ridge above us, but the horses will have a tough go of it.”
Tormjere looked up the mountain to a wooded area that cut a cleft between two rocky sections, then surveyed the slopes north and south. “It’s no different than the others we’ve tried, but I doubt we’ll find anything better.”
He did not need to return to the others to share the news, because Shalindra already knew.
This is not good.
No, it’s not.
I will tell Edward and start everyone moving.
I’m sending Anders down to mark the lower trail while I check the final climb. If this works, it’s not going to be easy.
If it does not…
* * *
Tormjere stood silently on the rocky ridge, watching the Ceringions push their way up the side of the mountain towards him. There hadn’t been a trail for Edward and Birion’s men to follow, but hundreds of feet had trampled leaves and broken branches to the point that a blind man could have followed them up the mountain. Behind him, the last of the survivors struggled down the opposite side. The treacherous terrain and steep descent had forced them to walk single file and had sent more than one horse plummeting to its death. The front of the column, led by Edward and Shalindra, was now at the bottom of the valley some two miles below. The tail of the column was only a quarter of the way down and would likely not finish their descent before dark.
They had no
option but to press onward, and hope the Ceringions tired of the chase. There were too many people to simply disappear into the woods, and too few to stand their ground against what was coming.
The front of the Ceringion line came to a stop a hundred yards below Tormjere’s vantage point. Their trailbreakers had probably seen him—he wasn’t making any effort to hide.
They’re getting close.
There is a small river in the bottom of the valley. Edward is taking us to that outcropping on the far side. He thinks we will all fit.
I see it. It’s a good choice, but only defensible from two sides. We need to move faster.
The ridge on the far side of this valley looks lower than what we have already crossed over. If we can regroup near the river tonight, then make it over the next ridge tomorrow, we might—
A familiar sensation carried to him like a flash of heat from a fire, interrupting their thoughts. Tormjere’s attention shifted back to the Ceringions. He still couldn’t see anything through the trees, but that feeling was unmistakable.
Demon.
Here? I cannot get to you before it does. You must flee.
It will catch our tail if I do, and then we’ll be fighting it uphill.
He cast about for anything that might give him some advantage, but there was nothing about the terrain that would help against a creature that size. He needed a way to distract it, or to gain control of…
I know what you intend, and it frightens me. Should it not work…
If it does, we’ll gain the time we need.
Trees snapped and toppled as the demon forced its way towards him at a seemingly unhurried pace that left the Ceringions around it running to keep up. It was difficult to get a clear view through the branches, but this creature was easily the equal of the largest demon they had faced. Those bits of the dull, reddish skin he could see were heavily muscled, and the rumble of its steps could be felt through the stone.
If you were to lead it down here, we might be able to—
There isn’t time. Just keep them moving.
He stepped into the middle of the pass and waited.
Far below in the valley, Shalindra could do little but worry. She had been foolish to think that she could walk away from her family, foolish to believe they could escape a war that had officially ended. Yet everyone here had chosen to follow her. She had promised to lead them to safety, but there had been only more fighting. She turned away from the soldiers walking past her, afraid that she would see blame in their eyes.
Panicked shouts issued from the pass far above them. There was no clash of steel, no shouted commands, just the tortured screams of men dying. Everyone in the valley turned towards the sound. She closed her eyes, seeking his vision and his thoughts, but his mind had become opaque, and there was nothing.
The sounds of combat ceased as suddenly as they had begun, and she felt the barest hint of the desperate gamble he intended. Her head snapped back towards the pass.
Do not!
There’s no other way. Trust Honarch. I’ll find you.
A final, enraged roar echoed through the valley, then all was silent.
Shalindra clenched her hands in helpless frustration. It was out of her control now, and she could only pray he had made the right choice. She lifted her gaze, searching the heavens for Her Mistress, but it was the time of the new moon, and Her light was nowhere to be found.
Watch over him, Eluria, wherever he has gone.
Epilogue
The glade was oval and perfect, the trees surrounding it carefully nurtured into the correct shape and size over centuries of care. In the center was a curved pool edged with stones carved to match the phase of the moon. Overhead, the full moon shone bright in a sea of stars, unobstructed by roof or branch.
Elothlirial knelt in the grass, gazing at the celestial bodies reflected in the placid waters of the pool. Hers was a youthful face with fine features that could have been painted on her smooth skin. Not a touch of color marred the pale hair that fell straight past her shoulders, the purity and smoothness of its cascade broken only by the tips of her upswept ears. Her robes were of a translucent white and silver with a hint of the palest green, and of such a fine material that they seemed to float about her slender frame. She might have been considered beautiful were it not for her eyes, which were as pure and cold as the moon itself.
Leythen entered the glade, wearing the traditional white and silver of one who had committed himself to Elurithlia. He moved with the all the grace an elf should, though his steps were a heartbeat’s faster than was normal. Elothlirial stood in a smooth, graceful motion, the thin set of her lips the only hint of her current mood.
“Are the rumors true?” she asked in the melodic tongue of Ildalarial.
“Yes, Manalathlia,” Leythen answered. “A human woman has claimed Altath Suralia as her own.”
Her features remained composed, but her eyes burned in fury. “They should never have been entrusted with something so precious. One wonders if any of their race can stay true to the promises they make. And the rest?”
“Of the urtrifornu, we remain uncertain. None of our emissaries were able to observe them nor approach closely enough to discover any traces.”
“More lies, then.”
“There exists enough evidence that the claims should not be discarded.”
“If urtrifornu were present then the fools in Actondel would have been destroyed. They could barely survive the goblins that burned so many of their towns. Their civilization has little to defend against such creatures, and still they seek to call them forth.”
“What of the changes?” he asked, looking to the sky. “Might they be connected somehow?”
Elothlirial paused. Yes, she had seen and felt them, as had they all. “If there were urtrifornu, and if this human girl fought them.”
“And the reports that another wields Her weapon also?”
She brushed the thought aside. “Humans will tell any story to make themselves sound more important. They presume much and forget more. Where is it now?”
“They have taken it over the mountains. Valtilaniar’s last missive suggested that it was destined for the city called Fallhaven, but they instead turned west from the settlement of Evermen’s Forge and have continued through the Mindenwood for some days.”
“I despise that squalid human scar on the forest as much as any, but that makes little sense, even for them.”
“I can notify our followers in Silvalaria and perhaps locate a suitable ally.”
“Lithandris holds more sway with our wilder kin,” she said. “To solicit their aid at this point would bring complications.”
She took a tiny step forward, maintaining her alignment with the moon’s reflection. “And Ennathalerial? What has become of my daughter?”
“We were able to locate the signs she left us and believe she followed them over the mountains.” He hesitated. “It is also believed that she is the only member of the delegation left alive.”
“Then the humans have more crimes to answer for. She will not forget why she is there and what she is to do.”
“Perhaps our Woodswardens could aid her in the recovery?”
She shook her head. “No. While I have little doubt of their success it would attract notice. Let this human girl have the illusion of victory, if it pleases her. In time, she will be forced to seek us out, and then we shall set things right.”
The fine lines of her brow creased. “She will be Guardian only if I allow it.”
Map
MEET THE AUTHOR
David A. Godwin was born in Tennessee, during a simpler era when daydreaming was still allowed. Though successful in a number of more practical pursuits, he prefers to spend his time exploring made-up worlds filled with magical creatures
and endless possibilities, and is often observed in deep conversation with his imaginary friends.
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FIRST EDITION
Edited by Marissa van Uden
Cover and Interior Art by David Godwin
Medallion Design by David Godwin with Victoria Griffin
Medallion Artwork by BZN Studio Designs