Empire of Dirt: (Echoes of Fate: Book 2)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  “So Atilan, Naius, Paldora… all the gods are just above us? In some other realm?”

  “Yes, and they cannot return. The Veil remained on this side of the gateway, stranding them. There were instances in the past where their influence was evident, but none more so than Valanis. He is proof that they have some reach in Verda.”

  “So the Dragorn are supposed to protect The Veil?” Gideon frowned. “Shouldn’t you have just destroyed it?”

  “We tried for years but it was resistant to all our efforts, even dragon’s breath. The Veil can only be undone by the magic that created it.”

  “The pools of Naius…” Gideon said.

  “The very place. The Dragorn searched for Kaliban, but the highest peaks of the slumbering mountains are not an easy place to explore. Eventually,” Adriel glanced at Mournblade, Elandril’s fabled sword, “it was decided that we would instead keep it safe, so that no one could ever bring them back.”

  Gideon was putting everything together. “Adilandra told me that Valanis found the pools. That’s how he became so powerful.”

  “Yes, he succeeded where so many of us had failed. The pools of Naius created a bridge between him and the others; their influence undeniable. He started the Dark War for them.”

  “I thought he wanted the gem? Paldora’s.”

  “The gem was needed to help control the magic of Naius, but his true goal is to locate The Veil and open the gateway. If Atilan and the others were allowed to return, they would wreak chaos across all of Verda. They wouldn’t stop until all bowed to them and the dragons were in chains, the secret to immortality theirs.”

  “So where is it?” Gideon asked, looking from Adriel to Ilargo. “Where’s The Veil?”

  Adriel took a long breath. “In a safe place…”

  33

  Savages

  Alidyr stepped through the portal with Nakir and instantly felt the magic resonating from Syla’s Gate. It was foreboding not just in its incredible size but that of the sealing wards that covered the surface. The elf wanted to reach out and touch it, but the sound of the Darkakin could not be ignored. Their war horns and drums echoed inside the canyon, accompanying the thunderous march and guttural chanting.

  “You have spoken with these savages?” Nakir didn’t appear impressed.

  “I have been courting them for years. Mind your tongue, Nakir; they are easily offended.”

  “You mean they’re always looking for a fight…”

  Alidyr recognised the albino Overlord Kett, with half a head of white, blond hair and a muscled body layered in red tattoos. The Overlord rode up astride a giant lizard common in Ayda’s southern lands.

  “The way is shut!” Kett shouted over the roar of his army. “We have travelled a hard road for this fight, ancient one. We want to fight!”

  Alidyr couldn’t find the words at the sight of four cave trolls being dragged alongside the army, laden with thick chains. The lumbering beasts towered over the army and protested with every step, but the Darkakin continued to probe them with spears, pushing them on.

  “Where did you find them?” Alidyr asked in a harsh tone.

  Overlord Kett glanced back at the black trolls and sneered. “They are mine now.”

  “But where did you get them?” Alidyr tried to keep the concern out of his voice, but he already knew what Kett was going to say.

  “These mountains are filled with such beasts.” The Overlord held up his hand and the entire army of savages came to a stop. “They serve me now.”

  “The Undying Mountains?” Nakir looked beyond Kett to the canyon walls.

  Alidyr stepped closer to the giant lizard. “Do not disturb these mountains. There are things that live deep in the rock that should remain there.”

  Kett puffed out his chiseled torso. “The Darkakin fear nothing!”

  “You’ve never seen an orc…” Nakir commented casually.

  “A what?”

  Alidyr raised his hand to halt the conversation. “Prepare your forces to storm the gate. We will open it.”

  “Be quick elf.” Kett turned his reptilian mount around. “My men haven’t killed anything for many days.”

  Alidyr watched the Overlord ride away and turned to Nakir, who was giving him a knowing look from behind his half-mask and hood. “What they lack between their ears they make up for in numbers.”

  “Their numbers will be for naught if we cannot open Syla’s Gate…”

  Alidyr took a lasting look at the ten-thousand strong amassing in the canyon and strode towards the gate. The old iron felt alive under his touch, as if the metal was moving. The elves split up, taking a door each, and planted both hands against the symbols and glyphs. Alidyr prayed to Naius and poured his magical will into the gate, drawing on every crystal in his possession. His white robes glowed with all the crystals tucked away, as did Nakir’s dark armour and cloak.

  The brothers pushed their will into the gate and felt its expanse absorbing their efforts, spreading their energy too thin. Nakir began to growl and roar at the gate as he forced every bit of his magic into it. Alidyr could feel the sweat collecting on his brow and his hair sticking to his temples. There was no counterspell or enchantments designed to halt their efforts, just an enormous amount of magic.

  An image flashed before Alidyr’s eyes, burning his mind with the terrifying visage of Garganafan, the ancient king of the dragons. Before his demise in the final battle of Elethiah, at the end of the Dark War, the great dragon must have assisted Lady Syla and the elders in sealing the gate. This was a detail Alidyr had not been privy to.

  Alidyr ceased his barrage and stepped back, taking in the enormous gate. Nakir did the same and approached his brother with a heaving chest. They were both feeling drained.

  “Dawn is upon us…” Nakir looked up, to the top of the eastern canyon and observed the faint light creeping over the stars, fading their beauty.

  “This gate has been sealed by more than just elves,” Alidyr replied. “Dragon magic has been used.”

  “I felt it too. Garganafan’s breath stains the iron.” Nakir stepped back and uncoiled his famous whip. Somewhere between anger and curiosity, the elf lashed out at the gate and struck it with the three sharpened prongs.

  Alidyr had seen that whip crack steel and split iron in half. Syla’s Gate didn’t have so much as a scratch.

  Nakir examined his whip as if it were broken before looking to his brother for council. “Valanis is expecting us to open these gates…”

  “No, brother. Our master is expecting us to provide passage for the Darkakin.”

  Nakir looked back at the savages before facing Alidyr again. “You cannot mean what I think you do. We are perhaps the most powerful elves in the world, but even we cannot open and maintain a portal big enough and long enough to fit ten thousand Darkakin through!”

  “And yet we will, because Valanis demands it. The gods demand it.” Alidyr raised his hand to get the attention of Overlord Kett.

  “The portals will drain us!” Nakir protested in hushed tones.

  Alidyr blinked slowly. “Just stay alive and they will remain open.”

  “Staying alive in a battle won’t be easy with my energy being sapped, brother. And what of the princess and her companion? Both of them have the power to close portals or at least make things harder!”

  Alidyr knew his brother had a point there. Valanis had always taught them to never underestimate their opponent. The ancient elf looked up at the gate and let his strategic mind go to work.

  “Open your portal up there, atop the gate,” Alidyr commanded. “The Darkakin will flood the top and move down the scaffold. The portals will be safe up there.”

  Alidyr put his fingers into the pouch on his belt and felt the crystals therein. He only had two remaining, but that was all would need; one to get up there and keep the portal open, and another to get off the gate again.

  Nakir appeared to consider his brother’s plan. “Fine. But you will have to tell Kett that his
trolls can’t go…”

  34

  Calamity

  Reyna parried two oncoming attacks and was thankful for her superior strength over men, as she whipped her leg around and cracked both soldiers across the jaw, sending them flying into the fray. The elf reserved her magic for the moments where her scimitar wouldn’t save her life, but was loath to use it in such crowded conditions. The same applied to her magnificent bow. The princess wanted to unleash the weapon and reduce the dark-cloaks as quickly as possible, but the arrow would no doubt take the lives of plenty of owls or even some of Kail’s soldiers.

  Looking to her right, Reyna could see that Glaide and Asher were tiring, along with the owls and many of the dark-cloaks had even slowed down. If it weren’t for their numbers, Reyna was sure her elven stamina would have her kill them all. She refused to accept that the sharp pain in her sides and joints was exhaustion, however.

  The light of dawn was usually a comforting and inspiring view for Reyna, but right now it just reminded her how long they had been fighting. The fires were still burning and the air had filled with smoke and the disgusting aroma of blood and other bodily fluids, that her elven nose couldn’t ignore.

  A dark-cloak came for her from behind a staggering horse, surprising the elf. There was no time to fall into a defensive stance however, as Bale of the Oakbreaker clan picked the attacker up and rammed him into the side of the horse, bringing all three of them down. The barbarian headbutted the soldier repeatedly until he became very still. Bale stood up laughing and shouting to Krayt, the god of war. Reyna wanted to thank him but the sight of his work took any words from her mouth.

  The constant fighting had distracted her from the thought of Nathaniel and Faylen, who were somewhere in the chaos of it all. She knew both were of a skill above the average fighter, but this kind of fighting was new to all of them. Even Asher had avoided battle on this scale, though the ranger appeared to be doing just fine. His green cloak was stained and heavy with the blood of others, but his broadsword never faltered.

  “Reyna!” Asher was looking at her with concern marring his haggard features.

  The princess didn’t realise until too late that the ranger was in fact looking past her, to the dark-cloak. Her scimitar came up to spear the man, but Asher’s silvyr short-sword spun past her head and found its end in his face.

  That focused the elf.

  Reyna ducked and swivelled as she weaved between the various swords, before performing an exotic manoeuvre that had her scimitar claim the lives of three dark-cloaks and the hand of a fourth. Asher stumbled past her and retrieved his silvyr blade from the dead man’s face, his blood running down the runes that lined the short-sword. The ranger’s injuries were apparent with only a cursory glance. For all his skill, avoiding this many attacks was simply impossible.

  “Asher…” Reyna approached him with caution, seeing the wild look in his eye.

  The ranger’s face was cut in several places and his left eye appeared smaller than the right. His leather armour had taken a beating, with slashes on almost every panel; some had been impaled and seeped blood. What was left of his green cloak was dirty and tattered and streaked with the blood of others. Following Asher’s wild gaze, the princess found some wounds of her own, with a particularly nasty gash above her bracer, below the elbow. The more she thought about it, there were several parts of her body that ached and stung.

  The reprieve was short, with another cluster of dark-cloaks fighting their way through a group of owls towards them. Glaide was working his way towards them, but the ranger appeared in a worse condition to Asher. His long, tanned coat was weighing him down now and his dark skin was glistening with blood and fresh cuts.

  “Look!” The call came from somewhere in the fray and was followed by more calls to look.

  Reyna and Asher glanced to the sky, as much of the fighting came to a stop, and gaped at the spectacle in the cloudless blue above. A red streak, brighter than the sun, slowly flew over the desert. It was a sight none had ever seen during the day.

  “Paldora’s star…” Reyna whispered, her expression vacant in awe and exhaustion.

  Asher turned to her, his own expression somewhat grave and confused. “What did the prophesy say about this?”

  “Paldora’s celestial gem graces daylight sky, and in its beauty... ordains calamity.”

  Asher grunted. “I’d say it’s about a day too late for that message.”

  Reyna was still looking up when her keen eyes caught sight of something other than the streaking comet. “Watch out!” The elf tugged on Asher’s arm and pulled him from the spot that would have become his grave.

  Dozens of spears fell from the sky, plunging into the desert’s hard ground with enough force to keep them standing. Dark-cloaks, owls and Karathan soldiers alike fell under the brutal barrage. With the battle so closely pitched, every thud of a falling spear found a victim.

  “Move away from the gate!” Reyna yelled.

  The fighting on the desert floor had stopped in the mad rush to escape the spears and arrows that followed. Asher grabbed Reyna’s arm and pulled her closer to Syla’s Gate, where the spears and arrows were sparse.

  “Glaide!” Asher called the ranger to him. “Find the others and retreat to Karath.”

  “What’s happening?” Glaide asked, wiping blood from his eyes.

  Asher looked to Reyna who examined the top of the gate where her elven eyes could just make out the figures leaning over the edge.

  “The Darkakin are here…” Asher said. “Find -”

  The ranger stopped when the masses had cleared away from the gate and left the dozens of bodies in the dirt. Bale of the Oakbreaker clan was amid the strewn bodies, on his knees and soaked with blood, with at least five swords and two spears protruding from his thick torso. Both of his axes were buried in the limbs of other dead bodies and his expression was one of glee. There was no time to mourn or even say a decent word for the barbarian, however.

  “Find Faylen and Nathaniel,” Asher continued. “Get everyone back to the city!”

  “Karath will not hold the Darkakin at bay,” Reyna offered.

  Asher looked away for a second. “Then take everyone north. The road to Alborn is safe and the Velian army will give the Darkakin something to think about. You’ll be safe there.”

  Reyna thought about King Rengar and wondered how accurate that assumption was. “Where are you going?”

  Asher looked up at the concaved gate.

  “That’s suicide!” Reyna protested.

  “There’s nothing to be gained up there!” Glaide added.

  “They haven’t opened the gate,” Asher pointed out. “That means Alidyr and Nakir are using other methods to get them through.”

  Reyna knew from the way the ranger was looking at her that he was suggesting magical assistance. “They’ve opened a portal…”

  “Well either that or the Darkakin brought some really big ladders.” Asher was busy ripping off a strip of his cloak and stuffing it into a gash in his armour, stemming the trickle of blood running down his back.

  “At least they can’t open the gate,” Glaide commented.

  Asher looked out at the fleeing forces. “It won’t make any difference if there’s nobody to push back.”

  Reyna tore her eyes from the comet and frowned at Asher. “So what do you mean to do up there? Besides getting yourself killed that is.”

  “Close the portal.” The ranger swung his broadsword round, but Reyna could see that he was really testing the strength in his arm.

  “You mean to kill Alidyr.”

  “And Nakir if I can.” Asher was already turning for the lift at the base of the scaffold.

  “And how are you going to do that without the only weapon that can kill them?” Reyna removed the black bow from her back.

  Asher patted the tip of Alidyr’s short-sword at the base of his back. “I’ve got one of my own.”

  Reyna dashed in front of the ranger. “You’re going to
need range if you’re to kill them all.”

  Glaide frowned and rubbed his head. “You’re talking as if he’s actually going to get up there alive.”

  Indeed, the Darkakin’s wild howls could be heard descending the scaffolding on both sides now.

  Asher met Reyna’s green eyes. “I’m not taking you with me.”

  The princess raised her eyebrow. “No. I’m taking you.” Reyna turned to Glaide. “Find Nathaniel and Faylen and make sure they’re safe.” The princess didn’t even want to consider if they were still alive; they simply had to be. Any other outcome would cripple her.

  Asher had some lasting words for Glaide. “Tauren son-of-none will not lightly abandon the city. Make him see sense, Jonus.” The two patted each other on the shoulder.

  “Just survive, old man.” Glaide ran to the east and curved round the mountains to find his way back to the masses without running into spears.

  Elf and man hopped over the railing, though Reyna took note of Asher’s pain as he did. After a whole night of fighting there couldn’t be much left in him. The cries of warring Darkakin narrowed her focus, reminding the princess that her survival was less than likely.

  “Without anyone on the pulley, we will have to take the stairs…” Reyna could only imagine what energy either of them would have after such a climb.

  “I had a quicker path in mind…”

  The princess looked at the taut ropes that Asher was examining on the other side of the lift. “You can’t be serious? If you cut those we’ll go up so fast our heads will become buried in the ceiling!” Reyna leaned out of the lift and looked up, where the counterweights sat at the top of the gate.

  “We’ll survive.”