The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4)

by Daniel McHugh

  “The giant rouses,” mused the Prelate Nostr. “I thought the death of his brother doused the flame of faith within his belly, but a second death reignites it. He holds the potential to upset the course of action. If Granu Stormbreaker acts prematurely, many of our forces may be destroyed.”

  “Do not underestimate those arrayed around him, my lord,” returned Yully. “They may stay Granu’s hand and give Him enough time to return.”

  Another roar arose from the grounds below as the Keltaran mobilized to put the thoughts of their king into action. Nostr frowned.

  Manfir, Cefiz and Brelg moved through the encampment at a quick pace. The Zodrian king’s face was tightly drawn. The trio passed amongst the Keltaran Anvil unnoticed. The giants rushed about in a frenzy of activity. They sharpened axe and fitted Brodors with armor. A singular purpose motivated them.

  Granu stood beneath a canvas canopy surrounded by his military advisors. Brother Shor was the only giant to notice the Zodrians approach. Manfir could control himself no longer.

  “This is utter folly,” barked the Zodrian king as he halted before Granu.

  A dozen pairs of eyes locked on the heaving form of Manfir. Granu rose to his full height and crossed his arms.

  “We endured centuries of our own folly, Manfir,” returned Granu slowly. “This is an end to it. We will control our own destiny and not allow Amird to choose the time and place of our deaths.”

  “But you need not die,” replied Manfir. “We must remain united. We must act as a unit.”

  Granu narrowed his eyes.

  “United. What has unification brought us?” scoffed the giant. “Our beloved homeland lost. Those we love, dead. Unification turned us into the private army of a boy from the Southlands. Flair shows tremendous ability to lead, but the Anvil of Keltar will be led no longer. We go forth to set our own destiny.”

  “Flair was divinely led,” stated Manfir. “Without him this would have ended in a bloodbath atop the Bear’s Knuckles. He united the peoples of this world under one banner. He diverted the Ulrog from conquering the south. We owe that boy a great debt.”

  “Yes, it is true the city of Zodra once again escaped harm,” snarled Granu. “Perhaps Amird takes part in protecting the jewel in his crown. No matter. The Keltaran care not. It is time to stop arguing amongst ourselves as to the best strategy and to do what we are called to do. It is time to fight in the name of Avra! We are the Army of Avra. With his banner at our head and our bellies filled with faith, we are invincible!”

  Manfir began a protest, but was halted by Brelg’s hand upon his shoulder. The Zodrian king turned to see the approach of a dozen figures across the Delvin courtyards.

  “You did not inform us of this meeting,” called Temujen smiling. “Surely our input must be heard on the plans of our people.”

  Nostr stood staring into the swirling black surface of the stone obelisk. His brow knit and his teeth clenched tightly.

  “Prelate, there is something you must see.”

  His concentration broke and the Prelate of the Delvin Scribes turned from the stone to see Yully standing near the exit to the tower’s balcony.

  “I care not what battle formation the Ulrog effect,” stated Nostr coolly. “It will not matter to the outcome of today’s events.”

  Yully cleared his throat.

  “What you must see does not lie to the north, my lord,” said Yully gravely. “It is the south you must spy.”

  Nostr’s face grew distressed and he moved toward the doorway. On the balcony, the Delvi prelate took a moment to survey the confines of the Scribe’s grounds.

  Things had not changed dramatically since his last inspection. The human forces and civilians remained crowded between the towers of Delvi and her outer walls. Eru, Zodrian, Keltaran, Astelan, and Derolian soldiers went about preparation for the coming battle. Civilians of all types interspersed amongst the warriors. The people tried to go through the everyday tasks of normal life.

  The stone man’s eyes drifted past the walls to the north. Fires raged a league distant and the seething forms of a multitude of Ulrog covered several sections of the horizon. The calculating countenance of Nostr did not change.

  He spun and took several powerful strides to the south of the great circular balcony. Yully followed and the pair scanned the shining blue surface of the sea. Upon first inspection the Prelate noted little.

  “To the extreme southeast, my lord,” prompted Yully. “Along the horizon.”

  A second scan awarded Nostr with the information. A dozen patchwork sails of black and gray formed tiny dots barely creeping over the horizon.

  As Nostr stared, the shapes grew and took form. The Delvi Prelate’s stony hands balled into fists and he spoke.

  “Unfortunate. More will lose their lives this day than I anticipated.”

  “Will they arrive before His return?” asked Yully. “Will they produce any effect?”

  “Most certainly,” grumbled Nostr. “The signs are strong but He still requires time. They will certainly reach our shore before that time.”

  Teeg stood on the prow of a long boat captained by Sayid Dubad. He stared at the white towers of Delvi rising in the distance.

  “I see no sign of battle,” stated the Lady Jenpry from behind him.

  The Master of Spies kept his gaze fixed upon the gleaming towers.

  “There is no sign of smoke and the carrion eaters do no gather in the skies,” returned Teeg. “I do believe the winds treat us kindly.”

  “We are too few,” said Hai. “Surely faith sustains a man in trying times, but faith cannot give one rider the ability to face thirty Ulrog.”

  “What are the alternatives?” questioned Granu sternly.

  The group remained silent.

  “There are none,” said the giant in answer to his own question. “We talk and plan and back ourselves further and further into a box of our own creation. I wish to break free!”

  “Then we must break free together,” returned Brelg. “It’s our only hope.”

  “Break free from what?” exclaimed Flair. “We must face the facts. We are too few. Too few trapped on an island awash in a sea of Ulrog!”

  “Then look to the sea for salvation,” smiled Eidyn as he stepped into the circle. “Our numbers grow and the tide turns.”

  The Elf pointed past the white towers of Delvi to the lake. Dozens of small craft approached the shore. A steady wind billowed their sails. Patches of black, white and gray cloth strained against the gusts and drove the roughly constructed craft forward. The sails clung to masts made from the young trees of the Toxkri’s edge. In some cases, moss and lichen still hung from the newly felled timber.

  At the lead boat’s rail stood the rigid form of Teeg Cin Fair. Beside him stood the calm and reassuring presence of the Lady Jenpry.

  “The Grey Elves will be absent no longer,” smiled Eidyn.

  “Nor the Borz,” added Vieri as she stepped beside the Elven prince. “For if I am not mistaken, those sails are woven from the capes of many a Windrider.”

  She dashed from the circle toward the shoreline. Eidyn took one last look at Manfir and Granu then he too raced from the meeting toward the lake. Manfir turned on the giant.

  “Perhaps you are right and we should not wait for the stone men to march upon us,” said the Zodrian king to Granu. “But I am sure you can hold long enough to discover what the waves wash upon the shore.”

  Granu’s expression remained resolute but he nodded in agreement.

  On the balcony above the grounds of Delvi, the Prelate Nostr watched as the flotilla grounded upon his shoreline. Borz, Sprites and Elves poured from the craft and joined the celebration of their arrival. Nostr pondered this development then turned and entered the chamber.

  Cefiz stood apart from the celebration. His eyes froze upon a pair locked in a warm embrace.

  Her joy was obvious. Her eyes danced in delight at the broad smile of the young man and her laugh at their reunion cascaded upon a
ll about her. Cefiz’s head reeled and his heart pumped. Truly she was beautiful. More so now than when she flew to him on the cliff’s edge and delivered him from death at the hands of the Ulrog.

  Her loss upon Tar Hdjmir nearly broke him and her return filled him with such joy he could scarcely believe how much she meant to him. His love for her was nearly overwhelming.

  Cefiz watched as Vieri broke from the arms of the man with a playful push and after a moment fell back into his arms, burying her head in his chest.

  The Zodrian’s teeth ground hard against one another. How could he be such a fool? How could he once again fool himself into love with a woman who gave her heart to another? His brow knit tightly and his cheeks flushed in anger and embarrassment. Was he doomed to lost love? Why did Avra play with him in such a ....

  “She embraces her cousin,” said a calm voice behind Cefiz’s ear.

  The Zodrian turned wide-eyed upon Teeg. The Elf stood a foot from Cefiz’s shoulder, smiling at the red-faced man.

  “She is overjoyed at reunion with her people just as they are overjoyed that she returns to them safely,” continued the Elf. His smile dropped and he grew serious. “But she is about to hear devastating news and could use the shoulder of one who cares more deeply for her than no other.”

  Cefiz turned his eyes back to the reunion. Viday Shan’s expression grew grave and he held Vieri’s shoulders while he stared deeply into her eyes. The woman looked confused by this sudden seriousness. She muttered a question but her cousin interrupted. His lips moved. Nothing could soften the impact.

  Cefiz rushed across the distance.

  Vieri spun from her cousin, horror in her eyes. Rada! Her heart, her world crashed around her. In an instant Cefiz appeared. The Zodrian wrapped her in his arms, saving her just as she saved him on the cliffs of the Scythtar.

  The Lady Jenpry moved through the crowd with Chimbre by her side. A throng gathered to watch the force disembark the boats. Cheers went up. Revelers gathered in the weary Elves and Windriders. Jenpry took no notice of the celebration. Her son strode a half step behind her as they made a purposeful path to the small woman standing frozen amongst the activity, her hands clutching her cloak tightly over her head and close to her features.

  The Lady Jenpry halted before the woman whose head dropped to her chest and body quaked. The delicate hands of the leader of the Sprites rose and slowly pealed back the cloak from about the woman’s face. Those hands moved to the wet cheeks of the sobbing Lilywynn and soothingly wiped away the tears.

  Chimbre moved beside his sister and the trio embraced in a wordless hug. The granddaughter of Sprite returned to her people.

  “They have no idea what awaits them,” commented Nostr coldly from on high. “They embrace as if their reunion will last a lifetime. Little do they know how many of their lives are soon to be cut short. By the time He returns through the obelisk within, they will already be within the throws of annihilation.”

  “Their weakness is a tendency to hold onto emotional connection and material possessions, my lord,” replied Yully the Scribe. “However, if they put it aside at this early stage, they will be every bit as formidable as they can be.”

  The Prelate Nostr raised an eyebrow and pondered the statement of the man he ordered to infiltrate the highest levels of the Zodrian military.

  “I will retire to the chamber,” stated Nostr as he turned and entered the tower. “I would rather He returned sooner than later. There are too many variables at play.”

  The scribes followed their leader into the tower chamber.

  When the door to the balcony closed, a pair of small eyes crept over the edge of the flattened tower’s rooftop. The eyes were uncertain, confused. What had the scribes meant by “His” return? What did the tower contain?

  The eyes drifted to the shoreline and the flotilla grounded there. They inspected the crowd that milled below then danced with delight and settled on a diminutive trio locked in a warm embrace.

  The door below opened quickly and Sprig ducked out of sight.

  “Keep an eye on the armies within our walls,” rumbled the deep voice of Nostr from within the tower. “The time is close and I must be informed of any developments.”

  Yully backed from the opening onto the balcony.

  “Yes, my lord,” stated the old general as he bowed deeply.

  Leinor embraced his son, then stepped back and looked proudly into the Elf captain’s eyes.

  “You represented our people most admirably, Eidyn,” said the king.

  “Thank you, father,” replied Eidyn.

  General Chani stepped forward.

  “Your father and I believe your place is at the head of our forces, my prince.”

  “But general you ...”

  “No,” Chani halted the protest. “This is your battle, Eidyn. You are the best and the brightest. The Elves of Luxlor will follow none other with the kind of passion you instill in our people.”

  Leinor removed the white Almar circlet resting upon his head and placed it upon his son.

  “Lead them well,” smiled Leinor.

  Eidyn bowed deeply. He rose and in one sweeping motion he was on the back of his horse. The host of Grey Elves stacked in ranks behind him followed his example and instantly the Elves of Luxlor stood prepared for battle. Eidyn removed his bow from his back and held it high. He surveyed his army then chucked the flanks of the stallion and the host moved forward as one.

  “The Grey Elves are on the move, my lord,” declared Yully.

  Nostr stared at the face of the obelisk, but his stony hands crunched loudly as he balled them into fists of anger.

  “He should have exited the stone by now,” stated Nostr in frustration.

  “The armies arrayed within our courtyards are quite formidable,” replied Yully. “The addition of the Elves, Sprites and Windriders makes it a dangerous force.”

  “They matter not. All that matters is His return.”

  Nostr spun and strode past Yully onto the wide balcony. He stared down upon the movements below. The Grey Elves slid through the chaos of the courtyards as a determined unit. Eidyn, seated upon a blazing white stallion, shown out like a beacon at their lead.

  “Nostr 6:2,” mumbled the prelate.

  Yully stepped forward, glanced down then whispered the verse his leader referenced.

  “I looked, and there before me was a white horse. Its rider held a bow and he was given a crown, and he rode out as a conqueror bent on conquest.”

  The Keltaran continued their preparations. Many Hammer units had been decimated and staff sergeants quickly assimilated new units from the remnants of the old. Hindle and a group of Keltaran smiths worked feverishly to put a keen edge on blades beaten dull against the stony hides of Ulrog Hackles. Granu inspected their progress as Brother Shor approached. The Keltaran king stepped past a glow of sparks cascading from Hindle’s sharpening wheel.

  “Why is your face fraught with concern?” grinned Granu. “This is just another war with the Ulrog.”

  “That may be the case,” replied the monk. “But this time my friend exposes himself needlessly.”

  Granu’s smile faded and he stared into the monk’s eyes.

  “You are not the man you once were,” continued Shor delicately. “The encounter with your brother leaves you ... handicapped.”

  The monk glanced to the injured leg that Granu favored. The king attempted a weak smile.

  “I will endure,” stated Granu.

  “No, you will not,” replied Shor more strongly. “And you need not. You will not lead the pike men in this battle. Your place is as a leader and a symbol. You will ride into battle. Your injury will affect you less upon the back of a sturdy Brodor.”

  “I will ...”

  Shor ignored the king’s protests, turned and waved. Utecht returned the signal and led a regal beast through the hive of activity. The shaggy Brodor was by far one of the larger of its breed. Its bearing was proud and determined. Granu’s eyes narro
wed in confusion as the mount came closer and he beheld its condition. The chestnut colored Brodor looked as if it stepped from a nightmare. Crimson blood streaked its long, shaggy mane and covered its flanks.

  “This beast stood firm as a Malveel hammered at its rider,” stated Utecht proudly. “I’ve never seen a mount behave more bravely. You can find none like it in our herds.”

  “He suffered no grave injury and appears rested,” added Shor. “We will clean and prepare him for battle.”

  Granu eyed the creature for a moment.

  “No,” said the Keltaran king. “I seek blood for blood. Let his condition be a reminder of my quest.”

  Utecht helped his king into the saddle.

  “The Keltaran,” pointed Samot.

  Nostr watched attendants lead a large Brodor before the armored Keltaran king. The animal’s appearance unsettled him. Streaks of crimson accented its chestnut hue. Its coat blazed red in the sunlight. The Keltaran monarch struggled onto the beast’s back, but once there he grew comfortable and took command. A monk hefted the long black blade of the House of Stormbreaker and handed it to Granu. The king lifted it on high and his Anvil formed into rank. Yully glanced to his superior.

  “Nostr 6:4; Then another horse came out, a fiery red one. Its rider was given power to take peace from the earth and to make enemies slay each other. To him was given a large sword.”

  The Zorian army maintained a rigid command and structure. When officers called for assembly, every man knew his place and every man rushed to that place within seconds. Brelg stood proudly at the front of the ranks as his men filed into position.

  Behind them stood the Borz. Black silk masks and clothes covered the people of the sands. They stood silent and still. The Black trotted before them and Manfir sat upon the horse’s broad back.

  “Today is a celebration,” announced the king to his army. “Today ends the long struggle of our peoples against Amird and his evil. Today, those of you who acted as tools of the Deceiver find redemption. Your actions on this field of battle will lead to your ultimate judgment. Carry yourselves well and receive eternal favor in the eyes of your Creator.”