Teeg Cin Fair closed his eyes.
CHAPTER 25: WHIRLWIND
SCRIBES RUSHED IN amongst the Elves and the effect was like a wind scattering newly fallen leaves. The members of the Delvin order carried no weapons save their hands. They dashed forward to fill gaps in the Elven line, grabbing any item they found and instantly making it lethal. They plucked discarded and broken weapons from the ground or the bodies of the fallen. They expertly wielded cleavers, clubs, pikes and swords. Each gray robed man who snatched a weapon from the ground displayed immediate expertise in its most deadly use. The surging wave of Ulrog abruptly halted and Scribes plunged in amongst the stone men without a care for their own safety.
“Fire!” shouted Woil the Lamentation. “Douse them in fire!”
Granu hammered the flanks of his blood red Brodor. The beast lunged forward toward the center of the line of giants. The king of the Keltar rose on the Brodor’s back, high above the battlefield. Many an eye locked on the sovereign of the giants. He leveled the mighty sword of the House of Grannak at the red-eyed Malveel two hundred yards behind the Ulrog line.
“To me giants of Keltar! To me Black Riders of the Wind! To me Keepers of the Book of Delvi!” came the terrible roar of the giant. “At the Beast!”
Viday Shan dropped from the sky, rolled once then snapped to his feet in a crouch. He discarded two Rimshar tubes to the floor of the grasslands and two long, curved daggers popped from beneath his cloak.
Viday and his brethren heard the giant’s call to arms. The Borz flooded forward into the ranks of the stone men slashing and dodging as they went. The beast’s hides proved tough, but the Borz trained their assassins to find the most damaging and vulnerable spots on an enemy’s body.
Viday ducked a clumsily thrown cleaver and scrambled low, ripping a blade across the back of the assailant’s knee. The stone man howled in rage and tumbled to the ground. In a moment, a hammer-wielding giant brought his great, iron rimmed weapon down on the prostrate Hackle’s head, sending the beast from this world.
Samot leapt past the blood red Brodor, dodged a pike thrust then spun the weapon from the owner’s hand and used it to skewer the Hackle. Five of the beast’s brethren lunged toward Samot, but the Scribe’s face showed no concern. He ripped the pike from the body of the fallen Hackle then stood confidently before his assailants, spinning and thrusting the weapon in a blur.
A cleaver jumped from an Ulrog’s hand and spun through the air, landing thirty yards from the creature. The Hackle balked then stumbled toward the weapon, but a flip and turn from the Scribe and black, oily blood streamed from a large wound in the stone man’s belly.
Granu’s mount finally met the bulk of the resistance. Its armor clanged loudly as the Brodor slammed into the huddled masses of stunned Ulrog. The black blade of Stormbreaker swept the air in wide arcs, sparking off the stony hides of the Ulrog. The Hackles clawed and scrambled over one another to retreat from the mad giant.
In the distance, the Malveel roared in anger and rushed forward.
“Steady,” shouted Manfir.
“Hold steady.”
The call echoed down the line by multiple commanders.
The Ulrog line parted as fighting Hackles, priests and trackers fought to remove themselves from the path of darkness. It loomed just beyond the Ulrog and crept toward Manfir. The Zodrian king slowly discerned the individual shapes of creatures in the darkness. At their head towered an enormous being. It absorbed all light around it. Red fire crackled within a body of blackness and a crown of flame danced above its brow. The being raised a gigantic sword of pulsing fire and pointed it at the heart of the human army.
“Manfir of Zodra. I claim this world as my own,” boomed the voice of Amird. “Lay down your weapons and become my slaves, or die at the hands of my Army of Darkness.”
Manfir clenched his teeth and chucked the flanks of the Black. The big horse trotted a dozen yards past the Zodrian line then halted.
“Amird the Deceiver. I may be king, but I will command no man to commit to slavery. I speak only for myself. My response to you is never. Never will I submit to you. Never will I allow this world to fall into your hands.”
Amird’s eyes flashed with fire.
“Then you seal your fate,” snarled the Lord Of Chaos. “I will destroy every last ...”
The sound of hundreds of hoof beats stayed the Deceiver’s words. Amird’s red eyes jumped to the southern horizon where the Elven host of Forend thundered from the open gateway of Delvi upon the backs of the Eru herd.
Manfir watched as well. He turned back to the Deceiver.
“Fate is a tricky animal,” shouted Manfir. “Those who believe they harness it, often find it a difficult beast to master.”
The fair Elves of Forend rushed northward, sword and bow at the ready. The light of the sun showed on them. They radiated its brilliance. Kael led the Elves from atop Tarader. In his hand the boy clutched the Needle of Ader and the blade glowed with a blue plume of fire that magnified its size. The firelight washed over him and mingled with the brilliance of the Elves. The host came alive with blue flame. The Army of Light arrived.
Nostr stood atop the wall of Delvi. He turned and grimly smiled at Yully.
“I looked and there before me was a pale horse! Its rider was named Death and the path to Hell was following closely behind him. He was given power to kill by sword and flame,” quoted the Prelate. “The Book of Yully; Chapter 1. Verse 1. ”
“Now we have seen the last ofmy visions,” smiled the old Zodrian general. “The future holds mystery for us both.”
“Come, let us join this fight, so we might hold sway in an uncertain outcome,” smiled Nostr.
The Prelate turned to descend from the city’s wall. Yully bowed then placed a hand on Nostr’s shoulder stopping the Ulrog in his tracks.
“From the day I was a young man cutting wood in the Nagur and ordered by Master Hilro to go to Delvi, to this day where we prepare to stand toe to toe against Amird the Deceiver, I have been nothing but fully committed to our cause,” said Yully. “However, a lifetime of fighting, laughing and loving a people, while you are a hidden spy amongst them, will affect even the most committed of servants. If my master will allow, I wish to fight alongside the Guardians of Zodra.”
Nostr’s hand rose and he clasped the shoulder of Yully with a firm embrace of friendship.
“I deny you nothing on this day, my friend,” stated Nostr. “You earned all of your wishes. May Avra protect you.”
The Prelate of Delvi and his most trusted advisor rushed down from the wall and onto the field of battle.
Manfir spun toward his army.
“Support positions,” he called. “Keep these Hackles from the flanks of the Elves. Give them room to work.”
Immediately, the human army split in two, creating a wide corridor for Kael and his charging cavalry. The Ulrog on either side of the battlefield remained in the disarray caused by their attempt to flee the approaching Memnod. They scrambled and clawed to get past one another even more furiously as Manfir’s army hammered into them.
Amird remained focused on the charging Army of Light.
“Leave the useless humans to the stone men! Our task is the Elves and the new Seraph!” spat the Deceiver with disdain.
The Memnod arrayed behind him remained stationary.
“Sulgor!” roared Amird. “Get your army under control and teach them the glory of fighting in Amird’s name, or I will teach them the fear of it!”
Immediately a wave of red flame shot up from behind the Ulrog line as Sulgor the Magnificent drove his Hackles back at the Zodrian Guard.
“Elves of Forend, notch arrows!” shouted Kael and he raised the Needle of Ader even higher over his head.
The cavalry of Elves raised their bows and nocked arrows. They rushed within two hundred yards of Amird and the Memnod.
“Aim!” bellowed Kael.
Amird roared and his body erupted with red flame.
�
�The physical matter of this world has no hold on the life force of the Memnod, fool!” shouted the demon.
Kael’s blue flame plumed skyward from his blade. It arced up and over his head nearly fifty yards high, creating a shimmering sheet of incendiary power.
“Fire!” shouted the boy and hundreds of tightly strung bows let out a deep strum as hundreds of deadly missiles sprang from hundreds of Elven bows.
The arrows shot into the sky, ripped through the wall of blue flame and ignited with their own aura of fire.
The arrows arced up and over the gap between the two armies then plunged like shooting stars toward the stunned figure of Amird the Deceiver and down into the mass of seething Memnod.
The flaming bolts struck the Memnod and stuck to the creatures, igniting the very substance of which they were made. The creations of Drengel the Conjuror tore at the arrows in a futile attempt to remove them. The blue flame intensified.
Granu tumbled from his saddle to the hard packed earth. Pain seared through his many injuries and his breath came in short, painful bursts. Nagret the Shadow was upon him. The claws of the great beast raked at the giant from above.
Granu spun and crawled from the Malveel, scrambling across the ground on his hands and knees. Nagret roared in anger and frustration.
“Die Keltaran! You will die!”
Granu reached his discarded blade, snatched it from the ground and raced further across the trembling earth.
All about him giants and Ulrog alike fled from the flame and fury of the Malveel lord. Wherever Granu scrambled, a large opening appeared in the fighting. The Keltaran king sensed the Malveel closing on him. He spun and clutched the sword of the House of Stormbreaker on high.
The Malveel was there, only a dozen yards behind. The beast rose on its hind legs and the flames of Chaos engulfed its razor tipped claws. Nagret’s eyes pulsed with the evil energy and flame cascaded toward the Abbott.
Suddenly, a green globe of ball lightning rolled from the heavens and engulfed the Keltaran king. It swirled about him sparking off his great black blade and infusing his body with power. His lungs filled with cool, sweet air and his limbs flexed with energy.
A calm reassuring voice entered his head and at once Granu knew it was that of Awoi, the Heart of Avra.
“Find strength ....”
Sulgor the Magnificent bulled his way through the sea of Ulrog. His powerful forearms launched them back into the battle. Those Hackles he could not reach turned from the red intensity of his eyes and rushed back into the fray.
“Now is not the time to cower, dogs!” shouted the first of the Chosen. “Your Lord Amird arises from the mists and victory rises with him!”
Fear of the Malveel king combined with awe in the presence of their ultimate master bolstered the black hearts of many Ulrog. The frenzy of the fight grew and the Ulrog rallied.
Sulgor gnashed his teeth and raked a Zodrian guardsman from the back of a stallion. How could this boy stand toe to toe with Amird the Deceiver?
The Malveel king swept his vision across his own battlefield. The fight hung in the balance. Neither side made significant progress against the other. Suddenly, he noted movement near the rear of his Hackles. A stone man turned and lumbered north, away from the battle. Then another. Sulgor’s mind raged. The fools fled at the sight of Amird locked in battle with a mere boy. The frenzy left them and doubt clouded their minds.
Sulgor needed to turn this tide, but could not use his old ally, fear. Too many Hackles fled and too little time remained to range the line and intimidate them. Now was a time for action. If he could affect a dramatic shift in his own battle it might carry across the war.
A shout from the south brought Manfir of Zodra into Sulgor’s focus. The Zodrian king led a charge of pike men into a mass of fighting Hackles. The death of Manfir would certainly temper the fervor of the human army.
Sulgor quickly scanned his surroundings and noted the presence of a large Hackle moving toward him. The creature did not wear the red robes of an Ulrog priest, but the sheer number of symbols carved across its massive body marked the beast as a Hackle of significance.
“Priest,” snapped the Magnificent. “Arm yourself. You will join me in glory today as we salvage victory for Amird.”
The Hackle continued to move toward Sulgor’s side as it dipped toward the ground and retrieved a massive club of stone. Sulgor turned and searched the battle for Manfir.
“We will kill the king of Zodra and the tide of battle will shift in our direction,” stated the Malveel as his eyes locked on Manfir. “Ready yourself and gather Hackles to our banner as we attack. Understand?”
There was no reply. Sulgor spun in irritation and his eyes fell upon the stone club hefted high above the head of the stone man. The cruel scars branded into the hide of every Ulrog priest crisscrossed the beast’s arms. One such scar stood out from the others.
Sulgor’s red eyes widened in fear and shot down to look into the face of the stone man. Red eyes met a pair of calm, intense blue.
The Needle of Ader rose to meet the blade of Amird. The flaming sword of the Deceiver stretched nearly twice as long as Kael’s blade. The boy braced for the blow but in an instant Tarader danced from beneath Amird’s weapon. The fiery sword crashed to the ground sending sparks of red dancing into the sky.
“A Seraph?” scoffed the Lord Of Chaos. “A Throne of the Creator? Ha! You are nothing more than a country boy tricked by a traveling charlatan into believing you possess true power.”
Tarader remained calm and backed from the menacing figure. Kael’s eyes locked upon the fiery sword pursuing him.
“I will show you what true power is, boy,” roared Amird. “And it comes from only one source. Chaos.”
The Deceiver’s hand shot out and a ball of red flame ripped through the air toward Kael. The Southlander responded quickly. His own free hand rose and a wall of blue light spread before him. The red orb hit the wall and bounced from it, spinning through the remaining grasses and igniting the prairie.
“I did not return from Forend in order for you to kill me,” growled Kael as he let the wall dissipate. “I come to end your presence on this world.”
A wicked grin played across the Deceiver’s ghostly face as he advanced on the boy.
“Ah yes. Forend,” sneered Amird. “And how did we happen to manage that. Certainly not of our own accord. Did He come to you? Did He help you in the crossing?”
Kael was taken aback by the conversational tone of the Deceiver. Howhad Kael managed that journey? Certainly it was none of his doing, but all through the power of Avra.
“Yes, yes,” smiled Amird, his voice softening. “He came to you. He helped you. Otherwise you would have been lost, not known the way.”
Amird’s blade edged higher.
“He aided you in a task those of true power perform at their whim.”
Amird’s free hand joined the other on the pommel of his sword.
“Power possessed by a being like me!” he snapped and brought the smoldering blade down hard on Kael.
The boy reacted, throwing up the wall of blue flame in an instant. However, it was not firmly established and Amird’s blade ripped through as if it were parchment.
Kael’s sword became his only defense. The blades met inches above the boy’s head and sent a scattering of blue and red sparks about the battlefield. Amird levered a tremendous amount of pressure on the boy but miraculously Kael held. The blue flame reformed about him then violently pulsed outward, sending Amird sprawling backward across the field. The Lord of Chaos fought to extinguish the flame that clung to him. Kael took the moment to retreat and reset.
Riel of Forend led the next wave of Elven cavalry toward the heart of the Memnod force. The Elves’ armor gleamed in the sunlight and emitted a silvery reflection from the heavenly light playing on its surface.
“For Avra!” shouted the captain.
The Elves ripped silver blades, forged in the furnaces of Forend, from sheaths and th
rust them aloft. The steel mixed with the air and sparked with a white, electric fire.
“Army of Light!” commanded Riel. “Purge this world of the stain of Chaos!”
The Elves rushed forward into the Memnod blackness. Flame exploded as the red fire of Chaos mixed with the white charge of the Elves. Shouts of agony and roars of fury rolled from the battle. Claws of darkness ripped from inside the Memnod, snatching Elves from the backs of horses and sending them to be trampled beneath the darkness.
Silver blades slashed through blackness, shredding it and disintegrating the creatures formed of its essence.
“A small victory,” heaved Amird as he rose, “but you will not win this war. Look about you. Even now my Ulrog and Memnod outnumber your forces ten to one.”
Kael remained focused on the Deceiver. He dare not let the words distract him. Amird rushed forward, slamming a wall of red flame into the boy. The pulse threw Kael backward, but the shimmering blue wall protected him from injury. Amird’s sword plunged at the wall. Kael concentrated and strengthened the point of impact. The blue light halted Amird’s stab, but Kael strained to hold the power intact.
“Why do you choose this fight?” roared Amird as he circled on the boy, unleashing fire and a rain of heavy blows. “Why do you choose to die in the name of a Creator who let your poor mother slip away?”
Kael’s eyes widened. His breath grew rapid. He fought to maintain his concentration. Amird laughed and continued the onslaught.
“Look about you,” snarled the beast. “Avra created a trifle with which he delights in play. Would a truly benign being allow such agony and terror to enter his world? Would a truly benign being allow those you love to be snatched away, never to be seen again?”
Kael’s eyes darted across the battlefield. Injured Zodrians lay next to the bodies of fallen stone men. Crimson flames raced amongst the charging force of the Elves of Forend. Riders fell to the Memnod who in turn fell to the flaming arrows of the army of light. Chaos covered the world and engulfed it.
The Mirror And The Maelstrom (Book 4) Page 25