by Nick McNeil
“I don’t think the citizens know what’s coming,” Edfrid stated.
“Neither do I,” said Bertly tightly. “Maybe it’s best not to cause a citywide panic.”
Bertly’s father snarled and dismissed his comment. “They could have evacuated somewhere. Kept the citizens safe from all of this.”
“There isn’t anywhere to go,” Roderick answered. “After thousands of years without war, we assumed we wouldn’t need the backup castle anymore and turned it into high-end living.”
“Is that not the entire point of a backup? For when you need something that you aren’t expecting?” Before anyone could answer Bertly’s question, Clia tilted back and zoomed vertically into the air, scaling the Lost Tree. The Winter Wizard heard the screams and hollers of the excited elves; he had almost forgotten how rare a gryphon was for most to see.
“How tall is this stupid tree?” Clia soared so high the air felt thinner. “Do they normally use stairs to get to the top?” Bertly yelled.
“No,” Roderick answered with his eyes shut and his hands squeezing onto Bertly. “There is a wooden lift inside.”
“Like the one at Stonebank?” Edfrid said with a chuckle.
“Yes.” Roderick dug his head into Bertly’s back, avoiding the sights and sounds around him.
“I thought you would be used to flying by now, Roderick,” Bertly joked.
The group hovered near the highest point of the canopy. Up close, the sun could be seen through the gaps in the leaves. At the top of the tree was a large carved-out opening spanning the entire width of the trunk. While there were other windows and spaces throughout the tree, this was the only area completely open. Inside were several tables, chairs, and guards. Centered in the middle and close to the edge was an awe-inspiring wooden throne. The carvings were so small and detailed Bertly couldn’t make out what they depicted from afar.
“I don’t think we should land in—” As Roderick began to shout, Clia blitzed her way through the tree opening. She took out half a dozen guards as her claws ground deep into the wooden floor. Despite grinding through most of the hall, the gryphon was able to gain control just before blasting through the wooden throne and the lady who sat on it.
A black-haired woman with lightly tanned skin remained in her chair without as much as a flinch. “That’s the queen.” Roderick’s voice cracked.
Surrounding her were several of the Academy’s Elders. Nearest to the queen was Master Dova. Accompanying them were several elves whom Bertly did not recognize. Their attire was decorative and appeared to be made of a type of silk material. The Winter Wizard presumed they were consultants to the queen. Surrounding the Elders and queen’s consultants stood well-equipped guards. Each had a long bow on his back and a dagger attached to his hip.
“How large is the Rotter army?” the queen asked. “You must have passed the legion on your flight from the forbidden zone.”
“The Decomposite,” Master Dova added.
Bertly looked around, waiting for someone to make a comment about the shredded-up floor. “Two hundred thousand, give or take. If Bishop wanted, he could be here now; his dragon was the largest I have ever seen.”
“About double our numbers…” The queen looked to one of her men and he walked off in a hurry. “You have seen many dragons, I presume?” Bertly couldn’t tell if the elven queen was being sarcastic or if she was genuinely interested. “We have heard many greats tales of the Winter Wizard.
“I’ve seen a couple.” Bertly smirked. The mention of dragons brought Dreki to mind, and Bertly wondered where he was. “So, do we have a plan?”
Master Quinric stepped forward. “You are in no place to be asking questions, vile human. It is your fault we are in this mess.”
Edfrid leaped off Clia and slapped the head of his hammer into his open hand. “Talk to my boy like that one more time, pointy ears.”
The guards went into battle stance and wrapped their fists around the handles of their daggers. The Elders broke into debate at once, and no one voice could be singled out.
“Silence.” The queen stood up. “At this time, we do not have any answers as to what has caused this; all we know is there is an immediate threat on our doorstep. This is a discussion for another time.” She cleared her throat and patted her chest as she rested back into her throne. “And yes, Master Bertly, we do have a plan.”
XIV
The inside of the tree smelled better than the smoke from a freshly extinguished candle. The wooden surface had a ringed pattern with thousands of lines all along the floor. The Winter Wizard could only assume it was a sign of how far back the Lost Tree dated—if it was anything like the trees back in Noskar.
A handful of guards remained, and those with minor governmental roles cleared the room. The Elders, along with the queen and her few close advisors, were all that remained—they stood circled around Bertly and his companions.
“I forgot to introduce myself.” The woman stood up and looked out over her kingdom. “I am Queen Madeline. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance. The Academy has been stowing you away for quite some time.”
Bertly kissed the top of her hand and she proceeded to sit back in her throne.
“We thought it was for the best our young master went through schooling the same as any other student,” Master Dova chipped in.
“And who might ‘we’ be?” Bertly mocked with air quotations. “It doesn’t appear that even a dozen of you could join us today.”
“The important advisors are here,” Dova replied. “We cannot risk putting the Academy in jeopardy at this time.”
“If we lose this battle, then it isn’t going to matter,” Bertly snapped. “The next battle could be at the Academy for all we know.”
Queen Madeline made a dismissive gesture. “I didn’t mean for it to become a topic of discussion. We have more urgent matters to examine.”
“Before we get started,” Bertly said, “I have one quick question.”
“Is he serious?” Master Quinric whined.
Dova quickly put her hand across Quinric’s chest. The body language of the Elders appeared off. They all seemed as though they had something to say but were too afraid to speak up.
Bertly could see Queen Madeline restrain a grin. He got the impression she might like him. “What is your question, Master Bertly?” the queen asked.
Bertly tightened the straps around his gloves. “Where is my bear?”
Queen Madeline raised her chin. “Pardon?”
Bertly’s face was blank. “I have a pet bear the size of a carriage. Where is she?”
The Elders gasped when the human’s tone turned sarcastic.
Master Dova took a few steps toward Bertly. “There was an attempt to bring her up here, but there was a slight altercation.”
Master Quinric pushed past Master Dova and pointed a finger in Bertly’s face. “Your stupid animal put four soldiers in the hospital because she was too scared to walk inside the Lost Tree.”
“If she didn’t want to do it, then why were you trying to force her?” Bertly slapped Quinric’s finger out of his face. The Elders gasped.
“Guards.” The queen gripped the arms of her throne. “Please show Master Quinric out. He doesn’t seem to know his place.”
A squadron of guards marched across the hall and grabbed Quinric by the arms. The old master yelled as he was dragged out of the throne hall. His limbs flailed in retaliation, but his resistance had little to no effect on the guards.
Bertly’s eyes shot open, and it took everything in his power not to smile.
An advisor approached the queen and whispered into her ear. Madeline spoke: “Your bear, along with your friend’s dragon, are both safe and happy, Master Bertly.” The advisor leaned over again and continued to speak quietly into the queen’s ear. “Speaking of which, we cannot delay any longer; we must discuss the plan. You can both reunite with your pets when our meeting is over.”
The queen continued, “In preparation, we have built a wall around the city. Not as glamorous as we would normally construct, but we did not have the luxury of time on our side. We have also built a series of tunnels underneath the battlefield. We have lined the channels with two chemical compounds that will detonate when combined with each other and a source of heat. Any master from the Academy or well-trained wizard could perform the incantation.”
“When did you have the time to construct all of this?” Edfrid asked.
Queen Madeline looked first at the Winter Wizard and then his companions. “Well…we have had almost a year to prepare, thanks to Master Bertly and Master Alestar.”
Bertly looked back at Polly and his father. Confusion transformed their faces—they were the only two in the room who didn’t know about Bertly and his master’s trip to the Decomposite.
“Their sacrifices will be remembered,” the queen carried on. “We will hold off the Rotter forces until the majority of the army has marched onto the front line. We will then ignite the chemical compound beneath the battlegrounds, setting the entire Rotter army on fire. The explosion will start in the back and move its way to the wall. This will allow time for our remaining soldiers to retreat. As soon as the flames clear, our soldiers will rally back out and clear the grounds, just to be sure we don’t leave any of them alive.” Queen Madeline tucked a lock of hair behind her ear and leaned back in her wooden throne.
A whiff of deteriorating flesh traveled through the air. While it was faint, the air that carried the smell was thick.
“They’re getting close,” an Elder cried.
The queen signaled to one of her advisors.
“Initiate battle preparations!” the advisor shouted. All but a few of the remaining guards and commanders left the room.
A loud horn sounded, sending a vibration rippling throughout the city. Bertly shuffled around and looked out from the Lost Tree. The Rotters were in near-striking distance. They were close enough to notice a clear distinction between each dead elf. A line of Eplium’s soldiers, suited in vibrant green armor, marched out onto the battlefield and halted not far beyond the stone wall.
“I support the well-thought-out plan and all.” Bertly turned back around and faced Queen Madeline. “But what about Bishop? Surely you have noticed the half-dead lizard floating in the sky.”
“Our scouts spotted him as soon as we saw his army. Unfortunately, at this time we do not have a plan for him. Our goal is to merely win the battle,” the queen explained. “We didn’t have an answer for him three thousand years ago, and we don’t have one today. We are hoping with the destruction of his army, he will retreat, and it can buy us some time.”
“A plan running on hope. With our best-case scenario being the enemy decides to cut his losses…That’s reassuring.” Bertly looked back out over the approaching army. They paraded in a line several times thicker than the army defending Eplium. Dispersed across the entire legion were random drummers, with no tune or rhythm to their drumming—sounds of loud bangs and thuds rebounded from all directions.
“Why are they smacking the drums sporadically like that?” Roderick asked.
“They are trying to break down our communications on the battlefield,” the queen replied. “They are creating inconsistent noises loud enough that our soldiers can’t shout. They most likely can only talk to those nearest to them.”
“This is why all of our soldiers are trained in nonverbal communication,” Edfrid cut in.
The queen gave no reply.
As the Rotters encompassed the entire battlefield, their numbers seemed even greater than when Bertly had flown over them earlier. Bishop hovered above his minions from the back line, standing on the saddle of his creature. His dragon’s wings flapped only as often as they needed to, and his eyes never broke focus—they were glued to the Lost Tree. The Rotters’ skin seemed to be all that was decomposing; the approaching army strutted with strength, stomping every other step, sending vibrations throughout the city. They halted within arm’s reach of Eplium’s defenders.
It was so silent a leaf could be heard dropping from within the Lost Tree. Everyone waited for Bishop’s next move.
Bertly broke the silence. “So, when exactly are we getting our big explosion?”
Master Dova cleared her throat. “Please mind your attitude, young Master.” In the classroom Dova was demanding, but here she was walking on eggshells. “Let the queen handle this. We are not the ones with the army.” Bertly’s teacher sounded worried to offend him. She leaned in close enough for only him to hear. “You must be mindful of the feelings at stake. Most of the people in this room believe they are losing their life today.”
“How do you think they feel?” Bertly never looked to his teacher but focused on the soldiers confronting Bishop’s army.
A blown horn expelled an amplified screech and the Rotters’ war chant commenced. They thrashed their swords across their steel armor and yelled simultaneously, “Rah!” They stomped with their spiked boots and kept screaming, “Rah!” Another horn sounded, and the dead in the front line unhinged their personal shields then snapped them all together, forming a solid wall. A third horn sounded, and the back line drew their bows and loaded them with arrows.
“Are you sure there isn’t supposed to be an explosion right now?” Bertly blurted.
“He’s right.” Madeline briskly stood up. “Something’s wrong.” She rushed to the edge of the tree trunk and looked to the right of the forefront. “The spell should have been initiated by now.”
An advisor to the queen handed her a telescope. Madeline pressed her eye near the lens; she let it drop off the ledge and backed up into her throne. “They’ve overtaken the outpost,” she said in a voice that was numb with fear. “They probably took it before they marched out here.” She flopped into her seat. “We lost before the battle ever started.”
Roderick nudged his master’s hip. “Sir, what outpost?”
“Madam, what outpost exactly?” Bertly repeated.
The queen’s advisor answered for her. “The one where the explosion was supposed to be ignited.”
“Ah, that one,” the wizard replied. “That is an important one.”
Bishop’s dragon slowly moved toward the Lost Tree. A wave of arrows filled the sky, casting a shadow over the whole of Eplium’s army. The arrows hit their peak then poured like water over a cliff. The arrowheads pierced the shields and leather armor of the living elves. A substantial number of Eplium’s forces were executed on the spot, and the Rotter legion filed forward.
Bertly faced Edfrid, Polly, and Roderick. He locked eyes with his father. The Winter Wizard then glanced at Polly, who was already slipping on her glove.
“Oh no,” Roderick screamed. “No, no, no, no, no.” Bertly’s apprentice shook his head furiously. “No way. No. Stop it.” He took a deep breath. “No.”
“Two things.” Bertly smiled and placed his hand over Queen Madeline’s—her hands were not as soft as Bertly would have guessed. “First, I will need a guard to show me to my bear. And second, where exactly is this outpost?”
“Cordelia really has sent you to save us all.” The queen wiped a tear and knocked against the side of her wooden throne. A well-fit elf hustled to her side. His hair looked soft and coiled, but also dense enough to hold firmly on its own. “This is Ayce.”
“At your service.” The elf bowed.
“He is our top archer and knows the kingdom better than I,” Madeline carried on. “He will show you to the outpost. I will have another escort your pet to meet with you. Bertly, when you get—”
The wizard cut her off. “Combine the two chemicals; heat them up. I got it.”
“Please don’t forget what you are up against.” Queen Madeline drew in a long breath. “Sometimes being afraid is what keeps you alive.”
“I’m the only one here who has already f
ought these things. I know what I’m up against.” Bertly tightened his ponytail and pushed down on the loose hairs that escaped. “Are you all ready?”
“No!” Roderick cried.
“I’m not going with you, Bertly.” Polly stood with her feet together and back straight. Her chin was up, and she did her best to maintain eye contact. Bertly noticed she was trying to be firm, but the slight tremble in her lower lip revealed her terror.
Bertly approached his friend. “Polly, I promise, I will never let anything happen to you, or anyone else, ever again.”
“I know.” Polly placed her hand on Bertly’s cheek. “But I don’t need your protecting. If anything, I think you might need mine,” she teased.
“It’s okay, Polly,” Roderick interjected. “You can stay here with me. There is no shame in that.”
“I’m not staying here, Roderick,” Polly clarified. “Bishop is heading here right now, and someone needs to slow him down. If he gets past the wall and into the city, it won’t matter what we do to his army.”
“I never thought I would say this, but I think I would rather go with my master.” Roderick’s voice trembled.
Bertly tilted his head. “I don’t understand. How do you plan on fighting him?”
Clia squawked. Polly walked to the feathery beast. “I saw a weakness in his dragon. It has exposed openings all throughout his body. On the inside, it looks to be the same as every other living creature.” Clia bent over for Polly to mount her. “I don’t have time to debate this with you.”
“Wait, Polly.” Bertly rushed over. “Before you go, take this. It’s Cordelia’s cloak—hopefully it can help.”
Recognition dawned on Polly’s face. “It’s dragon scales, which means it’s fireproof!” Her eyes glistened. “Bertly, are you sure?”
“Yes, please take it.” When the Winter Wizard had slipped off his cloak, the red scales lost their coloring and turned back to gray. “You are most likely the strongest witch or wizard in all of Pangea. And we are the only two red-eyed humans since Cordelia. We need to work together on this.”