Elias blinked. After what had happened over the last few days and weeks nothing surprised him. Willow and Rip led the way.
Elias fell into step beside Moose and listened to the big man's story.
CHAPTER 19
The Fall of Numibar
Travin stood with Jotkim on the battlefield. The morning was full of anticipation and promise. The frost giants marched on the city walls in their thousands. The mammoths were covered in armour and concentrated their efforts on the city gates.
Exploding missiles of boiling oil launched by catapult from within the city were having a dramatic effect. Travin had not told Jotkim about the vampires. They were not a threat in daylight, he reasoned.
Travin wanted to breech the gates early in the attack; that was their best hope. If he could take the tower in the city square and kill the Magisters, then maybe he could break the thrall magic's hold over the populace.
The bull mammoths were equipped with battering rams. Two of the bulls had reached the city gates and were pushing at the timbers. A huge battering ram was harnessed between them and a battery of frost giants swung it back and forth. It was having a devastating impact on the gates.
The outer skin of the gates splintered and the screaming of rending iron filled the air. Arrows rained down from the battlements and struck the mammoths. Their armour and thick fur was able to deflect the arrows.
The defenders released boiling oil down hidden sluices and it seeped under the mammoths' feet. The smell of their burning flesh filled the air. Not even the thick footpads of the magnificent beasts could withstand the flaming oil. The two lead mammoths bellowed in agony and pulled away from the gates.
Fear filled their eyes; they crashed into one another tearing the battering ram harness. Some of the frost giants behind the two mammoths were trampled when the beasts stepped backwards. The ground was soon covered in a bloody pulp.
Trumpets sounded from the battlements and Magister flags flapped proudly. Screams of dying men and giants filled the air. Ladders and grappling hooks were employed against the walls. The giants were quick on their feet and a squad were successful in scaling the walls. They made inroads on the defenders' ranks close to the western towers.
The frost giants cut loose the lead mammoths and let them free from the battlefield. They soon had a fresh pair of mammoths lined up to attack the gates. With determination born of desperation, two frost giants climbed onto the bull mammoths. There, they goaded the animals into a lumbering charge at the gates. The ground was slippery with gore and oil but somehow the two animals managed to keep their footing. They crashed into the gates with tremendous force.
A deep rending groan filled the air and a large fracture line appeared in the left gate. They were nearly through, another impact like that and the gates would collapse, thought Travin. Then something strange happened. As the mammoths pulled back for a second charge, the gates swung open and arrows stopped flying from the battlements.
More and more ladders remained unrepelled on the battlements and the frost giants swarmed up the walls as the city's defenders melted away. Travin looked at Jotkim.
"Something's not right, this is too easy," Travin spoke.
"Don't worry, they have panicked. We will crush their soldiers," Jotkim replied.
Travin looked back towards the open gates. The frost giants were flooding into the city.
"I'm going to take a look." Travin spread his wings and took to the air. He was soon high above the battlefield and flew over the city walls. He could see pitched battles everywhere. The defenders were being crushed on the battlements and in the streets. The frost giants were pushing the enemy back from the walls deeper into the city.
Towards the square.
Travin flew over the roofs and towards the square. A puzzled look crept across his face. There, in the square were the same women, children and old men he had seen the night before.
Standing, waiting.
In thrall.
He looked back at his army; they were winning. So why did his instinct tell him something was wrong? He looked up at the tower in the square. A flash of green light blinded him; something gripped his neck. He was wrenched from the air and pulled towards the top window of the tower.
A voice whispered in Travin's ear before he passed out. "You have brought more souls to the blood letting. Just as we hoped. You've served us well angel, your efforts will help us unlock the deeper secrets of thrall magic."
Travin's limp body was flung against the tower's wall. His spine fractured, his skull shattered on the stone lip of the window. Instead of falling to the ground Travin's body stuck to the wall in a grotesque shape. A Magister's form briefly looked down from the window then disappeared.
Below in the square, five thousand people awoke from their trance and attacked the frost giants who were emerging from the adjoining city streets. The people attacked with bare hands and teeth. Their eyes were crazed and some fought each other in their eagerness to reach the frost giants. Soon the square was a maelstrom of murder. Screams and cries of pain reached those in the tower.
The green light in the tower shone with a dazzling intensity. Death ran amok in the square below. The dead piled up one by one; their spirits harvested by the Magisters. Their thrall magic grew and fed on the life force being sacrificed in the city.
A line was crossed. The green light exploded from the tower and reached out over the city like a transparent shroud. A low rumbling came from deep within the tower. Its roof disintegrated as a radiant beam tore up through the air into the sky above.
Jotkim looked at the city before him. His hope crushed, as he saw his warriors fall and his mammoths trample their bodies, lost as they were in their own madness. He saw the roof of the tower disappear and a green beam of light lance into the clouds. This was the last thing he saw, as at first, his eyes melted and then his heart stopped.
Three Magisters stood in the tower, arms linked. They harnessed the wild magic swirling around them and channelled it into the sky and down into the Erthe. The city shook, its walls crumbled and buildings fell. Fire started to spread through the ruins. The Magisters stood unmoving, until the last death in the city. Then their bodies relaxed and disengaged. The green light faltered and stopped. The robes worn by the Magisters collapsed to the ground empty, their bodies nowhere to be seen.
Far away, Magister Nix shook in ecstasy. She could feel the power swell in her belly. She licked her lips and savoured the intensity of the thrall magic quickening within her. She would soon have the power to access the Rhapsody Spell and in turn, be reunited with her beloved.
She looked out over the Storm Sea, the Raven Heart in her hand. Green, flickering light emanated from its depths. She would have a staff created to cradle it. She would wield her power with cruelty and passion. There were no obstacles to her plan. Nothing would get in her way.
Calim Dove watched his mistress writhe in ecstasy. The battle of Numibar had taken but four hours. Thousands of lives had been sacrificed. He could do nothing. She was now stronger than ever. His hopes were dashed. He had lost his connection with the young girl, Luana. He did not even know if she still lived. He did not know if the archangel had been found and woken.
Calim Dove had lost his gift.
He was blind.
~
Luana felt Rafael's muscles relax. She opened her eyes and looked down. They were no longer over the sea. Land stretched out below them; the south lands. The vista took her breath away. She saw snow capped mountains; twisted into crazed shapes. Rivers ran between the mountains draining the land to the ocean.
She blinked and details became apparent as they descended. She saw little in the way of trees or bushes. The rock itself was red and eroded in places to deep gorges. Water glittered along the spine of the range under the sun. Her thirst awakened and she licked her lips. She had not eaten or drunk in hours. Her muscles were stiff and knotted after the journey. She knew she would collapse once they landed.
Rafael sel
ected a low hill. He swooped in at a steep angle and landed on its hard surface.
"We're here, you can let go now," he said.
Luana tried to peel her fingers from the archangel. "I'm trying, just give me a minute. My fingers… they've seized up."
With a jolt of pain, Luana managed to disentangle herself from Rafael's back. She slumped to the ground in a heap, groaning in pain.
"You've done well for a human. I wasn't sure you'd make it. I'll have to leave you here; I've got work to do. I'll try something to make you feel easier. You'll need food, water and shelter. Can you last a little longer?"
Luana looked up and nodded. Her eyes were dull; she was exhausted.
Rafael did something strange. He opened his wings and placed them over Luana creating a shelter. Then he bowed his head and whispered. Luana did not recognise the language, she let him continue without interruption. As he spoke, his words seemed to weave through her. Her pain retreated. She felt easier and a little drowsy. She closed her eyes; sleep came easily.
Rafael stopped whispering shortly after she was asleep. He had given her healing and softened the trauma to her mind. This young girl had seen and done things no one should have to do. She had special qualities; he was impressed at how capable and stoical she had been.
Rafael stood and looked over the range of mountains stretched out before him. Barren and open. Nothing could sneak up on this place without being observed. It was a good place for Sagramatha to hide. The mountains' ancient name, the Dragon Perches, was apt.
No one, of course, believed in dragons. The tales came from mythology and children's stories. But Rafael knew better. He was as old as the hills. He remembered where his past enemy, Sagramatha, lay. He also remembered the promise the dragon had made; to kill him the next time their paths crossed.
It was a risk he had to take if he was to entice the dragon to join the fight against the Magisters. The dragon would already know he was here. The game of cat and mouse had begun. He felt bad about leaving Luana but he had no choice. She would be in danger if she were to stay with him. If he succeeded in winning over Sagramatha, he would return for her. If he failed, they were both dead anyway.
The dragon would be deep in its protective cocoon of rock, the last of its kind. Its race had been hunted to extinction by generations of humans hundreds of years ago. The dragon wars had almost erased human kind from the Erthe's central lands. However, they had been tenacious, retreating north and south and had kept chipping away at dragon numbers. In the end, it was agriculture that had adversely affected the dragons' hunting grounds. This in turn reduced their numbers significantly.
There were rumours of long forgotten dragon nests in the Perches, brimful with eggs waiting to be hatched. But, after the last great dragon battle the matriarchs had not returned home to raise their young. Instead, their blood sluiced the soils and rivers of the middle marches where they had made their last stand against the humans.
Rafael remembered that battle, where he had slain many of the young dragons. Their blood was on his hands. He would never be forgiven. He knew the last dragon would try and kill him and was even now awakening to hunt him.
He did however, have one thing to offer. One thing that would give the ancient one cause to ponder. Rafael knew how to hatch the remaining dragon eggs and breathe life back into the dragon race.
Rafael could resurrect the birth fire; the flame that would hatch the eggs. He could do this by using the Rhapsody Spell unlocked by the Magisters. He had the knowledge.
The trick was to stay alive long enough to explain this fact to Sagramatha. Rafael soared high above the range. The sun was setting on the horizon. Clouds were turning red. The temperature plummeted. Rafael was hungry for success; it was best to hunt when racked with hunger. It gave an edge.
He stretched his wings and soared on the thermals high over the Perches. He felt eyes on him. He knew he was being followed. He did not see the mountainside move. He passed over the southern expanse of the range and banked, turning. It was when he swung away from the south that movement rippled the side of a vast crag.
It was Sagramatha; perfectly camouflaged against the mountainside. The ancient dragon pulled itself away from the rock and took to the air silently.
Its eyes bore down on Rafael. It knew exactly what was to be done. It wanted revenge; blood. Sagramatha burned with a cold rage, undiminished by time. Its vast wingspan delivered it to a position above and behind Rafael. It would choose the time and place to strike. This was its element, here it ruled supreme.
Rafael knew. His senses screamed at him to turn. The ancient one had found him. The hunter had become the hunted. He looked frantically at the ground below for somewhere he could land to engage with Sagramatha. In the distance, Rafael saw molten lava running down the side of a conical peak; a young mountain, its fiery sap still rising. He banked once more and headed towards the lava field.
As he drew near the volcano, he smelt sulphur and felt ash on his wings. He knew the ash would obscure Sagramatha's vision. He flew towards the heaviest concentration of ash. The air was thick with its cloying darkness. Rafael felt the intense heat of the volcano rise up from below.
Then the ancient one struck.
The dragon flew down at speed through the sulphurous air. Rafael felt the disturbance and at the last minute swung to the left. He closed his eyes against the ash and judged the air on instinct. He just avoided Sagramatha's claws. His size and agility relative to the bulk and power of the dragon had saved him.
Rafael darted up the volcano's slope, landing at the top. His feet touched its surface and he crouched down. He felt intense heat on his skin through the rock. His feet started to blister. He ignored the pain.
"Sagramatha, it's Rafael. I've come to talk. It's of grave import and concerns us all. We need to set aside our differences. I need your help." Rafael managed to hurl his words into the wind. He realised it was fatal to remain stationary for too long. He knew the dragon had acute hearing. He launched himself into the air just as a torrent of dragon fire exploded around him.
The thick ash cloud saved his life. Sagramatha's deadly fireball exploded to his left; the ground where it struck instantly vaporised. This was why he needed the dragon to help defeat the Magisters, he thought. The dragon's sheer destructive power and its immunity to any form of magic was key.
Rafael's wings rode the wave of intense heat from the dragon fire; it pulled him up and to the right. He shot away from the volcano and shouted at the top of his voice.
"Sagramatha, I can save the ancient clutches. I know how to hatch the eggs of your kin. I can bring back the dragon race."
A sheet of blue shimmering fire answered Rafael's words. It stunned him; he could feel its heat reach inside his chest and scald his lungs. He screamed, half in anguish, half in anger.
"I can save the dragon race. I can bring your line back. I know how to hatch the eggs." Rafael could feel his wings struggle against the heat and ash. His feathers had turned black, stained by the hot ash. He put his remaining strength into a swerve, up and away from the last strike.
An ear-shattering roar filled the air, threatening his sanity. He burst from the ash cloud back into clear night sky. The last rays of the sun reached out and threw ghostly shadows across the Dragon Perches. Rafael knew he had seconds of life left. His instinct told him to dive. Claws raked the air above him just catching his left wing. It was enough. He plummeted to the ground, crashing into a mountain pool.
The water was cold; it shocked him to the core. His heart fluttered. He felt his wings crumple; his consciousness ebbed away. His body sank, his will broken. Then something grabbed him from above. He was taken by the foot, pulled roughly from the water and thrown onto nearby rocks.
Rafael clung to consciousness by a thread. The ground shook beside him as two huge, clawed feet straddled him.
"Speak angel. Speak quickly. Tell me of the clutches. Tell me of hatching the eggs. Speak or die."
By sheer force of wil
l, Rafael opened his eyes and looked into Sagramatha's jaws. Densely packed rows of teeth hovered above his chest and throat. He was not frightened but determined. This was his chance.
"The Magisters, to the north of here. They've awakened thrall magic. They've taken the Raven Heart and have found the Rhapsody Spell. They have the power to bring back the dead. I can use this power to bring life back to your kin's eggs. Once life is there, your eggs can be hatched. The twenty or so clutches I know that remain can be brought back from extinction. The dragon race will once more walk the Erthe."
A long silence followed. Sulphurous breath spilled over Raphael from above. He had played his trump card. He was still breathing, alive. He could almost hear the ancient one pondering in the darkness above him.
"I can think of a hundred reasons to kill you now. I want to kill you. Your kind and mine cannot co-exist. My kind, your kind and humans cannot walk the same land. Even if your plan succeeds, it is doomed. The humans will not rest until all dragon kind is destroyed again."
Rafael's mind raced. He saw the flaw in his plan and reacted.
"I can take you and your kin out of this dimension. I can bring you to a parallel Erthe plane where there are no humans. Your race will survive and thrive. You will rule the skies."
Rafael prayed his voice sounded steady. He did not know if what he had said was possible. His hope was that when he recalled the Seven they would be able to shed light on the other Erthe planes.
Silence stretched out above him. Drops of thick saliva fell next to his head. A wave of nausea welled up inside him and he rolled over, retching. His thoughts turned to Luana; he needed to reach her soon. The temperature in the Perches would plummet at night; she would be vulnerable.
"We never did belong here," came Sagramatha's answer.
Rafael rolled over onto his side and looked up. He could see the vast bulk of the dragon above him. One wrong move and he was dead. The dragon withdrew a little allowing him to sit up.
Sanctuary Page 17