“Defend yourself!” said Ridmark, but it was unnecessary.
The goblins crashed into the men-at-arms and the footmen, and Accolon fought to survive.
A goblin stabbed at him, and Accolon’s first thought was gratitude that he had a proper shield. The blade struck his shield, and Accolon called on his link with Hopesinger for speed and strength. As the goblin prepared another blow, Accolon swung his shield. It struck the goblin with terrific force, its head snapping around. The creature fell and did not rise again, and Accolon realized that he had broken its neck.
Well. Accolon hadn’t been able to do that before.
More goblins closed around him and Ridmark, and Accolon fought, Hopesinger rising and falling in his hand like a smith’s hammer.
###
“Hold!” shouted Vegetius. “Any of you lot run, you’ll wish that the goblins had killed you because then you’ll have to deal with me!”
Niall held firm, though his heart raced in his chest and sweat dripped down his back beneath his armor. Fighting was one thing. But standing motionless and watching a deadly enemy charge toward you with weapons was something else entirely. Yet while he felt the fear, it seemed to occupy a distant part of his mind. The peculiar coldness and clarity that fell over Niall in a fight took over his mind, and the goblins almost seemed to be running in slow motion.
“Fear not,” said Bishop Caius, who stood with the footmen. “Our cause is just, for we fight to defend your homes and families from the invader. Commit your souls to God, for our lives are in his hands.”
The ragged mob of goblins attacked, and there was no more time for talking, only fighting.
It wasn’t as bad as Niall had thought. The fire of Lady Antenora and the lightning of the Keeper had thinned the enemy, and they didn’t hit the footmen all at once. A goblin charged forward, swinging a mace at the man on Niall’s left. Niall raised his shield and deflected the strike, and the footman stabbed a sword into the goblin’s belly. The creature rocked back with a gurgle, and Niall finished it with a quick chop of his sword. Another goblin attacked, swinging an axe, and Niall got his shield up in time. The edge of the weapon bit into his shield and the goblin wrenched the axe, trying to force Niall’s shield down. He stabbed his sword past the rim of the shield, catching the goblin in its left shoulder. The creature jerked back with a hiss, and the trapped axe wrenched free of Niall’s damaged shield. Before the goblin could recover, his next sword thrust caught it in the throat.
The goblin went down, and then one of the giants took its place. A dozen details flashed through Niall’s mind in a single second. He saw the creature’s dull gray armor, the metal pitted and scarred from past battles. The creature’s skin looked like grayish-green leather, and its yellow eyes glared at him from beneath its helm. The axe in its right hand looked heavy, too heavy for a human to use effectively in battle, and that axe was coming up, the militiaman on Niall’s left raising his shield to block the blow…
“No, don’t!” said Niall, realizing what was about to happen.
It was too late. The giant hammered its axe down, and the massive weapon punched through the militiaman’s shield and sank two or three inches into the poor man’s skull. Red blood and gray brains flew from the wound, and the man went into a jerking dance, a weird convulsion going over his features. Niall didn’t know if the man was dead before he hit the ground, but if not, he soon would be.
But the militiaman’s dead weight almost pulled the axe from the giant’s fingers, and Niall struck. He darted into the giant’s guard and stooped, slashing his sword at the creature’s left leg with all his strength. The blade sliced through the leather and skin there, and the giant roared. It stumbled and fell to one knee, and suddenly it was eye level with Niall.
He stabbed his sword, the blade finding the giant’s throat. The creature let out a gurgling moan, thick blood dripping from the wound, and Niall twisted the sword and then pulled it free. The giant’s free hand went to its throat, and then it pitched over on its side.
Two more goblins rushed towards him, and Niall stepped back to join the other footmen, raising his shield to cover them.
###
The giant roared and let its axe fall, and Ridmark dodged. The heavy weapon passed before him and sank into the earth, and before the creature could recover, Ridmark swung Oathshield, using the soulblade’s power to enhance his strength. The sword bit through the giant’s wrist and took off its hand. The creature reared back in shock and pain, arching its back as it roared its rage. That was a mistake since the movement exposed its throat. Ridmark stabbed, and the giant fell to its knees as blood poured down its armor, its remaining hand going to its throat in a futile effort to staunch the flow.
The giant keeled over, dead, and Ridmark turned just as the ground started shivering beneath his boots.
The horsemen were charging.
Ridmark’s first thought was to wonder what the hell had taken them so long. Then he realized that only a few minutes had passed since the fighting had begun. The mounted men-at-arms charged into the goblins fighting against the footmen, and their attack killed half the remaining creatures. The survivors turned and tried to flee north back towards their gate, and the horsemen rode them down.
The fighting was over. All the giants and the goblins had been killed, and the way to the gate was clear.
“Vegetius!” shouted Ridmark. The decurion hurried over. “Get everyone in line to march. We’re heading for the next gate as soon as we close this one. Also, have more scouts move to the north and the west towards the other gates. If there is a large enemy force nearby, I don’t want to run into them by accident.”
“My lord,” said Vegetius, and he turned and started shouting instructions to the men-at-arms and the militiamen. The horsemen rode back, and the scouts turned their animals. Calliande and Antenora moved among the men, casting healing spells. Ridmark did a quick count and saw that he had lost two of his men-at-arms and five of his militia soldiers. A light cost, all told, but he still regretted the losses. Accolon stood a few paces away, breathing hard, Hopesinger in his right hand.
“How are you faring?” said Ridmark in a low voice.
“I wasn’t wounded, so I have no right to complain,” said Accolon. He glanced at the soulblade. “This takes some getting used to, doesn’t it?”
“It does,” said Ridmark. “But it’s good that we are here. Those armored giants…the men-at-arms and the militia would have a much harder time against them, and they could slaughter our horsemen. A Swordbearer is the best-equipped to fight them.”
Though that hadn’t saved Valmark.
“Ridmark,” said Calliande, making her way to his side, Antenora following her. “We ought to close the gate at once.”
“Agreed,” said Ridmark. He raised his voice. “Vegetius, get the men ready to move. We’re heading for the next gate as soon as we’re done here.”
“I should like a brief look at the gate before we close it,” said Antenora. She looked tired, strain on her pale face. But like Calliande, she had used a great deal of magic in the last few hours. “The more I can understand their nature, the better chance I have of disabling the stone in the forum of Castarium.”
Ridmark frowned. “I thought you had prevented the stone from opening any new rifts.”
“I have,” said Antenora. “But it is only a temporary measure. Akin to patching a leaking dam. Eventually, the patch will wear away. We must seek a more permanent solution, or else a Magistrius will need to forever stand guard over that stone and cast the warding spell anew every few days.”
“Very well,” said Ridmark, and he beckoned. Kharlacht and Caius joined them, and Ridmark led the way towards the rift. He kept a wary eye on it, but no more goblins or giants or anything else emerged from the gate. Looking at it gave him a faint sense of vertigo like he was standing at the edge of a precipice and gazing at the bottom far, far below.
“Let me look at it for a moment,” said Antenora. She and Callian
de gazed at the gate, and Antenora nodded. “The aura of power?”
“It’s the same,” said Calliande. She looked at Ridmark. “I can see something of the aura of power beyond the other side of the gate. It is akin the aura around the dragon we killed at the castra, and the aura around the Confessor’s dragons in Owyllain.”
“Then the world on the other side of the gate,” said Ridmark, “is where the Confessor found his dragons?”
“It would appear so,” said Antenora.
“Perhaps whoever lives on the other side of that gate,” said Calliande, “took exception to the Confessor kidnapping dragons, and followed him here.”
“God and the saints,” said Ridmark. He shook his head. “The Confessor would laugh himself sick if he knew.” He rubbed his jaw, thinking. The enemies and crises of the day had forced him to react, and until now, there hadn’t been any time to consider the nature of their problems. Ridmark did not like mysteries, not at all, and there was a mystery here. The woman known as Aeliana had done something to the stone in the forum, and that had opened the rifts. The dragons had once been humans, but how was that possible?
And the Guardian Morigna had known this was going to happen. She had warned Ridmark. Granted, the warning had come at the last possible moment, but it was better than nothing.
Just what the hell was going on?
“I think,” said Antenora, her voice slow, deliberate, “that I need to have a look around on the other side of the gate.”
“What?” said Ridmark. “That’s too risky. If the gate collapses, you’ll be trapped on the other side. And there may be foes in that forest.” He gestured at the trees and the burning sky visible through the rift.
“We can overcome any foes on the other side long enough to escape and collapse the gate behind us,” said Antenora, “and the rift is stable. Even considering the disruption our passage will cause, the gate will not close on its own for at least another week at the most.”
“She’s right, Ridmark,” said Calliande. “Trying to use the Sight to see an aura of power through that gate is like…like trying to look through a pane of dirty glass. If we can have a clearer look, it will be immensely helpful.”
“Damn it,” said Ridmark. He sighed. “All right. Accolon and I will go first.” He frowned. “Our soulblades won’t collapse the rift, will they?”
Calliande shook her head. “Only if you call on their power to block magic while traversing the gate.”
Ridmark nodded. “We’ll go first and make sure it’s clear. Accolon?”
Accolon took a deep breath and lifted Hopesinger, and Ridmark strode into the gate, his shield and sword ready.
***
Chapter 14: Sky Fire
Ridmark felt the familiar sensation of walking through a magical gate.
It was a single step, yet that step seemed to carry immense weight as if he was covering an unfathomable distance with one stride. The instant of disorientation passed, and for the first time, Ridmark Arban stood upon the face of an alien world.
It was…
He was surprised at how normal everything seemed.
Except for the sky, of course, which was on fire.
Ridmark looked around, taking in the sights as Accolon followed him. He was standing in a small clearing in the middle of a dense forest. Fallen leaves covered the ground, and old, heavy trees rose around him, their thick branches blocking much of the sky. The familiar smells of moss and mud and rotting vegetation filled his nostrils, and he saw a deer trail leading into the trees. Ridmark could have been standing in any one of a dozen forests throughout Andomhaim.
Except for the sky.
He looked up at the sky through the branches while trying to keep an eye on his surroundings. A sheet of roiling yellow-orange fire covered the sky. Despite that, he felt no heat radiating from the fire. Come to think of it, the air was cooler here than it had been in Castarium as if he had traveled from spring to autumn, and the leaves of the trees were starting to turn from green to yellow and red. No matter where he looked, Ridmark could not see the sun, and all portions of the sky were equally bright. Did this place have nights? Or clouds?
“Ridmark?”
Calliande’s voice buzzed and rippled, distorted by the gate. Ridmark turned and looked back at her.
“It’s all right,” said Ridmark. “I think you can come through. Tell Kharlacht and Caius to keep watch on that side.”
Calliande stepped through the gate, followed a heartbeat later by Antenora. Both women came to sudden halts, their eyes going wide as they sucked in startled breaths.
“Dear God,” said Calliande.
“I concur,” said Antenora, her voice more shaken than Ridmark had ever heard.
“What is it?” said Ridmark.
“The magic is so much stronger here,” said Calliande, her eyes flicking back and forth. “That’s why the goblins and the giants can use magic. Not because they have the innate talent, but if they were born here, the magic would affect them.”
“I concur,” said Antenora. “And the nature of this world’s magic…I have never seen anything like it. Nor the sort of power that flows through it…”
“Born here?” said Ridmark. A dark thought started to rattle around his mind. “If the goblins and the giants were born here…what would happen to a human who was born on this world?” The dark thought solidified further. “The dragons we killed had all been human originally. Does something in the magic of this world force them to transform?”
“I don’t know,” said Calliande. “I…I think…”
Her voice trailed off, and golden fire flashed through her eyes.
Then she went rigid and started to scream. Golden fire shone in her veins, and Ridmark saw it glowing through the skin of her hands and face and neck. Antenora shuddered and leaned on her staff, and she began to scream as well, golden light shining from her eyes and hands.
“Accolon!” said Ridmark, ramming Oathshield back into its scabbard. The prince was unaffected by the golden fire, and he stared at Calliande and Antenora in shock. “Get Antenora through the gate! Now!”
Ridmark seized Calliande and carried her through the rift, and Accolon followed suit, lifting Antenora. Again, Ridmark felt that moment of whirling vertigo and disorientation as he walked through the gate, and he walked upon the soil of Andomhaim once more. The golden light in Calliande’s eyes and veins vanished as if it had never been. As far as he could tell, she was unharmed.
“Calliande?” said Ridmark.
She shuddered in his arms and then drew a deep breath. “I think…you can put me down. I’m fine. Antenora should be fine if we got her out in time.”
“I am well, Keeper,” croaked Antenora as Accolon lowered her back to her feet.
“What happened?” said Kharlacht, looking back and forth between them.
“The magic,” said Calliande, rubbing her face. “The nature of the magic on that other world. There’s…there’s something wrong with it. Or maybe something within it is tainted, I don’t know. But the magic of that world is vastly stronger than the magic of Andomhaim, of our world. When we set foot on the other world, the magic flooded through us, and the transformation began.”
“Transform?” said Ridmark, and then he understood. “Into a dragon?”
“Aye,” said Calliande.
“We returned to Andomhaim just in time,” said Antenora, voice quiet. “Another few seconds and the transformation would have begun in earnest, and it would have been irreversible.”
“God and the apostles,” said Ridmark, chilled at the narrow escape. “Is that what happens to any humans who go to that world? They transform into dragons?”
“Maybe,” said Calliande. “I don’t know. Perhaps that’s how the Confessor got his dragons. He stumbled upon the other world, and then brought human captives through the world gate beneath Urd Maelwyn and transformed them.”
“No, that can’t be it, my lady,” said Accolon. “Neither Lord Ridmark nor I were affec
ted. Only you and Lady Antenora were susceptible to the transformation.”
“Our soulblades must have protected us,” said Ridmark.
“No, that is not it,” said Antenora. “The soulblades had nothing to do with it. Neither you nor Prince Accolon has the ability to use magic.”
“Any human born on that world gains the ability to use magic,” said Calliande, “and risks transforming into a dragon.”
“I do not have enough facts to support that hypothesis,” said Antenora, “but, yes, that seems plausible. Even likely.”
“Well, whatever the truth,” said Ridmark, drawing Oathshield, “no other foes are coming through this gate.”
He drew on Oathshield’s power to protect from magic and thrust the sword into the rift. The blue fire at its edges winked out, and the gate snapped out of existence, leaving only a few charred marks on the ground and some wisps of smoke drifting through the air.
“We should continue,” said Calliande.
“Agreed,” said Antenora. “I do not know how much longer my binding on the stone will hold, and it would be best if we can close the remaining rifts before I examine the stone further.”
“You both feel well enough to continue?” said Ridmark.
“I do, Shield Knight,” said Antenora.
“As do I,” said Calliande. “It was like we touched a hot stove…but we managed to pull our hands back before any lasting damage was done.” She tried a faint smile. “Just…don’t ask us to go through a gate again.”
“I will not,” said Ridmark. He almost pointed out that going through the gate had been her and Antenora’s idea, but this wasn’t the time. “Let’s rejoin the others and move. The sooner we close those other two damned gates, the better.”
He jogged back towards the waiting horsemen and men-at-arms, the others following him. Vegetius had gotten the men in order, and the slain had been wrapped in their cloaks and loaded on the back of horses. As Ridmark approached, he saw the scouts return, galloping towards Vegetius. The scouts had returned in haste, and he saw the alarm on their faces.
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