by B K Suitter
“Archers ready!” and they were. They dipped their arrowtips in fired pitch.
“Draw…hold…hold…,” Shanks visually measured the distance, held his breath, and yelled, “FIRE!” Hundreds of flaming arrows took flight, lighting the cloudy sky with bright red streaks of heated iron.
“Ready…draw…FIRE!” The arrows rained down on the advancing Northmen, but the heavily armored warriors took few hits as they churned up the ice and snow in their mad dash to consume the enemy lines.
Captain Shanks gave his next command, his voice strong and with no sign of intimidation as the huge wall of Northern armor and steel came charging on their position. “Spears ready! Lock shields!” the captain roared, and his line of infantry men thrust out their weapons and a wave of iron shields rolled across their front.
The Northmen advanced with King Ironheart leading the tidal wave of metal and death. Thirty yards, then twenty yards.
“AWOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEE,” several war horns shrieked a baleful assortment of animal cries and the ear-splitting noises broke through the madness before it had a chance to begin, stopping the Northern hoard no more than ten yards from the Southern army.
“AWOOOOOOOOOEEEEEEEE,” a second blast screeched over the battlefront and all men, both North and South, looked up the rocky hillside to the east where a new army was taking position.
Kadomi warriors: the hunters of man. The savage beasts were mounted atop their large monstrous lionsteeds – vicious horse-like creatures with thick manes of hair that grew around their long heads, and wicked teeth that stuck out at all angles from their gaping maws.
The Kadomi were bestial men with long dark hair and beards that covered unwashed faces. They were thickly muscled and wore the skins of animals, as well as chain and plate mail armor. Their teeth were jagged and sharp, and they cried for blood and battle as they suddenly came down in an avalanche of death, and black lions and white wolves followed in their wake.
The men from both the North and the South became instant allies as the Kadomi came down the hillside in endless waves, and when the armies came together, the result was deafening – a resounding crash that could be heard across the four lands. King Ironheart and Captain Shanks fought side by side. The king’s great two-handed sword, Deathbringer, held true to its name. With a single stroke, he cleaved a Kadomi from shoulder to hip, driving the blade through the lionsteed he rode and deep into the earth, both rider and mount falling in halves, their blood spilling across the frozen ground.
Captain Shanks fought with two short swords; each hand killing at all angles, driving through Kadomi and lionsteed. He then turned and shoved both blades to the hilt into the chest of a large bestial warrior and then backed away with his blades twirling as it fell dead to the ground before him. The captain sprinted away across the snow, vaulting off a dead horse that sprawled awkwardly across the frozen ground and soaring high into the air, somersaulting over a Kadomi, slashing with both swords and severing its head clean from its body. He landed with grace, down on one knee, ducking a powerful swipe of razor-sharp claws as another enemy rode past. He turned his blade and cut the back legs out from under the charging steed and watched as both rider and mount spilled across the ice and snow.
A lake of blood began to form upon the frozen ground, melting the snow and causing a light steam to rise from the earth. Soon the battlefield was lost under a misty fog, but still the armies fought and died.
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“If we lose this battle, can we expect the Kadomi to go back into their caves?” Gideon was an herb healer, a man of middle age who fought to save lives – not take them. He stood on a lonely hilltop just south of the battle and watched the chaos unfold.
The old man that stood next to him was his mentor. He had taught Gideon all he knew in the arts of healing, using herbs to make potions to cure diseases, heal battle wounds, and stop the infections that usually followed. Ezeria was a master healer, Gideon his apprentice. They came north with the Southern Army to help with the wounded, but the battle they watched would yield few survivors.
“They will feed off the dead for quite some time, and then we can only hope they will disperse back into the hills from which they came. We have ourselves to blame; by engaging the Northmen in war, we pulled them from out of their caves. The Kadomi are drawn to blood as is every animal that feeds on the flesh.” Ezeria was tall, old, and stick thin. He had grey hair that grew to the middle of his back and a thin white beard that touched his chest. Around his neck hung a long silver chain attached to a strange amulet. It was triangular and had a round clear crystal that seemed to float at its center.
“There are always consequences to greed,” Ezeria continued. “It’s a shame that thousands have to die so that the kings of men can wade through gold.” Gideon knew that Ezeria had no love for his brother, the king. He was a healer and he often spoke of King Uriah as a selfish man who cared not for his people and would gladly kill them all for a single piece of silver, but Ezeria cared, and that was why he had volunteered to come north with the king’s war machine. Ezeria came to heal, though, not kill, and Gideon knew the sight of thousands being slaughtered weighed on him heavily.
“Do we just stand here and watch them all die?” Gideon knew they had no other choice but felt compelled to ask the question anyway.
Ezeria’s gaze never left the battlefield. “Gideon, if you could save these people, but at the cost of your own life, would you?”
“Yes,” Gideon replied immediately.
Ezeria turned to him and smiled. He reached up and took the long silver chain from around his neck and held it in his withered hands.
“It gives me great comfort to know you have a gentle heart. After I am gone, will you care for your king’s people? My people?” The tone Ezeria spoke in made Gideon nervous.
“Of course, but that won’t be for many years,” Gideon replied.
“The king is a young man, compared to me, is he not?” Ezeria fingered the strange amulet, his eyes lost in thought.
“Yes, he has seen twenty plus summers,” Gideon answered.
“As have I,” Ezeria said. “And what do you know of magic?”
“I know nothing of magic – only that it’s dangerous,” Gideon replied as he shook his head in confusion at the seemingly old man that just announced he was young.
“That is all you need to know about magic!” Ezeria replied harshly, his eyes suddenly cold and staring hard into Gideon’s. “I am the king’s brother, Gideon,” his voice stern. “His twin brother, we are of the same age. Watch and learn,” Ezeria said with sadness in his voice as he held the amulet out at arms length by the long silver chain. “Understand that with magic, almost anything is possible. All it takes to perform miracles is…,” Ezeria’s gaze beheld the amulet and the floating crystal began to spin slowly, giving off a soft glow, and he whispered, “Life.”
In the distance, huge black thunderclouds came rolling across the sky like massive ocean-born waves, crawling their way over the battlefield. Gideon stood amazed.
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A spray of blood washed across Captain Shanks’ face. Odd, he thought, blood should be warm when it leaves the body, but it was cold, like water from a mountain spring. The Northman in front of him fell to his knees, his head sliding from his shoulders and landing in a puddle of melted snow and blood. The Kadomi that had just killed him smiled a sickening spread, showing teeth that were both sharp and rotten. It licked the blood from the razor-sharp sword it carried, and as the Kadomi eyed Captain Shanks, a huge war-axe split its skull in turn. The armored Northman drove his weapon to the sternum, nearly splitting the Kadomi warrior in half, and left it there when a huge black lion slammed into him from behind, knocking both warriors to the ground and killing the Northman with precision strikes from razor sharp claws. It then leapt away for another kill; its silver mane colored with streaks of blood.
Captain Shanks was breathless and relieved that the vicious animal went of
f to kill in another direction as he quickly bent low to cut through a white wolf, then spun around to parry a sword- strike with one of his blades while gutting the Kadomi with the other.
Shanks rolled left and cut right then charged back and sliced and circled through a spray of blood, and his strength and heart for killing began to waver. He could kill Kadomi and animals all day and into the night and it would not matter. He seemed to stand in the middle of hundreds of thousands, both men and beasts killing each other all around. The sounds of battle echoed in his head as metal clashed and men screamed and animals cried out in high pitched howls before they died.
As he stood there and watched the dead pile up all around him, ankle-deep in blood, he looked out across the battlefield to see his brave sergeant fighting with amazing skill not ten yards away. Daphaxian was his best friend and they grew up together in an orphanage, and then joined the army when they both turned fifteen summers.
Daphaxian thrust his deadly iron spear into the chest of a large brutal Kadomi as it raced past on a lionsteed, causing the creature to tumble from its mount. The lionsteed quickly turned on him and he was forced to backstep away and fight on his heels against the fierce creature until a large Northman came roaring past and sank a huge war-axe deep into its left shoulder. The lionsteed cried out and tried to get away but the large Northman was relentless and did not stop until it was dead.
Daphaxian turned to engage another foe and he saw Captain Shanks ten yards away and he winked and flashed his friend a wide smile. But then Daphaxian’s eyes grew wide and he desperately called out, pointing emphatically behind the captain while reaching down to pluck a spear from off the blood-soaked ice.
When Shanks spun around, he was ready to die, and time seemed to slow. He watched as a huge black lionsteed left the ground, arcing its way through the air, its full force coming right at him. He could see the hate in its blood-red eyes and in the same instant, a long iron spear whispered past his right ear, flying just over his shoulder and burying itself deep into the lionsteed’s throat, sinking half the length of the iron pole and piercing the beast’s heart.
Dead, the leaping lionsteed crashed into the captain, knocking him down and pinning him to the ground. Underneath its crushing weight, Shanks could feel broken bones and cracked ribs as the air exploded from his lungs and he laid there gasping for breath.
Surely, I must be dead, Shanks thought as his head peeked out from underneath the massive weight of the slain lionsteed. All he could do was look up into the sky and the sight he beheld was strange. He watched as dark clouds overhead began spilling out angels with huge white wings. At first there was but a few and a failing smile creased the man’s face. The melted snow and blood sloshed around his head and submerged his ears and stung his eyes while it washed down his throat and made him choke.
Daphaxian was there trying desperately to roll the dead animal off him, yelling words of encouragement to his friend.
Shanks struggled for air, blinking furiously to clear his vision while watching as more and more of the white angels fell from the sky, their great wings spreading wide. They soared fast to the battlefield.
“They are coming… for me,” Captain Shanks choked and slowly a single word began to echo out across the battlefield. Soon, hundreds were yelling the same cry. And then thousands were screaming it.
“DRAGONS!”
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Did you summon the dragons? Are you controlling them? Is this the power of magic? What is happening to you? Gideon wanted to ask Ezeria these questions – and many others, but he was in shock and in total disbelief as he watched the huge white snow dragons descend upon the field of battle. They had wings the color of new-fallen snow and their long necks and bellies were armored in what appeared to be thick sheets of ice. There were scores of the great beasts, swooping down to the icy plains, grabbing up Kadomi and their mounts in one claw and huge black lions in the other, and then driving hard back into the sky. Their great wings pounded the air and sent shockwaves around them, causing a wind to blow across the battlefield equal to the mightiest of storms.
Gideon turned to Ezeria and was amazed at the sight of the master healer as he watched the old man becoming older. Large tuffs of hair began falling from his head, blowing away in the wind caused by the dragons’ wings. His face, once pale, was now ghost-white, his wrinkles deeper and his cheeks hollow. It was like watching a candle melt, the skin on his arm starting to fall away exposing small amounts of bone and dried blood.
Gideon reached out, afraid for Ezeria, “What is happening to you?”
“Don’t touch me, fool!” Ezeria screamed back, his voice the sound of a dead man clinging to life. “This is the price of magic!”
Ezeria’s gaze never left the amulet. His eyes now bulging as the skin on his face rotted away. Gideon turned back to the scene on the battlefield, his stomach sickened by the fast decay of his old friend and mentor.
The sounds of battle soon faded and an orchestra of screams from Kadomi and animals filled the air as the snow dragons rained death down upon them. They landed hard upon the frozen plain and the ground trembled beneath them as they tore through the Kadomi. The dragons filled their huge mouths with the screaming beasts while stomping hard the lion and wolf in a spray of blood.
The armies of the North and South fell back as the Kadomi army fled the battlefield with the dragons in fast pursuit. Many of the beasts were frozen solid by the great blasts of liquid nitrogen that the dragons spewed from their gaping maws. Some were left to stand like vivid ice sculptures while others were crushed into small chunks of ice and blood.
Gideon stood amazed and watched until the last of the Kadomi were driven off. The snow dragons slowly dispersed as well, climbing back into the clouds circling high above the Titans. Gideon turned to Ezeria’s withered form which lay beneath a crumpled gray robe lying sadly at his feet.
He bent down and picked up the amulet, the crystal no longer spinning, no longer radiating light, and placed the long silver chain around his neck.
“I will never use the magic,” Gideon promised himself and his dead friend, “but I will always keep this as a reminder of the day your selfless act saved thousands.”
He then picked up the body of Ezeria, still wrapped in the grey robes he once wore in life, and walked him across the hillside until he found a small cave to bury him in.
“This will be your tomb, Ezeria. It is small and modest. Here you will know peace. May Carami receive your gentle spirit into his kingdom and treat you with kindness.”
Gideon then took the rest of the day to cover the small entrance with rocks so that Ezeria’s bones would never be disturbed. Then he set out towards the camp of what remained of the Southern Army, fabricating a tale of what had happened to the king’s brother, the great man known simply as Ezeria. The master healer’s words echoed in the mind of his humble apprentice as he walked towards the battlefield.
What do you know of magic, Gideon?
3
Year of the Frost Horn 2318 A.A.
The sky was overcast, and a warm soft rain had been falling on and off all day. The weather set the mood as the townsfolk filed out of the cemetery grounds, wet and somber.
Aliha stood alone, staring down at the freshly dug grave. She had been standing there all day, her long blonde hair now dripping water down her face and back, her black dress soaked through and clinging to her shapely form. She had just turned eighteen summers and had grown tall, close to six feet, with well toned arms and shoulders. Her legs were long, and she stood with bare feet on the wet grass, her sandals held loosely in each hand. She was beautiful, with crystal blue eyes and a heart shaped face. Standing there, she appeared regal, looking more like a princess than a farmer’s daughter. She would be there all night, lost in thought, flooded with the memories of her mother and father.
They were good parents – the best really – and had given her a life filled with love. She remembered long days in the fields helping he
r dad plow, working the farm and milking the cows.
She had fond memories of her mother as well; helping her in the kitchen and learning to cook. Her mom taught her how to read and write and how to stitch and to make clothes from different fabrics.
She was raised to one day be a good wife and mother and she cherished the hard work ethic her father had given her. She was expected to marry and take over the farm, raising children and living the kind of life her parents had lived. They had been happy, and it was an honest living, and she had always wanted what they had wanted – until now. Now she didn’t know what she wanted.
As her parents grew older, their health began to fail. Her mother had died from an illness two years earlier and her father was crushed. She took on all her mother’s responsibilities and helped her father with the care of the farm. Her dad had aged considerably since her mother’s death and it was not long before his health began to waver as well. After two years of health problems, her father finally passed away. He was taken in his sleep two nights ago. It was a peaceful death that came to a man who had lived a good long life.
He was laid to rest and reunited with the woman he loved so very much, and now Aliha was alone. She had no brothers or sisters, aunts or uncles or grandparents. Besides Timber, her mother and father were all the family she had. The thought gave her a sad feeling that washed over her like the unforgiving rain, which coalesced with the tears that streamed down her face.
“What will I do now, Father?” Aliha whispered to the fresh grave. When no answer came, she looked to her mother’s headstone. DEEANNA TEMMONS, it read, DEVOTED AND LOVING WIFE AND MOTHER. “What will I do now, Mother?”
Aliha was distantly aware of the sound of footsteps in the wet grass behind her, but she paid the visitor no mind, assuming it was just another friend of her father’s.