Veegal's Wall

by Adam McCullough

  Chapter 24

  Wikkid’s axe bit into yet another opponent trying to hold back the tide of warriors threatening to overwhelm them. Directly behind him Anja and Eertu dealt death in mass as He Eitreen Nichole and Erica fought to make sure they had time to cast their deadly spells. Luckily the collapse of the outer wall had cut off the attackers from reinforcements but plenty had slipped through beforehand.

  He risked a glance at Dredrik and Mareth. Dredrik’s entire body was now engulfed in a dull blue glow making his swift movements a disorienting blur. Whatever effect he was under served him well as he matched the super human speed of Mareth stroke for stroke, but to Wikkid’s trained eye it was apparent that regardless of the perks he was receiving Dredrik was slowing. Several times he had tried to break free and lend a hand but the attackers had zeroed in on Eertu and Anja.

  Wikkid’s split second of distraction almost cost him as a spear nearly ran him through. Only lightning quick reflexes and years of experience saved his life as he sidestepped the thrust and swung his axe around in a decapitating arc. Even as the man’s head fell to the blood soaked ground another warrior took his place. Wikkid resigned himself to the fact that for now Dredrik was on his own.

  . . . . .

  Jillian was a woman possessed. After barely making it through the gates the protection afforded her by her condition was put to the test. Her body withstood a pounding that should have left her no more than a bloody pulp buried beneath the remains of the once impenetrable fortress wall. After replacing her destroyed sword she set out on a bloody rampage through the legion’s ranks cutting her way toward the bane of her existence.

  At least half a dozen more times she should have died from various assaults. Not through lack of skill did the blows connect but lack of concentration. With no concern for injury she focused solely on the attack.

  That fact Mareth bothered to parry, block, and counter spoke volumes of the power he must believe the glowing warrior possessed. There was no doubt this was the moment Merca had spoken of. A feral smile formed upon her lips as she stalked ever closer to her mark.

  . . . . .

  Dredrik was in trouble and he knew it. Every hammer swing, shield bash, or piece of trickery he knew Mareth seemed one step ahead of him. Being quicker is what was keeping him alive but fatigue was setting in. Whatever power was coursing through his body and armor seemed to feed off his energy, and of that he was running out of fast. Every muscle in his body screamed for rest, arms protested with every swing.

  Then something changed. Mareth jabbed straight at him with his dagger forcing him to parry with his mace and just like that Dredrik found himself on the defensive blocking and parrying blow after blow unable to take back the advantage.

  Mareth began to laugh. “Good paladin. This is the most fun I’ve had in a few life times, but it’s over now.” Mareth batted both the paladins shield and mace aside and kicked out, his foot catching Dredrik in the stomach sending the paladin sprawling to the ground.

  Dredrik tried to rise but Mareth was on him in an instant planting his foot down hard into Dredrik’s chest pinning him to the ground. Dredrik tried to strike out against Mareth’s knee with his mace but Mareth batted the weapon from Dredrik’s hand.

  “Die well,” Mareth sneered as he brought his weapon high point down ready to impale Dredrik with one final thrust.

  Dredrik readied himself for the inevitable but the blow never came. A huge familiar axe caught Mareth midriff. The blow was unable to get through Mareth’s protection but the sheer force of the blow knocked the warrior back. Dredrik rolled to his feet grabbing his mace as he went. Both Wikkid and Dredrik squared off against a now furious Mareth.

  Mareth began to charge as two bolts of energy hit home staggering him backwards.

  He gathered his senses and hurled his dagger into the keepers shoulder. The woman screamed clutching at her disabled arm. Wikkid and Dredrik both charged as Mareth rushed to meet them snatching a small axe from a dead soldier’s hands in mid stride. A crossbow bolt struck Mareth in the chest but it ricocheted harmlessly away as the three men closed the distance.

  Wikkid swung his axe in a powerful arching swing that should have connected at Mareth’s waste but the huge warrior dove over the swing then rolled neatly back to his feet at the same time side stepping a mace strike from Dredrik. Mareth’s sword clanged harmlessly off Dredrik’s shield but Mareth managed to hook Dredrik’s leg and trip him up.

  Wikkid leapt into the air axe raised high over his head. Mareth snapped off an impossible side kick catching the dwarf’s face in mid-flight with the sole of his boot. Wikkid’s head snapped back and his axe flew harmlessly away as his body landed with a bone crushing thud.

  Eitreen could see the exhausted Eertu trying to gather strength for another spell but Mareth was closing in quickly on the warlock. Desperately she flung the ineffectual crossbow sending the weapon smashing against Mareth’s helmet. The warrior ignored Eitreen’s assault and continued after Eertu sizing him up as the greater threat. A mistake, Eitreen barreled into the back of Mareth’s knee toppling him to the ground.

  Both Eitreen and Mareth scrambled to their feet but Mareth was the quicker knocking Eitreen out with a powerful strike that caught Eitreen in the temple with the pommel of his sword.

  Eertu got off another spell at point blank range but he was weak from exhaustion. The spell simply dissipated over Mareth’s hulking form. Eertu back peddled only to trip on debris and fall painfully on his back forcing the air from his chest. Eertu closed his eyes unable to move or breath, expecting the death blow at any moment. It didn’t happen.

  Mareth let loose an agonizing scream as he sunk to his knees blood frothing from his mouth. The pain was one he had felt before, one he should have been expecting. A deadly mix of poison and magic spread throughout his body carried by his own blood delivered by a weapon that had been his death before. Seems he had underestimated Merca’s need for his help. So be it, there was still some manner of revenge to attain.

  It occurred to him as the paladin and his companions cautiously surrounded him that the fighting inside the courtyard had all but died out. Very few defenders remained standing, but none of the attackers that made the breach before the wall came down stood. The paladin and his dwarf friend stood directly in from of him now weapons at the ready.

  “Dwarf,” Mareth managed with a rasping voice. “The sorcerer Merca, the man responsible for most the destruction wrought so far, he seeks the Alminthium Stone.” Merca watched as the dwarfs face contorted with both recognition and worry. “Good you know of it. It is why the sorcerer joined the Lord General’s invasion of these lands. An emissary is already in place making treaty, offering to return large parcels of land if they march with him on Calington.

  Wikkid said nothing merely absorbed what Mareth had said then nodded.

  “As for you Jillian,” Mareth whispered. He had not seen her, but knew she was the one who plunged the knife in his back. “I will see you soon, Mother.”

  He cried out again as Jillian gave the blade a twist then starred directly into Dredrik’s eyes. “You have a promise to keep paladin.”

  “So I do,” Dredrik growled swinging his hammer so that the axe blade side sliced cleanly through Mareth’s neck, his defensive powers no longer present to stem the decapitating blow. Mareth’s head bounced off the ground as his body collapsed into a heap of useless flesh.

  Dredrik caught his breath as he took in the situation. The wall was gone, in its place a pile of rubble holding the remnants of the attacking army at bay. It would take some time for the legion to pick its way through the rubble, but not too long. Only a few handful of defenders remained standing on this side of the second wall, probably only a few hundred on the other. The fight was over. They had accomplished all they could.

  He spied Eitreen lying face down on the ground and rushed over rolling her onto her back. A flood of relief came over him as he realized she was still breathing. He shook her gently calli
ng her name until her eyes opened.

  “Am I dead?”

  “You feel any pain?”

  “Plenty,” she said as Dredrik helped her sit up.

  “Then you’re alive,” Dredrik said pulling Eitreen to her feet, “for the moment, everyone else alive?”

  “Barely.” Anja said walking slowly supported heavily by Eertu. “I fear Erica did not survive the assault however.”

  Wikkid simply grunted.

  Jillian approached Anja and kneeled down before her. “Keeper I have failed you and the Order.”

  Anja placed a hand upon Jillian’s head. “No child, you may have just saved everybody here.”

  “There is much you don’t know.”

  “And it can be discussed later.”

  “That pile of rubble won’t hold them long,” Dredrik said. “It’s time to go, full retreat while we can still do so with some order.

  Wikkid leaned heavily on the haft of his axe. Blood flowed freely from his nose. “Sorry lad, we will have to part company for a time, and I am going to need Anja and Eertu’s help.”

  “The Alminthium Stone,” Dredrik said recalling Mareth’s proclamation.

  “Aye, if Mareth was telling the truth we cannot let the sorcerer get that amulet.”

  “What is the stone?”

  “Trouble,” Anja said. “Created by a dark mage over a millennia ago. It could make the power Merca has displayed insignificant by comparison. It and this Merca will have to be dealt with.”

  “And I must see to the tribes and our contract with King Argile,” Dredrik stated. “Get them as far from Eebrook as possible while we still can.” He took one last look around at the carnage wrought on the once great fortress. “I guess that’s that,” he said at last.”

  “So it is,” Wikkid agreed.

  The retreat was sounded and the party relieved to find their mounts still under guard and packed for travel in the western stables. After a quick check to make sure King Argile’s sword was secured on his steed Dredrik mounted then offered a hand to Eitreen. She accepted and he pulled her onto the back of the horse. The western city began to burn as troops put fire to everything as they fled.

  The party stayed long enough to make sure everybody got clear. Enemy troops could be heard moving closer, probably outside the second wall now.

  Wikkid rode up next to Dredrik where the two were facing each other. They clasped wrists in the warrior’s handshake. “Until we meet again,” Wikkid said.

  “Until we meet again,” Dredrik agreed. “We’ll wait for you at Delentray.”

  Wikkid simply nodded.

  They parted company. Wikkid Eertu and Anja rode north to Mal-Karak. Dredrik, Eitreen, Nichole and Lesley went west to Calington.

  Epilogue

  Samuel Argile watched over the eastern portion of Calington from the balcony of his study high up in the royal spire. It was not exactly a pleasant day, the air was cool and damp, the sun hid behind a thick layer of clouds. There was no wind though, so the temperature was fairly tolerable. Footsteps crept up behind him and waited patiently till he acknowledged the persons presence. “You have news Regent?”

  Regent Lord Reginald Dravok stepped upon the balcony next to the newly crowned king of Eebrook. “I have Milord. Veegal’s Wall fell just hours ago.”

  “Hmph,” Samuel voiced in response. “I had hoped they’d last a day or two longer, but it is as foreseen.”

  “Not exactly Milord. The defenders made quite a showing of themselves. Our spy confirms over half the invaders were killed in the taking. Your visions saw the fortress overran without much effort. Perhaps withdrawing our forces was a Mistake.”

  “Seconding guessing me Reginald?”

  “Not you Lord, merely the visions you have been receiving. Your father was renowned in his skills as a seer and his last visions lead him to his doom.” Samuel did not respond immediately leaving Reginald to wonder if he had crossed a line with the young king. The young man’s temperament and demeanor were more in line with his grandfather’s than his fathers. In his opinion that was not a good thing.

  “My father died shaping events so that things would turn out as they are unfolding. It is the reason he seeded the island of Rhonin to this commoner, the newly titled Lord Dredrik Airasmau. For some reason he was enthralled with the man and the Dread Legion he led.”

  “He was the man who took charge of Veegal’s Wall. If the reports are true you father was right to place trust in him and his people.”

  Samuel took one last deep breath of fresh air then walked back into the study, Reginald right behind him closing the balcony doors. “My father was wrong about a few things. I will not be leaving with this King Airasmau. I do not believe the full line of events was available to father when he hatched his scheme to ensure the royal line. I am not retracting my father’s gift to the.. What is it they call themselves?”

  “The lost,” Reginald said

  “Yes the Lost. The conditions will only be changed slightly. The sister to the one who leads the invaders is coming and she brings her own army with her. This will create an interesting power struggle, and one that must happen if we are to survive as a nation. The dwarves, this Lord General, his sister, even the lost will all play a role before the end. We play our cards right we come out all the more powerful. Even the dwarves will fall at our feet.”

  Reginald felt a chill run down his spine. They were facing annihilation and this fool was talking about conquering the dwarves. No attempt to gain footing past the Mal-Karak foothills were ever successful at the height of Eebrookian power. “As you say, Milord.”

  “Indeed. Leave me now so that I can contemplate our future.”

  Reginald took a deep breath after shutting the door behind him. He had a secret the King was unaware of. Princess Kiasa too had the power of foresight, the first female Argile to do so, and she had kept it a secret from all until recently. And her visions told a largely different tale than Samuel’s. Her visions were soaked in the blood of Eebrook.

  . . . . .

  Merca marched angrily to his newly commandeered tent after a long unpleasant discussion with the Lord General. There were plenty of empty ones by the time they took Veegal’s Wall. It took some convincing and a bit of subtle mind altering magic to convince the General that he still had worth. It was a demeaning situation. If not for his powers none of the Lord Generals family would be more than petty warlords fighting for survival amongst other warring petty lords.

  After some doing he finally convinced the General to send him north to try and solidify their new treaty with the Dwarves. Of course he kept the Alminthium stone a closely guarded secret. Soon he would need nobody, answer to nobody, and the world would be his for the taking. Then there would be a reckoning. This he swore.

  To be continue in The Alminthium Stone