Prior shakes his head, clearly more afraid of the darkhound’s severed head than he is of the Arch Magister. “I still have authority in this province, Arch-Magister. It appears that these monsters are actually real, and if what these people say is true, they threaten us all.”
Furious, Elva kicks her horse and rides back up the hill. Several of the mages move to follow her.
When they are gone, Elias begins speaking again. “Governor, we do not have long before Moloch and his horde arrives. We need to begin working on the defenses of Forest Hill immediately.”
Prior nods, though his face remains stark white. “Anything you need, I will ensure that you have it, ranger.”
“Good,” Elias replies. “We will start by informing the outlying farms that they must abandon their homes. We need to gather as many of the people together if we hope to survive this.”
At a look from Elias, Barus raises his fist into the air. “Nightingales,” he yells in a commanding voice, “let’s get this place ready for a siege. Move out!”
The column begins to make its way unhindered into the town.
Zara lets out a relieved sigh. "That went about as well as we could have hoped." She looks over at me and beams. "That was good thinking, bringing that darkhound head."
Nodding, I look over at the wretched thing laying in the road. The marching Nightingales take care to go around it, giving it a wide berth.
"There still is much work to do," Elias reminds us grimly, urging his horse forward. "I fear that time is not on our side."
Zara and I both do the same, guiding our mounts up the road and into town.
"First thing's first," I say after a moment, looking determinedly up at the governor’s mansion.
"What's that?" Zara asks.
"I'm going to go to that horrible Arch-magister of yours and get my hatchet back!"
Out of the corner of my eye I can see her rolling her eyes at me. Under her breath she mutters, “What is it with men and their weapons?"
Chapter Thirty-Two
Zara
The rhythmic pounding of hammers fills the air in Forest Hill, accompanied by the steady sounds of sawing wood and breaking timbers. Insistent leaders shout for the laborers to ‘put their backs into it’, and workers grumble as they work hard to turn their homes and shops into rough-shod fortifications.
The sleepy frontier town has seemingly come alive with the threat of invasion on the horizon.
I watch curiously as makeshift walls are erected out of any materials that can be gathered, including doors and fence posts. The local blacksmiths, undoubtedly more accustomed to forging horseshoes, are hard at work producing spears and arrows for the townsfolk to use in defending themselves. The scholarly part of me wants to document the unusual transformation, but the more practical side forces me to pitch in and help where I can.
Carrying a bucket of water to one of the forges, I notice a pair of youths warily eying a Nightingale soldier digging a trench. They whisper to each other, dark expressions on their faces.
Unfortunately, the integration of the Nightingales into the general population of Forest Hill has not been the smoothest of transitions. Fist fights have been a fairly common occurrence, and an air of distrust hangs over us all like a storm cloud, making everyone feel uneasy.
Still, I think to myself, depositing the bucket beside the blacksmith's anvil. At least everyone is working for a common goal. Mutual destruction is apparently enough to keep the two groups from each other's throats.
A mage nods to me in respect as he walks past. I believe his name is Roth. I wave to him pleasantly, pleased that many of the mages have welcomed me back with open arms. They seem profoundly interested in learning everything they can about the R'Laar, and have spent the last day and a half questioning me thoroughly about the subject.
As my eyes wander up to the governor's manor, however, my heart sinks.
Unlike the other mages, Arch-magister Tyrande has yet to see my side of things.
Elva and her cronies have locked themselves at the top of the hill, refusing to help with the defense of Forest Hill in any way. Apparently, they don't want to be seen fraternizing with the enemy, and plan on leaving us for Tarsys first thing in the morning.
How can they be so blind? I think, wiping a bead of sweat from my forehead with the back of my hand. Can’t they see that this battle is going to affect all of us?
Shaking my head in wonder, I begin making my way up the hill toward a pavilion that has been erected on the lawn just outside of the governor’s home. It is a large tent that has been set up with a view of the town and the forest beyond, a staging point of sorts. This is where the decisions are being made on how the town should be defended against Moloch.
I push open the flap, stepping inside and approaching a wide table where Governor Prior, Elias, Owyn, Barus, and a mage named Willus sits. The round-faced man is the de-facto leader of the mages who have chosen to stay and help. A map of the town has been laid out before them, wooden figurines representing the strategic placement of troops.
All eyes turn toward me as I enter the tent.
“How fairs the construction?” Barus asks me without preamble. Considering the fact that his troops are providing the bulk of the labor, it is a fair question.
“Fine,” I reply, pulling up a seat at the table. “All of the roads leading up the hill have been barricaded except for the main one, and it looks like the wall will be up before the sun goes down.”
“Excellent,” Barus replies. He points to a spot on the map with the tip of his dagger. “My scouts indicate that Moloch’s army is indeed on the move. They should be arriving on the outskirts of town an hour or two after sundown.”
“The darkness favors their troops,” Elias says ominously, looking intently at the map. “Governor, have the outlying farms been evacuated?”
“Yes,” Prior answers tiredly, dabbing his upper lip with a handkerchief. “They know to gather here within the hour, and will bring all of the provisions that they can carry. The women and children will take shelter within my home and every able-bodied man will be on the front line.”
Somehow, I doubt that will include you, I think, examining his rotund frame.
“We have a hundred trained swords, fifty archers, and at least that many local militiamen at our disposal,” Barus growls while eying the map. Then, almost as an afterthought, he adds, “...and seven mages, of course.”
“A sizable defense force,” Elias muses, leaning forward to examine the map beside the Nightingale. “Better than I thought we would be able to muster. Our runners are on their way to Omkirk and Green Harbor with a plea for aid. If we can hold out long enough, reinforcements should be able to arrive within a few days to support us.”
“I don’t mean to be a raincloud,” Willus interjects, his fingers steepled in front of him in thought, “but by all accounts, Moloch has us outnumbered two to one. I’m not as familiar with these demons as the rest of you, but from what I can gather one of them is more formidable than many of our soldiers. Even with these defenses, how can we hope to survive the night, let alone a few days?”
His frank words seem to cast a pall over the tent. For a moment everybody is silent.
“I agree with the Magus,” Owyn says with a frown. “We’ll need to figure out a way to level the playing field. Maybe even divide his troops.”
Suddenly a thought strikes me. “What about fire?”
All eyes turn to look at me.
Summoning my courage, I explain. “Both times I faced these demons, I noticed that magefyre seems to be an effective weapon against them. They appear to be afraid of it, and all other forms of radiant magic.”
“The math doesn’t add up,” Willus interjects. “Even at our full strength, we wouldn’t be able to conjure enough magefyre to burn half of his army.”
“It’s a good idea, Zara,” Elias says more gently, “but the Magus has a point. I don’t think that seven mages will be enough to significantly damage
Moloch’s forces.”
“Magefyre works,” I insist, “but I am fairly certain that they don’t like regular fire as well.”
Willus' eyebrows knit together, making his doubt plain. “Elaborate.”
Taking a deep breath, I delve into the story of how I used radiant magic to fight the darkhound in the woods by Haven. I explain that the shadowling had seemed afraid of the leaves I had ignited, and how I had used a Radiant Beam to finally kill it.
“Interesting,” Willus says after I finish, stroking his chin thoughtfully.
“If we can find some sort of ignition source, we can use magefyre to set it ablaze and keep Moloch’s troops from advancing to the top of the hill.” My voice becomes more excited as the plan starts to form in my head.
“Thomlin the thatcher uses pitch when working on roofs,” Governor Prior offers. “From what I understand, it can be extremely flammable.”
Giving me an impressed look, Owyn chimes in. “Does he by chance have enough to cover one of the roads in town?”
Prior shrugs. “I'll have to check, but I'd wager he does.”
Owyn and I look at each other, both of us smiling.
“Allow me to lend my services to help you, Initiate Dennel,” Willus says, clearly intrigued by the idea. “If we can strategically place our mages near barrels of pitch, we could inflict maximum damage upon this army of demons.”
“Then it is settled,” Elias states with a tone of finality. “Zara, Owyn and the mages will work on a way to divide and destroy Moloch’s troops while the rest of our soldiers, led by General Barus and I, defend the barricades. Hopefully, Light willing, we will be able to hold out until reinforcements can arrive from the neighboring towns.”
Barus gestures at the map again with his knife. “My men will be able to hold the main road for a time, but I worry about the rest of our defenses. The very nature of a hill means that there are several paths up to the top.”
“The bottom half of the town will have to be abandoned,” Elias remarks, leaning forward and moving figures around the map. “The lower homes and farms are indefensible and our people would be spread too thin.”
“With the paths all barricaded and the wall being built near the top, it should not be a problem keeping the demons away,” Owyn adds. “Several parts of the hill are too steep for anyone to climb, even demons. The idea is to bottleneck them so that there is only one way for them to go.”
Barus frowns at the map, but for the moment he looks placated.
After a bit more discussion, everyone stands up and begins departing the command tent. “We still have a lot more work to do before this day is over,” Elias says as we leave. “Our troops have to be ready before the enemy is within sight of Forest Hill. We have a long night ahead of us.”
We exit the tent, all going our separate ways. Willus offers to go with me to track down the thatcher Thomlin. I gladly agree, grateful to have the company of a fellow mage.
“I’m going to go speak with the builders about devising a way to use fire to hurt the demons,” Owyn says, squinting as a cool breeze gusts across the top of the hill. Meet me at the barricade once you have secured the pitch.”
I nod and begin making my way with Willus down the hill, but as I go Owyn calls my name, causing me to pause.
“Yes?” I reply, looking back over my shoulder at him.
He hesitates. “We may not get another chance to talk before tonight. Working on the pitch will probably take the rest of our time before the demons arrive. I just... I wanted to say that I am glad you approached me after the attack on the inn.”
Confused, I look from Owyn to Willus, who looks annoyed at the interruption. After a moment, he begins making his way down the hill, muttering “Catch up with me when you are done.”
I turn to regard the ranger's apprentice. “What do you mean?”
He takes a step closer, looking deeply into my eyes. “You were the only one who believed my story, Zara. Even Elias didn’t believe me in the beginning. And because of you, we now have a chance at defeating Moloch and making Tarsynium safe again.”
Light, those eyes! Do they always look so intense? “It was nothing,” I reply, silently cursing myself for the lame response.
“Zara, it was everything!" He exclaims, the corner of his mouth turning up in a small smile. "If you hadn’t convinced me to show you that clearing with the deer, we would still be here, thinking the Nightingales were to blame for the recent attacks. The last few days have been crazy, but I'm glad that now, at the end, I have a friend.” He extends a hand for me to shake, which I stare at incredulously.
“A handshake? Really?” I throw my arms around him and give him a hug. “I’m glad that we have become friends, too.”
He hugs me back stiffly, clearly taken aback by sudden show of affection. I squeeze him, feeling his solid body pressed against mine. Then, realizing that we are embracing on the top of a hill where everybody can see, I awkwardly step back, muttering that we should both get going.
Despite everything, with a battle looming just a few hours away, I can’t help but smile as I walk back down to join Willus on the road.
Chapter Thirty-Three
Owyn
The air is deadly quiet as the demon host approaches the newly-built walls of Forest Hill.
Standing atop a rickety parapet with Zara and Elias, I peer past the flickering torches lining the abandoned town at the troops marching toward us, their stamping feet a dull rumble in the distance.
Among our own ranks, nobody dares to utter a single word.
It had taken up until sunset for our ramshackle defenses to finally come together, the barricades sealed shut and the gates locked with chains. Scouts began to frantically alert us of the demons arrival soon after, waving their arms wildly and blowing their trumps.
Now, we watch in mute horror as dozens of snarling darkhounds prowl before rows of mindflayed Nightingales, their blank expressions staring at our fortifications like statues devoid of emotion. Behind them, we can see leering gorgons carrying spears and swords, their horned heads like rows of jagged teeth waiting to devour us.
There are so many of them, I think to myself, a cold knot of dread settling in my stomach. There's got to be hundreds of them. How did so many get through?
Somewhere out there I know Moloch is commanding them, formulating a plan to exploit our weaknesses and slaughter us all like the villagers in Haven.
I refuse to let that happen.
Our own army, about two hundred and fifty strong, stands silently in their positions, weapons held at the ready. Archers carrying longbows and crossbows stand atop the wall behind any cover they can find, arrows and bolts ready to fire. Behind the barricades, Nightingales and militiamen carry shields and weapons ranging from swords and axes to pitchforks and shovels, clutching them tightly in white-knuckled hands. More than a few mutter prayers to the Light under their breath.
Just outside of bowshot the demons come to a halt, hanging back like predators just beyond the light of the torches.
Eleven Hells, I think, tightening my grip on my bow. It's about to begin.
Elias' stone-faced expression does not indicate that he feels any fear at all. He merely raises his hand in the air, motioning for everybody on the wall to prepare to fire. The creaking sound of bowstrings being pulled fills my ears.
One of the demons steps forward from out of the ranks, and I immediately recognize it as Moloch, bedecked in midnight armor. He is carrying his massive black sword, the blade resting easily on his metal-clad shoulder, and he looks up at us with confidence, a feral grin splitting his crimson face.
When he speaks, his voice booms throughout the entire town. “Good evening, little humans. Have we kept you waiting long?” He lets out an ear-splitting laugh and the rest of his army joins him, with the exception of the bewitched Nightingales, who just continue to stand there blankly. The grating sound causes the hackles on the back of my neck to rise.
His cackling subsides and then
he hefts his sword, giving it a few practice swings. “Are you going to let us in, or are you going to force us to knock?”
Even from here, I can his white teeth glittering in the low light.
After about a minute his raises his sword high in the air. “The age of men is at an end. This petty kingdom will soon belong to the R’Laar, and the remainder of your world will at long last be ours! Xxaar’iil, pruuish khaa!” Moloch points his blade at the wall and the first line of darkhounds, dozens of snapping jaws dripping with saliva, begins to charge, running at top speed toward our position.
“Loose!” Elias commands, bringing his hand down in a chopping motion. Everybody, including myself, releases their arrows, launching a volley across the divide to rain down upon the charging darkhounds.
Many of the missiles miss, sinking harmlessly into the ground, but there are more than few direct hits, arrows sinking deep into demon flesh. Several of the beasts squeal, pausing their charge to nip at the fletchings protruding from their hides. As far as I can tell, though, none of them have been killed.
“Prepare to fire again!” Elias roars, pulling two arrows from his quiver and knocking them at the same time. After a few seconds, he shouts again, “Loose!”
Another volley arcs through the night sky, peppering the darkhounds like a razor sharp rain. More arrows and bolts find purchase on the red-eyed demons, but it is not enough to stop them. They collide with our thin wooden wall and begin snapping at those standing on top of it, jumping on their hind legs and gnashing with their teeth.
Using my father’s hatchet, I cleave into a darkhound’s skull as it jumps up to bite me. I hear a sickening crack and its eyes go dim. It falls to the ground in a heap and does not get back up.
Others are not so lucky.
A gut-wrenching scream rips the air as a militiaman off to my right gets pulled off the side of the wall, one of the shadowlings managing to sink its teeth into his leg. He falls to the waiting darkhounds and is torn to shreds, his screams becoming lost in the feeding frenzy.
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