The Forgotten Tribe

by Stephen J Wolf

  “Enough,” barked the king. “These fools know who I am.”

  Two knights stepped over to help their liege from his horse. The king was not particularly tall, but he nonetheless had a commanding presence, even with all the distracting gemstones tinkling along his trousers, armor, robe, and cape.

  “I am Dariak, son of Delminor—”

  “I don’t precisely care,” Kallion interrupted. “I have come because my lands are threatened by heathens. I heeded your warning and I have arrived with the means of removing you. If you cherish your head, then depart my land forever, all of you. If you wish to stain this land with your blood, then remain. It is no more difficult than that.”

  “You cannot defeat us,” Dariak said, to which the king laughed.

  “Why? Because you have Hathren forces waiting to defend you? Because you can use magic? It will not help you, I can assure you.”

  Dariak straightened his spine. “There is no need for war any longer.”

  “So you say,” the king spat. “Yet have you seen the state of pitiable Hathreneir? Soon the entire kingdom will be a desolate wasteland. It’s no wonder they have violated the border and come here at your whim. We will not allow them to steal our land from us, nor will we allow you to help them.”

  Gabrion stepped forward, his face creased in anger. “You are as one-sided and deaf as you were a year ago. It’s a wonder a man like you can run a kingdom.”

  Kallion laughed. “Perhaps you think I have forgotten the treachery you and your companion brought to my home, but I have not. You may have escaped the hunters, but it seems I need not have wasted my time searching at all, as here you are, all together.” He turned to one of the knights. “Forgive me for sending you on such a useless errand. If I had only known.”

  The knight took off his helmet and the companions gasped, for it was Ordren. “I accept your forgiveness, my liege. The efforts were not a waste, however.”

  “Ordren?” Gabrion asked. “I don’t understand.”

  “Of course you don’t,” the man chortled. “You only see what’s in front of you, little one.”

  Dariak tapped his chin. “That’s why you remained at the outpost, then. I see now. You were always a spy for the king.”

  “Defender of my homeland, you mean. Today is the day my oath is fulfilled. I will bring about your downfall and end your madness.”

  “Now, now,” Kallion intervened. “I did offer them the chance to waddle off freely, didn’t I?”

  “He isn’t going to listen,” Kitalla whispered needlessly to Dariak.

  “You cannot defeat us,” Dariak declared. “Even if you were to strike us down, others will follow and you will be overwhelmed in the end.”

  Kallion’s voice echoed with mocking laughter. “Do you hear this?” he asked of the envoy around him. “He already suggests he will fall today.”

  “No,” Dariak corrected. “I’m pointing out the fact that your time is over whether you like it or not. And if we fall today, we know our work is not in vain. We know that our future will come to pass regardless of your close-mindedness. What assurances do you have? Whether you survive this day or not, your time is at an end.”

  “You speak nonsense,” Kallion accused.

  “Yet you fear it as truth, else you would not have come with such haste.”

  “I warn you one last time,” the king barked. “Retreat to Hathreneir or perish!”

  Dariak mumbled to himself then let out a sharp, piercing whistle. Immediately, the sound of rushing water could be heard. Dariak swept his hands from his sides upward and out toward the Kallisorian king. “Wrethribos tedalor trinvarious.”

  Before the Kallisorians could react, a huge wave of water burst forth and sprayed the envoy. Dariak’s whistle had alerted the healers to open the vats and his magic had guided the water from there. It wasn’t how he had wanted this meeting to go, but he needed the king to see that he was serious.

  “Your spells will do nothing to me!” the king screamed. He was completely dry, and so was a three-yard radius around him. Dariak had suspected that the gemstones were not for show, and now he knew how far the king’s protections extended.

  “No harm was intended,” Dariak said. “I’m merely pointing out that your attitude stinks and is in need of a cleansing.”

  Kallion clenched his fists and brought them over his head, after which he slammed them down at his sides, the signal for his forces to launch an attack. Ordren whooped, raising his sword over his head and leading the strike, while the Kallisorian king stood still, letting the rest of his forces fight for him.

  Dariak went immediately to work, drawing upon the powers he knew best. He scooped a fistful of dirt from the ground and muttered a quick incantation, “Frethios brokka tur!” Dropping to the ground, he pounded his fist into the soil. Ahead of him, Ordren’s charging soldiers stumbled as the ground fell out from under them, depositing them into trenches that had been set up earlier.

  Soon the sky was littered with arrows. The companions dodged the ones they could, but Dariak had covered his friends with Shields of Delminor and as the projectiles impacted, they fell heavily to the ground, leaving only minor gaps in their protection. Randler fired his own bow in return, but his target was the king himself in his glittering garb. He doubted he could even hurt the man at this distance, but if he could unnerve the king, it might help to demoralize the rest of his forces.

  Gabrion released a loud whistle, though a different pitch than Dariak’s and not fortified with magic, then he and Kitalla headed toward the northern flank, while Ruhk and Verna took the southern edge. They didn’t stray too far from each other, but they did need their space. Soon the air rang with the sounds of furious battle.

  The Kallisorian contingent was better armored than the companions, and thus it took several strikes from Verna before her first foe went down. She smashed her sword against the man’s chestplate, then pushed him back with a kick. As he swept in with a blow, she parried with a sweeping strike, then spun and brought the sword up against the man’s side. She heard him grunt with pain so she turned and struck his other side. She kicked out again and he stumbled, cracking his head on the ground. Though his helmet saved him, he needed time to right himself, and by then Verna was on to the next man.

  Ruhk hacked away at the soldiers like he was cutting down trees. He knew he wasn’t supposed to kill anyone if he could help it, but he had to employ his strength up front to keep from being overwhelmed. Once the fighters were scattered about more, he would show more finesse, but for now he just wanted to survive the first wave.

  Gabrion and Kitalla hadn’t battled together properly for many months. Too much had happened, but they quickly found their rhythm again. They remained back to back as fighters swarmed around them. Kitalla kicked out with her feet, disorienting the fighters, then she followed up by slashing with her daggers or by tossing them. Gabrion pivoted around her agile body, sweeping his mace in wide arcs, pummeling the staggering soldiers once Kitalla had dealt the first blow. He took down his fair share of fighters on his own, too, but some part of him delighted in the teamwork more.

  All the while, Dariak was casting one spell after another, tapping the jades for inspiration. He managed to turn a few nearby bushes into foot traps, pinning fighters in place with agonized cries of pain. The wet dirt became a muddy slag that prevented anyone from crossing it with haste. The unfortunate Kallisorians caught in the muck wailed in dismay, struggling to free themselves, while their comrades scattered and went around the mess.

  As the companions dealt with the king’s envoy, the rest of the king’s troops marched forward to join the fray. But they were not alone, for Gabrion’s whistle had alerted Prethos, who brought the Hathrens forward as well. Despite having over four hundred and fifty fighters and mages on their side, the Hathrens were outnumbered by Kallisorians at least three to one. The odds would have been better if the Hathrens weren’t under orders not to kill and the mages hadn’t been told not to use offensive
magic. Still, they stepped up to the challenge and the battle raged on.

  Dariak called upon the earth to shake the ground under various packs of men and women, trying to destabilize them and keep them from fighting well. Sweat poured down his face as he called one spell after the next, exhausting his supply of spell components with each attempt to break the spirit of the enemy. As he worked, his mind drifted toward the jades and he struggled not to call on them for more than simple inspiration, for once he tapped them for energy, he knew he would have to draw upon them all.

  “Dariak!” Randler shouted, hurrying over. “Look out!” His legs were much stronger than they had been, but the bard was still not fully healed from the damage he had taken in the forest. Reaching Dariak was a trying task and he shouted in pain as his legs protested, but he didn’t care. He grabbed Dariak around the waist and dragged him down.

  “What?” Dariak gasped, flipping over and seeing Randler curled up in pain on the ground. Moments later a huge boulder smashed into the dirt where Dariak had been standing and shook the ground ominously.

  “I’m fine, Dariak,” the bard cried, answering an unasked question, the tears on his face declaring him a liar. “Get up and go.”

  It was hard to tear himself from the bard, but one of the Hathren mages hurried over and immediately set to wrapping Randler in healing energies. When it wasn’t enough to quell the pain, she called over two others for help.

  Meanwhile, the companions and the Hathrens kept glancing up at the sky, which made their melee attacks noticeably less effective. There was no rhythm to it, but now and again, another huge boulder plummeted to the ground, sometimes killing unsuspecting fighters in the process. Dariak blasted the fourth such boulder with magic, trying to deflect its course, to no avail. It was too heavy for air to affect it and applying earth magic only drew it toward him faster. His spells were harder to cast with this new threat, but he couldn’t tell from where the boulders originated. He launched a few mild fireballs into the Kallisorian crowd and when he thought a new boulder would be coming, he focused his sights on the horizon.

  There, in the distance, over the heads of the soldiers, a giant arm rose momentarily into the sky and a boulder was released. “Incoming!” Dariak screamed, trying to anticipate the trajectory. With a heart-rending crash, the stone blasted into the side of the outpost, ripping down a huge portion of the wall.

  The catapult was too far away for them to do anything about right now. The companions pressed forward through the battle, seeking the king or the massive catapult in the process. The boulders were not all aimed toward the same target, for some of the enormous stones shook the ground nearby while others impacted the outpost or elsewhere. They didn’t know if it meant there were multiple weapons or if it was simply too difficult to control.

  “No! No!” shouted one of the Hathren mages as a boulder fell from the sky and crushed no less than a dozen people. He hurried over, trying to help, but in the wild panic he left himself defenseless and was cut down by the enemy.

  Little by little, things were starting to fall apart and Dariak’s heart raced ever faster. He would have to decide soon if it was necessary to unite the jades to end the fighting, yet he didn’t know how much control he would have once he did so. He frantically called out to any feral creatures in the area, tapping the beast jade for help. Few creatures arrived, but their presence gave him hope; at least the energies were responding.

  Ruhk and Verna struggled against the seemingly endless tide of fighters, but they did their best to stay together. Between combatants, Verna gasped, “You know… we have to… get that contraption!”

  “I agree,” Ruhk huffed, hacking furiously with his sword. They made it their mission to approach the huge catapult and to end its rain of death. With an angry charge, they slashed their swords wildly in front of themselves, racing ahead and startling the soldiers in their way. They made some progress toward their goal, but were stopped eventually and they had to spend time defending themselves.

  Kitalla and Gabrion came to a similar conclusion concerning the king. If they could pin him down, they might be able to call off the battle. Or perhaps the man was callous enough to not care if he was captured, so long as the fight was won. Regardless, they pressed their way toward the intermittent sparkling light that signaled the king’s location.

  The two of them were weary, but the need for their skills kept them moving. Kitalla had been drained by the jades a day earlier, while Gabrion had been on the march. To them, it didn’t matter. Each step toward the king was another chance for them to complete this quest and to end the wars for good.

  “Down!” Kitalla shouted, sweeping Gabrion’s legs out from under him as a launched spear came flying in from the side. She leaned out of its way and responded by throwing her dagger forward while Gabrion bounded back onto his feet and defended Kitalla from an assailant approaching her from behind. Undaunted, they stepped their way through the battlefield, pushing further back and toward the hiding king.

  Dariak brought his arms up wide, cupping his hands over his head and drawing the light of the sun through his fingers and into the crowd, blinding a number of fighters in the process. He hadn’t used many light spells but he always found their effects intriguing. Some of the armored fighters even pulled their helmets off because the light had brought in too much heat and made it hard to function.

  As the mage reached for another spell idea, he saw Prethos out of the corner of his eye. The Hathren king was covered in blood, mostly his own, but he was fighting hard, swinging a flail overhead and using it to deflect the attacks of others. He took a sword strike to the arm, yet he didn’t waver. He noticed Dariak watching him and he tipped his head in honor and pressed ahead, cracking the flail into one soldier’s head and then deflecting another’s attack. Dariak called for healers to assist the king, then returned to his spell.

  Randler, meanwhile, was essentially out of the fight. His sprint to save Dariak had aggravated his weakened legs and he was in too much pain to stand on his own, even with the help of the magic crutches. The mages had tended him the best they could, but he needed prolonged healing for the type of damage he had sustained, so they had dragged him to the other side of one of the fallen boulders where he could keep tabs on the battle and still use his bow if needed. He felt useless in such a crucial time, so he turned his thoughts toward the jades, hoping to puzzle out some unknown solution to them so that Dariak wouldn’t have to die when he united them.

  The catapult kept launching its missiles into the foray and the massive boulders were wildly destructive. The fighters who barely avoided them shook their heads, wondering how they even managed to load the stone into a weapon in the first place. There was no time to consider the idea, for each fighter was hard-pressed to maintain his stance and to keep fighting.

  The companions were all marked with wounds, some superficial, some deep and dangerous. The Hathren mages trailed behind them, sending healing energy to keep them fighting, but one by one the mages were slain by the Kallisorians who were trained to always obliterate the magic-users as a top priority. It wasn’t long before the Hathren team was essentially without the benefit of magic at all.

  Randler’s attempts to puzzle out the jades was fruitless with everything happening around him. He tuned his thoughts instead on holding his bow and trying to take down a few Kallisorian soldiers. The fighting was far enough away from him now that he was in little danger, but not so far that a well-placed shot wouldn’t reach someone. He aimed, prepared to launch, but then a boulder entered the sky.

  He watched its trajectory and roughly estimated where it was headed. He followed the path down with his finger and he saw, even from his post, that the man underneath it had no time to escape. Two hands rose up as if to catch the stone and with a heart-wrenching thud that shook the ground, the man was gone, cloak and all.

  Randler’s cry burned his throat wretchedly. “Dariak!”

  Chapter 40

  The Catapult and the Mages


  Oblivious to the fate of their friend, Ruhk and Verna huffed and wheezed and fought their way onward toward the catapult. They knew its effects were devastating and they had to put an end to it, regardless of the cost. Verna had taken several deep cuts to her legs and left arm. She also had a gash on her cheek that stung fiercely from all the sweat running down her face.

  Ruhk wasn’t much better off. His left arm felt broken and his side had been badly pierced by a spear. Wincing from the pain, he kept his sword flailing about, no longer caring what kind of damage he did to others. If they didn’t stop the catapult, then too many allies would perish and there would be no stopping the Kallisorians from then invading Hathreneir and taking over both kingdoms. And despite Kallion’s claims that Hathreneir was a useless wasteland, Ruhk didn’t believe for an instant that the king had no desires for the land.

  Strike, parry, step, step, strike. Ruhk kept a rhythm going, only altering the direction of his hits. He needed the pattern to keep him focused after the overextended rout. His sword arm grew heavy, but if he paused for a rest he would die. Some part of his old hatred welled inside of him and he used its power to keep moving.

  As Verna’s strength waned, she started loading each attack with the names of her family. Her siblings and her mother were honored for many hits, and her heart ached for her father because he was out on the battlefield somewhere, but she didn’t know where. He was likely in northern Hathreneir fighting off minor skirmishes, or perhaps he had met his doom already. She drew on his sacrifice to save her from this insane fighting, wishing she could have stayed home for his sake and honored his wish. Instead, she promised him she would meet him again, even if that meant reuniting in the afterlife. Not that she believed in one.

  As they hacked their way ahead, the catapult drew ever nearer. They were relieved to notice that only one such contraption was in use, but when they saw how it was operated, their hearts sank.

  Two giant ursalors were strapped together with a massive chain that fed through a large metal loop. As the beasts were enticed to walk forward, which led them away from the battle itself, the arm of the catapult was lowered and secured in place. A large cart of giant stones was nearby and it seemed as if a stone sluice had allowed the boulders to be rolled down from the cart and onto the catapult arm for launch. The ramp, however, had cracked and fallen to pieces. Ruhk and Verna were not entirely surprised when a team of mages chanted wildly and swept the next boulder into the air and settled it haphazardly on the catapult. They lacked precision with such a large projectile and its mass caused the catapult to teeter to one side or other, lending to the erratic flight paths.