He leaned towards Token, “got any ale to help this headache I feel coming on?”
“Ale? Ah got Grog, loon. Tak' a sip, it'll pit some hair oan yer chest, that's fur sure!” the dwarf responded, snorting laughter as he handed over his flask.
He took a large gulp and felt it burn its way down his throat, setting fire to the dinner he’d just consumed. A fuzziness quickly began forming within his brain, his body not used to alcohol. With a smile, he handed it back, suppressing a burp. Token nodded, then had another gulp himself, eyes watching the two women talking across from them.
“As it was the element of water that was forged within the wood, it has the ability to change solid objects into water, without them losing shape in the process. While at the same time, it can harden water enough to walk upon,” Melissa told them, and he was suddenly glad Willow had chosen to carry that one. There were parts of him that he would prefer remained solid.
“Seems kind of lame next to its kin,” Reyna marveled out loud.
Melissa smiled and leaned forward. “Oh, you think so? Imagine if the enemy horde held this weapon when it marched into battle. The castle walls would be useless. They could turn the wall into water and simply march through to the other side, devastating the defending forces with ease. No, it’s nowhere near lame.”
He gulped. The horror of which Melissa spoke refreshed his fears of what his brother was currently facing. An army with a weapon like that could easily overwhelm their defenses and his home could be destroyed; his people enslaved in hours. He shook his head with worry. “We have to ensure that they remain out of enemy hands. I’m suddenly feeling vulnerable out here on our own.”
Melissa chuckled. “I doubt very much that any but those sitting here know their true purpose or what they can do. Obviously, Justice has been handed down through the elves to your father as merely an heirloom, none ever discovering what power it possesses. No, we’re not in any more danger than we were before.”
“Aye, but Ah still say we start a rotatin’ watch at nicht, lass, jist tae be safe,” Token broke in and he could see Jared nodding his head in agreement.
Reyna got to her feet and looked after the two squabbling elves just within sight. “Jared and I will take the first watch. Tristan, you should go collect your girlfriend; you two will take over for us in four hours.”
As he rose to do that, he turned to Melissa one last time. “This next key, is that a sword as well?” Had they not thought to create anything else or were weapons the only vessels they could think of to serve?
Melissa smiled and slowly nodded. “Yes, the swords were handy and made for good components to our spells. Trinkets can disappear or be buried with a loved one and forgotten. Swords, however, tend to be passed down through generations and held with better care and respect. So yes, the other two are swords as well. And before you ask,” she interrupted his next question, “the next key is named Dragonslayer.”
II
“I am Tar Reiz, second in command and general of the elven armies of Forlorn. I bring greetings from my King, as well as a promise of future reinforcements,” the elven knight stated, as he bowed before John.
They had just helped break an attack on the castle and he felt like embracing the elven commander. Removing his helm, he nodded his thanks and looked at the others sliding off their horses behind their leader. Five hundred armored elves were staring at him and he felt grateful for their presence.
“You are welcome at Lancaster and have our eternal gratitude for your assistance,” he returned and bowed his head in respect. “Your timing couldn’t have been more perfect, and you saved many of my own cavalry from death’s embrace. Your men must be tired and hungry. My aide Windel will see that they are given quarters and food.”
The elven commander smiled in turn. “I think a bit of ale might ease things along; if you have it.”
Bendor broke into laughter. “Nae hae ale? Nae while Aam in commain!” The stout man strode forth and held his hand out to the towering knight. They shook eagerly, and the men of Lancaster cheered around them; celebrating their newfound hope.
Roland strode up from the back, his face bloodied, his armor covered in gore. “Have a nice ride?” he asked his general, eyeing the man’s grimace when he looked to the glaring dwarf. Bendor was still talking to Tar Reiz, but the cavalry commander’s presence had not gone unnoticed.
“If you want something done right—,” Roland muttered.
“I’m not sure our dwarven friend feels the same way, best you go get cleaned up and let him get some ale in him first,” he laughed, slapping the commander on his shoulder. “Bendor! Let’s take our guests back to the keep and get some dinner, all this fighting has made me hungry!” His fellow soldiers laughed and cheered with him, and he let their morale get lifted for the moment. He knew it would crash once the horde came forth again, but for now, let them celebrate.
“General Brasten, see 'at caller recruits ur pit oan th' walls an' th' woonded tended tay,” Bendor ordered his subordinate, then started leading their new friends into the city and towards the keep.
Windel came to his side with a smile and dancing eyes. “My Lord, Bordin has arrived!”
Bendor stopped in his tracks, breaking off his conversation with Tar Reiz. “Griedlok has come?”
His aide nodded quickly, “General McKnight was inspecting the eastern artillery when she saw torches in the distance. She thought the enemy was trying to sneak around and attack us from the rear. Then a messenger arrived and announced the army’s approach. General Woodhurst ordered the cavalry to escort them in.”
He smiled widely, feeling that spark of hope lit by Tar Reiz fanned even larger with Bordin’s arrival. “You hear that, my countrymen?” he roared to all that could hear. “Griedlok has come! Spread the word! The curfew is lifted! I want the bars filled with laughter and joy! Laugh so loud that it will echo south and make our enemies cringe with our renewed strength and hope! Long live Lancaster! Long live the elves!”
Everyone around him roared and a few added “long live King John” into the mix. Well, he didn’t feel like he’d earned that yet, but before this was through, who knew?”
“I’m afraid heading back to the keep will have to wait,” he informed the elven knight standing nearby. “You may come with me if you wish or meet us at dinner. But if I’m not there to greet my father-in-law—.”
The elf laughed. “Say no more. I’ll see my men quartered and fed, then catch up with you at dinner. Better save me some Grog,” he told Bendor, slapping the dwarf on the shoulder.
“Windel, go inform Jenna that her father is here, and have his room prepared in the palace,” he told his aide, who nodded quickly and departed.
Tar Reiz had moved off with his knights and his men were busy finishing up their duties, so they could take part in the oncoming celebration. He stood next to the dwarven general and couldn’t help but smile.
“Sure that’s auld Ah th' horn, laddie? They coods burst us again at onie time,” Bendor asked as they made their way towards the eastern gate.
He considered, not letting his smile slip. He had to keep up the appearance and keep the men around him in a joyous mood. He did lower his tone though, as he spoke to his worried companion. “These men might die tomorrow, or the day after. Even with reinforcements, nothing is guaranteed; our walls could fall. Keep sober men on duty but let the rest of the castle celebrate. They may never get the chance again.”
A runner was charging their way, and he felt that the words he’d just barely uttered were already coming to bite him in the ass. “What is it?” he asked with worry.
“Sire, the mage is standing above the gatehouse,” the winded soldier told them.
“An’?” Bendor pushed, not seeing what the emergency was.
The man was trying to catch his breath. “He’s begun casting some spell. My Captain said I should inform you immediately.”
“You there,” John hollered at a group of cavalrymen nearby. “We need two o
f your horses!” The men instantly sprang forth and complied with the command.
“Ah warned ye,” Bendor growled as he climbed onto his furnished mount. “Ah troost magic as far as Ah can spit.”
He just shook his head. What had he invited into their castle? Gritting his teeth and choosing not to respond, he kicked the horse forward, and raced towards the outer gates he’d just left.
Music was already playing in the taverns and they had to weave their way through a mass of soldiers and knights eagerly celebrating around them. “It ay th’ way fur th’ Kin’!” bellowed Bendor, cursing the men blocking their path.
It didn’t take long to cover the distance and he was off his horse and racing up to the battlements before Bendor could even swing a leg over his saddle. “Make way!” he told a group of gawkers standing near the top of the stairs and had to physically push his way through.
Standing just over the drawbridge was the black robed mage. His voice had risen, talking in a language none could understand, fingers mixing something between his fingers as his arms stretched out before him. Then with a burst of words, the hands opened, fingers splayed wide, and Serix’s head rose to look at the heavens.
“What have you done?” he roared, rushing towards the mage. They hadn’t discussed what aid, if called upon, the mage would provide, and had a sneaking feeling that something horrific was just let loose.
Bendor was pushing his way forward as well and came to stand by his side.
Serix was suddenly unsteady on his feet, nearly falling as his hand stretched out and grasped the outer wall. “Doing what I promised, helping you to break this siege,” the man suddenly wheezed, his face stricken from exhaustion.
“What did you do?” he growled again, hating the sinking feeling he was getting in his stomach, and regretting ever letting the man walk freely about the castle; he should have known better.
The wind had begun to whistle around him and the newly lit torches flickered sporadically. The men around him shifted uneasily and Bendor went to stand on his stool and look out on the grasslands beyond. “Laddie, best come swatch at thes.”
Soldiers rushed forward, mostly along the wall to their right; none daring to approach the staggering mage.
He went to Bendor’s side and looked below.
The wind had increased in intensity and it looked like the fresh battlefield had begun to shake. There were men out there retrieving arrows, searching the dead for any other weapons, and they had jumped to their feet as if bit. The moonlight shone brightly overhead and when his eyes adjusted, he realized it wasn’t the earth shaking, but the corpses their enemy had left behind.
Glancing at Serix, he saw that the mage had taken a seat with his back against the wall, his hand massaging his temple. “What’s going on?”
“I’m assisting as promised,” Serix muttered back.
“By Goibniu’s beard,” Bendor groaned in horror as he watched the corpses begin climbing to their feet.
“Oh my God,” he breathed in horror.
All along the battlefield corpses rose to their feet, upright but wobbling in place. From below he heard sudden splashes of water and pushed forward to see what was going on.
The soldiers they’d ordered to clear the moat were climbing their way up the muddied side screaming with fear. The bodies they’d been handing up to their comrades had begun to move on their own. Burnt corpses rolled free of their fallen kin and began their way up, without the help of the fleeing guards.
“Order th’ men inside reit noo!” Bendor growled at the nearest soldier, who was transfixed by what was unfolding below. The dwarf threw something at the man, hitting him square in the side of the head. “Noo, sodger!”
Dazed, the man wandered away to carry out his orders, obviously leery about going out there and carrying them out.
“For the hour is coming in which all who are in their graves will hear His voice and come forth,” Serix suddenly blurted, rising to his feet once more. Whatever spell he had cast had certainly taken its toll, as the man could barely stand without crashing back on his ass. Yet, he looked upon what he had done and smiled with grim satisfaction. “Go forth and tear your former kin apart!” he bellowed to the unsteady corpses below.
As one, they began a staggered march south and John could not speak; his heart filled with terror. What had they just unleashed? Was this the cost of survival?
Across the horizon, the undead walked the Earth; heeding the mage’s command. They searched out their former comrades with a hunger unlike anything he’d ever witnessed before.
It sickened him.
“Why would you do this?” he managed with a croak.
“I’m a necromancer, my Lord, it’s what I do,” Serix replied with a chuckle. “Oh, you two need to get off it. Whether by your sword or their teeth,” he growled, pointing out at the corpses wandering away, “does it matter how those evil wretches die? Would you rather sacrifice the lives of your men or let the dead have at them?”
“There is no honor in this,” he muttered, but lacked conviction. He had said they had needed help, he hadn’t specified what kind. And even though it horrified him, he had to grimly concede the mage’s point; for every enemy slain could be another of his saved. He didn’t have to like it, but he also didn’t have to stand here and watch it happen.
“From now on you don’t do anything without talking to either of us,” he told the young mage. “If you want to continue to help us, work with us, don’t go behind our backs.”
Serix sighed and nodded, then gave a short laugh. “Had I told you what I was going to do, would you have let me?”
“Heel nae,” Bendor growled, taking a very long drink from his flask. “Runner! Refill thes immediately, an' brin' a barrel back wi' ye. I’m gonnae gie blooter'd afair th' screams start.”
In the distance, he could already hear a stirring of noise upon the wind and his body shivered in response. “That makes two of us. Let’s go. Serix, you’re coming with. I’m not letting you out of my sight.”
“As you wish, my Lord,” the black robed mage responded, bowing his head.
Just as he reached the stairs, he heard the first screams begin, and the dwarven general pushed his way past and thundered down the steps before him. “Let’s gie it ay haur,” Bendor told him, as he was helped onto his newly acquired mount.
He couldn’t agree with him more.
III
He had chosen to only walk at night as they slowly made their way east, taking what little shelter they could find during the day to increase the chance at heatstroke.
Kore had his armor slung across his back and seemed determined not to give it up. He had to admire the orc’s strength and wished he could borrow some for himself. The days felt longer, the searing sun sapping their energy, forcing them to slowly trudge across the sand dunes in exhaustion.
Though he summoned water from below, it did little to keep them cool, and they had to stop and rest more often as they went on. He had foreseen that they would make it clear of the desert, but not how hard it would be to do so. He sighed, wondering if he had been wrong.
“Look,” Kore told them as he suddenly came to a stop.
The moon shone brightly from its position slightly over the horizon and he could make out an angled outline of a structure ahead. He had been this way three hundred years before and knew that they had entered the Valley of Death. It had gained its name for the thousands of human slaves that had died there while constructing an ancient monument from a long-lost civilization.
In her youth, the Phoenix had been fascinated by Egyptian culture and had loved walking through the ruins of long dead dynasties. It was there that she had found writings concerning the Book of the Dead; which began her journey upon the dark road she had traveled since. Though most of the little girl that had roamed Egypt had been snuffed out by the monster she had become, a part of that fascination had remained engraved upon her mind.
She had created this desert when she had restructur
ed the landscape, sculpting what the Gods had forged to her own liking. Then she had sent her slaves to build her new monuments in the style of ancient Egypt; complete with her own pyramid.
He could remember the first time he had traveled here in search of the Book of the Dead. He had incorrectly deduced that she had hidden it within the pyramid’s depths before her death and had been gravely disappointed after a week of searching. Maybe if he had searched more thoroughly, he wouldn’t have to return to it now.
In the early years of the Phoenix’s reign, she had discovered one of the keys Melissa’s group had created, and though not discerning its purpose, had sensed the magic it held and hidden it within the pyramid upon its completion. There were other old-world objects in the treasure horde beneath the stone pyramid, but he hadn’t sensed the “key” when he’d poked through looking for the book.
He sighed.
When he had begun this crusade to find Excalibur, he had discerned what would be needed and had gone north in search of the object that the Phoenix had found. He had been sure that she would have kept it near her person to ensure its safekeeping.
Once again, he had been sorely mistaken.
He’d left Kylee to her own devices and had gone alone to the Deadlands, disguising himself as one of the Phoenix’s orc commanders. Wrapping himself within the exterior disguise, he had mentally reformed his mind into thinking like an orc, completely indistinguishable from the real thing. He’d almost lost himself during that time, caught up with the disguise and nearly forgetting his purpose and identity. But in the end, he’d found what he needed and slowly made his way south and clear of the enemy lines.
Upon reflecting on that beach days before, he had realized that even though he couldn’t get back to the others quickly, he could at least travel to the pyramid and secure their next objective and avoid having to bring the others there after reaching Camelot. Kill two birds with one stone. Then they could meet at Sherwood Forest, use all four to unlock the magical defenses protecting Nimue, and retrieve Excalibur from her safekeeping.
The New Age Saga Box Set Page 39