The sun had risen a few feet over the horizon and the heat was starting to set in. He nervously looked at the army and knew the time was almost upon them. “I should get to Wyrddlin, he’s probably itching to take to the sky.”
Erik turned to him and held out his hand. He accepted it with a large grin. “I’ll see you on the other side, my friend.”
He almost chuckled. “Not the first time we’ve been here, and I swear it won’t be the last.”
His companion laughed in return. “Right you are. Seems to be our lot in life. Hopefully Willow didn’t get upset being told to remain near the palace grounds. I fear that when this is over, we’re both going to be answering to the women in our lives.”
“Yeah, I didn’t think Amysta was very happy when you asked her to lead the army held in reserve to protect the city,” he said, letting loose of Erik’s arm and shifting his swords as he made ready to depart.
A frown formed on the king’s face and he knew that the monarch was thinking of their daughter out there on the battlefield. “No, but she understands. Someone has to lead, and who better than her? Especially if something should happen to me.”
“Well, just make sure it doesn’t. I’ll see you up there,” he finished, gave the field one last look, then made for the stairs leading to the courtyard below. Erik would be riding Kallen during the battle, to better oversee the forces and issue orders. Sprites had been given the job of spreading them amongst the commanders of the armies and it should make it easier to shift faster when needed.
Riska hadn’t liked it, but he wasn’t welcome within the dwarven army; word of his exile had arrived from Grendweir and Noelani was insistent that the warrior not be amongst his ranks. So reluctantly, he had agreed to stay with Amysta and Willow, taking personal responsibility for Willow’s safety during the battle. It was a babysitting job, sure, but with the forces arrayed against them, he might see battle yet.
Kylee was on a griffin, her skills with the bow were unmatched, and being in the air would give her greater maneuverability. He figured she wanted a shot at Clint and when the offer came to take to the skies, she had jumped on it. The shrike had been seen flying at her side and he grieved for any poor soul that tried to engage either one of them in combat.
He hadn’t seen Reyna since the night before but knew that she was planning on fighting with the Knights of the Realm. Despite her unwillingness to join their ranks, Pendoran had taken a liking to her, allowing her to accompany him onto the battlefield at his side. It spoke volumes, especially given her former allegiance, and he knew that it had meant a lot to the black knight; despite the snarky remarks about being a glorified bodyguard.
“Bout time you showed up,” Wyrddlin remarked as he finally made his way towards the silver dragon. He’d been waiting in the courtyard and was eager to take to the sky before the fighting started.
“You knew I had to check in,” he replied, as he moved to Wyrddlin’s side, set his foot in a stirrup, a hand on the saddle, and pulled himself up. The blacksmiths had worked overnight to create a more comfortable saddle for this purpose and he was grateful for it. The one Merlin had provided was nice, but his ass was sore within hours of being strapped to it. They had offered to fashion armor as well, but Wyrddlin was strongly against it. He claimed it would slow him down and didn’t want to be more cumbersome than he already was with his advanced years.
The last of the leg straps were fastened and with a jerk of his head to make sure he was in correctly, Wyrddlin spread his wings and took flight.
II
Drums began to echo across the field and the wind had begun to pick up. This would be about the time to make a speech to his men, but he doubted many would hear him; their commanders were busy boosting their morale in his place. Erik sat astride his griffin mount, several sprites floating nearby as he hovered over the main formation of their army.
The army defending Forlorn was impressive and he felt a moment of pride in himself and those that followed his lead. He was grateful for the other races that had come to fight by their side and had constantly made sure they knew how much he appreciated it. Without them, they would have lost this fight out of hand, magical swords or not.
The commanders had all glimpsed Excalibur in one form or another and now he held it aloft, the last remaining shards of light making it flare so all could see. He knew from distant memory of the sword’s power but hadn’t evoked it since his restoration. Though he was leading from afar, he knew the time would come when it and him were needed and he would not hesitate to give everything, including his life, in defense of his home and people.
Clouds were rolling in and it looked like the hovering storm had come to Forlorn at last. The first splatters of rain struck his helm as horns blew across the battlefield. The Battle for Forlorn had begun.
He watched as the gnolls and kobolds began a ragged march in their direction, while the more disciplined lines of the enemy slowly inched forward. Harpies burst into the skies as gargoyles hovered over the opposing force, whipping the orcs forward. Each strike of a whip was painful to watch, even more so now that he had met them in a friendly manner. Kore was right, this slavery of the Orc race had to come to an end. They were an honorable people and didn’t deserve any of it. The other races before him had made a choice; the orcs hadn’t. Killing them would not give him pleasure, but nothing about war was fair, and he would do what he had to in order to ensure the survival of his race.
The men below were fidgeting as they prepared for battle and his archers were already readying their bows, ready to let fly as soon as the enemy was in range. He had expected enemy artillery, but they must have been pushed to get here faster than expected and had left them behind; relying on superior numbers to do the job for them.
His, however, were ready and waiting. Erik gave orders for the auxiliary to begin bombarding the approaching enemy and a sprite immediately flew off in the direction of Agravaine’s position. Within seconds, the trebuchets had begun firing and he watched as projectiles started raining down upon the enemy positions. Harpies moved in their direction and sylphs had risen to meet them. Archers upon griffin back were letting loose their bows as the creatures came into range and soon bodies began falling from the sky. Winged goblins were beginning to hover over the main vanguard and he figured they would stay close to their brethren, picking and choosing their targets.
He had to watch the entire army, but his eyes kept drifting back to the Horsemen and his breath caught as all four took to the air. War was tearing across the sky, heading straight for Forlorn’s interior when Wyrddlin roared a challenge to the red dragon and drew his attention. He saw a glint of Tristan’s armor and he wished his old companion well as his eyes fixed on the chimera winging his way.
Staying well above the fray, the chimera and its rider were seemingly following the march of the army, but also appeared to be waiting for a chance to push past the aerial defenses and enter the city behind him. He loved his daughter, but there was no way he could let her anywhere near his people. Riska had been very descriptive over what had happened in Kamdeac, and he was not about to let it happen again. It was best to consider his daughter dead and mourn her loss, then let hope blind him to the reality of what the Phoenix had done to her.
Famine had started to move towards the northern armies and he hoped Storvirk had a plan on how to deal with that beast. From everything Amysta had told him, one touch could drain a man instantly; the minotaur could not be allowed to get into melee range. It was hard enough to deal with the vast army before him without enhanced monsters as well, but what choice was there?
He sent a sprite to order Revan’s druids to shift north as his eyes fell on the final Horseman; Death. The gargoyle seemed content enough to hang back and watch. But should he engage in battle himself, who knew what kind of devastation he would bring upon his army? Merlin had assured him that he’d take personal responsibility in dealing with the creature, but what could even he do to combat Death Incarnate?
> Archers began firing at the enemy lines as they closed on the elven vanguard. Shields along his lines rose simultaneously as enemy archers returned fire. The skirmish line suddenly charged the field and closed on the elves waiting for them. The kobolds and gnolls ran in a chaotic formation, their pikes held high as they dove into his forces. Both sides clashed and for better or worse, they were engaged; he only hoped he had made the right decision facing them head on and not doomed them all to oblivion.
III
Tristan held on for his life as Wyrddlin flew straight for the red dragon winging their way. He could feel the intake of air through his thighs and the blast of heat as fire swept forth and into the red’s path. Clint had raised a shield to block the flames, his sword held ready for when the two crossed paths.
He had yet to draw his own weapons, waiting for an opportunity to present itself that wouldn’t involve falling from the sky. For now; he just held on and tried not to fall from the newly made saddle. His legs were strapped in, but he had no experience to reassure him and just had to trust the elves knew what they were doing.
Wyrddlin was banking to try and flank the red, but their opponent had anticipated that, and with a flap of his wings—scraped by overhead. Wyrddlin dipped his head and dove.
His stomach lurched and he was suddenly glad he had forgone breakfast; he might have just lost it. Flashes of green and blue light arced by, barely missing the red’s tail and dispersing into the clouds above. Rain had begun to come down hard and he had to drop his visor to keep it from striking his face. A strong wind struck them, but Wyrddlin was ready for it and with the spreading of his wings, rose forth and began coming around to face the red again.
Quickly, he gripped Purity and yanked it free. A harpy had bumbled into their path and he slashed expertly across its trajectory; cutting it from the sky. With a screech, it fell towards the earth and out of sight. The things were nightmarish, and he wished those on the ground well in dealing with them.
Sheathing his sword, he leaned right and scanned the skies as Wyrddlin finished his pass; the red was nowhere to be seen. His eyes studied the horizon and the battle raging around him, but he was unable to spy their opponent. Wyrddlin roared with his shared frustration. Then movement caught his eye and he saw a flash of red part the clouds and dive right for them. If they had been aiming for the dragon between his thighs, they would have plowed into one another, but the red lifted at the last second and came straight for him.
Purity was once again in hand and he swung at the legs reaching his way. As the metal struck the red forelegs it burst into flames, cutting into the claws of the beast cleanly and nearly severing a foot. With a howl of anguish the red shifted his wings and flew higher, barely missing his intended target. Once the beast was past, his sword extinguished itself, black blood dripping down his blade. Dragonslayer had been a component of the sword Nimue had created and he was grateful for that; it had saved his life.
Wyrddlin swung around and hovered for a moment, watching as the red dragon raced across the sky. “Nice move,” the dragon complimented him. “Just make sure that sword of yours hits the right target. I don’t need that pigsticker parting my skin.”
He had to laugh. “I’ll do my best.”
The dragon grunted, then dove to the right as the red began streaking north.
A bad idea began to surface, and he frowned as he thought it through, but every part of his being told him it was the right thing to do. His fingers started working at the straps binding his legs before he could talk himself out of it. “Gain altitude,” he instructed the silver dragon, not believing the words he was uttering, but unable to help himself.
Wyrddlin began to rise and he could see from the way the dragon looked at him that he was confused as to his intentions. “Probably best if you redo those straps, this might get rough.”
“Just keep gaining altitude and get me over him,” he commanded, undoing the last strap and gripping the saddle tightly.
“Are you crazy? Maybe I should have brought the elf; even she isn’t this nuts,” Wyrddlin stated, an eye going wide, and Tristan had to smile once more.
He took a deep breath and steadied his nerves, then grinned at the dragon. “Do your best to catch me, okay?” he asked. Before he could second guess himself, he drove his knees straight and plunged into the air. His swords held out before him as headed straight for the red beast winging its way east; an armored missile of metal and flesh streaking across the sky.
IV
Griffins flew by, their riders firing arrows at the harpies harassing them from above. Erik had several come his way, which in turn were dispatched by bursts of magical fire from below; he was grateful someone was looking out for him.
Alamar’s horsemen had ridden into the enemy’s right side and the human army to the south had charged the field and met the opposing army’s left. The vanguard was holding for now, the gnolls and kobolds having retreated as the more seasoned orc and goblin armies ploughed into their lines.
He watched as his knights rode forth to meet the enemy under Pendoran’s command. General Jade had ordered ranks of men forward to give the forefront lines a quick reprieve. The battle was becoming more intense as the more seasoned warriors began to do battle and his eyes had hovering spots from the flashes of magic being employed by both sides. Troglodytes were flinging spells at his men and the fae were answering in kind.
He saw a shimmer across the area where battle was joined and then screams of terror rose from the opposing army. Focusing his attention on that spot, he watched as the corpses lying on the battlefield began to twitch, then rise to their feet. Weapons in hand, they turned on the enemy horde and started hacking into it. The elves, unused to this type of magic, paused in their fighting as the undead moved forth; the necromancer’s work, no doubt.
His eyes drifted to where the chimera had been hovering most of the battle and had a surge of panic when he realized that she was gone! Bella had escaped when his attention was diverted and though he scanned the sky on either side, he could not find a single trace of where she had flown off to. Uneasiness set in and he ordered a sprite to fly back to the palace and give warning; Pestilence may be within the castle grounds and needed to be taken care of—immediately.
“Bella, please don’t make me kill you,” he uttered, as he turned in his saddle to look back at the fortress; despair in his heart that it might come to just that.
V
Despite her words the night before, Reyna hadn’t fully forgiven the mage for what he’d done by dragging her and her brother along on this fool quest of his. But it had shifted enough that she could at least look at the man without wanting to run her sword through him. Now, she used that anger, that hate, to fuel her swings as she strode purposefully towards the enemy that she used to command.
The gnolls and kobolds had been cannon fodder; a means to tire the front lines before the real threat approached. They were chaotic, unorganized, and their deaths meant very little to the army marching behind them. Shock, then withdraw. Only thirty minutes had passed, and they had already pulled back; the main force was about to hit their lines.
She stepped over the corpse of a kobold and swung her sword at the boulder orc coming her way. He took an arrow to the forehead and fell at her feet; her instincts letting her dodge before taking her down with him. One of the archers hollered from her rear, but she ignored it as she continued forward.
A mace came at her from the left and she blocked it with her shield, dispatching the goblin attacker with a quick swipe of her sword. She turned her body in an arc and sliced into the neck of a bugbear, while deflecting a strike from a short sword that had flashed her way. Then she brought her weapon back around and killed the goblin before he could strike her again.
Slowly, she made her way forward, hacking into the enemy; her rage increasingly hungry for more. Corpses fell as she carved her way into their lines, an unstoppable wedge that quickly drove the oncoming horde to a screeching halt.
; “Galahallt, cover her flank!” she heard someone command to the rear, but in the heat of the battle, the words were lost and had no meaning as she drove herself into the enemy lines, her shield and weapon a blur of moves and countermoves. A bulky elf stepped into view, dispatching another goblin as it charged her way and she leaned to the left to skewer a bugbear stupid enough to get within striking range.
A shriek pierced the air and her neck jerked her head up instinctively. A winged goblin was plunging towards her, a spear in hand. Switching her sword to her shield hand, she reached for the axe hanging on her belt, unclipped it, and after gripping it firmly, let it fly; nailing the beast squarely in the chest. The impact drove it off course and it plowed into the ground on her left.
Another knight had stepped into view and she momentarily paused to watch as the warrior drove her sword through the chest of a goblin, lifted it, then used her other hand to summon her magic. The goblin flew off the end of the blade, arms trailing behind as it twisted and barreled into the lines approaching them, causing several of the enemy to be driven backwards.
“Safeera! Don’t exhaust yourself too early, there’s plenty more heading our way!” the young voice of the man on her right yelled at the knight.
The female warrior turned and glanced his way, then raised her sword and met the next advance.
Her eyes shifted and she saw a reptilian face looking at her. Before she could react, a flash of green arced in her direction and her breath caught. Blue light struck the magical fire before it reached her, then another streaked by and nailed the troglodyte in the face. A leprechaun cackled as he leapt forward and sent another burst of energy into an oncoming orc.
“Bloody hell, what the fuck world am I fighting in?” she asked no one in particular as she watched the creature disappear from sight. Shaking her head, she regained her stance and moved forward once more. She was not used to magic being employed this frequently during battle and had to duck as a nymph’s corpse was thrown her way, aimed at a very large ogre on her right. The monstrous beast was holding a long massive hammer and was using it to swipe at large groups of men at a time.
The New Age Saga Box Set Page 87