Chronicles of the Four: The Complete Series

by Marissa Farrar

  Her stomach knotted at the realization they were at an impasse. She had never really thought speaking with him would come to anything, but she’d still harbored a faint sliver of hope. Now there was no other choice but to fight.

  “In which case, I hope to see you on the battlefield, Dela Stonebridge.”

  And King Crowmere turned, his cloak flying in an arc with his movement, and he walked back to the city gates, his soldiers following behind.

  Dela stood, watching. She waited until the gates were closed again and then climbed back on her horse. She pulled the animal around to face her people. The first people she saw were her men, Warsgra, Orergon, and Vehel.

  “Vehel,” she said, fixing her gaze on the Elvish prince. “Can you open the gates using magic?”

  “Yes. I can do that, but it means we’re all going to be forced through a small gap. It’ll be easier for the king’s men to pick us off that way.”

  She thought for a moment. “What about some of the wall as well? Can you bring it down in places, and give us some other ways to get inside the city?”

  “Yes, but remember that if I use too much of my magic, it’ll be harder to free Torggu when we reach the castle.”

  She pressed her lips together. “If we don’t get inside the city, we won’t free him at all.”

  He nodded. “You’re right.”

  Dela kicked her horse to canter over to the waiting army. They’d been standing some distance away and so would not have been able to hear what had been said between her and the king.

  She rode parallel to the front line, lifting her voice as high as she could to make sure her words carried even to the back. “We are going into battle,” she cried, “not only for me, or for the dragons, but for each of you, and for your children. We’re fighting for the chance to live together, in peace, however we wish.

  “A wise woman once said to me that blood must be shed before peace is found. I know some of you will be forced to lift your blades against men you’ve marched beside, but remember that they’ve chosen their place in this battle, just as you chose yours.

  “If you seek freedom and peace, you will ride through this gate, and together we will tear down the walls of Anthoinia and live as free people!”

  She punched her fist into the air, and, with the action, rose the cheer of a thousand men. The handles of spears and axes were thudded against the ground in support. Her heart swelled, and she stared around at all these incredible people who would lay down their lives for what she believed in.

  Together, they pulled the army into formation. The Moerians, with their spears and horses, whooped like wild men, ready to charge on the outside. The Norcs were close behind them, armed with axes. The humans—some swordsmen, some archers—took up position in the middle.

  With a roar of her own, Dela swept her arm forward, giving them the signal to charge. Movement exploded around her, a hundred horses’ hooves pounding the ground, dust flying into the air, the battle cries of the men filling her ears.

  One person remained where he was, and that was Vehel. He had closed his eyes, apparently oblivious to the chaos around him, focusing on his magic.

  Her army charged, getting closer and closer to the gates. The gates needed to open or they would end up crushing themselves and each other against them.

  Come on, Vehel. Come on.

  The charge continued. From the tops of the city walls, archers fired arrows which rained down on the army below. Shields were lifted to cover heads, and many of the arrows were deflected, but not all of them. Dela flinched at the cries of pain, not wanting to see those who had fallen. Both Warsgra and Orergon had charged alongside their people, and Dela tried not to think about the possibility either of them had been taken down.

  Ahead of them, the massive gates burst open, and, as they did so, so the walls on either side began to crumble.

  Vehel had done what she’d asked.

  Chapter Twenty-six

  Warsgra

  WARSGRA LOVED TO FIGHT.

  The roar of his fellow Norcs, combined with that of the shrill whoop of the Moerians and the more sedate cheer of the humans, swelled inside his chest, making him feel even bigger and stronger than before. With the handle of his axe held in one hand, the reins of his mountain goat in the other, he kicked the animal into a gallop and joined the race for the city gates.

  On all sides rode his clansmen, kicking up dust as they went. The Norcs were fearsome fighters, and he imagined the king’s men behind the city walls would be wondering what they’d gotten themselves into.

  Blood thundered in his veins, adrenaline heightening all his senses. He was acutely aware of the position of each man at his side, the weight of his axe in his hand, the exact swing he would need to take to remove a man’s head with its blade.

  They were almost at the city gates now, but still they weren’t open.

  Then, just as they were almost about to ride straight into them, they burst open as though punched by a giant fist, and, on either side of the gates, the massive city walls cracked and crumbled. The Norcs’ mountain goats were capable on all terrain, and he saw his opportunity.

  “Yah!” he yelled, kicking the beast’s flanks once more and urging the goat toward the walls that were quickly disintegrating into piles of brick and rubble. Other Norcs saw what he was doing and joined him, leaving the path through the gates clear for the Moerians and the humans on horseback.

  The goat leaped for the crumbling walls, climbing up the rubble sure-footed, and then down the other side. The king’s army waiting on the other side clearly hadn’t expected anyone to come over that way, and when a number of huge Norcs on giant goats flooded down over the side, they were spurred into action.

  With a battle cry bursting from his lips, Warsgra swung his axe at the first swordsman heading his way. Their blades clashed, but Warsgra was bigger and stronger and easily disarmed the man. A second man charged, and Warsgra swung back around, meeting with the man’s arm and severing it at the shoulder.

  Blood and screams filled the air. The Moerians and humans were through the gates now, the streets of Anthoinia suddenly surging with people and horses.

  He’d left Dela behind with Vehel, and he tried not to think about that too much. Worrying about her would take his mind off the fight, and he needed to be focused now. There wasn’t much he could give her, but he could give her this. He could help win her war. Besides, she had Vehel with her, and the Elvish prince would use his magic to protect her, he was sure.

  He needed to kill as many of those people who supported Crowmere as possible to clear a path for Dela. Death didn’t bother him. He’d killed enough in his life, and he’d keep killing if it meant she was able to fulfill her destiny.

  He spun around, a moment too late. The silver flash of a blade narrowly missed him, but he lost his balance and fell from the goat’s back. He hit the ground with a thud, the air burst from his lungs, but he knew even taking a second to catch his breath could easily mean the end of him. Not staying still, he flipped himself over, just as the sword speared the ground where his head had just been.

  His goat had broken loose in the chaos and was nowhere to be seen. It didn’t matter. Even on foot, Warsgra still towered above the puny humans. The man who’d unseated him wore full armor, and Warsgra swung his axe with a roar of anger. The blade clanged off the metal, leaving a dent, but hitting him with enough force to send the man stumbling back. Warsgra wasn’t going to let him get away. The human might be covered in metal, but it made him slow. Warsgra might be big, but he was also free to move in only his boots, loincloth, and shoulder protectors.

  He spun and ducked, and sliced and chopped, taking on one man and then another, and another, slowly working his way deeper into the city. Blood splattered his bare chest and arms, but he had no idea if it was his or someone else’s. All he knew was that they had to win this thing and clear the way for Dela to get to the castle and release her dragon.

  Chapter Twenty-seven

 
; Dela

  SEEING THEIR WAY CLEAR, Dela’s army picked up another battle cry and kept going. They were all through the gates now, clashing with Crowmere’s men. Metal hit metal, blades pierced skin. Horses reared and threw their riders, only to be struck down as well.

  Dela exchanged a glance with Vehel. They needed to fight their way through the fray, to reach the castle and release the dragon.

  Dela lifted her heels and kicked her horse’s flanks. “Yah!”

  On the horse’s back, Iros leapt into the air with a flutter of her wings, and then settled back down again.

  Dela pulled her dagger from her hip, holding the hilt tight, ready to strike if anyone attacked. Within less than a minute, they were through the city gates and into Anthoinia. The streets were chaos. The humans were proving to be no match to the strength and sheer wildness of the Norcs and Moerians. Even though their number was fewer, the other races fought with an abandon not seen in the human army. The Norcs were so much larger and stronger than the humans, meaning hand-to-hand combat was a fight already won, and the Moerians rode their horses with a skill unseen in the human city.

  Dela couldn’t help but look around at the streets as she passed through, a part of her wondering if she would recognize anyone, or if they would recognize her. Women tugged their children into their homes, most likely trying to hide them from danger, and probably praying they wouldn’t be raped and murdered themselves. Dela wished she could assure them they’d stay safe if they remained inside, but she couldn’t take the time to do so. What were her parents doing while all this was going on? She wished she’d had a way of warning them to stay hunkered down until the danger had passed.

  She hated that she was the one to bring terror to the city, but King Crowmere brought fear to the city every six months with the Choosing. She was bringing an end to all of that.

  “This way!” she called to Vehel as they rode through the streets. She knew Anthoinia far better than he did.

  A man armed with a sword suddenly stepped out in front of her, swinging his weapon. She pulled her horse’s reins, veering him off to one side, going on the attack herself, and driving her blade into the man’s neck the moment she was close enough. Someone came up behind her, but she didn’t notice until she heard a shriek of pain and smelled burning flesh and turned to see Iros had burned the man’s face.

  “Oh, you clever girl!” she praised the dragon.

  They’d almost reached the city square, the entrance to the castle behind it.

  Dela looked up to where Torggu was pinned to the castle roof with numerous huge metal nets. He saw her and tried to lift his head, but he was worn down and most likely starving.

  “We’re coming, Torggu!” she cried.

  She turned to Vehel. “Can’t you help now? We’re so close.”

  “Let me open the gates, and then I’ll be able to.”

  City guardsmen stood by the gates to the castle walls. They looked anxiously at one another at the sight of the Elvish prince and the dragon, even if she was only a baby, and positioned themselves to fight.

  Dela wasn’t even concerned about them. All her focus was on reaching Torggu.

  Vehel concentrated again, and the gates behind the guardsmen flew open. Both men looked back in shock, and then, seeing magic at work, dropped their swords and ran.

  Dela let them go.

  “Now, Vehel,” she told the Elvish prince. “You can free the dragon now!”

  Chapter Twenty-eight

  Vehel

  VEHEL CALLED HIS MAGIC outward and fixed his attention on the huge metal chains covering the dragon. Just as he’d done with the gates and wall, he saw them lifting in his mind, and willed his magic to make it happen.

  Only it didn’t.

  Confusion swept through him. What was happening?

  He tried again, but though he could feel the magic working to lift the chains, there was an alternate force pushing against him.

  “What’s happening, Vehel? Why can’t you do it?”

  He opened his eyes and shook his head. “I’m ... I’m not sure. It’s like there’s another magic working against me.”

  Dela’s blue eyes widened. “Another magic.”

  “Yes.”

  Vehel jumped down from his horse and reached out and grabbed her hand, pulling her from her mount, too. He’d suddenly been struck by a horrible idea, and he needed to get to a high point to see if his instincts proved to be right. Leaving their horses behind, they ran through the arches of the castle, heading toward the rear of the castle which looked out over the rest of the city and down to the port. He spotted a set of stairs which would take them higher, and pulled Dela in that direction. The castle was quiet, with most people either hiding or already out in the city fighting.

  The staircase wound around the inside of the castle, taking them higher. A slot of a window allowed for archers to defend the place, but there was no one there now. Vehel stopped to peer out, hoping he wasn’t about to see what he thought he would.

  Looking out across the back of Anthoinia, toward the ocean and the port, were the horrifyingly familiar white sails of the Elvish fleet.

  “By the Gods.”

  Dela’s hand was at her mouth. She knew what this meant too.

  “Your father,” she gasped. “He formed an allegiance with King Crowmere.”

  He felt responsible, even though he couldn’t have seen this coming. “Dela, I’m so sorry. The ships are fast and the winds at this time of year favorable. It’s a shorter distance to travel by sea, despite the dangers, and they beat us here.”

  “The magic holding down the chains is Elvish.”

  Vehel nodded. “Yes, but which Elvish?”

  They looked out across the city where the battle waged on. It looked as though they were winning, many of the Norcs and Moerians already left with no one to fight. But where was King Crowmere? This wouldn’t be over until she saw him dead.

  “Look out!”

  Suddenly, Elvish archers appeared from the turrets and rained arrows down on those remaining.

  “No!” Dela cried.

  He had to stop this, but his magic wasn’t a never-ending supply. Using it now would weaken him. Also, he was against his own kind now, and clearly some of them were capable of magic, too.

  The playing field had just leveled up.

  Chapter Twenty-nine

  Orergon

  OREGRON’S HAIR BLEW back in the wind as he galloped through the narrow streets of Anthoinia. Already, he could tell they were winning. The number of the king’s soldiers he’d seen had thinned out, many having either dropped their swords and run once they’d been faced with the might of Dela’s combined army of Moerians, Norcs, and humans, or else who had fought bravely and lost.

  Orergon didn’t like to kill. He’d seen too much death in his life, and experienced the pain it caused, but at times like this there was no choice. He wasn’t going to let Crowmere win.

  Where was Dela now? He’d seen his own kinsmen fall, and he couldn’t help but worry for her safety. Had she made it to the castle yet? He took a moment to try to get an idea. From his position, he was able to see the dragon still pinned to the top of the castle by the giant metal chains. Why hadn’t Vehel removed them yet? Surely he must be close enough by now? Worry wound its way through him. Had something gone wrong? Was either Vehel or Dela hurt, or worse?

  Suddenly, something whizzed past his head, striking the ground only a foot away.

  An arrow?

  He’d thought they’d left all the archers back at the city walls, but it seemed there were more. “Get back,” he cried to his men. “Take shelter!”

  He backed up against the walls of one of the houses, pressing in tight so the edge of the roof gave him shelter. Who was firing at them, and how was he going to make them stop?

  He risked peeking out. And frowned.

  Were his eyes deceiving him, or were the people firing at them from the castle turrets Elvish? He was sure he caught a flash of silver hai
r and pointed ears right before the archer let another arrow fly. And it wasn’t just one of them either. Numerous Elvish were positioned across the top of the castle, firing down at Dela’s army below.

  How was this possible? They didn’t get by them in the Southern Pass. Had they used magic to get here?

  All around him, Dela’s men were falling. Elvish arrows pierced chests, and arms, and even faces, leaving bodies all around. He couldn’t let this continue. If it did, they were going to lose.

  Chapter Thirty

  Dela

  SHE HATED TO SEE HER men dying. She needed to put a stop to this, but how? Her dragon was still trapped, and they were fighting against Elvish magic now, instead of having it on their side.

  “Dela, look!”

  She cast her gaze in the direction Vehel pointed. What looked like black smoke drifted across one of the turrets from which the Elvish were firing. As they watched, the first Elvish archer suddenly went rigid and dropped his bow, then tumbled over the side of the tower onto the ground far below. Even from this distance they could see the Elvish male’s skin was now grey.

  “Orergon,” she cried. She couldn’t see the Moerian, but she knew he had to be responsible. Her heart swelled with love for him. Even though he hated his dark magic, he was using it to help her. But she couldn’t be distracted by that now. Her focus was on reaching the roof and freeing Torggu. If they weren’t able to use Vehel’s magic to do it, she’d have to free him by hand. She’d tear off the chains herself if she had to.

  They continued up the stairwell. Each person they came across, they were forced to fight, though now Iros understood the usefulness of her fire, those fights suddenly became a little easier—some of the men preferring to run than getting scorched.