by C E Johnson
“These are my best blades over here.” Dr. D strode purposefully toward greatswords that rested on racks and in jeweled scabbards. He selected the largest two-handed broadsword from the wall and handed the massive weapon to Luke. “You have quick reflexes, and you’re skilled from all your fencing training on Earth. This was once used by a bear of a man, but with your heightened strength I think you’ll be able to wield it easily.”
Emily sorted through a stack of round and rectangular shields, made of wood and wicker. “These don’t feel right,” she whispered quietly to herself. She walked past another set of shields with leather stretched firmly over the frames decorating the wall until she found small steel shields. “Try these.” She handed one to each of her friends.
With shields selected, they walked to another room, passing armor burnished in rich blues and forest greens, inlaid with the finest scrollwork Emily had ever seen. “Look at these.” Luke pointed to a row of plate armor with animal ornaments: wolves, dragons, and lions. There was also armor for horses, gilded and shimmering in the light cast from Emily’s bluestone staff.
“Here are my favorite longswords.” Dr. D chose three and handed them to Anna, Isabelle, and Elizabeth. “Long slender blades with sharp edges and perfect balance.”
Emily examined the weapons. “Father and I will put spells on these making them stronger, lighter, and enhancing the edges.”
Luke ran a finger along the length of his broadsword’s blade. “Can you etch my sword with magic?”
Emily studied Luke in his quilted tunic and leather jerkin. “What would you like from your smithy?”
“Flames along the center of the blade ... and one day a name.”
“One day?” Elizabeth asked.
Luke flashed her a wry smile. “You can’t name a sword until it has been used in battle. But perhaps it will be called Draculafire someday.”
Emily giggled, instantly thinking back to elementary school and their days of reading about vampires like Dracula.
“Now we need to select your second weapon.” Dr. D threaded his way along a long passageway, passing more steely armor with gold and silver inlay. Blue pennons, battle banners from past wars, were draped artfully along the apex of the corridor. Lances, battle-axes, and spears glinted in the blue and white mage-light. They entered a large room where great warhelms were in a row with plumes of silk of every color. “Luke, a longbow or crossbow?”
“Crossbow,” Luke answered without hesitation.
Dr. D selected a fine weapon made of hardwood from the strongest ironwood trees with shining steel strengthening the bow and threw it to Luke.
Luke skillfully caught the crossbow. “I think I could make several improvements to this weapon.” Luke ran his fingers slowly along the length. “Maybe a faster system to drop a new bolt into the crossbow chamber.”
Dr. D laughed in admiration. “I could help you design an attachment … a sort of rapid-fire crossbow.”
“Perfect.” Luke nodded, satisfied with his selection.
The girls, meanwhile, all wanted longbows. Dr. D picked out three extremely graceful bows, which he outfitted with double-strength bowstrings to nearly double their range. “Emily and I can put spells on your bows to further fortify the bowstring.”
“Can we select colors?” Anna sounded nearly breathless with excitement. The mage-lights caught the hints of gold in her chestnut hair.
“For the feathers,” Isabelle added as she pulled back the bowstring on her longbow and released it with a twang. “Can arrows pierce plate armor?”
Dr. D nodded solemnly and led them to a section of feathers. Each girl selected their favorite color: Elizabeth, turquoise; Isabelle, pink; and Anna, blue. They even found material to weave traces of their colors into their bow, embellishing the wood.
Dr. D tested each of their steel shields. “With your heightened reflexes these should do fine. You will be able to stop almost any projectile coming your way.” The girls again wove their colors into the armband of their shields.
Lastly, they picked out armor. Dr. D and Emily used fire spells to cut and fashion the leather armor to fit as snug as possible. They placed steel attachments in important areas for protection, while leaving great mobility. Luke selected rippled shoulder pads and they all chose steel with fine ornamented designs for their breastplates. Elizabeth wanted an extra steel protector over her left arm to simulate Emily’s armor.
Over the next several weeks from sunup to sundown they trained with a regimen unlike any other on Acacia. They were all nervous that the bow and sword would be hard skills to master, but with their heightened minds, they absorbed entire books on swordsmanship and archery in hours putting the words they read to use on the practice field, repeating techniques again and again with their nearly limitless strength.
Each night, while nursing fingers raw from the bowstring, they gathered together to compare a spectacular assortment of bruises. All of their muscles were aching with the hard use, but after a time of shared pain, they would listen to Dr. D teach them about Acacia. He was fully immersing them in the Acacean language, and they were absorbing the words and culture at a rapid rate. Dr. D pulled out his favorite books from his libraries and assigned reading each evening, further enabling the group to learn how to speak and write in their new world.
Each morning, Emily woke early and went to her field with her bondsmates and her father to warm up with tai chi. Ammolite now had her own specialized movements with graceful patterns involving moving her neck and tail in both defensive and attack type positions. After a time, Emily’s friends showed up to watch their synchronous movements in silence.
“Tai chi?” Anna’s long hair was unbound, twisting in the gentle breeze. She wore her armor everywhere now, and the metal gleamed in the early morning rays.
“Yes, do you want to join in?” Emily gestured toward the space next to her.
“I’d like to learn the dragon tai chi, please.” Luke glanced wistfully in Ammolite’s direction. He was leaning on this broadsword, which rarely left his side.
“I’m beginning to think Luke is part dragon.” Elizabeth playfully punched Luke on his shoulder.
Emily went through her routine slowly, using a mind-link with her friends to help them fully conceptualize the motions. She taught them the mind state she recommended along with the flow and the pace of the movements. From that moment on, they all went through their tai chi training as a team.
After two weeks of working almost nonstop with the sword and bow, they were feeling a seed of confidence begin to grow as they were rapidly developing style and even subtle artistry. More arrows were finding purchase in the center of their targets and more sword-strikes were finding their own marks. Their expanding knowledge and ability to go through countless sequences in repetition accelerated their skill level. Ammolite watched over their training, proving herself masterful in identifying small flaws in their techniques, throwing out whatever advice she thought would help as she studied the proceedings.
Once her friends had their training regimen down, Emily and Ammolite began to leave more of the weapon teaching to Dr. D. Using a mage-fire trimmed leather saddle, Emily learned to ride her bondsmate. Xena, meanwhile, wasn’t about to be left out, so they constructed a rounded Doberman-sized, cave-like tube of leather that could be secured under Ammolite’s belly.
Time for our own lessons, Ammolite roared through their mind-link.
I couldn’t agree more, Emily laughed as she leapt into her saddle.
A perfect morning to fly, Xena bounded into her cave.
The three bondsmates took to the air as the sun rose, soaring past small mountains with stony summits of blue-gray rock that stood like ancient sentinels guarding pathways to the sky.
Today we’ll try maneuvers of increasing difficulty, Ammolite suggested. You’re both so light. You aren’t a burden.
The challenge, Emily giggled, is learning how to hold on to a dragon-rocket and lean without falling off.
; Rely on your mind-link, Xena mentally sent Emily pictures of how to stabilize her body. I find I can balance better when I’m in tune with Ammolite.
The stress of doing acrobatics high above the ground threw them into a profound fusion based on inter-reliance and reinforcement of their underlying mental bonds. Emily followed Xena’s recommendations and found herself gradually anticipating what motion Ammolite was going to take, whether banking ascents or steep descents. After a time, they flew as one, imperceptible, melding seamlessly.
How do you think your friends are doing? Ammolite leveled off gliding gracefully. Will you let them stay? She soared toward the Castle Cave’s training field and the three drank in the warmth of the sun.
They’re learning rapidly, but I don’t know if they’ll ever truly be ready to fight and kill. Emily sighed at the beauty of the random colors below her. Can they survive here?
Ammolite plummeted like a stone toward the ground then banked, gliding just above the training field. They have great potential.
Emily studied her friends working intently. She watched their arrows striking their targets with improved accuracy, and she swelled with pride at their dedication.
We’re ready to leave this place and start to form an army. Ammolite turned her head slightly to look back at Emily as she spoke in her mind.
They’re ready, Xena spoke firmly.
I know we have to save Hadrian and Dysis and battle Samil, but sometimes I wish we could stay here forever. Emily felt a cold chill in the pit of her stomach as she thought of leaving.
Ammolite spoke softly, Like dragon hatchlings, they must be exposed to danger to learn. Then her tone abruptly changed to one of concern and her head whipped around to face the horizon, Horses are approaching.
C H A P T E R 2 0
Maaca’s Battle
The sun descended, and only fragments of the residual light glimmered on the leaves and upon the dark black-enameled mail and gilded plate armor of the group of half-deads gathered on a small rise in the forest. Quivers were hanging from belts and slung from the shoulders of Maaca’s archers as they stood waiting for direction. Spearmen held the deadly points of their weapons upright and the last light shone on the steel, glinting like the eyes of an angry beast. Below her, Maaca studied the approaching elf hunting squad, a party of five.
“We’ve never attempted to fight more than a single elf at a time.” Wuldur spoke in a rough whisper. “Just separated scouts. Do you think this is wise?” His countenance was solemn.
Maaca knew he was just probing her resolve and that he yearned for conflict. “They’re too close to our forming city.” Maaca’s voice was cold and hard. “If they discover our position and take word to Shadoe, we’ll face an army of elves instead of a search party.” Maaca adjusted her dual scabbard on her back. “Both of you go to your positions. It’s time we were tested.” She nodded curtly to Ullr and Wuldur. She thought she caught a hint of a smile on both of their lips as they whirled away.
Maaca turned to study her assembled squads. She had called out an enormous group of half-deads for this conflict. Her forces quietly split into three groups: one led by herself and the other two by Ullr and Wuldur. She would lead a team of vampires that were all hand-selected, top notch warriors infused with the kills of many magicians, her ‘Black-blades,’ as her reserve force. She would commit her elite forces only when she was certain where they were required. Ullr would lead a squad of goblins, trolls and ogres while Wuldur would lead a group of half-dead were-creatures, gnomes, and several wyverns.
As Wuldur moved, she watched a pack of wolf were-creatures rise from their haunches and lope away with silky flowing motions. Glistening red and coal-black eyes glowed as they looked back at her. Maaca closed her own eyes and let the sounds of war wash over her, armor creaked, horses stomped their hooves, and swords clinked. She felt alive as she anticipated the impending bloodshed.
Maaca slowly reopened her eyes and sighed at the slow pace of the positioning of her warriors. She was tired of waiting, fully ready for the battle to begin. She turned to one of her vampire warriors, a solid, but low-level vampire, lean with black hair splashed with gray showing beneath the hood of his cloak. A longsword pulled at his belt, which was also weighed down by a dark warhorn. He needs more magus-infusions, or he won’t last very long, she thought to herself before speaking to him in a hushed voice. “This will be a tough battle.”
The vampire pulled back the hood of his heavy fur cloak and refuted his half-dead queen proudly. “Our forces should easily crush these elves.”
Maaca’s mouth twisted distastefully as she peered into the black eyes of her warrior. “The elves are some of the most elite fighters on Acacia. Don’t kid yourself. This won’t be easy, but I don’t want the elves finding our coven.” She turned to face the approaching enemy. “I want them to begin to fear the forest.”
Time to use a dream-link, Maaca thought. The elves were still some distance away and she didn’t think they would detect her slight magus-use. Half-deads had very limited magical skills, but a dream-link was one of the talents many prior magicians retained after their resurrection. Wuldur, Ullr, when you see the signal, a flaming arrow soaring into the sky, let your archers unleash their missiles of death upon the elves. You may attack at will afterwards. Don’t use any magic from now on. I don’t want the elves to become suspicious.
The elves were closer now. They were bold, talking to each other loudly, sure of themselves. “How many half-deads will we kill on this hunt, Captain Steele?” an elf called out.
“A mighty elf should never boast about his might,” the Captain scorned. Riding their coal black and deep brown Botai, sleek horses renown on Acacia for their speed and endurance, they approached Maaca’s position. The elves had never been really challenged in the Dothan Forest, and they appeared relaxed in their saddles.
Waiting until they were in range, Maaca signaled one of her archers to light and release the momentous arrow. She watched the arrow dart into the sky, finding a small opening through the imposing trees, like a small flaming bird struggling to escape the forest.
“What was that?” Captain Steele gestured at the flames. His warriors glanced around warily.
That, my friend, was the signal of your impending death, Maaca thought to herself. Her heart leapt as a stream of arrows followed the signal, threading their way through the trees, descending upon the elves with a faint whisper of destruction, lilting delicately on the wind.
“Cover!” Steele yelled sharply. While casting magical safeguards for protection, the elves dismounted and ducked behind their ironwood and metal shields. They were suffering minor wounds as arrow tips glanced off their brown and green boiled leather armor. Their horses let out trumpeting screams of anger as shafts pierced their unprotected hides, and they bolted away through the trees.
Even wounded, the elves were orderly in their discipline and formation. “Shell,” Steele roared. They fell into a common elf defensive stance, forming a ring with their backs to each other. Their shields warded off the next volley of arrows.
Then the first phase of the ground attack commenced, and goblins began to rush toward the elves who alternated between sword thrusts and shield defense. The elves were far more agile than their goblin attackers and they began to deal out killing blows. Red-tinged clouds of death-smoke began to form in their glade as the goblins were massacred. Maaca thought she could see the smoky shadows of the spirits of the dying depart their bodies in the colorful clouds, likely returning to Ater, and she wondered what else her mental advancements would one day let her view.
Her more lethal half-deads were steadily coming into play in her plan designed to wear out the elves. Ogres were taxing the dexterous creatures by throwing small boulders, and trolls were following the volley with large rocks. Darting through the growing clouds of crimson smoke and biting the distracted elves with their toxic venom, the wyverns launched an aerial attack. I wish Samil would send me more wyverns. Maaca was certain the pois
on from the wyverns would soon weaken the elven warriors, and she was right. The bitten elves began to stumble occasionally, and their attacks were slowed.
“Now!” Maaca growled, baring her fangs to her Black-blades. She signaled to her adjacent warrior to sound the attack as she leapt to her warhorse, caparisoned in dark black. The warhorn let out a mournful sound that sent waves of pleasure throughout her body. She fingered the silver wolf-shaped brooch that fastened her dark cloak as a gust of wind caught her. The cloth billowed about her body, exposing her shining black armor with a breastplate ornamented with a moon and stars. The shapes were etched deep into the steel. She urged her warhorse to advance at a slow walk, personally leading her Black-blades through the crimson smoke.
“Who is that, Captain?” One of the elf warrior’s eyes were wide as he pointed at Maaca with a two-handed greatsword. He barely dodged the whistling blow of a goblin’s battle-axe that raced through air just above his head in a murderous arc. He slashed back with his blade, connecting with the skull of the shrieking goblin.
“She looks almost like an elf.” The captain glared at Maaca icily, narrowing his eyes in anger. “I think she’s a vampire.”
Maaca moved her warhorse slightly to the right and then to the left, sensing several attacking wolf-shaped were-creatures without even glancing in their direction. The wolves flew from the woods at her back as she allowed them more room. She felt a sense of pride in the leaping wolves, muscles straining under different shades of fur, jaws snapping, paws raking at the elves.
“Look at her movements.” Another elf grunted with the exertion of impaling a wolf with his longsword. His green eyes squinted at Maaca through the resultant cloud of death-smoke. “She’s different than the others ... like no half-dead I’ve ever seen.”
Maaca felt more confident as she soaked up their words, but not a single elf had died yet. The elves were flanked by trees, preventing a charge by horseback, so she dismounted near their position. Her horse, Demon, tossed his mane and snorted forcefully, appearing angry to be left behind. Flanked by her team of vampire Black-blades, she approached the battle field with a stalking-type of a strut. She reached crossed arms to her back where her long black swords, Doom and Death, were housed in their scabbards. She drew them simultaneously and closed her eyes in bliss, listening to the smooth sound of steel traversing over leather. The noise soothed her mind like a mother whispering to a newborn. The swords were a gift from her creator, Samil, and she kept them as treasured keepsakes, in optimal shape.
