The Last Prophecy

by Russell Loyola Sullivan

  The campfires around him were bright and inviting, and the smells of food sailed on the evening breeze. He had brought along his apricot brandy, taking a sip or two before being served his evening meal.

  He had chosen such a large party to squash such a small fly. Well, he did not get to see these lands often. Maybe that was reason enough. Tomorrow would push them against the ocean, should his intel be accurate. Either way, Gerrick would have no place to run. That small fly would be forced into that cursed city. Maybe the city would do to him what should be his due and save Lord Wallace the trouble.

  No, let Gerrick be alive, and his bitch. He wanted to look in their eyes when they died.

  Chapter 30

  The Blood

  Salty air; the winds had turned to the west. The ocean was nearby: Darkenreach Ocean. Few had ever fished it, especially to the south where legend held that the reefs and shoals had claimed more people than the number of creatures that lived in its depths. Devyn guessed that was a slight exaggeration intended to echo the dark aura of the land upon which the waves crashed incessantly.

  This would be the day. Before noon, he guessed.

  Where was Brenna? She had to be safe.

  No coffee this morning; no way he would be surprised by Wallace. Horses, men, women, and the scattering of wagons that held the few wounded they could collect were at the ready before first light, and the wagons were already on the move to the meeting place. To extract even a few wounded from the swamps provided some consolation, even as he remembered those he had left behind.

  At the first sound of the enemy, Devyn and those remaining troops who had fought with him in the Desperate Lands would mount and nip or be chased as the circumstances would dictate. Today’s goal was different; today the idea was to tire Wallace’s forces, slow them down, make them edgy and disoriented, engage only for that purpose, and then retreat. The idea was not to inflict wounds but to make the enemy ever on guard for a surprise attack, keep their horses spooked and their men and women as close to panic as possible.

  Wallace might see today differently, as his troops were approaching the ocean to block their enemy, and the city was a place to corral those his army had not dispensed with. Devyn needed to get Wallace and his army into the city. What might unfold there he left to the fates.

  The others would be waiting. He hoped the ice had lasted long enough. They would soon find out.

  The first light of day came as Devyn and his comrades struck at the enemy, but after only a meager strike of sword meeting sword they would turn and allow each new trek east and south to bring them closer to the seaboard. The morning sun crested the swamp trees and then shone bright as the swamps gave away to the open land that ran to the shore. His men and women poured out almost in unison.

  Where was Brenna?

  Devyn rode north, Elian on his heels. “No, no, this is not what we agreed. Brenna is already south, is my guess. Either way, you must go south.”

  “I need to find Brenna; she might be to the north.”

  “All our efforts should not be squandered; one of you must make it if your plan is to have a chance. You go south. I’ll not go north until the last of our men and women are ahead of me. Now, go.”

  Devyn hesitated. He looked at Elian. “Find her.”

  Elian nodded and raced to the north, and with great reluctance Devyn sped to the south, the salt air on his face. Arapendia was not yet in sight, but it was a destination he would reach well before the sun went down, or he would not reach it ever.

  He hoped that Wallace’s troops were committed to following, however exhausted they were from the constant prodding by Devyn and his men and women. It felt a bit like poking a drove of wasp nests and then expecting all to go well, as if the attacking wasps should do what they were told.

  Down the coast he went, only a few of Wallace’s troops this far south yet. He and his comrades took those few out without casualties.

  It was midafternoon when the city came into view, and a short time later he came upon the meeting place, Aleena and Oran at the ready.

  “Has Brenna arrived?” Devyn asked.

  “Not yet,” Oran answered.

  Devyn jumped back on Fury. “I need to find her.”

  Oran grabbed the big stallion by the rope halter, and Fury bucked and reared, enough to move Oran out of the way but not dislodge his rider. “I’ll take a few of our troops and find her; you cannot leave. Remember your oath, Lord Gerrick.”

  “Lord Gerrick? Don’t ‘Lord Gerrick’ me. Brenna should have been here first; that was my plan.”

  “There is more to this than your plan, my lord. I must remind you that you have accepted the responsibility of the greater calling, and because of that you must consider what the greater responsibility might be, not the one that most wrings your heart.”

  “Go, go find her.” He watched as Oran sped to the north. What was he doing? Not only was Brenna in peril, but he had ordered two of his leaders to join her fate. What kind of leader was he? Not a leader a mother or father would be proud of, if ever he’d had a mother or father. Maybe that was the kindness of the universe awarding him a portion less than the damnation he deserved—the damnation of his parents.

  He acknowledged it must be, yet he yearned to jump on his horse and search for Brenna. Aleena and Simon, both with the mark, came to join him.

  Simon spoke first. “All is ready; those who came before you took the mark just after midday. We did that to ensure we would have time to mark all those who came with you across the swamps.”

  “The ice lasted?”

  Aleena answered. “Yes, there’s even ice left.”

  “Not just my blood, but Brenna’s?”

  “Yes, my lord.” Aleena bowed. “Of course, and Lady Brenna’s.”

  Ah, so she was a lady now. Was their little world being recreated? Brenna would laugh at such a pronouncement, as had he.

  Where was she?

  “We mark them as they arrive, my lord,” Aleena added.

  “Good. Where are the wagons and the wounded?”

  Simon looked at Aleena and then back at Devyn. “We don’t know, my lord; that was the duty—”

  “Never mind. Let’s get into position. Wallace is but a few hoofbeats behind. I need the archers in front of the cats—”

  “What if the cats attack?” Aleena was quick to interject.

  “Then the mark of my blood or Brenna’s blood on your forehead will prove to have been for nothing, and the choice of death for all of us will be black cats or Wallace’s army.”

  Aleena bowed again. “No, no, my lord. I’m sure the blood will protect us. It will.”

  Devyn approached her and clasped her shoulder. “It’s okay, Aleena. This isn’t something we know for certain, but the sisters said it was part of the old ceremony that sanctioned others to enter the temple on the solstice of the prophecy, when no one else but the caretaker of the message was to be present; the blood of that caretaker on the heads of the clerics protected them from being dispatched by the black cats, or so claimed the lore the sisters imparted.”

  “It’ll work,” Simon said. “It has to work.”

  They moved inside the city. No shouts, no signs of battle—a good thing, perhaps, as it meant the cats had not attacked anyone. Devyn guided Aleena to where she and her archers would position themselves. He had drawn a map, as best he and Brenna could remember of the buildings and other obstacles surrounding the old temple. “This is where we first caught sight of the cats.” He pointed to the long path leading south of where they had stabled their horses in their previous visit.

  “I don’t see or hear any cats,” Aleena said.

  That possibility had not entered their plans. Yes, that the cats would fight for them, or against them, such had been discussed, but the notion that the cats would no longer be there at all had not been part of their scrutiny. Too late now.

  “They’re elusive creatures until they want to be found,” Devyn said. “Let’s get our positions cove
red. And remember, once you let go your first volley, you must all move behind the cats and allow them to do what they will.” He felt silly saying it out loud. Aleena had no doubt reconciled herself to following a lunatic, and the best she could do was let rise her last arrow to meet its eventual target.

  With Aleena’s archers in place, he headed back north to where he and what remained of his riding troops would bait the trap for Wallace.

  The quiet was alarming, and still no Brenna, no Olin, and no Elian. What had he done?

  He dismounted. Better to give Fury what rest he could before the onslaught.

  No cats; that would make things a little more difficult.

  He turned at the sound of thunder off on the ocean. It hit him they had missed another possibility; the rain would wash away the blood, wash away any possible protection. He looked up, the sky clear for now. Let that be the case for the rest of the day, at least. Another roll of thunder. It was too late for any caution.

  The wait, as short as it was, stretched into his senses, and then came the sound from the north: horses at the gallop.

  He mounted and motioned his troops do the same. Swords were drawn, and they moved north, their plan to engage the enemy, retreat, and continue to draw Wallace’s army inside the city to where the cats were supposed to do their job.

  Oran and Elian were to lead this charge.

  Could a lord court-martial himself?

  He led the charge out through the gates of the city even as riders came racing toward them: Brenna at the lead, Oran and Elian at her side.

  “They are behind us!” Oran yelled.

  Devyn glanced at Brenna, meeting her eyes for but an instant. “Everything’s set, get yourselves in position, and we’ll join you after we take our first peck at the enemy.” He squeezed his legs and Fury danced forward, Devyn’s men and women at his flank.

  She’s safe. He permitted himself a moment of relief, and then it was the cloud of dust ahead. “Spread out.”

  His reins loose, Fury galloped toward the enemy. No Wallace to be seen. No matter yet, as he had not expected Wallace to lead his troops. They would meet in the city; that was his expectation.

  The clash of steel came finally, and then the unexpected. Devyn and his troops turned and galloped back into the city; Wallace’s troops followed at their backs. They closed their ranks and sped down the narrow road to the temple. At the appointed moment, the archers let loose and a cloud of arrows rained down on Wallace’s riders. Yet still they came. A second rain of arrows, and next Devyn and his comrades turned to take another swipe at the approaching army.

  Still no cats.

  Another roll of thunder from out on the ocean, closer now and louder. Devyn had no time to even check the sky; the dice were close to revealing their numbers. He and his comrades chopped and sliced into the approaching army, next retreating yet one more time, his meager ranks diminishing; one more charge at best, and he would be down to nothing.

  The temple was in the distance. Where were those damn cats?

  There came another roll of thunder, and then a rolling, high-pitched crescendo of what could only be the black cats come to protect the city. And then they could be seen—first a few, then many, and soon a frightening wall of predators heading toward Wallace’s approaching onslaught.

  Devyn felt a pulse of relief as he realized the blood mark was doing its job. The cats sped by Devyn’s people, making for the others. Screams and shouts rose into a bellowing cry of death and destruction. There was not even time for Devyn and his few remaining troops to enter the fray. The cats were an overwhelming, unexpected, impossible surge against Wallace’s men and women.

  In the aftermath, Devyn, Brenna, Elian, Aleena, and Oran took separate parties to find where Wallace might lie among the slain.

  No trace was found.

  A short but heated talk ended with Brenna agreeing to remain behind while Devyn and what was left of his troops headed north. “We must find Wallace.”

  The corridor of destruction stretched all the way to the gates of the city—bodies. Too many to count in short order. It was a mortal wound to Wallace, even if he was not among them.

  The cats had disappeared as quickly as they had arrived.

  Devyn gave Fury a squeeze and galloped to the north. All this was meaningless without Wallace. They raced to the north, and finally a speck of dust, riders on the move, a good many. He would need to use caution, as there were no cats to help him here.

  And Wallace had his magic. But he had his magic as well, and no matter, magic or otherwise, he would give his last breath to bring that man down.

  He yelled as he rode. “The dagger is what we’re after. Whoever gets it must escape back to Brenna.”

  They already knew the drill, but it didn’t hurt to repeat it one more time. The cloud of dust up ahead disappeared. Wallace and his force had stopped. They had most likely assessed what was following them and had decided they were more likely to prevail in such a confrontation, especially with the magic of Wallace.

  “I’ll take Wallace!” Devyn screamed.

  It would be a ground battle; Devyn knew they would slice their horses and take the riders in a second round. He would not give them such ground. He halted and dismounted well before Wallace’s soldiers could make their move. No arrows; they had been spared any archers.

  Swords drawn, Wallace’s troop commenced its attack.

  A flash of blue light zipped through the air, but instead of hitting any number of Devyn’s comrades, it curved and danced into Devyn’s sword. He was as surprised as those around him, and he could only imagine the distress it might have caused Wallace, for surely Wallace was the source of the magic.

  A spark of hope. Devyn rushed toward the place from which the magic had emanated, hacking at two men as he made his way, and there was Wallace, his sword raised and at the ready. Wallace let go another bolt of power. It spun from his hand in a flash, and once again it danced on Devyn’s sword; a small shock went pulsing through Devyn’s body and sent him off balance.

  He could only take a few of those before they became lethal. Best he not find out.

  He rushed at Wallace and then stepped back as Wallace took a swing with his sword. “You must be the traitor. Devyn, is it? I’ll put an end to you here, and then make sure your whore of a wife gets what she deserves. I almost had her.”

  Another fighter who liked to talk his way through a fight. “It seems your failure to capture her is but a prelude to what will happen here. You can always surrender.”

  Wallace let go another bolt. This one took Devyn down on one knee, and he struggled to regain his stance even as Wallace’s sword swung in close, too close, as he deflected it away in a defensive move.

  Wallace stepped back and pointed his sword at Devyn’s forehead. “I see you can take some magic, even if you grow weaker with each assault. I have lots of time; my soldiers are taking good care of everything else.”

  “You talk too much.” Devyn’s sword came down on Wallace’s with the force of ten men, and blue light slid along the blade and into Wallace’s sword. Devyn registered the shock and jolt of reality that burst into Wallace’s body.

  No time to step back now. He held his sword with one hand, drew his dagger with the other, and plunged it into Wallace’s left shoulder. Wallace had yet to recover from the first blow. It was fear now that registered on his face, and then rage, but the fear had slowed him down. He raised his hand for a burst of energy that raced up Devyn’s sword and shook his body to its core.

  Devyn froze in amazement and he fell to the ground.

  *****

  Brenna understood that Devyn was the warrior and she was the caretaker. No matter that he might be a caretaker as well. He had galloped off to the north thinking that only he could save the day. And that might be so. He wanted to ensure that she was not killed and that as few as possible men and women met their deaths.

  She had waited long enough. “Mount up. If Devyn has won his battle, then we’ll join
him; if he has lost, then we’ll avenge his death.”

  Oran and Elian screamed their dissent. She was already at a gallop to the north. This could not be the culmination of what they had undertaken. Her heart sank with the possibility of a life without her Devyn. He had sacrificed the life of a farmer to be some fighter he had long wished to bury.

  No sign of anyone approaching. No sign of Devyn.

  Lord Wallace, be you a god or a devil, I will hunt you down today.

  Oran and Elian came up beside her. “You must go back. This is not what we agreed to,” Oran said.