The Rise of the Dematians: An Epic Mage Fantasy Adventure (Legend of the Ecta Mastrino Book 4)
Page 34
The wyrm’s ball was growing and Merik didn’t move. He seemed resigned to his fate.
Then the horsehead knife blade slammed into the beast’s open mouth a moment before it tried to release the beam. The jaws snapped shut and the yellow glow grew between its lips.
Wide eyed, the wyrm flapped its wings. It made it about five feet from the ground when suddenly it exploded.
A concussive blast flew everywhere along with wyrm guts. They flooded over the bodies of the living and the dead from both sides. Edin stumbled backward and for a moment, he saw a glowing light on a faraway hilltop.
The dematian king.
16
Uneasy Alliance
Edin was not in chains when he woke. That was a good sign. He felt drained as he looked up at the peak of the small austere tent. Army issue.
No one was around, no one greeted him as he woke. Edin pulled his legs over the side of a cot and rested his head in his hands. To the left was a small basin with water. He cupped his hands and sipped. It was cold, like the air around him.
Standing on wobbly legs he felt muscles ache that hadn’t done so since his first time doing the Oret Nakosu. Edin hesitantly moved to the flap and pushed it back.
The camp was subdued. The sky was cloudy and the snow had stopped though it left the grass covered in watered down blood.
“This way sir,” a voice called. It was a soldier standing guard next to his tent. He carried a large sword at his back and had the eye of someone who took more orders than he gave.
Edin glanced around almost waiting for a member of the Por Fen to slap irons on him. But no one seemed to be paying attention. There was no wan stone near it and his only guard didn’t seem to be keeping him prisoner.
“To where?”
“The command tent.”
Edin looked around trying to get his bearings. The bright tent was nowhere to be seen, then he remembered it’d been torched.
“The duke?” Edin asked. The man had the heraldry of Alestow, one of the duke’s direct men.
The man just shook his head and stomped toward the western mountain.
Large fires billowed black smoke to the east offering the smell of burning flesh. His stomach churned and he clenched his jaw.
They stepped over bodies and around carts filled with dismembered remains, some the deep black of dematians, others of men.
“How many died?” Edin asked.
The soldier kicked a dematian hand and it went flying off toward a green tent. “Last count was nearly three thousand.” The man shook his head but didn’t look back. “Three thousand men in thirty minutes…” His words trailed off.
Some people stared at him, most with fear in their eyes as if he’d turn and torch the lot of them just for looking. Men and the scattering of women stepped aside to give them ample room to walk. Edin could’ve hopped side to side if he wanted. Though that would be more energy than he wanted to expend at the time.
The guard stopped before a long tent that looked to have been cobbled together from two or three smaller ones. Two other guards stared from next to the closed tent flaps.
“Edin de Yaultan has awoken,” his escort said.
“He may enter,” one said stepping to the side and pulling the flap back.
Edin stepped in the dark tent and heard voices. After a quick moment, his eyes adjusted and he saw a group of men standing around a makeshift table. On it, maps were cobbled together like this tent.
Merik caught his gaze first and looked away. To the right side he saw Rihkar, Berka, and a man he recognized. Lieutenant Elva.
Next to Merik were two other Por Fen, a couple of well-dressed noblemen. One wore a crown on his head. He slowly turned and Edin saw it was Sinndilo.
The younger brother of the man he’d slain. He was the first to speak. “Master Berka…” he said with a cold smile, “or is it truly Edin.”
Edin paused. “It is Edin.”
“It is good for humanity that you slayed my brother.”
Edin shifted uncomfortably. The new duke was probably Edin’s age and now the ruler of a giant state.
Sinndilo raised a hand. “I know what Sandon was and who he was. You do not want to know what it was like growing up with him.”
“My lord,” Merik said.
“Yes Inquisitor?”
“The dematians.”
Sinndilo lowered his eyes. “Yes…” then he looked back at Edin and waived him forward.
Edin looked at the map, a large swatch of red ran from the sea just south of Glustown all the way up and into the unknown wilds of the northwest. It spread south over the mountains and down into Porinstol and northern Resholt to the Halecon Lake. Yaultan was gone.
Edin swallowed.
“Much of Resholt was evacuated to Aldenheim and Calerrat,” Berka said stepping forward from the crowd. He wasn’t wearing the black robes of the Por Fen anymore and his head and chin were covered with red stubble.
Merik stepped forward and shot an angry look at Berka. His old friend didn’t seem to notice. “They are under siege. We’ve received word by ship but we cannot break them free. No army can.”
Edin looked at Rihkar. “There may be one…”
Rihkar nodded. “I will go, Dorset is looking for passage at the docks.”
“We have sent envoys to the southern islands, if they’re not too busy cutting each other’s throats we may be able to get an army…” Sinndilo said.
“Pirates, thieves, and abominations,” Merik shook his head. “This is what our great civilization has come to.”
Rihkar glared but didn’t respond. “I don’t know if it’ll be enough to push them back… we could stop them, hold them for a while but there are reports of other wyrms out there. You saw how strong the thunderwyrm was. We are want for allies.”
Edin closed his eyes as the word was said. “Those who have once before, must again be allied.”
“What was that?” Sinndilo said.
“A prophecy… it tells who we need to ally with.”
Sandillo raised an eyebrow and glanced at Merik and then at Edin. “There are no other men we can count on… we probably can’t even count on the islanders.”
“What does that mean?” Merik said. “Who do you mean?”
Edin swallowed. “The elves.”
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Also by BJ Hanlon
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The Abomination of Yaultan
The Timeless Keep
The Isle of Mists
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This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places or events are entirely coincidental.
First Edition July 9, 2019 Copyright BJ Hanlon
Cover by Covermint Design
Edited by Beth Doward
Created with Vellum