by Brad Clark
“It is time. Go!”
Roddan hesitated just for a moment, then gave out a sharp whistle and command to the eight Mashers. With only the sound of their feet slapping through the mud, they followed Roddan towards the front of the army.
The Deceiver closed his eyes and reached out for his spy. It is time, he said through his thoughts.
I am ready, the spy replied.
Words fell off his lips as he invoked the spell. His hand went to the small leather pouch that hung from his neck, and he pulled out the jet black stone. It was warm to the touch. The power flowed through his hands and into the rest of his body as the spell came to fruition. A purple haze appeared before him, and just past the haze was no longer his army, but a quiet stone-strewn path. The haze would not last long, so he quickly jumped through and then a stiff wind picked up, and the haze blew away with it.
He did not realize how loud his army was until he could no longer hear it. The stench was also gone, and he took in a deep breath. He was not sure if he actually enjoyed the freshness of the late winter mountains, but it was different than what he was used to. A bird called in the distance. Its high-pitched sound caused him to turn and ready a spell. Nothing else moved around him, but he was wary that there would be danger farther up the mountains, where the trail led.
He was told that there was a path, but he could not make one out. All he knew was that somewhere up the mountainside was the back entrance to the castle. He expected it to be heavily guarded, even if it was secret. He started up the mountain, doing his best to keep his footing. Much of the terrain was muddy and slippery. Several times he slipped and fell, getting his cloak caked with mud.
A sizeable rocky outcropping caught his attention, and then he realized a path led right up to it. The mountainside rose quickly from here, and soon it would become nearly impossible to climb on his own. In his way, though, was the massive pile of rocks. For several minutes he walked around it, looking for an easy way to pass, but there was something odd about the rocks and how they rested on the ground.
“It’s fresh,” he said aloud.
It certainly made sense to bury the secret entrance rather than to try and guard it. A few rocks didn’t bother him. It took him only a heartbeat to think of the spell and let its words come through his lips. Squeezing the black gem, he thrust his hand at the rocks, and they exploded into tiny pieces. The force of the blow struck him and sent him tumbling back down the mountainside. He tumbled and rolled, and the thought of losing the black gem entered his thoughts, and he squeezed it tightly.
When he stopped rolling, he picked himself up. Pain shot throughout his body, but he ignored it. Pain was a Human feeling, and he could easily push it aside. An odd ringing filled his ears, though, and he had to shake his head to clear it. When he did, he looked up at the pile of rocks. Although much of it had been blown away, he still could not see the entrance to the castle. Realizing that the spell he used might permanently hurt his Human form, he decided on another option, but it would take him much longer as he’d have to move each rock one by one until he made a path for himself to reach the entrance.
***
Conner turned his head at the muffled explosion. It sounded like it came from the backside of the mountain. “What was that?”
Glaerion snapped, “Does it matter? They’ve breached the wall, and the army is coming!”
“We haven’t found Hargon, either!”
They were both in the courtyard watching the wall crumble before them. The soldiers and fighters that were mustered there moved back as one, squeezing together and making it difficult for them to pass through.
Atop the wall, Elven archers continued to try and strike the Stone Ogres through the eyes, but they kept their heads down, making it difficult to target their eyes.
Conner drew his swords, knowing that they would be useless against the creature. But it did force the soldiers around him to give him a wide berth.
“We fight, with or without Hargon,” Conner said.
Glaerion looked around and said, “Once those Stone Ogres get inside the wall, they’ll kill every one of these fighters. We have to retreat into the castle. At least as many of them as we can.”
“Then the goblins will swarm in.” He looked at the double oak doors that led into the large cavern where Elissa and all the non-combatants were hiding.
They could see the head of the Stone Ogre as it was climbing over the wall. It had pulled the top half of the wall down, giving it a pile of rocks to stand on. Now, it was looking inside at the courtyard, its head turning left and right. It reached one hand over the wall and started to pull itself up and over, but Immerallis swooped down just as it was about to fall into the courtyard. The Dragon grabbed the Stone Ogre by one shoulder and its head and was about to lift off the ground when Immerallis was swarmed by the flying minor demons. None of them were anywhere near his size, but dozens were biting and attacking the Dragon.
Archers quickly changed from shooting at the Stone Ogres to shooting at the flying creatures. Many fell after being struck by multiple arrows, but there were many more to take the place of the fallen. Then another swarm came over the top of the wall, attacking the archers. Bows were dropped, and daggers were drawn.
“I’ll take the wall,” Glaerion called out as he ran towards the stairs that led to the top of the wall. As he ran, he called for soldiers to follow him. Many did, eagerly, but fearfully, running towards their first combat.
Conner turned to look at the Stone Ogre that was almost over the wall. “Fine. I’ll take Prince Ugly.”
“How do we kill it?” Denn asked.
Conner then realized that all the Sak’Hurai had joined him. Seventy men. A hundred and forty swords. And none of them could even scratch the skin of the creature.
“Its eye is its only weakness. A deep thrust of a sword will kill it. That, or a mage.”
“You have one of those?”
“We did, but not anymore.”
Denn didn’t seem fazed. “Sword through the eye it is.” He turned left and right to the rest of the Sak’Hurai and shouted orders in Hurai.
The Sak’Hurai all moved forward as one, trotting towards the wall. Several dashed up the stairs and sprinted across the top of the wall, dodging the minor demons that were flying about, trying to attack anything that moved. The Elves were able to keep them occupied, but they were not making much headway. As soon as they killed one, there was another to take its place.
Marik ran up to Conner, out of breath from running. “The army is on the move. We have to do something. Those creatures will have the wall down any moment, and then the goblins will come through.”
“What was the plan?” Conner asked.
“Hargon was supposed to be here to kill the Stone Ogres and wipe out the army! Remember what he did when we first got here? No, you weren’t here. He wiped out the entire goblin army with one spell. He saved all of us once, and we were counting on him again.”
Marik’s eyes flashed the anger that he felt, and Conner saw it coming.
“I know Hargon,” Conner said, trying to calm Marik down. “He’ll be here when we need him. I’ve passed word, and everyone is keeping an eye out for him.”
Marik let loose with his anger and shouted, “He’s become obsessed with his magic and Marila, and may not care if we survive or not! The next time I see him, I’ll show him what good cold steel can do!”
Marik spun and started to walk away. Conner grabbed him on the shoulder.
“What!” Marik shouted back. The anger directed at Conner clearly surprised him, as his face showed it. Marik let out a heavy sigh. With a calmer voice, Marik said, “I am a Karmon Knight, and I am letting my emotions get the better of me. I know better.”
“Marik, stopping carrying all the burden of this war. Hargon will show, and even if he doesn’t, we are prepared. We have fighters, soldiers, archers, Knights, Sak’Hurai warriors, and a Dragon.”
“You’ve always been confident at victory,” Ma
rik said, his eyes losing anger and showing weariness.
“The One God will not let us fail. He has put me, put all of us on this path, and He will be there when we most need it. It is not Hargon that we need, but our faith that the One God has not left us, and will be there when we need Him.”
“He has been absent, letting the Deceiver conquer the world.”
Conner shook his head. “The Deceiver has not conquered anything yet. He has destroyed some cities, killed many, many of our people, but we still have fight in us, and we must take the fight to him, now.”
“Open the gates and take the fight to them?”
Conner nodded his head. “Why not?”
“If we had a thousand Knights, we could just run them over. We have so few left. The major parts of our army are untrained men and boys. They will fight bravely, but many of them will die bravely. On an open field, the goblin horde will just surround us, just like they did the Sak’Hurai. There will be no rescue. So, no, we don’t fight them on their field. We fight them on ours. We let the walls fall, which means that we will know where they will come through. We let them come through and cut them down in the courtyard. If we can control the battlefield, then eventually the Deceiver will come here, and then we can use that spear that you brought back.”
“I’ll find Glaerion and make sure he has it ready. When the time comes, we’ll also need Immerallis.”
“You call, I’ll be there,” Immerallis said in their heads.
Marik and Conner both looked to the sky, and spotted him high in the air, carrying yet another Stone Ogre so that he could drop it to its death.
“Yes, I’ve been listening to you. The goblins are about to pour through the opening. Prepare your soldiers to defend the castle.”
“Go!” Conner shouted, and ran to find Glaerion.
Marik ran to find the rest of his Knights to prepare the fighters to defend the castle.
***
Hargon was painfully out of breath, and his legs burned with fatigue as if they were on fire. To support her illusion of being a wolf, Marila forced him to run across the field as fast as they could, and running was not something he was accustomed to doing. Three goblins noticed their illusionary wolf and started to chase after them, but they were called back by their leaders. One lone wolf was not worth the effort of even a single goblin.
“He will be at the back of the army,” Marila said with no signs of being fatigued or out of breath. While Hargon struggled to keep up the pace, she easily handled it. “Surrounded by his generals, specifically Roddan. He is a hairy beast that is ruthless and smart. We will have to get through him first, but your powers should handle him. He has no magical powers of his own.”
Hargon did not reply, as he was gasping for air. His chest was about to burst, but he knew he couldn’t stop running. If they did, they would be easy prey for goblins. Although he had a handful of spells ready to be used to defend himself, doing so would wreck their illusion and the full force of the army would be set upon them. Worse, they would lose any chance of trying to get close to the Deceiver.
When they were halfway across the field and started up the gentle slope towards the forest, the goblin army started to move forward. Marila made sure they stayed far enough away from the goblins to keep them from taking further notice of them. The frenzied goblins no longer seemed to care about them, and with an nearly uncontrollable delirium, the goblin army ran towards the castle.
Marila circled behind the army and by the time they arrived at the forest, the goblins and minor demons had all moved away. A heavy, acrid stench hung in the air, left over from the mere presence of the goblins. The ground was torn up, leaving only a muddy and sloppy mess. Trees at the edge of the forest had been ripped to shreds and left to die. All signs of the coming spring were gone. The goblins had left death in their wake.
Finally able to catch his breath, Hargon dropped to a knee and sucked in air as quickly as he could. His head spun, and he felt as if he were about to topple over.
“We must keep moving,” Marila said.
Hargon shook his head. After one more deep breath, he broke out into a coughing fit as his lungs finally rebelled at being overworked. He yanked his hand away from her and the illusion disappeared.
Marila looked around, but there was no one near to see them. The entire army had now reached the castle and was pouring in through an opening in the wall. The Stone Ogres had broken through in two places, but the holes were not wide enough to fit very many goblins at once. With them all trying to charge through at the same time, the attack stalled, which gave Elven archers easy targets to quickly kill goblins. Some of the goblins started to climb the walls, which they did by digging their sharp talons into the stone to get a toehold. But they were also quickly shot down by the archers.
Hargon watched for a moment and said, “We just might win this. Those goblins are so easy to kill.”
“Do not be deceived,” Marila said. “They seem easy to kill, but they will overwhelm with their numbers. Are you rested enough?”
Hargon stood up and nodded his head. His breathing was back to normal, and his legs no longer felt rubbery. He felt the weight of the Ark of Life around his neck and assumed that its power had helped him recover more quickly than he otherwise would have. His hand touched the empty pendant, wondering what it would feel like once he had the full power of the Ark of Life. The thought of being able to do whatever he wanted for as long as he wanted had an incredible appeal.
Marila moved off into the trees, and he watched her for a moment. Her Human form represented the power that he sought. It was beautiful and perfect on the outside, but in truth, there was much more to her, as there was the Ark of Life. They both were dangerous and could turn the tide of the war. They both could also turn against him and this world. Right now, she could be leading him right into the hands of the Deceiver. His instincts were telling him to trust her, but too much had happened in his life to keep him from trusting anyone. He had trusted his own brother, Tarcious, and that had not turned out well. It was almost pure luck that he had survived.
“Luck,” he repeated aloud, and then let out a chuckle as he replied the last year of his life in his head.
She stopped at the sound of his voice and turned to look at him. “What?”
“I was just thinking how lucky I’ve been to even survive this far.”
She shook her head slowly. “Is there really such a thing as luck?”
“For me to be here, alive, yes, I think there must be. Think of all the little events that have had to come together to get us here.”
“You would not be here if the Deceiver had not come to this realm. How is that lucky?”
He thought about it for a moment, and then laughed softly. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. If not for your Deceiver, I’d still be emperor of Taran, living a life of pompous luxury.”
“We are running out of time,” she replied, unamused at his clear attempt at levity.
He trotted to reach her side, trusting that she was who she said she was, and not the spy that they had accused her of being.
Side-by-side, they quietly walked through the trees. The only sounds they heard were the distant sounds of battle from behind them. Nothing around them was alive. No birds. No small animals. They had all quickly left when the goblins had arrived.
“Is he even here?” Hargon whispered.
Marila did not immediately respond. They continued walking for some time until they reached a large clearing where a tent had been erected. One flap was open and hung down, as there was no breeze to flap it. Carefully, they peered inside, but it was empty.
“This is strange,” Marila said.
“Where is he?” Hargon asked, even though he knew that Marila could not answer.
Marila stepped into the tent to look around to see if there was something left that would give a clue as to where the Deceiver was.
Hargon snapped his head around, hoping that the Deceiver would jump out from behind a tree,
but he knew that he would not. An odd feeling came over him as his gut was telling his mind what was wrong, but his mind refused to listen. He stopped looking around when he faced west, towards the castle and the goblin army that was swarming at its walls.
“Certainly he would not march into battle with his army,” Hargon said quietly. “He would wait for them to soften the defenders, first.”
A breeze suddenly picked up, and a sound touched his ears.
Marila stepped out of the tent and asked, “What was that?”
“You heard it too?”
“It sounded like banging. In the trees.”
Marila darted deeper into the forest. Hargon trailed behind, jogging. He was never going to stay with her, as she ran too fast. He just hoped that he didn’t lose sight of her.
The thick underbrush had not been torn asunder by the goblins. The trees were undamaged and starting to sprout buds. Clearly, the army had not marched through this part of the forest, but there were clearly sounds coming from ahead of them. Someone or something was doing work in the forest.
Marila had stopped running and was moving slowly, carefully putting her foot down to avoid making noise. As carefully as he could, Hargon approached. Once he reached her, she grabbed his hand and pulled him down into a crouch. He held it limply for a moment, but the warmth of her touch was inviting, and he squeezed it lightly.
She looked up at him, but his eyes were on the people that were moving about in a clearing on the other side of thick evergreen bushes.
“Who?” he asked softly.
She put a finger to her lips and shook her head.
A large man dressed only in torn pants was standing nearby. His skin was a dark brown and was stretched tightly across his muscular back and shoulders. Those muscles rippled as he turned his head to look back at them. Hargon’s heart froze for an instant as he thought their eyes locked, but the man’s gaze moved farther to his left, and then back to his right. Eventually, the man turned back towards the clearing, and Hargon breathed again.
