While Zauber kept them busy, the dwarves hacked limbs off of the undead Orcs pushing against the mantlets. Mors was too preoccupied to regenerate the undead. Anger creased his facial wrinkles and burned in his glowing red eyes. He was determined to destroy Zauber.
Sweat coated Zauber’s face. The constant assault demanded his mental and physical strength and cast a heavy toll upon him. He kept shielding himself beneath his protective mantle but found his power weakening. With the dark necromancer and an undead wizard bombarding him, he didn’t have much time before he was completely exhausted and his mantle was crushed, leaving him totally exposed. Once that happened, he was dead.
He held no doubt that Mors would resurrect him to use Zauber’s magic in a similar manner as Zauber had partly done to Thull. Fate was funny like that, making one suffer as another had been forced to do.
Zauber drew a symbol in the air with his left hand while chanting an incantation. Only the whites of his eyes were visible. After repeating the mantra a second time, his eyes suddenly glowed with a searing white light. The light flowed outward and beamed around him.
The snow and ice under the dwarves’ feet cracked and shook. The dwarves squatted and shoved themselves against the front of the mantlets. The radiance surrounding the wizard glowed brighter than an exploding star. Intense heat hurled like a blast of dragon fire, which singed and ignited the scrub pines like the instant strike of a match flamed.
Zauber made a fist and hammered forward in the air. A wave of heat seared over the tops of the mantlets, striking the ridgeline where Mors and Thull stood. Chunks of rock and ice tumbled downward burying Thull, but Mors scrambled away toward the black carriage.
Too exhausted to draw upon his power and annunciate another spell, Zauber dropped to his knees and fell forward in the melting snow. His tired eyes focused upon Mors. Completely vulnerable, he waited for the necromancer to curse him with death. One death spell ended Zauber here because he didn’t have the strength to shield against another attack.
“Charge!” King Staggnuns shouted.
The hundreds of dwarves swarmed forward and climbed over the mantlets, using their axes and swords to chop and dismember the undead Orcs and Dredgemen.
Mors climbed upon the carriage, grabbed the reins, and vanished.
Zauber closed his eyes. His body shook. Sweat froze on his face and beard like tiny icicles. He was triumphant, but only as long as Mors didn’t return. Zauber was drained, empty. He had nothing left.
Even after Mors vanished, his power lingered. The undead continued battling with the dwarves. They didn’t fall to the ground or turn to fine dust. They raged on with as much determination as they had when the necromancer was present. No sooner were the undead soldiers dropped than did they reassemble and rise again.
Zauber felt himself grow light, almost like his spirit hovered above his body momentarily. Then he realized two dwarves were dragging him out of the snow. He opened his eyes to see them lay him inside a tent where a modest fire burned. Afterwards, he slept, unaware of anything that occurred around him.
***
Almost seven hours later, the magical suspension bridge descended at a mild angle. Gently a quarter mile section of the bridge lowered, swaying like a slow leaf dropping and then stopped several feet from the forest floor.
From behind Odlon, Dawn noticed the edge of the Woodnog forest suddenly turned from its brilliant green colors to a dull grayish brown like dried dead leaves. This was the barrier trail that Eril had spoken about.
The divide.
The magical veil that protected Woodnog brushed her skin like a gentle caress when she left the bridge and rode toward the divide. A tingling sensation touched her, but only for a brief moment. Although she witnessed nothing visually, in her mind she envisioned a faery kissing her and offering her its blessing.
Hope.
Her horse clopped onto the rough loose rocks and debris. The path was dismal, lacking any signs of life at all. Glancing back at the Woodnog forest, the magical barrier shimmered. The Fae were doing everything to prevent the death and decay from entering the forest from the void.
Marching four abreast, the armored elf soldiers strode off the bridge and exited the forest. They formed a rigid line, facing the dark mystical veil that hung over the Black Chasm, and then they drew their weapons.
Odlon waved his hand, catching Dawn’s attention, and then he pointed down the rugged steep path. “The troops from Oculoth will approach from that direction.”
Dawn acquiesced with a nod and turned her horse toward the south in front of the Elven troops. Caen sat on his mount to her right. Corwin to her left.
“Anything you need, just say it,” Corwin said softly. “I’m here at your command.”
“We all are,” Caen said.
Faint rattling and crunching sounds echoed from the south, far out of view and barely audible.
“What is making that noise?” Dawn asked.
“The Oculoth troops,” Corwin said. “Probably a mile away, but steadily approaching.”
Dawn’s attention briefly turned toward the high swirling purplish-black mist that hovered beyond the barrier to her left. Lightning flashed in odd strobe-like disarray. Thunder rumbled. A magical veil hid the city within the mists in much the same way as the Fae veiled the forest. It was like a domed storm.
Eril had not lied. The power of each wall pulsed slightly, and even from the center of the road, Dawn felt both the evil and good magic whipping toward her, coaxing her, and luring her. Both wished to draw her and the others toward them. Neither held promising fates.
The Black Chasm wrought instant death from the poison or patrolling demons.
The Woodnog Fae might allow one to survive entering; depending upon motive and behavior, but life was not necessarily guaranteed.
“Something wrong?” Caen asked her.
“It’s disturbing sitting here waiting.”
“Aye,” Drucis said. “I expect something to creep from either side and challenge us.”
“I get that feeling too,” Lehrling said, looking at the dwarf.
Riese stepped closer to the front of the line with his huge hammer in hand. He didn’t speak. His facial expressions indicated he was ready should a beast of any sort pass through one of the veils and attack.
The marching footsteps of the approaching army became louder. Armor clinked in a steady rhythm, almost like a machine. The barren trail curved sharply, preventing them from seeing anyone approach.
“They’ll be here soon,” Caen said to Dawn. “We introduce you, letting them know who you are, and then we proceed northward.”
Dawn nodded. “It would be good to introduce Riese and Prince Manfrid as well.”
Shrieks and shouts rose from where the Oculoth soldiers marched.
The Dragon Skull Knights drew their swords and brought their horses around to shield Dawn. She pulled her short sword and watched the path ahead of them.
“What’s happening?” Dawn asked.
“Something’s attacking them,” Drucis said, kicking his pale horse’s flanks. “And I’m going to find out what it is.”
Riese took to running with his hammer held between both hands. Manfrid followed, drawing his broadsword without hesitation.
“Rally together, knights,” Corwin said, glancing at each of them. “We have our queen to protect!”
They galloped after the dwarf and two Vykings. Dawn rode in the center of the knights. Although she was fairly comfortable using a blade, she never thought she’d be in battle so soon, especially not this far away from Hoffnung.
Armor rattled fiercely, still out of sight. More bloodcurdling screams echoed and suddenly stopped.
Odlon faced the elf regiment. “To arms!”
He kicked his horse’s flanks hard and his horse charged forward. The elves sprinted forward with their swords and shields. Two bands of archers swiftly followed behind them.
Dawn’s heart raced. At times, she thought this disturbing exc
itement might be more than she could take. She felt lightheaded. Breathing was difficult. When they turned the bend of the drab road, she almost screamed.
A couple dozen of the Oculoth soldiers were crushed on the road with blood oozing from their broken bodies. Some were missing appendages. Others were barely crawling. The worst casualties had their metal breastplates crushed inward with their bloody entrails hanging out.
From the dark veil of the Black Chasm, bright white eyes peered. A huge tendril looped through the veil, yanked a plated warrior from his saddle, lifted him high into the air, and then it dashed his body against the rocky road. The warrior was crumbled and killed instantly.
“Hold!” a frustrated dwarf shouted, looking back at his troops, some of which were fleeing back in the direction they had come without glancing toward the monstrosity from the chasm.
Drucis ran to where the dwarf stood. Together the two dwarves faced the shadowed veil with axes in hand. The tendril slapped downward toward them. The dwarves parted. The suckered arm thrashed on the rocks. Drucis heaved his ax overhead and came down, severing the tendril in half. A black inky substance streamed out and splattered thick blotches on the road. The creature yanked back its maimed arm and slinked deeper into the chasm. Seconds later, it roared with a loud piercing screech from obvious pain.
Riese hammered down on a smaller tendril and held it in place. Prince Manfrid severed it with his broadsword.
“Boldair!” a catlike creature shouted.
He turned in just enough time to dodge a second tendril. It missed him, but caught Drucis in the stomach before he had a chance to ready his weapon. It rose, lifting the dwarf off the ground.
“Ah, blast ya, you damned beast!” Drucis shouted.
Several arrows wisped through the air, striking the creature on both sides of Drucis. Roble and Corwin dismounted and rushed toward the edge of the path where the long suckered arm emerged. Corwin used his sword to severe the appendage. Roble pulled two daggers and flung them through the dark veil, not certain of where to aim but used its arm as a guide for where its body possibly was. The screeching creature silenced.
Boldair shook his head, rushed to Drucis, and helped him to his feet.
The Dragon Skull Knights stood side by side, facing the Black Chasm. Yarrow took a step toward the magical wall and placed a foot inside. Roble grabbed his shoulder quickly and pulled him back.
“No,” Roble said, shaking his head. “You’ll die. The air is poison.”
“I was only trying to lure something out,” Yarrow said. “No way I’d dare walk in there.”
“Overlander, how would you know about the poisoned air?” Corwin asked.
“Because I barely survived it.”
Corwin frowned. “You’ve actually entered the chasm?”
“He has,” Lehrling said.
“There’s more to you than what I ever expected,” Yarrow said. “What possessed you to do such a foolish thing?”
Roble sighed. “It’s a long story.”
“Aye, but one you’ll be sharing over a few tankards when the battles are over,” Drucis said with a broad grin and a wink.
“You bet,” Roble said.
“Now that’s the spirit!” Boldair said.
Lehrling smiled at them and looked toward Dawn. “I believe our Majesty has gained a great knight by dubbing him into the Order.”
“He fears little,” Corwin said. “I’ll give him that much.”
Boldair grumbled, shook his head, and stepped toward them. “Blasted mercenaries.”
“What’s wrong?” Drucis asked.
“Ahh, about a quarter of the men turned tail and ran,” he replied.
“From that?” Lehrling asked.
“Quite a few dead bodies,” Roble said softly.
Boldair huffed. “I should’ve recruited dwarves! Those men have the hearts of timid squirrels.”
A wall of elves stood with their weapons ready on the northern part of the sloped road. Their eyes focused on the veil over the chasm. Should anything else emerge, they were ready.
Corwin faced Boldair. “Have what troops you have left gather around.”
“Aye,” he replied, halfway sulking and walking toward the mercenaries. Waving his hands fiercely, he shouted orders and motioned the soldiers to come closer.
Once they came nearer, Corwin introduced Lady Dawn to the crowd of soldiers. They removed their helms, held them to their chests, and all offered her a salute. Then he introduced the two Vykings to prevent any confusion.
Boldair turned and faced his hired regiment. “Appears ‘bout half of ye ran away like cowards. Gold is what you were promised, but this battle is worth much more than dat. Lady Dawn is the Queen of Hoffnung. The throne rightly belongs to her. Not only are we going to get rid of those scoundrels that ransacked Hoffnung, we’re protecting this Lady with our lives. If your hearts aren’t in this war, do as the cowards amongst you already ‘ave. Turnabout now. We ‘ave no use for ye otherwise.”
None of the mercenaries turned to leave.
From the Oculoth troops one soldier stepped forward and shouted, “All hail Lady Dawn!”
Each time he said it, more and more of the troops shouted in unison. Even the elves behind her joined in. Hearty enthusiasm brightened their faces. They beat their weapons against their shields.
Dawn looked out at the crowd. Caen gave her a wink and a smile. A sense of triumph rushed through her. She nodded toward the crowd, turned her horse, and coaxed it to head up the trail. With so many offering their devotion and support, she almost felt invincible, but the dividing path ahead was long, possibly filled with all sorts of enemies and beasts that she didn’t expect.
Death often waited where its victims least expected it.
Chapter Seventy-four
Tyrann stood upon the high balcony of his palace and looked across his kingdom. The disruption from near the barrier path caught his attention. One of his tendril beasts had been severely injured and then killed.
A moment’s anger rushed through him. Black bat-winged men hovered at the edge of the balcony. He gazed toward the captain of these batmen. “What happened?”
“Two armies have met on the edge of the chasm.”
“Did any cross the veil?”
“No.”
Tyrann ground his teeth. “But they’ve killed one of the perimeter beasts. How?”
“It attacked them without provocation.”
“Interesting,” Tyrann said. “Any idea whom they plan to attack?”
The creature shook his head.
Tyrann’s mind shifted to his sister and Obed’s invasion.
Melichi stepped softly behind Tyrann. “I believe those two armies plan to attack Waxxon and take Hoffnung’s throne.”
“I was thinking the same possibility,” Tyrann said without glancing back.
“Then are you going to assist your sister by offering demon forces?”
Tyrann shook his head. “No.”
“Why not?”
“As I mentioned before, I do not hold the same aspirations for Obed’s success. It matters not to me if all of the Vykings are eradicated. So, I refuse to sacrifice forces to satiate her greed and lust for power. I have my own agendas to attend.”
“She will know that you’ve done nothing.”
Tyrann shrugged. “I will release a few demonkin as these troops march northward. Enough to allow rumors to spread throughout Aetheaon that my kingdom is growing in power, but not enough demons to counteract the overthrow of Waxxon.”
“Does Waxxon still beseech your aid?”
“Almost daily. Such a pathetic whining human, too. He’s much too annoying for me to even want to keep him on the throne.”
“I see. So returning Hoffnung to the righteous Order is satisfactory for you?”
“It has factors that don’t diminish my own. Even if they find Lady Dawn and restore her to power, Hoffnung will be remain weak for some time to come. The Vykings killed many citizens and disrupted
the city by looting. It takes years to recover from such turmoil as you have noticed with my rebuilding the City of Mortel. Once my kingdom has risen with enough power, all of Aetheaon will tremble and bow before me.”
“Without your sister’s assistance,” Melichi replied.
Tyrann’s eyes narrowed. Melichi shuddered.
“I would never ask for her or anyone else’s support,” Tyrann replied. “Her expecting me to take action on her behalf simply shows to what degree her weakness truly is. She has no power or authority. She lured Obed into her bed in order to have him entirely subservient to her so she could get him to order his troops to do her bidding. She’s lost one son. I expect she’ll lose more since I don’t see a need to back her.”
“You don’t expect her to retaliate?”
“Against me? With what? I have no fear of her. She’s too weak. Should the troops advancing upon the Vykings be victorious, she has no one to send my direction.”
“It seems you loathe her quite a bit.”
Tyrann grinned evenly. “Loathe is such a mild word.”
Priest Melichi’s brow rose. Iorta, his undead pet, nervously rubbed its head against the priest’s knee. “What made you hate her so?”
“Her jealousy of me.”
“She envies you?”
Tyrann folded his arms at his chest and stared across the gloomy terrain of his shadowed kingdom. “She always has, even when we were just children. She wished to be our father’s favorite, but for some reason, he chose me over her.”
“Really?”
Tyrann nodded slowly, deep in thought. “He always praised me above her. Maybe it was because I could pass for a human whereas with her red scaly skin she could not. For whatever reason, I’m not certain, but she grew to hate me because of his favoritism. She let that hatred fester like a nasty boil, until one day, her rage spilled over and she tried to kill me.”
Melichi listened with keen interest, gently patting Iorta’s head.
Tyrann continued, “We were playing in our mother’s rose garden. Just children. So many times we had played there. Granite tables and ritual altars were set in various corners of the garden. After hours of chasing and hiding from one another, I lay back on one of those tables to watch the eerie storm clouds build overhead while she sought a new place to hide where I couldn’t find her. My attention remained upon those darkening clouds. Such splendid energy comes right before a storm. For some strange reason that has always comforted me. During that time, I drifted off to sleep.
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