Again, he bowed, his stomach churning with anxiety. At last, Fadar Stonebow would see the Sacred Fire. He'd dreamt of its magnificence since childhood, wondering if he would ever be permitted to use it. Like the other elite archers, he was fully trained to invoke it--yet had never actually glimpsed it. The training had always been cut short before the arrow was released.
As Bellis' siege engines drew closer, Fadar ordered the Birlote archers to take them down. Then he took a deep breath and channeled the Sacred Fire into his arrow. He watched in awe as the shaft burned with a golden hue. Then he waited for Krissana to fire her arrow. It was by her order, and she would be the first to shoot. The row of archers stood perfectly still for a moment, as boulders and burning timber crashed down amongst them.
Then, with a piercing battle cry, Krissana fired her arrow. It streaked through the air and stuck deep in the huge oaken beam of a siege engine. With a cheer, Fadar and the other archers released their own bowstrings.
Flaming arrows erupted all over the wood and iron structures. Bellis was well prepared for fire attacks--the wood treated to resist flame and buckets of water on hand. But they weren't prepared for the Sacred Fire launched by these archers--yellow flame like fall leaves that scattered everywhere and quickly raged out of control. Soon the mighty siege engines were blazing like torches.
"It is done," said Krissana. "For Borenthia!"
The archers cried out in triumph, raising their bows. A mighty blow had just been struck to the invaders. It seemed that Dremlock might turn back the assault after all. Clearly, Bellis had no answer for the Birlote archers.
"This wall will not be breached!" Fadar shouted boldly.
His words were met with a roar of enthusiasm.
Dremlock's own siege engines continued to rain destruction down upon the enemy. Meanwhile, the invaders kept trying to climb the wall with ladders, but the archers, sorcerers, and Blue Knights made quick work of them, their bodies tumbling back to the ground. With the gates of Darkender Tunnel made of impenetrable Glaetherin and protected by stout Wheel Locks, Bellis' Knights had no choice but to keep trying to climb the wall. But the act of climbing rendered their shields ineffective, and they became easy targets for the Divine Knights. Dremlock's warriors began to believe that they would hold the wall indefinitely, until Bellis was forced to give up or try something else.
The kingdom was heavily stocked with resources--enough to last for months--held in tower rooms and underground storage. Bellis could try to starve them out, but food could be farmed in the kingdom gardens and the Grey Dwarves could quickly grow nutritious plants underground all year round that could provide food almost indefinitely. Water was abundant within the kingdom walls. Weapons and clothing could be repaired, and heat could be generated by the fires of sorcery. If Bellis chose to wait, it would be a very long wait--and King Verlamer was not known for his patience.
Instead, Bellis' Knights continued with wave after wave trying to breach the wall. Even though the dead and dying fell like rain, they continued erecting ladders and climbing. Many reached the top of the wall--only to be shot by arrows or cut down by swords.
"The fools!" said Fadar. "They must know they cannot win, now that their precious siege engines are burning to ash." He talked to Krissana even as he fired his arrows left and right.
"At this rate," said Krissana, pausing for a brief rest, "we will slay thousands of them. Surely they will bring more siege engines."
"And we will burn those as well," said Fadar. "They have no hope. King Verlamer sends his finest Knights to their doom atop our wall. The Sacred Fire caught them completely by surprise."
"So it appears," said Krissana. "But this war is far from over, my friend. Bellis is cunning, and their army is much larger than what lies before us. We need the power of the White Flamestone--so we can take the battle to them."
"Agreed," said Fadar, shooting a nearby enemy Knight that was charging them. The arrow passed through a thin slot in the fellow's helm and straight through his eye. The Knight toppled silently from the wall. "But we have bought time for the White Flamestone to return to Dremlock."
Krissana shot an enemy Knight off a ladder--barely glancing at her foe before ending his life with an arrow to the throat. "So it appears. Let us hope Prince Vannas arrives soon and ends this bloody--"
A great horn blew out that seemed to shake the wall. Fadar and Krissana exchanged a look of shock, for the sound of that horn could only mean one thing--that Dremlock's wall had been significantly breached. Frantically, the two scanned the wall, searching for the enemy. But there was none to be seen. The defenders were holding steady, a long row of warriors atop the stone barrier. Yet an ominous sight greeted them--for the enemy ladders were quickly being abandoned. Many of them already stood empty. Bellis' Knights were moving toward the front gates.
"Darkender tunnel!" Fadar said, groaning. "Somehow they've gotten through the gates." He could hardly believe it, but what other explanation was there?
"But it's not possible," said Krissana, her eyes wild. "The gates of Glaetherin cannot fall. The Wheel Locks cannot be solved!"
Soon the answer was revealed, as a Red Knight frantically dragged one of the Wheel Masters to the wall below them. "This wretch betrayed us!" he growled up at Krissana. "He opened the way for Bellis!"
The betrayer was Findel Greenblade, a skinny, balding Brown Knight nearing retirement age who typically guarded the end of Darkender Tunnel that opened into the kingdom.
"I don't know what happened!" Findel cried. "I saw a shadow in the tunnel--some great beast like...a giant wolf. That's all I remember."
"Liar!" the Red Knight shouted. "You have doomed our kingdom!" He raised his axe. "I'll cut off your head, traitor!"
"Halt!" Krissana ordered. "This could be the work of the Deep Shadow...somehow. The tunnel had to be opened from both ends, which means both Wheel Masters were involved. Where is the other one?"
"I don't know," said the Red Knight. "I fled ahead of Bellis' fighters. They are moving swiftly, hundreds of them pouring into our kingdom!"
Fadar said nothing, hope crumbling around him. The Wheel Masters were trained extensively to be able to resist any form of mind control. Even the most powerful Wizards could not sway them. They could not be intimidated or broken under torture. Their ability to feel pain had been reduced to a minimal level. If someone had managed to influence them, it must have been someone (or some creature) with powers beyond anything Fadar could imagine. Only a Greater Goblin or a Barloak demon from ancient times possessed that kind of power. The description of the shadowy wolf was very revealing to Fadar.
"Rally our warriors to protect the towers!" Krissana cried, and the horns blew out again--giving commands that every Divine Knight understood.
But Fadar continued to stand there in shock, his bow dangling loosely from his hand. It was all coming to an end before his eyes. After Dremlock fell, Borenthia and Fallenrock (the kingdom city of the grey dwarves) would be the only significant free kingdoms left on the entire continent of Gallamerth. How had Bellis grown into such a monstrosity of evil?
"We fight to the death!" Krissana shouted, raising her bow.
Fadar hesitated, then drew an arrow from his quiver. He studied it for a moment in the sunlight. It was a fine arrow, forged in Borenthia from the High Oak and carved with runes of good fortune. He sniffed the wood and smiled, memories of his forest kingdom flooding through him at the sweet scent. The only question left to him was how many foes he could slay before they brought him down.
Chapter 17: The God of Bellis
After that, the battle for Dremlock became mass confusion. Fadar and Krissana stood side by side atop the wall, shooting any foes that came within range. Below, Dremlock's Knights were making a valiant stand in an effort to keep Bellis' forces from pouring through the tunnel. As wave after wave of enemy warriors charged through, the wall of Divine Knights cut them down with blazing weapons. Fadar wondered how long they could hold out.
His ques
tion was answered as four Thallite giants smashed through the wall of defenders, hurling broken bodies left and right. Standing roughly twelve feet tall and protected from head to toe by crimson armor, the giants were nearly unstoppable. But there was an even more dangerous foe amongst them--a towering man in golden, spiked armor with a helm that was shaped like the head of a bull with seven gleaming horns like the rays of the sun. His deep voice was almost inhuman, and he seemed to use words as weapons against Dremlock--occasionally pausing to bellow statements through a curved, rune-covered horn that was slung over one shoulder.
This godlike warrior carried a great golden battle axe that burned with shimmering fire and cut down Dremlock's warriors with ease. He wasn't as large as the Thallites, but he was still huge and imposing and seemed invincible. Stout weapons shattered against his armor, and Divine Knights scattered like leaves before his axe. Bellis' warriors rallied around him, protecting him with their lives (even though he didn't seem to need any protection). Meanwhile, he shouted strange insults through the horn at his foes and promised doom if the kingdom dared oppose him, his voice easily booming out over the sounds of battle. He revealed that he was the god Ebros and could not be defeated. Sometimes he simply laughed into the horn, as if the brutal fight was jolly. He also urged the Divine Knights to surrender and promised their lives would be spared. There was something terribly compelling in his voice, and some of the Knights threw down their weapons and gave up.
Calmly, Fadar took aim at the golden warrior and waited. There were two eye holes in the bull-shaped helm, but they were small and Fadar needed a perfect shot. This armored giant was clearly the heart of Bellis' army, the warrior who made that army feel invincible. For all Fadar knew, it was King Verlamer himself beneath that bull-faced helm. But regardless of who he was, the warrior had to be brought down or Dremlock had little chance of winning. Fadar needed to prove that this golden giant was flesh and blood and could die like any man.
After a couple of moments, the godlike fighter turned in Fadar's direction, calling for surrender to those atop the wall, and the archer whispered the ancient words of the wind in the old Birlote language that would carry his arrow to its destination. He became aware of everything--angle, breeze, other arrows missing and bouncing off the helm, the weight and feel of his own arrow. And then Fadar Stonebow knew he could not miss. He released the arrow.
Fadar watched as the shaft pierced the eyehole and lodged in what lay beneath. The golden warrior's head jerked back on impact, and his body shuddered. He took one awkward step sideways, and Fadar was certain he would fall. But then the golden warrior reached up with a gauntlet-covered hand and seized the arrow, ripping it from the eyehole and flinging it aside. For a moment, he seemed weakened and sagged a bit. Then he stood up straight and tall once again.
Fadar groaned. What manner of warrior or sorcerer could take an arrow to the eye and recover instantly? Surely, this was a god.
The golden warrior raised his head and looked up at Fadar, then swung the axe in his direction. An enormous yellow fireball--blazing like the sun--emerged from the axe head and hurtled toward him. Fadar was unable to move as he watched it come closer, his body paralyzed by some foul sorcery that made him act like a moth drawn to flame. He could hear Krissana Windsword scream at him, yet still he didn't move. Then he felt hands shove him from the wall, and he was falling.
Fadar landed hard on the battlefield below, striking his head on something. He was aware of warm blood touching his head, and then his mind grew dim. He'd failed, yet he'd done all he could and was at peace with himself. His last arrow had found its mark--a perfect shot. What more could be expected of an archer? Legend or not, he was only a mortal man and simply could not go on--not even to save Dremlock and the Divine Essence. He felt grateful that he was slipping away from the wretched battle, and he envisioned the trees of his homeland with such clarity that he could count the leaves around him. The ugly warfare of humanity was over for him and all that remained was peace as he sank into the darkness.
***
Below the Sacred Temple, Vesselin Hopebringer and a Red Knight (a Wheel Master) stood in a cavern where multi-colored crystal protruded from the stone walls. The Red Knight held the unconscious body of Cordus Landsaver. The fallen Lord Knight wore his magnificent gleaming breastplate and his sword.
The Red Knight, named Jaspar Wisehelm, could no longer hide the doubt he was feeling. "Are you sure this is a good decision? If the Divine Essence fails to protect him, our Lord Knight could die down here. He will have no food, water, or healing services." Jaspar was a Grey Dwarf with a beard that hung down past his belt and that had been dyed red in honor of his color class. He wore a patch over one eye and a spiked mace was carried on his back.
Vesselin hesitated before answering. How could he explain to this young Olrog that he knew instinctively that the Divine Essence would protect Cordus? "You must trust me on this," he said at last. "We cannot let our enemies get their hands on our Lord Knight. We have lost this fight. This is the only way we can protect him now. We must trust in our god."
Jaspar bowed, but he looked uncertain. "Do I even have the right to stand in the presence of our god? I thought it was forbidden."
Vesselin shrugged. "You must, for I lack the strength to carry Cordus. I am old and weak, my friend. Whether I live or die does not matter all that much--but our one true Lord Knight must survive."
They continued along the passageway. The battle for Dremlock was over. Vesselin Hopebringer had already given the order of surrender. He'd done so because too many Knights were falling in battle--and some of the Squires as well, which troubled him deeply. Once Bellis had breached Darkender Tunnel, he knew all was lost. Without the White Flamestone, their great hope had been the stout wall that protected the kingdom. With the wall no longer a factor, there was simply nothing to do but lay down arms and live on.
Yet Vesselin was deeply troubled by his order of surrender. He wondered if Cordus would have done the same thing. He couldn't imagine the fierce, determined Lord Knight ever giving up. But Vesselin Hopebringer was a man of peace and a believer that all human life was sacred. It had been his decision, and he'd followed his conscience for better or worse.
"Once we leave him with our god," said Jaspar, "what then? Surely our foes will be waiting for us above, now that the kingdom has fallen." He scowled, looking deeply bitter. "What a wretched day for Dremlock!"
Vesselin sighed. "We will give ourselves up peacefully. The order of surrender negates anything else. It can only be overturned by our Lord Knight or one of his Tower Masters. We must accept that fact that Bellis now rules over this kingdom, Jaspar. It is time to lay down your mace."
Jaspar growled a Dwarven curse. "It all seems...wrong somehow. As if we surrendered too easily. I don't enjoy questioning a member of the High Council, but are you certain it was a wise move?"
"No, I'm not," Vesselin admitted. "But what would you have me do? Our Knights were being slaughtered--along with some of our young, talented Squires." His voice quivered with anger. "Had I not given the order, how many would have died? And for what? Bellis would still be victorious in the end. They outnumber us by thousands of Knights, Jaspar."
Jaspar muttered something under his breath. "Surrender is not the way of the Grey Dwarves. I would not have agreed to it, and there are many who think like I do. But we are not on the High Council. I could dare to speak the truth...but it would likely offend you, Master Hopebringer."
Vesselin paused, his anger growing. Jaspar wasn't the only Knight to question his decision. Maybe he was an old fool not fit to lead Dremlock, but he felt he needed to speak up for himself. "I'm well aware, Wheel Master, that I may go down in history and the first leader of Dremlock to issue an order of surrender. I may be hated forever. But I could not bear to see so many young Knights and Squires put to death defending a hopeless kingdom."
"Hopeless?" Jaspar growled. "Were you so certain of that?"
"I'm certain of nothing," said Vesse
lin, bowing his head. "I'm a very old man with a lot of doubt. I wish I wasn't the acting Lord Knight, that someone else bore this great responsibility. But know this--I would rather be remembered as a coward who surrendered this kingdom than an unyielding fool who fought until every last man, woman, and child in Dremlock lay dead in the dirt."
The Grey Dwarf groaned. "I understand your view on the issue, but...surrender? I despise the very word! And you may find that the Grey Dwarves who dwell in these mining tunnels--the Dark Knights--do not respect your decision. They may choose to fight on regardless, and they will not be easily weeded out! They will resist the way the Goblins down here have resisted--by stealth, cunning, setting traps, and having unsurpassed knowledge of the mines. Let King Verlamer send his forces down here until the tunnels are crammed tight with fools ready for the slaughter, for they shall never return again to the sunlight!"
Vesselin said nothing, knowing he could not reason with the enraged Dwarf. They continued on, and the stone around them was replaced entirely by crystal. A radiant light lurked up ahead around a curve--a light that inspired joy and optimism within them. It was the Mind of the White Guardian.
Jaspar hesitated. "I feel unworthy to stand in its presence."
"As do I," said Vesselin. "But we must continue."
They rounded the curve and entered a chamber of fantastically colored crystal--at the center of which stood the Divine Essence. Dremlock's god consisted of three purple Flamestones (which were actually one) rising from a flat base and standing a bit taller than the two Knights. Like slightly curved spears with broad ends, the purple crystals shimmered with radiant fire that was reflected in the colorful walls around it. The Divine Essence commanded loyalty, love, and respect, and Vesselin knew he stood in the presence of a truly immortal being. He'd never believed he would gaze upon his god (only Lord Knights were allowed to), but as the acting Lord Knight the Sacred Laws had permitted it to happen.
The Blood of Kings (Book 4) Page 22
