The Elemental Trilogy Box Set

by Toni Cox

  They flew over the water mill again, one of the few places where she could see the ground, as the area around the mill had been cleared. If there were Vampyres there, they were smart enough to stay out of the open. Midnight knew they were there and estimated their number to be around twenty. They were raining arrows down on the people protecting the bridge.

  “Something is not right,” Maia whispered and asked Midnight to circle again.

  This time they flew a bigger circle around the city, covering more ground over the forest surrounding it and even out into the plain leading towards the mighty oak at the river junction. Daylight faded fast and although her eyesight was good even in the dark, she relied mostly on Midnight’s senses to tell her what was happening below.

  As the sun finally dipped completely behind the mountains, Maia discovered what she had been looking for. Horrified, she urged Midnight to land within the Gathering Grounds; something he had never done before, but there was simply no time.

  The moment he touched ground, she jumped down and ran. As suspected, she found her brother at the bridge spanning the river that flowed from the water mill. The twenty or so Vampyres up on the ridge kept them busy, but had not been able to inflict any damage.

  “Jaik!” she shouted as she ran towards him. “Jaik!”

  Finally, he heard her and met her in the middle of the bridge.

  “It is a distraction. They keep us busy here so we will not notice them coming in from the other side. There are three separate groups of about fifty each, mounted on Werewolves, coming our way now. They are moving fast and should reach the city within the next few minutes. Dispatch your men to The Crags, Oaken Drift and The Rise immediately, or those archers there will be overrun.”

  Jaik did not waste a moment. He bellowed his orders and immediately every Guard was running. Commander Ridgewell kept a small detachment of five archers with the ones protecting the bridge, but the rest he withdrew, ordering them across the city immediately.

  “I am going to The Crags,” Maia said before she left her brother. “There is some open ground and maybe Midnight will be able to help.”

  Before Jaik could answer she was on her way. Midnight was where she had left him, but he faced towards The Crags and thick plumes rose from his nostrils; he was rearing to go and only waiting for her.

  She ran up his leg and before she had even settled he was in the air. It took him only a few strokes of his wings to see them over the city and to The Crags. Maia could now hear the baying of the Werewolves as they ran towards the city. The sound was strange to her ears; a mixture between wolf and something else, something that sounded somewhat like a person howling. It gave her goosebumps.

  Midnight reluctantly dropped her off in the clearing.

  “I am more help on the ground, than up on The Crags,” she said as he took off.

  Her father would be mad, but she did not want to hide from the Vampyres; she wanted to help her people. She watched as Midnight took position on top of The Crags. Anyone taking the path that wound around The Crags would be incinerated from the top.

  Quickly she sought out the archers stationed along Blackwood Drop and asked them to fall back to Stony Lane. Together they raced back towards the city and almost ran into the men Jaik had assigned to this area.

  “Midnight is on The Crags. Do not use the path. He will burn any that might come that way. Hold your ground here and all along this ridge,” she said. “Do not let them enter the city.”

  Stony Lane was a short, narrow lane that led to Blackwood Drop, which wound around The Crags. On either side was a low but stony ridge, heavily wooded, and brambles thrived up there. An area difficult to get through, but not impossible. Maia hoped the Vampyres would concentrate on either getting through Stony Lane, or making it past them to The Rise.

  “Yes, My Lady,” one of the warriors replied, and repeated her orders.

  The bizarre howling grew louder and she noticed some of the men look at each other with worry in their eyes. Maia assumed the howling was a scare tactic; and it was working.

  “Do not be afraid,” she shouted. “We have fought them before and won. Our families are in those homes behind us. Protect them.”

  The men nodded and a tense calm settled over them as they waited in the dark. They had discussed the use of lanterns, but Elves saw as well in the dark as Vampyres and lanterns would only give away their positions. Now they waited as the howling became louder.

  Suddenly the night sky lit up with Midnight’s fire and the screams coming from The Crags were terrible to behold.

  “It is time,” Maia said. “Here they come.”

  He had traded the weapons he collected from the Vampyres for proper boots, fresh clothes, and food. At first, he thought the homestead just outside Braérn deserted, but the owners hid in a sandstone cave below their home. It took him a while to convince them that he meant them no harm, but they finally came out. He shared the news about Braérn and the relief on their faces gave Blaid great joy. He did not tell them who he was or his part in the battle at Braérn; he did not want to frighten them, they were good people.

  Now travelling light, with only Kanarel’s sword, a hunting knife, and a water bottle, having eaten and rested for a short while, he had enough energy to shadow travel. Seeing Braérn attacked increased his urgency to get to Shadow Hall.

  He made good time that afternoon and soon reached Peak View Lodge. He was so close now; another few jumps and he would be there. He took a moment to catch his breath and drink water, channelled his energy again and was on his way.

  When he landed at Eldenar Forest, he took another sip of water and then jumped again. A feeling of apprehension made him uneasy and he was on his guard when he landed again. He was now about twenty-five miles from the city and the feeling of unease grew stronger. The next jump took him within five miles of Shadow Hall and right into the middle of a group of Vampyres and their Werewolves.

  Blaid smelled them just before he materialized, but was unable to stop. They rode fast and he was almost knocked down as they raced past him. At first, he thought they might not have noticed, but then a shout was taken up and all reined in their mounts. Soon Blaid stood surrounded by a group of at least a hundred Vampyres, all atop their beastly companions.

  “Vat ‘ave vee ‘ere?” one of the Vampyres asked in strongly accented Elven.

  The others laughed as Blaid turned in a circle to find the one who had spoken.

  “You are thee one they call Death, dje?”

  Blaid narrowed his eyes at the large General climbing off his Werewolf. He was well dressed in a uniform that looked like it had been made by Elves. He noticed again how different these Generals were from their common warriors; they had nobler faces, their skin was not as grey and their mouths did not have a snout-like appearance. These Generals still looked like the Vampyres of old, yet their underlings bore a closer resemblance to monsters.

  “Dje,” Blaid answered, assuming the word meant yes.

  “Ah, vee ‘ave been looking for you,” the General said as he stepped closer, but just out of reach. “You ‘ave been causing many troubles.”

  “I could say the same about you,” Blaid retorted.

  The General laughed; a haunting sound that rang in Blaid’s ears.

  “I vould love to stay and talk, but vee ‘ave business to attend to,” the General said and then gave a command in his own language.

  Blaid briefly got a glimpse of the net thrown over him as his body dissolved into shadow. He heard some shouts of surprise and then all was silent as he travelled. He did not go far; he landed about a mile ahead of them and waited. It was dark, but he did not need to see them to know they were coming. Another four miles behind him lay Shadow Hall and if this Vampyre knew what he was, he was surely aware of what Maia was too. Over his dead body would he let them pass.

  He had no time to prepare; the Werewolves were fast. It was open ground here, with only a few trees dotting the countryside. There was no shelter and no high
ground.

  The ground started to vibrate as the horde drew closer. Blaid drew his weapons. Soon he heard the Vampyres shout as they caught sight of him. The General gave some kind of order and the group split up; half of them circled him, while the others, including the General, rode on past him to Shadow Hall.

  Blaid did not get a chance to consider his options; this time the Vampyres attacked immediately. Their Werewolves charged and he was immediately dodging their snapping teeth, as well as the Vampyres’ swords. He was hopelessly outnumbered and now in no position to shadow travel; it required concentration and the Vampyres were relentless.

  He hacked and slashed at the Werewolves, trying to unseat their riders. He got bitten on the arms, his legs, and his shoulders, but he kept fighting. A sword flicked past his head, nicking his ear. Another sword found its mark and skewered his left hand; the hunting knife dropped to the ground. He retaliated by driving his own sword through the Vampyre’s throat. He died instantly, but there were already ten more confronting him in his place.

  Bleeding, hurt and seriously angry, Blaid felt his black rage take over. This time he did not try to stop it; all of them had to die. He was vaguely aware of the snarl that escaped his throat and then his vision went dark.

  He was Death.

  It seemed to take forever before they saw the first Vampyre ride his Werewolf through the trees, but after that, everything happened within the blink of an eye. Midnight had taken care of about a third of the horde with one blast of his fire; the rest were now storming towards them. Maia heard Midnight roar in the distance, but the trees were too tall and dense here for him to help.

  All along the ridge, the Werewolves fell on the Elves, while their riders jumped off to attack on foot. Maia realised that her group was outnumbered at least two to one, but it only fuelled her rage. Somehow, she was angry beyond anything she had ever felt before. For a moment, her vision went dark; as if a black shadow had passed over it; but then it cleared and the first Vampyre fell before her as she lopped off his head.

  With a strange snarl escaping her throat, she led the defence of her city and nothing could stand in her way. All those Moons of training were finally paying off and the rage within her gave her the energy to fight longer and harder than she had ever before.

  Vampyres and Werewolves fell to her blades, blood flying in all directions. She was vaguely aware of the Elves behind her, but felt, if she concentrated on them too much, she might kill them too. Keeping ahead of them, she sliced her way through the melee, killing everything that got in her way. She ignored the snapping teeth and the flashing metal of the Vampyres’ swords; nothing could stop her now. All she was aware of was thrusting her blades into the guts of a Werewolf, or slicing off a Vampyre’s head, or shooting an arrow through the back of the head of a Vampyre who had managed to reach the ridge. Nothing else mattered in that moment that seemed to last a lifetime, yet at the same time felt like it was over in but a flash.

  “Follow me,” she yelled once all the Vampyres and Werewolves lay dead before her.

  She did not dare look back at her men, for the rage she felt within had not diminished and she was afraid she might kill them all. She led the way to The Rise and came at the Vampyres from the side as they attacked the men holding their ground there. The numbers were more even and the attackers were dealt with quickly.

  Maia struggled more and more to suppress her anger. When her brother approached, she held up her hand, shook her head and turned away from him. She took off running toward Oaken Drift, knowing her warriors would follow her, and fell onto Vampyres still locked in battle with her people there.

  Regiment warriors were posted here and they had dealt with the attack efficiently; about fifteen Vampyres and eight Werewolves were left standing when Maia reached them. She could feel her people were weary and they had already been driven back towards the city. Without breaking stride, she laid into what was left of the Vampyres and, encouraged, her people attacked with renewed force. The sound of metal striking metal was overly loud in her ears and the smell of blood all around her made her sick, but the rage kept her going even as suddenly another group of Vampyres came galloping up Oaken Drift.

  Immediately she was aware that they were all Generals and even their Werewolves were larger than the ones they had been fighting. She felt the men behind her hesitate for a moment, but as she advanced with a primal scream escaping from her mouth, the men rallied behind her.

  Somewhere deep in her befuddled mind she thought of the other defences of the city and how they were holding up. There were vague thoughts of her mother and father, Rothea, Aaron and the children, Silas; but all those thoughts were buried so deep within the rage that she was unable to act upon them. All she could do was attack.

  The Generals fought harder and better than the others and this fight lasted longer. The Werewolves too were better trained and seemed to employ their own tactics instead of simply attacking. Maia found that they were as dangerous as the Vampyres.

  She hardly noticed the cuts and bites she sustained as she battled her way through the horde. She had singled out what seemed to be their leader; he was taller, better dressed and had an air of nobility about him that made him stand out. Looking at him gave her the strangest feeling and all she wanted to do was kill him. She dodged a sword as it swung by her head, received a slash to her arm as she raced past another, and got bitten on the legs by a Werewolf. She stumbled for a moment, then cut off the Werewolf’s head and ran on. She hacked and sliced at everything in her way and finally he stood before her. One quick jab and his Werewolf collapsed beneath him.

  The look of surprise on the General’s face gave her a perverse kind of pleasure.

  “You,” he said in passable Elven.

  “Dje,” Maia replied in Nayleran.

  She wanted to kill him so badly, but through the fog of her rage she wondered how he knew who she was. She hesitated just long enough to give him an opening. At the last moment, she lifted her Twin Blades and caught his sword in the cross her blades made in front of her face. The impact jarred her arms and she was suddenly very aware of the terrible pain in her right shoulder.

  The General’s face was only a hand’s breadth from her face and she could smell his rancid breath. He bared his teeth and she saw saliva dribble from his fangs. Disgusted, she pushed him away and took up a defensive position. Behind her the battle continued, but it was more like muffled sounds in the background as she concentrated on the Vampyre. They circled each other; well aware of the danger the other posed. Then they came together again; their blades twirling, blocking, slashing; always attacking, but neither giving ground.

  The longer she looked at him, the more she hated him. There was something strangely familiar about him, but she had little time to think as he attacked ceaselessly. He seemed to have the strength of ten men and the stamina of a dragon. Maia felt herself weakening with every blow she blocked. Her armour had protected her from most of the blows she received, but she had a cut on her forearm that was bleeding profusely and she was now aware of all the puncture wounds. Her body hurt, but her mind would not give up. Grinding her teeth, she pushed back, putting all her hatred for the man into her attack. He thought he had beaten her, but as she attacked with renewed force, she laughed at the surprised look on his face.

  One step forward; slash; another step forward; stab; another step; cut. The General was forced to retreat under her onslaught and in her fury she was unaware that all around them everything had gone quiet. On and on she drove him; cutting him, stabbing him and at one point she thought she might have bitten him.

  Finally, he sank to his knees and she stood over him with her blades to his throat. They were both panting and he looked up at her defiantly. The hatred within her wanted to ram those blades into his body, but something stopped her. They stood like this for what seemed like ages.

  “Jaik, bind him,” she called over her shoulder.

  Immediately four men, including Jaik, came forward and surr
ounded the downed General. Maia kept her Twin Blades pointing at his throat the entire time until Jaik gave her the signal that he was secure.

  “Take him away before I change my mind,” she hissed.

  Jaik nodded to his men and the General was led away. Maia watched as the men led him down the path to the city. There was a place within the Hall of the Guardians where they would keep him until someone made a decision on what to do with him. Maia wanted to question him on how he knew who she was, but right now all she wanted to do was sleep.

  Her body start to tremble and a cold sweat broke out on her forehead. The world spun before her eyes and then her vision dimmed and she was left standing in the dark. The earth tilted up beneath her and the last thing she remembered was her brother calling her name.

  He was so cold and he was so tired. He could barely open his eyes to see the stars above him. He figured it to be about two hours to sunrise. Now that he was awake, the smell of blood and Vampyre was strong in his nose and the memories came flooding back. He remembered only that about fifty of them had escaped and had probably managed to get through to Shadow Hall, including that vile General. He knew the fate of the other fifty, even if he had no recollection of it; the carnage around him spoke of what had transpired here.

  He tried to move, but everything hurt. He had to find shelter; he could not stay here out in the open amongst the dead. Using what energy he had left, he lifted onto his elbows and then dragged himself forward. His progress was slow and painful. After an hour of struggling, he lay still again and briefly drifted off to sleep. When he woke there was a faint glow on the eastern horizon; morning was only minutes away. He tried again to lift himself, but his muscles had become stiff and the crusts on his wounds burst open, making him gasp.

  He looked around; about thirty paces from him lay what was left of the Vampyres and their hounds, a hundred paces to the south was a small forest and about fifty paces to the north was a scattering of brambles. He needed to find shelter so he could heal. Considering his options, he made a decision. He did not bother with taking off his clothes; he had no energy for it; and then changed into the wolf. The process hurt more than he had expected, but the wolf was strong and had a much higher pain threshold. He struggled to his feet and then licked his injured paws. He had decided to make for the brambles; they were closer than the forest and he could crawl beneath them, sheltered by their thorns.