The Last Wizard of Eneri Clare

by April Leonie Lindevald

  One of the dragons, the same blue who had obliged with carrying Mark and Delphine to the mountains, flew ahead and circled back to report Drogue’s forces advancing at a moderate, but unflagging pace. Rel pushed her people hard to keep them going. She wanted them to arrive at the chosen site well ahead of the enemy, in order for them to be deployed and well-rested before they would be engaged. Much of their hope for success rested on their control of timing and space when the two forces came together, and there was not much room for errors or nasty surprises. The Valley of the Yechtze was about halfway to Drogue’s castle stronghold, but the road there was on easier terrain than he would have to traverse on his way. Even so, it took them the better part of two full days’ march, with only brief rest periods, and a short night’s sleep, to arrive at the site and pitch camp. They did, however, get there well ahead of Lord Drogue’s army. As they set about unloading supplies and equipment before the darkness descended, they were reunited with the unicorns and talking beasts, the naiads and dryads. The advance scouts reported that Drogue was still at least a day away, but that soon enough, his intelligence would likely inform him of what was awaiting him in the valley. He would be surprised, but would know that he faced a traditional pitched battle with King Darian’s supporters. There was little chance this change of plans would deter him from advancing. They would have to prepare for battle.

  Jorelial Rey, as promised, sent one of the talking crows to Mark’s family home, in order to let Delphine know that they had reached the Yechtze and were settling in, that they anticipated action, but that nothing had happened yet. The bird, Jarrod by name, was also to find out how things were sorting out at the house, and if Delphine needed anything. Jarrod knew the terrain, and was delighted and proud to be of special service to the Lady Regent. He made a most formal reverence to Lady Rey when he heard his assignment, then rose up and flapped off to the east as the sun was setting.

  Weary as the defenders were, they immediately set up camp, took in the lay of the land, reviewed strategies and maneuvers, and rehearsed details. As the sun set, a generous evening meal was prepared for all at the campfires. Folks sat and lingered a while in quiet thought or conversation, but everyone retired early, adrenaline battling with exhaustion for the prize of sleep. Sentries were posted through the night and the following day, as Drogue’s forces arrived and seemed to be establishing themselves at the other end of the valley. But the opposition seemed to be in no hurry to make a move, and it was not the place of the Legion to offer the first hostilities. They characterized themselves as ‘Defenders of the Crown,’ after all, and could not justify picking a fight unless they were well and truly challenged. Drogue was a patient and canny adversary. He would take his time, set down roots, size them up, and make them nervous and restless.

  Even now, reluctant to admit that battle was inevitable, the Lady Rey considered another possibility: maybe, just maybe, she thought, Lord Drogue, who had previously been a distinguished member of the Grand Council, was out there reconsidering his options. What if there was even the remotest possibility that some agreement could still be reached without resorting to a fight? Even after his ill-conceived grab for power, and his attack on Theriole by sea, she might be willing to spare his life and allow him to keep some limited authority in his own region. Or perhaps he would accept banishment, and take his inflated ambitions somewhere else far away. She knew it was naïve, but almost anything would be worth averting bloodshed – anything but the ceding of the crown. Even Drogue had to see that an all-out pitched battle would be disastrous for everyone. She dared not expect much, but felt it prudent to offer one last chance for reconciliation. It was a responsible leader’s obligation to try every avenue of resolution before resorting to war. So, she sent Candelinda to Drogue’s camp, under a white flag of truce, requesting a personal interview.

  He received the dragon, in his own cordial, but unpleasant way, and invited the Lady Regent and two seconds to his cliff top perch. Tashroth was going, of course, and she decided she wanted Tvrdik with her as well. He had always been her best backup before – an extra pair of discerning eyes and ears, and a proven protector, if things went awry. General Boone and Corbin Maygrew were horrified at her decision to meet the enemy herself. They did not trust Drogue, and failed to see why she would put her own safety in jeopardy, just when her leadership would be so vital. But she assured them that she would be fine with Tashroth and the wizard in tow, and that one more attempt at a peaceful solution, no matter how improbable, was the responsible course of action. She convinced them that it must be her who confronted the usurper, or whoever went would not have the credibility to negotiate. In the end, they had to admit that her arguments were unassailable, and, under protest, they let the small party go, remaining poised for action should the other side try anything dishonorable.

  The trio arrived in Drogue’s camp, and were ushered to a high plateau where he had set himself up in a large, throne-like chair. Jorelial Rey had prepared a speech attempting to appeal to the lord’s better and more reasonable nature, but it was obvious from the start that his eye was fixed on the throne at any cost. It appeared that he took her request for a parley as a sign of weakness, perhaps an admission that her cause was hopeless in the face of his superior might. He did make one serious offer, which involved sparing little Darian’s life and sending the infant away to some distant country estate under guard. Then he would arrange to marry her, as he did have a certain admiration for her youth, her passion, and her demonstrated capacity to move the citizenry. He would be delighted to have her stand beside him, and they would rule Eneri Clare together. There was an edge of lasciviousness in Drogue’s proposal that he made no attempt to conceal, an implication which revolted her, shocked Tvrdik, and incensed Tashroth so, that he stepped forward with a bellow to rip the man’s head off then and there. This might have been a tempting end to all of their problems, had they not known what Xaarus had told them of the future. At any rate, Lady Rey ordered Tashroth to back off, and, realizing her mission to be hopeless against such supreme arrogance, she leapt upon the dragon’s back, pulled Tvrdik up behind, and urged her mount off of a nearby ledge, back to their base camp as fast as his wings could beat. They would have no compunction now in meeting Drogue’s forces head-on with all they had.

  And so, the next morning, well before dawn, Lady Jorelial Rey bid the Legions of Light assemble in the valley, ready to move at sunrise. She herself perched with Tashroth above the field, on a high bluff, from where she could survey the entire theater, while Tvrdik made rounds to see that all was in place for the coming confrontation. Each of them struggled with doubts, fears, and regrets concerning what they were about to begin, but this was not a moment to reveal any frailty to the brave souls who would take this field, without traditional weapons, against Drogue’s brutal warriors. It was no longer time for contemplation, or conversation, but for action.

  Jorelial Rey swallowed hard and settled herself securely just behind the last vertebra of Tash’s long neck. A small shadow overhead caught her attention – a white owl, circling closer, and closer, and then shooting past her ear to crash into a nearby bush in a jumble of feathers and dust. She blinked, and now was looking at a tall, pale, bespectacled young man, brushing off his deep grey robes with one hand, while his other hand gripped a crystal-topped staff. Tvrdik looked up to meet her gaze, and made her a little solemn bow.

  “My lady. All is in readiness, awaiting your order.”

  “All is well?”

  “Spirits are high, everything in place. We are about as ready as we will ever be.”

  “And so, here we are at last, just as you said we would be.”

  “Xaarus said.” He corrected her.

  “Will we meet again on the far side of this day, and raise a glass to our victory, Tvrdik?”

  “I pray it will be so. I believe it will be so.”

  Tashroth’s deep voice interrupted, “Lord Drogue’s army comes o
n. It is time.” He had been searching the silvered horizon with his sharp dragon’s eyes. Jorelial Rey fastened a leather helmet over her dark, braided tresses. “Thank you Tash. I am ready. Fly well, dear friend. While we are together, I do not fear anything.”

  “We will always be together, dearest, and today, we will triumph together.”

  Tvrdik had averted his eyes during this mostly private and emotional exchange, but now he felt her gaze on him, and looked up to meet it. She spoke, “Our place is with the vanguard, Tvrdik – Tashroth’s and mine. Will you join us there, or will you be working your charms from here?”

  “Here is a good place to begin. Godspeed to you.”

  “And to you.” She gave him a curt nod, and began to turn away.

  “Jorelial Rey!” Tvrdik called out to her, “Thank you.”

  She turned back to him, her eyebrows tweaked in question, “For what?”

  “For believing in me. For making all of this happen.”

  “Don’t mention it.” With a grim smile, she motioned the dragon to the ledge, then seemed to think again, and turned back, “Tvrdik?”

  “Yes, my lady?”

  Jorelial Rey frowned. There were so many things she wanted to tell him, but time had run out. “Stay out of trouble, will you? You’re the only wizard we have right now, and the only one who knows how everything we planned works.”

  He bowed low, a cryptic expression on his pale, bespectacled face – a face that all at once felt very familiar and dear to her. “I’ll do my best, my lady,” he said. For the briefest of moments their eyes locked, and all the armor fell away, all the veils of pride and formality and self-preservation, and they saw, each into the other’s heart. Then it was gone, carried away on a breeze, as the first rays of the rising sun reached over the distant hills, illuminating the valley below. The dawn revealed the Legions of Light – thousands of friends, subjects, supporters and colleagues waiting in perfect formation for a sign. Jorelial Rey sighed, turned and spurred Tashroth toward the cliff’s edge. The great, green dragon swung his head back around and gave the young wizard one last rumbled acknowledgement, before stepping into the air beside the cliff, and catching himself on a thermal with his huge outstretched wings. Tvrdik stood, watching them circle once, then wheel up and away toward the front lines of their army, which awaited them in the half-light at the mouth of the Yechtze. “So. It begins. Godspeed, Jorelial Rey. Godspeed,” he breathed after them as the dragon-shaped patch dwindled smaller and smaller on the shining horizon.

  A flash of gold from the rising sun blinded him for a moment, and in the same instant, a blood-curdling roar from far below pulled his gaze from the sky and made the skin on his neck crawl. It was the horrible sound of thousands of frenzied, faceless monsters bent on tearing the Crown’s army to bits.

  THIRTY–EIGHT

  It Begins

  DROGUE’S ARMY WAS ON THE move. A dark sea of soldiers flowed into the valley with inexorable rhythm. Howling and roaring their rage, they approached the midpoint of the Yechtze, closer and closer, while the Legions of Light stood in formation and held their ground. Every jaw was clenched, every hand twitched, every unblinking eye peered into the near distant grey for a glimpse of the adversary. Five or six dragons circled overhead, sensing their moment approaching. Only one had a rider.

  As the dark forces crossed the midpoint of the valley, that rider lowered her arm swiftly in a pre-arranged signal. A high, clear, unearthly sound pierced the dawn. Rising over the enemy’s shouts, its haunting line carried across the whole of the valley. Down a wistful scale it went and twisted around into a melody of such longing, it tore at the heartstrings of anyone with ears to hear. There were no words, but the undiluted emotion in every note spoke to the deepest anguish of human experience. For a moment, everything went still, as the voice of Nyree rose and fell in other-worldly arcs of song. The vanguard of Drogue’s force ceased their measured march, faltered, and halted in confusion, staring about at one another for an explanation. Then, the bardic veteran strummed a chord on her harp, and launched her wordless ribbon of sound once more, pure and clear. Other voices joined her, high and low and in between, adding their poignant beauty in the most exquisite harmony. Several of Drogues warriors dropped their weapons and put their hands to their eyes. Louder, and with more confidence, the singing rang out, harps and drums supporting the sound of trained voices, as more of Drogue’s army halted in confusion.

  Tvrdik, looking on from the high ridge above, cast a spell of protection over the entire company of harpers and bards, brave souls who were now in the forefront of their company. He made it a self-generating invisible shield, which could not render them entirely immune to harm, but would help deflect a good deal of what might come at them for a time. He caught a motion out of the corner of his eye, and turned his attention to the right, to a place well behind the faltering front lines. It was an all too familiar gesture: archers – hundreds of them. Lord Drogue was on the ground, galloping back and forth alongside them, urging them to draw back their bows and fire. Only a second later and hundreds of lethal shafts had left their bowstrings, arcing up and ready to rain destruction on the vulnerable Legions. But, Tvrdik had already waved his hand and muttered a few words, and before the arrows could even crest and turn toward their intended marks, they all turned into geese, honking and flapping, and continuing their trajectory up and away.

  A deafening cheer broke out from the defenders as they waved their arms and shields high. Drogue’ stupefied archers could only afford to be dumbstruck for a moment before their master, spurring his mount furiously along the lines, roared at them to fire once again. Another rain of arrows rose into the air, and transformed themselves into geese. This time, in an irony Tvrdik could not have planned, almost the entire flock decided to void their bowels over the archers who had released them into the wide blue sky. The results splattered on the upturned, befuddled faces which were watching the magical transformation. Chuckling to himself as more cheering and singing and drumming rang out from the defending army, Tvrdik raised his staff, and set the intention that all arrows should become geese and fly off without inflicting harm. That spell should serve for awhile at least, and disarm one of Drogue’s attack forces. But now, he noticed the foot soldiers in the vanguard regaining their composure, and beginning to advance on the Legions of Light.

  Jorelial Rey circled over on Tashroth once again, dropped low, and signaled for a second time with her right arm. At that gesture, Verger echoed the signal to his special unit, lined up behind the bards with a collection of catapults. Cords were cut and the siege engines sprang into action, showering the fields with, of all things, buckets of gold coins! These were no illusion, but completely real, a fact that nearly gave the frugal Verger a heart attack. But, the Lady Regent had decided if they did not wish to create and court new enemies for the future, their peace offering had better remain what it purported to be, instead of changing back to a clod of earth or stone. As hoped, when the rain of gold coins fell clinking down on their heads, many of Drogue’s warriors – the poor, the desperate, the disenchanted and the plain greedy dropped their weapons in distraction and began scrambling about on the ground for their share of the loot. Hundreds of the first company gathered up all they could hold, and simply ran from the field. As these deserters scattered in all directions, searching for a safe egress from the valley, some of them ran headlong into their fellows, who were still advancing to what they thought was the fight.

  From Tvrdik’s high vantage point, it looked as if the entire forefront of Drogue’s fighting force was roiling about in every direction, wrestling with itself, having totally forgotten their original purpose. Men were dropping to their knees to retrieve the coins as Verger’s catapults continued to shower the field at regular intervals. Tripping and colliding with one another, possessed with raw lust and desire, the soon began fighting with each other over the spoils. The Legions of Light stood fast, waiting in f
ormation, Nyree’s bards still singing and drumming and playing their harps and horns. Drogue’s army began choking and wrestling one another to the ground, clonking their fellows on the head and twisting arms backward. With great difficulty, a determined few seasoned warriors, loyal to Drogue, or else more focused on their original purpose, broke from the melee and rushed upon the front lines of the defenders. Rel and Tvrdik both caught the motion at the same moment; at a gesture from her, the ordinary shields went up to form a near- impenetrable wall. At a gesture from him, the attackers found themselves lashing out with loaves of fresh-baked bread instead of swords, beating on shields with sausages instead of cudgels, and stabbing with cheeses on the ends of their once bladed pikes. Now these were, in fact, illusions, but such good ones in every sensory detail, that the half-starved rank and file of Drogue’s army again rushed upon their fellows to wrestle away a portion of the bounty.

  It then occurred to the young wizard that perhaps he ought to make some effort to protect Drogue’s squabbling warriors from truly harming one another, and he began to systematically turn all the weapons on the field to food items, regiment by regiment. It was a rare and comical sight to see acres of foot soldiers scrabbling on the ground for gold and provender, smashing each other over the head and pummeling one another across the shoulders with bread and cheese and summer sausage. As one would expect at the tail end of summer, all of this sweaty activity coupled with pungent, appetizing, food odors attracted a swarm of flies to the scene, further contributing to the chaos at hand. Men flailed about everywhere, trying to shoo the biting vermin away from their cheese-covered heads.