Battlefield of the Sacred Land

by Mark E. Tyson

  “If you say so,” Tatrice said. “Personally I measure beauty as a legion of sweaty soldiers surrounding and protecting us.” She blushed furiously. She had obviously not meant to put it in those particular words.

  “Not the way a dragon knight behaves, Tatrice,” Bren told her.

  “Save it for one night, will you?” she retorted. “I’m not in the mood.”

  “Where are your dragons, anyway?” Fayne asked. “Will they help us if you are in danger?”

  “No, Shadesilver and Amadace are both helping with the ships to get Dorenn safely to Sythia. They are too far away to respond quickly enough.”

  “You at least have your dragon stones, right?” Fayne asked.

  “Aye, that we do, but I’m not sure where we would command them to whisk us away to,” Bren said.

  “Saleed,” Sanmir added. “If there is trouble and you have to use the stones, take us to Saleed. The soldier told me Saleed is still a living city.”

  Trendan halted and motioned for the rest to hold up. He pointed into the darkness for Sanmir to confirm what he was seeing, since Sanmir was the only other person who could easily see into the night.

  “I see the movement too,” Sanmir whispered to Trendan. He moved in closer to the others. “Trendan and I have seen some movement to the east. Follow me closely and we’ll see if we can go around it without incident.

  “I think I can see the light of the camp in the distance,” Trendan whispered. “It’s still far but within reach now.”

  “Good,” Sanmir whispered back. “Make haste!”

  Fayne let out a high-pitched whimper as something sailed over her head, and she clasped her mouth shut with her hand. Vesperin grabbed her arm to help her along. Sanmir spun as the thing landed right behind him. His throwing daggers were at the ready. He let them loose, and the creature screamed and attacked, going for his neck. Sanmir and creature crashed to the ground. Trendan pulled the creature off him to see it was a crazed Kimala, changed and unkempt, but it was her. Out of shock, he released her.

  “Mother!” Fayne said, trying to go to her.

  “No,” Tatrice stopped her. “That thing isn’t Kimala. It might have been before, but it isnt now.”

  Fayne pulled away from Tatrice. “I can save her.”

  Bren intervened now. “No, you can’t.”

  The Kimala creature bounded off into the night. Low moans surrounded the party.

  “We’ve attracted the dead,” Trendan said. He noticed Sanmir did not get up. “Sanmir!” He leaned down to see blood pouring from his neck wound. “Ves, Fayne, get over here. Sanmir needs your healing.”

  Vesperin was embarrassed. “I am unable to heal with the help of Loracia at the moment. I’m sorry.”

  Fayne angrily pushed him aside. “It’s in your head.” She leaned down to Sanmir and used her healing ability to repair the damage. “I closed the wound and stopped the bleeding, but something’s not right.”

  “I told you,” Vesperin said.

  “No, it’s not that. I healed the wound, but it’s black and spreading regardless.”

  “How can you see?” Tatrice asked.

  “I can see in the dark as well as Trendan and Sanmir. I am Noanas, remember?”

  “If you say so,” Tatrice commented.

  “It means she has a unique ethnicity,” Vesperin explained.

  “At the moment, I don’t care,” Trendan said. “Bren, Vesperin, can you each grab an arm and carry him?”

  Bren and Vesperin moved to Sanmir’s side, and each lifted him by an arm.

  Trendan led them as fast as he could to the camp, periodically checking on Sanmir. He was ready to dispatch anything that happened to get in the way, but he didn’t have to. He pushed them to move faster, and, at last, they reached an incline with the light of the camp in sight.

  Chapter 15: The Way to Ardenia

  A steady, warm rain fell as Dorenn and his party entered the Great Sythian Forest and subsequently stopped at Endil—Foreshome in common speak. Dorenn was glad Seandara would get the chance to visit with her mother, Queen Sildariel, before traveling on to Ardenia. There was no telling how long Seandara would be gone from home this time. Dorenn was also pleased that the queen promised him she would dispatch the Archers of Endil, as Seandara had also promised, to join him later on the battlefield of the Sacred Land against Kambor. The only hint of unpleasantness, however, was how much time Morgoran and Ianthill spent in closed chambers with the queen. Sildariel was still convinced that Dorenn and Seandara were somehow connected in a cataclysmic destiny and should be separated. Seandara’s force of will kept her mother’s wishes at bay, and so far Dorenn felt no ill effects of being in close proximity to the elven princess. He hoped the time the old wielders spent talking to the queen included telling her about the platforms of Lux Amarou. He and Seandara were certain that the dreams plaguing both of them had been a warning and not some indication of some cataclysmic event.

  After passing the night in Foreshome, a troop from the Archers of Endil led them to the edges of the Great Sythian Forest and bid them farewell before the sun had fully risen. He barely had time to finish breakfast before Morgoran was pushing to continue on their journey. As a result, Dorenn felt sluggish, and he was not fully alert as they trudged across the yellow prairie grass toward the small city of Highpond, Sythia. The elves were skilled at moving quickly through their beloved forest, but once Morgoran led them over the prairie, the distances seemed much farther and more difficult to travel. Dorenn realized that the elves must have used their nature magic to speed travel through the long distances in the great forest.

  By the time evening descended, Dorenn was exhausted. When they reached Vain’s Ferry, a village on the banks of the mighty Arasyth River, he fought off the strong urge to collapse. Highpond would be about half a day’s trek from the opposite bank of the river. Despite Morgoran’s protests, Dorenn commanded his party to stop for the night. Vain’s Ferry had a grand reputation among travelers. The Ferry Crossing Inn was new and luxurious. The common room of the inn boasted dancing, merriment, and good food. After the ordeals of Lux Amarou, Dorenn was happy to join in such a lively and carefree environment. They purchased their rooms for the night and stowed their things away before returning to the common room for the evening meal. Dorenn must not have been the only one happy to stop for the night, because Lady Shey didn’t protest at all when Gondrial procured two pints of ale, one for her and one for himself, as soon as he entered the room. She didn’t even give him her usual cautioning. Perhaps she knew it would do no good, or perhaps she was just too tired to argue.

  Seandara sat next to Dorenn. Deylia found a spot next to Rennon; across the table, Shey and Gondrial found seats next to them. Dorenn thought Morgoran and Ianthill might join them, up until Shey told him they had ordered their meal to be taken to their room. The old wielders wanted to consult their maps and charts for the journey in the morning, relentlessly pushing the party ahead to Ardenia.

  “Why are they pushing us onward so?” Rennon asked.

  “It’s Morgoran,” Dorenn said despondently. “No one would guess how old he is by the speed at which he travels.”

  Rennon stared at him blankly.

  “I forgot you haven’t traveled with him as much as I have. If there is no Migarath Portal or Lora Daine to use, he tends to push on at a breakneck pace,” Dorenn said. “Don’t get used to stops like this one or you might be disappointed.”

  “I thought Amarantus gave you a stone to use,” Rennon said.

  Dorenn took out the Lora Daine and turned it over in his fingers. “Aye, this one. I guess he’s finally trusting me again.”

  Gondrial spluttered. “Morgoran is going to be furious with you.”

  “Why? You know it isn’t big enough to carry all of us to Ardenia. It’s more for emergencies.” Dorenn put the stone away. “Besides, I don’t mind seeing some of the countryside.”

  “If you can see any of it at this pace,” Rennon scoffed.

 
Lady Shey watched Dorenn with inquisitive eyes for a long moment. She managed to make him almost feel uncomfortable. Every time he looked up, she would meet his gaze with a half-smile.

  “There is something up with you, Dorenn. What is it? You appear distressed,” she said finally.

  Her words made Dorenn catch himself. His exhaustion must have allowed his heavy heart, from the time he spent with Oria, show through. He attempted to livened up his mood. “It’s nothing. I want to see some of the country where my ancestors came from”—he fumbled his words a bit—“and I will see my parents soon, and I’m nervous about that too, that’s all.”

  “Now that you mention it, he does seem a bit tempestuous,” Gondrial said.

  “Would you two just drop it? I’m fine, really!” He thought for a moment. “I don’t even know what tempestuous means!”

  “It means emotional, dear,” Lady Shey told him.

  That offended him somehow. “I most certainly am not!”

  “See, emotional,” Gondrial said before he downed a swallow of ale. “I’ll be right back with some stout; that should dull your attitude and help you to sleep to boot.” He hesitated to see Dorenn’s reaction.

  Dorenn noticed. “I don’t know what you’re hoping to see, but staring at me won’t fill my goblet.”

  Gondrial beamed. “I’ll be right back.” He grabbed Shey’s half-empty goblet on his way as well.

  “I wasn’t finished with that yet,” she called after him, but he was already gone, whistling happily. She sighed. “I do hope they bring our meal soon. I could use some rest.”

  “Me too,” Deylia said. “How is Gondrial so happy and spritely?”

  “Perhaps he’s too dull-headed to realize he’s tired,” Lady Shey quipped.

  Dorenn unintentionally cracked a smile. “It probably has something to do with his elven side, you know, his high elven constitution.”

  “Ah, I sometimes forget his linage,” Deylia said with a nod.

  Dorenn smiled again and realized Deylia’s voice was the cause. She was usually quiet, and her silky high voice sounded strange to his ears. Her Trigothian accent made her voice even sweeter and more pleasant.

  She grinned back at him. “What? Am I so amusing?”

  “I’m just not used to your accent yet. I’m also tired. Pay me no mind.”

  Deylia was about to respond to him when a crash at the entrance caught their attention. It sounded as though something or someone had collided with the entranceway to the inn. Before he could turn his head and look, Shey’s daggers flashed in the light of the table lantern. There was a scream and a thud. Dorenn finally spun around to see a large man, covered in dirt and brandishing a claymore, cut one of the patrons nearly in half. As Dorenn reached for Dranmalin, he noticed the man’s dead, grey-coated eyes. The man was not among the living!

  “Get down! The rest of you!” Shey commanded the patrons as she spun with her daggers in succession, one after the other, in a move she called spinning eagle talons. She had tried to teach him some of her dagger moves while they were at Foreshome, but Dorenn found the sword to be a much more utilitarian weapon for him. Her daggers sliced through the man’s sword hand, and he dropped the claymore along with several fingers. He knocked Shey away and reached down for his sword, fingers regenerating as he bent over.

  “It’s a necromancer’s reanimate!” Shey said.

  “What on the holy mount of Fawlsbane is that?” Rennon asked as he produced his own daggers.

  The reanimate grasped the claymore and prepared to swing when Gondrial came seemingly out of thin air and thrust his sword into the man’s thick neck. The creature swung his claymore at Gondrial, and he would have cleaved him in the head had not Dranmalin been there to deflect the blow. Dorenn caught the relieved look on Gondrial’s face before he pulled his sword free from the reanimate’s neck. Unexpectedly, the creature backed away and stumbled. Dorenn quickly looked for what the reanimate was seeing that repelled it. The amulet Gondrial had picked up in the fields of Lux Amarou was glowing a pale blue upon his chest. It had come out from beneath his shirt during the scuffle.

  “Your amulet,” Dorenn pointed out to Gondrial. “It’s glowing and the thing is moving away from it.”

  “You’re right.” Gondrial took the amulet from around his neck and held it out before him. The reanimate backed away. Gondrial sniggered and chased the creature out of the inn. The patrons cheered, and some of them went immediately to check on the wounded and dead. A short moment later, Gondrial came running back into the inn. He slammed the double wooden doors and began to throw tables and chairs in a heap to barricade them. His face was white as new snow.

  “Well, what is it now?” Shey asked him.

  “Many more and worse than that,” he rambled. “Never mind.” He shook his head. “Just help me get these doors barricaded!”

  “Don’t be ridiculous. Let me see what’s out there,” she insisted. “More Scarovian necromancers with animates?”

  Gondrial wrinkled one corner of his mouth and furrowed his brow as if what Shey had just said was completely daft. “No, of course not.” He moved another chair to the barricade. “Do you remember Signal Hill and all the cursed people begging for us to end their miserable existence?”

  “Aye, I remember.”

  “That!” he said.

  “Oh, I see,” she said grimly.

  “Only multiply it by hundreds, all walking in a jagged line through the streets.” He reached for another chair, but Shey had already grabbed ahold of it.

  “Stop! Something’s not right here,” Dorenn said. “There shouldn’t be anything like that around here.”

  “There shouldn’t be Scarovians or necromancers here either,” Gondrial pointed out.

  Dorenn cleared his throat. “That’s not true. When the army of the West disappeared, there were outposts and scouts reporting that Abaddonia and Scarovia had armies amassing on their borders, remember? Now that the Oracle, Kambor, that is, is stirring again, it would be logical to believe he has rallied them. It doesn’t explain the unlife creatures out there, but it might explain the Scarovian necromancers and such.”

  “Kambor? Rally the armies of Scarovia and Abaddonia?” Gondrial asked.

  “Naneden is dead and . . . well . . . Toborne, that is to say, I have a feeling that Toborne may have known something about it,” Dorenn said sheepishly.

  “And now you know about it because of Toborne,” Shey said.

  Dorenn nodded. “There’s more, but this isn’t the place to discuss it right now.”

  “Oh?” Shey raised an eyebrow.

  “We will discuss it in Ardenia with my father,” Dorenn said flatly. “It’s rather a complicated plan Toborne had in the works, and I don’t believe this common room is secure.”

  Gondrial put his hand on Dorenn’s shoulder in comfort. “Don’t get your knickers in a bunch, but we have to get out to Ardenia first.”

  Shey began removing the barricade.

  Gondrial moved to intervene. “Whoa, whoa there, wait just one minute.”

  “Oh, will you stop it and help me move this nonsense out of the way.”

  “But the grave-dwellers out there.”

  “None have beat on this door begging for our help to dispatch them,” Shey said. “I think they are driven to some other task.”

  By the time Dorenn had moved the final table from the barricade and Lady Shey opened the door, the grave-dwellers had already moved away from the inn and were leaving down the other end of the cobblestone street. Shey boldly exited and jogged down the street to get a better look, but they were moving away fast. Dorenn and Gondrial soon caught up to her.

  “You see, nothing to fear. They are moving on,” Shey said.

  Dorenn turned to Shey to agree with her when he noticed a shadow hulking over Gondrial. He automatically drew Dranmalin. Deylia and Rennon bolted out of the inn, yelling something unintelligible from a distance. Two enormous arms reached out of the shadow and wrapped around Gondrial.
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br />   Shey spun around, her daggers appearing out from under her robes. “You didn’t kill it?”

  Gondrial gave her a hard look. “Tell me, Shey. How was I . . . supposed to do . . . that?” He gasped between the creature’s squeezing grasps. “He’s trying . . . to . . . get at the . . . amulet.”

  Deylia ran up and leaped onto the reanimate’s back, wrapping her quarterstaff around in front of its thick neck, and then she pulled with all her might. The reanimate released Gondrial and began to reach for her. It finally seized the quarterstaff and pulled her off over its head. She deftly flipped over onto her feet and slid backward with her quarterstaff at the ready.

  “Dorenn, use it! The dragon’s fire! We will never defeat this thing if you don’t. The only other way to defeat it would be to find and kill the necromancer,” Shey said.

  Gondrial gave her a puzzled look. “And you expected me to kill it?”

  “Relax, I merely forgot,” she retorted. “I’m allowed.”

  “All right, I will,” Dorenn said. “Stand back.”

  Rennon gave him a perplexed glance. “Um. What are you doing now?”

  Careful, the dragon’s fire has a tendency to get out of control from one who uses it and isn’t one of dragonkind. Dorenn realized the voice was coming from inside his head. “Never mind. Just stand aside.”

  Dorenn reached inside his mind for the spell, but his memory failed him. “I don’t remember the spell. I don’t remember what I read.”

  “What spell?” Rennon asked.

  “I’m not talking to you. I thought I told you to stand clear.”

  Rennon stepped aside. Gondrial and Shey were slashing at the creature while Deylia blocked its blows with her staff.

  You call yourself a wielder! I remember it. I remember every spell I’ve ever read, the voice said snidely. I’ll recite it to you.

  Dorenn listened as the voice recited the dragon’s fire spell, and then he held his hands out and repeated it. You aren’t fooling me, Toborne. You made me forget it so you could recite it to me as if you are saving the day.