The Soul Sphere: Book 02 - The Final Shard

by David Adams

  Deron agreed to this readily, then turned to Rowan, awaiting his reply. Rowan knew he had little choice but to accept. He felt it a mixed blessing at best—more soldiers, but of uncertain mettle. Still, they had been through a great deal, and these had survived and were willing to battle on. He assumed they would be as effective as his own people, and busied himself with the added details of including these new troops. He was surprised to find they nearly doubled his numbers.

  Tala meanwhile said goodbye once again to elves and places she had known and loved since childhood, she hoped not for the last time. She found herself anxious to move on and needing to set aside the feeling that the world was moving to some fateful climax while they waited here. She often found her hand straying to the cloaking bag, the Sphere inside like a cancer she had brought into this uncorrupted place. The sooner it was gone, the better.

  The next morning brought the sights and sounds of armies preparing for war. Horns blared throughout the city, stirring those who had managed to sleep well, few though they were, to action. Everything was alive, but it was ordered chaos, and when the warriors departed they did so in clean lines, and to the cheers and good wishes of those who would be left behind. A small group of mounted elves went first, to act as guides and as a screen for the army’s front ranks, followed by the Delvish and Ridonians, and finally the main elven host. At the lead of the elven army rode Deron, wearing a golden helm and breastplate, a sword at his side and a bow on his shoulder. Tala, who had saved her farewells for her parents until this morning, was shocked to find her father so arrayed.

  “One leads in peace and in war,” he told her. “We march to war. This is my place.” So proud and noble did he look on his steed that no one could have argued.

  Unsure how to reply, she simply bowed, a gesture of respect to her father and the leader of her people. She stole a furtive glance at the humans filing past and through the city gate.

  Deron noticed the look. “Go,” he said with a paternal smile. “You have been through much together. Ride with your friend. Besides, I know you can look after yourself, but if you are here I will naturally have one eye on our affairs of war and the other on you.”

  She nodded her thanks and turned to go, then looked back. “I will only say farewell for now. We will save our goodbyes for another time.”

  He raised a hand in salute, then watched her go with a father’s pride shining on his face. As she moved off, his face slowly fell. “Goodbye,” he whispered. He gave himself a moment, then stilled his emotions and put on a stern mask. When he led his army through the gate, his people saw only a brave warrior with a will of steel.

  * * *

  The Demon Hills were a broad band of rocky, wooded hills, riddled with crags and crevices, boulders and chasms, and tangled trees that had somehow managed to grow in the thin soil. So hostile was the terrain that the Hills were said to have been created by the Dark One himself. Whether or not he participated in their creation, they now served his purpose, standing as they did between an army marching to meet him and the kingdom he, through Solek, currently ruled.

  Alexis had slowed the march of the Lorgrasians as much as she dared, hoping the lead elements of the goblin army would reach her rear guard before the Lorgrasians reached the Hills. Rumor was the Hills could be crossed, but only by a small party picking their way cautiously along, likely backtracking many times as they found their way barred by some natural obstacle. And that was assuming the creatures that tales told lived there did not interfere. Alexis had no delusions about this army going across the Hills—her plan was to pass through the narrow area where the foothills brushed against the Great Northern Forest. The extra time the slower march had given them allowed her to confirm the path was open, as well as giving the foraging parties a chance to replenish a portion of their dwindling supplies, though the pickings were, not surprisingly, slim.

  The Lorgrasians camped within sight of the Demon Hills, and Alexis told her captains to be prepared to move at best speed in the morning—she wanted to pass the Hills as quickly as possible, and the narrow way would naturally string her army out.

  As dawn broke, a scout from the rear reported the goblin army had pulled within three days’ march of them. “They move like the wind,” the scout said. “No doubt our armies will be linked by the time we reach the open country beyond the Demon Hills.”

  Alexis dismissed the scout with her thanks, smiling at the news. Their hope against Solek was in the strength of combined armies. As to what was happening elsewhere she could only guess, but the forces she had been able to set in motion would likely arrive together and on time at Solek’s doorstep. When she passed on the news to Lucien, the big goblin only grunted his understanding, but she could see the pleasure in his eyes. The thought crossed her mind that, as much as could be expected, all was well. The thought was fleeting, but was enough to sound a warning in her mind for extra care to be taken. Now was no time to relax. She sent orders for the patrols to be wary.

  * * *

  They had traveled for two days on the edge of the Hills without incident. Alexis rode at the front of the column, not really the front of the army since a cavalry screen always probed some distance ahead, but the symbolic position of leadership. Delona did not like it—she felt the position exposed the queen unnecessarily—but she knew better than to ask Queen Alexandra to ride in a more sheltered spot. Instead she always stayed a few yards back, scanning for anything that might be amiss. Only a short time ago she would have protested the goblin riding next to the queen, his warblade close at hand, but she had come to understand in some small way the bond that had grown between the two and the others they had earlier traveled with while collecting the Sphere shards. She had no doubt Lucien would take an arrow for the queen as readily as she would. But she worried Alexandra might do the same for Lucien.

  That night they camped under a cloudless sky. The moon, just past full, cast its pale blue-white light on the world, adding an eerie dimension to the shadows on the Demon Hills and at the fringe of the Great Northern Forest. The Lorgrasians huddled around their campfires, more for the comfort of the light than the warmth. There was an unmistakable sense as they traveled that the Hills and Forest were pressing in on them, and that sense was keener at night. Conversations tended to be short and whispered and there was little laughing and no singing to be heard throughout the camp.

  Alexis had just drifted off to sleep when she was awakened by shouts in the distance. In an instant she was fully alert and out of her tent. Delona was running up, with Lucien a few steps behind.

  “What is it?” Alexis asked.

  “Something to the rear,” was all Delona had to offer.

  Alexis started moving. The camp was all confusion, disorganized, everyone grabbing weapons but not knowing if there was an enemy about, or if so where the enemy was. Loud cracks and thuds sounded from somewhere in the Demon Hills, as if they had suddenly sprung to life. The cries of her people some distance ahead took on a different tone, less one of confusion and more one of organization—orders being given and responded to. A rider appeared out of the darkness between the campfires, dodged to one side to avoid Alexis and her small escort, and seemed ready to press on when she suddenly checked up. She wheeled about, first eyeing Lucien, who must have caught her attention, and then spying Alexis. “My Queen!” she shouted, presenting herself to Alexis. “We are under attack from the hills.”

  “By who?”

  “I…I don’t know,” she stammered. She reached up to a deep cut on her forehead and wiped the blood away from her right eye. “Boulders and trees started falling upon us. I was sent forward before we closed with the enemy.”

  “Your horse,” said Alexis. “I must borrow it.”

  The woman jumped off without question, and Alexis was quickly in the saddle. Delona grabbed at the reins. “It is too dangerous to ride ahead, alone and in the dark.”

  Before Alexis could answer, the Hills seemed to explode. There was a great rending sound, o
f trees being ripped from the earth and of wood snapping, and suddenly the sky was filled with wood and rock, which rained down upon them.

  Alexis wasn’t sure if she had been knocked or thrown from the horse. She rose from the ground, ignoring the pain in her ribs and left shoulder, and wiped the dirt from her face. What she saw before her was something out of a tale told to her when she was young, to frighten her into behaving.

  Twenty feet tall it was, thin but impossibly strong. In one hand it held a tree freshly uprooted, in the other a wooden club not much smaller than the tree. Its skin was mottled green and brown, and a pair of black eyes looked out from a face as hard as stone. It swept trees and brush out of its way and advanced down the hill.

  “Hill troll!” someone shouted, putting the name Alexis had not bothered to mutter to the beast. She was peripherally aware that other trolls were advancing from the Hills, but her attention was fixed on the one before her.

  Alexis diverted her gaze long enough to find her spear. She stood tall, willing the troll to see her. With a cry she leapt forward.

  “To the queen!” Delona cried, and dozens of warriors torn between fight and flight had a rallying point. When Alexis struck at the troll, she was not alone.

  She rammed her spear into the hill troll’s leg, the hide tough but not impenetrable. The troll twisted in pain as the spear ran through flesh and muscle, ripping the weapon from Alexis’ hand and tossing her to the ground. With a sweeping motion of its club it cleared an area before itself, scattering many of its foes. It threw the tree into the next nearest mass of warriors, killing two and wounding several others.

  Lucien had rolled under the club swipe and driven his warblade into the troll’s good leg just as it released the tree. It tried to swat the goblin with its club but was too slow, Lucien scampering between its legs and hacking at the back of its ankle. Deprived of the use of one leg it knelt, swinging wildly now in rage. Spears and arrows pestered it, some finding the mark and doing damage.

  Alexis reached twice for her spear, which was still lodged in its leg, then thought better of it when the club missed her skull by a few inches. She suddenly realized she was next to a very angry hill troll and that she was weaponless. She rolled behind a large boulder and looked for an opportunity to retreat. Above her head she heard the crack of wood on stone as the troll tried to get at her.

  The troll had seen the woman go behind the rock, had tried to strike before her head sank below the top of the stone. Too slow it had swung its club, and now she was safe, but only so long as the rock was between them. Its legs were in agony, but its arms had lost little of their strength. It reached over and lifted the rock, raising it over its head. The look on the woman’s face was almost payment for the spear she had put through its leg. Almost. The sight of her smashed body would square things.

  Despite what she had seen of the troll’s strength, Alexis was shocked to see the boulder she sheltered behind hoisted so effortlessly into the air. Totally exposed, her every instinct was for flight, but she eyed her foe, waiting in a crouch for it to make the next move.

  Lucien saw the danger, but also the ideal opening. The troll was powerful, but slow and not bright enough to keep track of all its enemies. As it lifted the rock to crush Alexis, it had clearly forgotten all about Lucien. Once the boulder was squarely over the troll’s head Lucien acted, driving his warblade into its back and upward into its chest cavity. Lucien had hoped to see it collapse then, perhaps even dropping the rock upon itself. Instead it twisted violently, trying to throw Lucien clear. The goblin slammed into a large tree, but stubbornly Lucien held on.

  The troll felt its strength draining. It wanted at the goblin, but could do little with the rock in its hands while the green creature clung at its back. It spotted Alexis again and brought the rock down.

  Alexis sprang to her right as soon as the rock started for her, then rolled further off in that direction. She felt helping hands pulling her away.

  Lucien tried to get his feet set so he could free his weapon. Some distant voice in his mind told him to let it go, that the troll had to fall soon and that he could retrieve it then, but the warrior in him refused, certain that if he let go the troll would be given a chance to recover, regroup, and then press the attack again. He could sense it reaching for him, but he had placed the warblade, and therefore himself as long as he held it, at a spot the troll could not easily reach.

  The troll, unable to grab its tormentor or shake it off, allowed its wounded legs the break they desired. It fell backward, trying to drop its weight on the goblin.

  Lucien felt the move coming too late to jump clear. He braced for impact and then took the blow, a hard shot as if a mighty hammer had fallen on him.

  “Finish it now!” Alexis cried, seeing the troll in a prostrate position. She grabbed a spear from a warrior that stood dazed beside her and raced at the troll. As she drove the spear into the creature, she was pleased to see four others had followed her lead.

  The troll, already weakened, gave up its spirit quickly after the spears had skewered it. It simply gasped and then rolled over, crashing against one of the trees it had failed to uproot.

  Lucien was uncovered as the troll died, the warblade finally coming free of the beast and remaining held fast in the goblin’s hands. He lay motionless, covered in fresh blood, his eyes staring skyward. A shiver ran through him, shaking him to life. He blinked and sat up.

  Alexis knelt beside him. “Are you alright?” She gently probed where the blood was thickest, thinking to find some wound that needed mending.

  “Sore. Okay,” Lucien said. “Blood is troll’s.” He struggled to his feet then gestured west, where the sounds of battle still raged. “More trolls.”

  “Let’s go,” Alexis said, in reply to Lucien and in command to the Lorgrasians. Alexis glanced at her warriors, saw the hesitation. A spark of anger started within her. She had never thought to see cowardice, especially among these, some of her most trusted and tested warriors.

  The look on her face must have displayed her feelings all too plainly. Carlend motioned at a fallen Lorgrasian.

  Understanding bloomed within Alexis, and a heavy sorrow settled into her expression just as it did her heart. She went to the downed warrior, who still lived but whose breaths were ragged and harsh. There was no blood, but the place where the troll’s club had impacted her torso was all too plain. She knelt down and whispered, “Delona.”

  Delona reached up to grip Alexis’ arm. There was strength yet in the grasp, but it was fading. “My queen. I’m sorry. I wished to fight with you until the end. Instead I fall at the beginning.”

  “Be still now,” said Alexis. “While you yet draw breath there is hope.”

  Delona laughed, once, the sound turning into a pained cough. Bright red blood painted her lips and then trickled down her cheek. “I am beyond the power of any healing, magic or no. Bless me, my queen, that I may go to the next world with my head held high and proud.”

  Alexis cupped Delona’s face in her hands while tears streamed down her face. “You have my blessing and my thanks, daughter of Lorgras. You will be sorely missed.”

  Delona gave Alexis’ arm one last squeeze, then let her hand drop to her side. “Victory, my queen.” She motioned at Lucien to come closer, and when he did so she said, “Protect her, goblin, with your life if you must.”

  “Warblade. Life. Hers to command.” He held his weapon up in salute, one warrior to another.

  Delona nodded once, then closed her eyes and gave up her spirit.

  Alexis ordered two warriors to see to Delona and the other dead. “Move them away if you can. Protect them. They should be buried with honor. I’ll not have them abused if we lose the fight.”

  The soldiers simply nodded that they understood, neither pointing out that if they lost the fight the victors would do whatever they wanted to the Lorgrasians, whether living or dead.

  Alexis moved west toward the battle, Lucien and the Lorgrasians still fit to fight
by her side. They passed two fallen hill trolls, and too many slain or wounded Lorgrasians to count. Alexis tried to ignore the losses, to focus on the task at hand, but could not, the death and pain too personal, the damage to their hopes of defeating Solek already incalculable and growing worse. The first living hill troll she came upon paid the price. It was already wounded, but still capable of doing great harm. It was holding off a dozen warriors with a tree, but Alexis came at it from an oblique angle, and drove her spear through its heart before it even knew she was there. With new additions she continued west, the Lorgrasians letting out screams of triumph and anger as they raced on.

  If there was a center to the battle they came upon it next. Six trolls had been working together, providing one another with some protection from flank and rear attacks. Two had fallen and one was badly wounded. Human bodies lay scattered about them. The Lorgrasians were in a loose semi-circle, having seen the damage the trolls could do to a knot of people with their clubs. They used arrows from a distance, and in turns lunged forward to toss spears when they saw an opening. For their part the trolls took lunging swipes as well, leaping forward and swinging their clubs, then retreating to the relative safety of their kin. It had become a drawn out battle of attrition.

  Lucien’s spirit cried for him to charge, but his brain knew doing so alone against four trolls would spell his doom, regardless of what pride he felt as a warrior. He held his warblade ready, but felt useless in this contest where ranged weapons were their best hope. He tried to calm himself so he would be ready to strike if a troll came near.

  From further west came a battle cry, hundreds, perhaps thousands of fell voices raised in unison. Alexis felt her stomach tighten and her heart sink. A new foe, striking them now, would turn the tide in favor of the trolls. She heard Lucien let out a great bellow, a roaring scream. “You know them?” she asked, hoping some knowledge of this new enemy might give them a slim hope of victory. She spared a quick sideways glance at the goblin, surprised to see him standing tall, with that odd, eerie, toothy smile creasing his face,