by David Adams
Deron started across while Rowan called out orders for the army to move forward. Deron stopped halfway across, making himself a spectacle for the others. He seemed to be floating in mid-air, and while flames licked at his feet they were turned aside and he remained unharmed. The fire was the only way to mark the edges of the invisible bridge, and Rowan and Tala positioned themselves a few feet inside the edges so as to funnel everyone safely onto the magical escape route. Once he saw the lead elements begin to cross, Deron ran to the other side and readied himself to push them on once they reached him to ensure no bottleneck would develop. He looked around the approaching army to Adiel and Roldon, the former relatively pale but the latter nearly white and perspiring profusely. “Hurry!” he cried to those nearing the end of the crossing. “Step away and move down the road! The dragons may yet return!”
Reaching the far side of the chasm, even without the dragons flying about, was no guarantee of safety. The road continued on some three hundred yards before it bent to the left, and it remained flanked by woods on both sides. These trees, as had those in the center of the trap, had caught fire, and the blaze had spread at least to the bend in the road, likely beyond. Even so, there was a palpable feeling of relief when one reached the far side of the magic bridge, a feeling that safety might indeed be just around the corner.
Demetrius was far enough away from the invisible bridge that he had no sense of what was happening toward that front. But he was one of the first to note a general movement forward, and as he faintly heard the shouts that they were to advance, he added his own voice to the urging that the army move while the dragons did battle in the sky.
“What’s happening?” Corson asked.
“Don’t know. Hopefully they’ve found a way across.”
They moved forward less swiftly than they might, the fire to each side narrowing their path, too many people trying to get to the same place at one time. The army, for the time being, had lost some of its discipline, but who could blame them, Demetrius thought. He turned and saw those behind him pressing forward, filling gaps whenever possible in an effort to shorten the time needed to get off this fire-enclosed island. The Arkanians were making themselves easy targets. If the evil dragons won their duel now and turned their attention back to those below… He shivered at the thought, then fought off the urge to push those who slowed in front of him. He blew out a long, steadying breath, releasing the panic that was trying to build inside him.
“Look out!” someone yelled.
Demetrius’ head shot up immediately, though the warning had not indicated from which direction the danger came. Careening toward them came a copper dragon and a red dragon, holding each other in a deadly embrace, their wings useless as they snapped and clawed at one another. As if they were one creature they spiraled down, neither willing to release the other so both could stop their dizzying descent.
Other warning cries joined the first, but there was too little time and too little room for those still earthbound to move. As the two great beasts crashed, their fall claimed a dozen victims. The shock of the impact knocked them apart, the copper rolling three times while the red had its head and forelegs hit the ground too hard, sending it flipping over onto its back.
The two gained their feet at roughly the same time and eyed each other, exhausted but bound to fight until at least one was dead. The red flicked its tail and slapped a pair of goblins that had wandered too close. Demetrius heard the sickening sound of bones breaking as they were thrown aside like insects.
The dragons started to circle and most of the Arkanians moved away to stream forward once again, thinking of nothing but escape. Demetrius hesitated and then stood his ground, being jostled by those hurrying past.
Corson had not moved either. “We should help,” he said, verbalizing what he knew Demetrius was thinking.
“As we can,” he replied. “The copper is an ally, as surely as the goblins and wolves we travel with.”
“Well said,” intoned a gruff voice behind them. It was Lucien, and Krellos was by his side.
They were not the only ones to think such thoughts. At least a hundred waited and watched, while the dragons hissed and feinted. Perhaps sensing its growing peril, the red tried its wings, but the right one was useless. It bounded toward the copper, then pivoted and blew a quick breath of flame at a small group of men and dwarves, many of whom had no chance to react before they were consumed. The action had the desired effect on the gathering mob, causing some of those encircling the dragons to back away, and the rest, at least for a moment, to freeze in place. But the copper saw its opportunity when the red turned its head, and sprang forward to grip its opponent’s neck with its teeth, which it then worked past the scales and into the flesh beneath.
The red struggled to find the leverage needed to cast its foe off. Its tail, legs, and wings thrashed and flailed, hoping to beat off its attacker or even to throw off its balance. But the copper had its feet set as firmly as its teeth, and it absorbed the blows with grim determination.
How long the red could have lived in such a predicament was unknown, but those who considered the copper dragon a friend and ally now had the opportunity they sought. For the price of a lot of bruises and a few broken bones, the Arkanians by turns charged in to slide weapons or teeth under scales, and the life slowly drained from the red monster. As its thrashings slowed and finally ended, they stood back, and the copper gave its neck several great shakes. Satisfied, it released its foe, then breathed a controlled blast of orange-green flame on its head, ending any question of whether the red might still live.
“Thank you, friends,” the copper said. “Now go.” It leapt skyward, flapping its great wings—one of which appeared damaged but was obviously still useful—searching for another opponent.
For a moment Demetrius stood watching it. He looked at the slain red, and then at his sword, which was painted with its blood, just as Corson’s sword, Lucien’s warblade, and Krellos teeth were. He shook his head and blinked his eyes, as if waking from a dream. “Come on,” he said, leading the way.
They were now among the rear elements of the Arkanian Army. As they neared the chasm, Demetrius saw others rushing across, and wondered how a bridge could have been fashioned over such a fiery gorge in such a short period of time. Then he saw Roldon, looking as if he would certainly collapse if the two elves at his side withdrew their support. He stepped out of the main group to get a better look at those passing across, his eyes growing wide as he saw their running feet supported by nothing.
He heard a familiar voice, Tala’s, urging everyone forward. She waved with one hand and held the other out like a barrier, defining where it was safe to cross. Their eyes met for an instant and they exchanged a quick smile, old friends happy to know they both were alive and well. Then with a growing pit in his stomach but no visible hesitation, Demetrius moved onto the bridge.
He knew looking down was a mistake, but he could not help himself. For a few lingering seconds he floated over nothing, the bottomless black void pulling at him, and his knees weakened. Flame shot up and fanned out beneath him. He could feel the warmth of it—warmth but nothing more. Unsteady now, he pried his eyes away from the mesmerizing pit, forcing himself to stay centered on those in front of him and on the road on the other side. He found himself, like those around him, pressing toward the center, afraid to wander too close to the unseen edge. It slowed them, but it was unavoidable. No one was willing to move to the side and risk walking an invisible tightrope over such a precipice. Demetrius thought of Adiel and especially of Roldon, how weak and frail they had become and the energy they had to be expending to hold this pathway in place. Thinking about that was nearly as bad as looking down. He gauged the distance to the other side and guessed it was fifty paces away. To occupy his mind, he counted them down.
Once the last of the army was on the bridge Tala waved Rowan onward, then went to Adiel. The elder sensed her presence, even with his eyes closed. His face was pinched and strained,
the visage of one holding a great weight over his head with nowhere to set it down. “Go. Roldon too,” he told her. She knew better than to question him.
Tala signaled to the elves holding Roldon that they should start across. They did so, carrying their charge easily, as if he weighed little more than the frock he wore. She took one last look back at Adiel, then ran across, finding her way unhindered. On the other side Deron waited with Rowan. Just as she arrived she saw Roldon’s chin dip to his chest as he slipped into unconsciousness.
“Carry him forward,” Deron told his attendants, “away from this fire. He can do no more here.”
“Can you hold the bridge for Adiel?” Tala asked her father.
He shook his head with a pained expression. “He knows.”
“But what can we do? We cannot just leave him.”
Rowan had been watching the dragons battling above them. He could not be sure who was winning, but the center of the fight had moved to the south, which he took as a hopeful sign. As long as the foul dragons could not attack the land-dwellers he assumed the good dragons must be at least holding their own. Now the questions Tala had asked her father penetrated his consciousness and brought his thoughts back to more immediate concerns. “Can he not walk across on his own?”
Deron gestured back across the gorge. Adiel sat cross-legged on the ground, his body relaxed and his face composed, but he looked only at the ground, avoiding eye contact with those whom he had helped save. “I did not think he could hold the spell while he moved, or while he was moved. He is spent now, his work done for this day. We must go on with out him.”
“We can’t just leave him,” Rowan protested. “The fire is all around…the dragons may return.”
“And how do you propose we retrieve him?”
Rowan sighed in response, a short, angry snort. He looked to Tala for support, but she turned away.
“We do not condemn him to death,” Deron said. “If we win this day, we will return and perhaps Roldon will be able to help him then. Or the dragons that aid us might prove victorious, and may deign to carry him across the void. But for now we must go on, or all Adiel and so many others have worked for will be lost.”
Rowan turned away and stood looking at the exhausted elf across the way, while flames roared before him and to each side. He heard Deron and Tala start to move off down the road, the sounds of their passage subtle under the roar of the fire. Finally, grudgingly, he followed.
Chapter 10: Citadel
Rowan caught up to the two elves and they reached the bend in the road together. Beyond, it was as if they had found a new world. The trees quickly thinned and vanished, meaning the fire that had blazed about them faded as well. Past this, an open field stretched to the cliffs that fell off to the ocean, the grass a deep brown bordering on black. The surviving members of the Arkanian Army had cleared the road past the trees, forming a loose line of battle on either side of it. All eyes seemed fixed on the same point ahead and to the left: Citadel.
The fortress city of Veldoon rose in all its strength and majesty above the dying land. Stone and mortar were both black, adding to the ominous look of the place. The outer wall rose thirty feet above the ground, and extended on the front face to over six hundred feet wide. Behind this wall were four circular towers of varied sizes and heights. The shortest and broadest of these was in the center, and it extended twenty feet above the outer wall. Towers flanked this central one left and right, the right one ten feet higher than the center, the left fifteen. To the rear a fourth tower shot skyward, the main section rising at least sixty feet above the next tallest tower, and a narrow portion, just large enough for a winding stair with a small room at the top, continued on another forty feet. It was not hard to imagine this topmost section being lost in the clouds when the weather was right. The road led to a large drawbridge, which to no one’s surprise was closed at the moment. From the walls were draped large banners with the new standard of Veldoon—the black field with the red tear—and atop the highest tower flew a flag of the same design.
Rowan, Tala, and Deron took a moment to study the city, then walked forward on the road to take their customary lead position. Zald of the Westerland was there, as was the goblin Yola and Myrna, who had become the field leader of the Lorgrasians. The Wolf King, seeing these three approach, trotted over as well, and spoke first.
“So, we near the end of our journey and the most difficult task. My kind does not assault fortified cities, but even if we did, I fear I couldn’t say how to take this one.”
“Legend has it,” said Zald, “that it has been tried many times, but no attempt has met with success.”
Rowan listened to these comments without stirring, maintaining a neutral expression. He saw confusion and despair beginning to settle into his companions as a chill gets into the bones. As the silence grew, gazes began to drift downward, the first subtle signs of defeat. “Perhaps,” he said, “we need not take the city.”
“Go on,” Deron said.
“We have come for Solek, not Citadel. If my guess is right, he will be in that high tower.”
“Should I check?” asked Tala, her eyes going from Rowan to Deron.
Rowan nodded yes. Deron added, “Only a brief glimpse.”
Tala took the Sphere from the holding bag and cast the finding spell. In an instant she was done and sliding the Sphere back inside, but even such swiftness did not help her avoid the exposed feeling she was now encumbered by. She wanted to hide the feeling, but her face gave her away.
“What’s wrong?” Rowan asked.
“He is in the tower,” she answered, avoiding the question, “just as you thought.”
“And?”
“And what?”
Deron answered. “The fact that he was where we thought he would be would not drain the life from your face.” He offered her a patient, paternal smile. “Please, my daughter. Share what you know.”
She gave in with a sigh. “He knows we have the Sphere. I could sense his gaze, like a splinter of ice in my mind’s eye.”
Rowan thought on this. “Maybe we could use that to draw him out.”
“Seems he likes to send others on such errands,” Zald observed.
“We have come this far,” Deron said. “He will wait for us to come the rest of the way. If we cannot reach him behind those walls…it will be simple enough for him to take the Sphere if none of us live.”
“How attack?” Yola asked. “Warblades no good on stone.”
“We might salvage some of the wood in that forest to build siege towers or ladders,” Zald suggested.
“How long until the elven mages recover?” the Wolf King asked. “Could they not cast the same spell that just saved us, to allow us to bridge our way directly to the tower?”
“In time, yes,” said Deron. “And an excellent idea. But it may be days or weeks, perhaps longer. They are worn out to the point of death, and Adiel is not here. Time is a luxury we do not have. Solek must be spent now as well. If we could get at him now, there is a chance that he—”
A shadow passed overhead, and all looked up to gaze upon the dragon flying past. They relaxed a bit when they saw its scales were of glittering gold. It wheeled casually and then dropped gracefully to the ground before them.
Tala stared at the dragon with an astonished look. “Valya? I thought—”
“Valya remains dead, Tala of the elves. I, Galway, rule now.”
Tala gave a bow, remembering Galway as one of the bronze dragons that had carried her and the others from Misty Island back to the mainland. “My congratulations, and more so my thanks for your aid. You and your kind have saved us again.”
“For now. But if my guess is correct, you plan to attack that city.”
Tala smiled shyly, and had to fight not to look away from the dragon’s piercing gaze. “We must. We have come too far to turn away now.”
“I understand,” said the dragon, “and I would offer our service to you, if it might help.”
&nbs
p; “We would continue to be in your debt.”
“I know, as you do, that the dragons were entrusted to guard the Sphere. In that we failed. What we do now we do to repay the debt we already owe you and the rest of Arkania.”
“Then let us say rather that our accounts are settled, and we simply fight as allies against the evil plaguing our world.”
“Well said!" Galway exclaimed. “Now, tell me, have you worked out a plan for your assault?”
“We were just discussing that,” said Rowan. “We do not need the city, only Solek, who is in the highest chamber of the tall tower. We believe he is vulnerable now, having expended much energy to try to stop us from reaching this point.”
Deron picked up the explanation. “We could build ladders or siege towers, or wait for the elders of my people to recover sufficiently to cast spells allowing us possible entrance, but if we wait Solek will be strong again.”
“The wood would not be good for such a use. It burns too easily, as you have seen. As far as your mage…” Galway shook his head.
“What happened?” Deron asked in a voice barely above a whisper.
“You no doubt took note of the orange dragon.”
Everyone nodded glumly, fearing what would come next.
“She is Laza, their queen. After Belthros died, only a few of the males dared challenge her. They were quickly dispatched and she began to rule, at least amongst her kind. Since they were here, it is obvious that they still do the Dark One’s bidding. Once we saw them leave we followed, expecting some such mischief. We forced them to retreat, but Laza, as a last, spiteful act, returned and found your mage alone, left on the island of Solek’s creation. I was right behind in pursuit, but…I am sorry.”
“We would have all met the same fate if not for you and your kin,” Rowan said.
Galway dipped his head slightly in appreciation, then returned to the subject of Citadel. “I expect several dragons to return shortly, while the rest see to it that Laza and the others return to Bone Island. It may not be much, but we would be willing to carry a few of you—those we carried before—up to the base of the tall tower.”
