by John Grover
“That’s right, because it isn’t true, no one can do it.”
“I can.”
Jun stared at him, then laughed. “Pim, you really are full of wonder. You should get to bed.”
“I’ll show you in the morning… you and Ono and Arc.”
“Pim, enough. No more stories tonight. You’re going to get me in trouble. It’s bad enough that I trained you in swordplay before you’re of age. You’re not even in the Warrior Guild, and I’m not sure you really want to be. You still want to do childish things, like run across the water, or over the roof of your house, or whatever.”
“The roof of the house…” Pim scratched his head. “What a great idea! Think of how you could outmatch your enemy. The Warrior Guild would be unstoppable, fighting from the treetops and the roofs.”
“We don’t need to Pim; we can already outrun every creature in Athora. Even the scuttle pods… and they’re pretty fast.”
Pim sighed. “Why does no one believe me? I ran across the river, I leaped to the tallest tree. I didn’t clear it, but almost. I’ll show you all. Tomorrow.”
“I really have to finish my rounds,” Jun said. “Go home, and get to bed before I wake your father.”
“You wouldn’t.”
Jun shook his head and moved on, walking past Pim and making a turn to toward the village.
“Alright, alright!” Pim dashed past him.
Jun turned back and continued his watch.
###
Hot and dry was the land of the South, home to the Painted People. The sand glittered when the sun was high. The horizon rose and fell with dunes and valleys. Sand ran its way to rocky surfaces and craters, jagged rock formations stretched to the sky in waves of coral and gold.
Red dust blew in hot wind and ravaged caravans as dust devils stirred, terrorizing the people. Little water was found here; trees dared not to lay down roots, and grass died a miserable death. Scaly creatures skittered among the stones.
Even at night, as it was now, the air was heavy and hot.
In the city of Glenghora, a structure fortified with stone and sand stood among the tents and hovels. Tribes gathered about the castle, drawing water from one of the few wells. They traded for fresh fruits and vegetables, wine, oils, medicines, and herbs, with precious stones mined from the rust-colored rock, as well as furs woven from their herds.
In the halls of the sand castle, Gyrn walked with hurried steps. He entered the throne room to set eyes on a mirror image of himself: his twin brother, Drith. On either side of his brother, two young girls fanned the ruler, painted in white and yellow to protect his skin from burning, and adorned in gold pins and piercings with rings on every finger and a talisman of pure black stone around his neck. His green eyes glinted in the light of the sconces. His lithe body rested, worn and drained, on a throne of cold stone.
Gyrn went to his brother and bowed on one knee. Drith made a gesture for his brother to rise. Gyrn handed him a goblet of wine.
“It’s warm,” Drith said.
“The bladder traveled in the sun all day.”
“Then why did you bring me it?”
“Would you rather thirst?”
“I’d rather have cold wine.”
“There is talk among the traders.”
“I do not care of gossip and women’s chatter.”
“You’ll care about this. The North is under siege.
Drith looked up, his eyes meeting his brother’s. A smirk crossed his lips. “Our truce with them not withstanding, this news tames the heat of our land, and that within my heart. Brother, I would not shed a tear should Bhrungach fall. I drink a toast, to the North’s just punishment.” He took a big gulp of wine.
“There is more…”
“I’m not sure what could be more tantalizing then what you have brought to my court.”
“The enemy comes from the mist in the east. It’s an unknown force of dark magic and monstrous beasts.”
“The east? The mist? Impossible. No ships have ever sailed through that mist, and none have returned that tried. What shadows could rise out of the void to take the North?”
“No one knows. They have just appeared. A scourge by night, their numbers are ever increasing. One knows not where they might stop.”
“What are you saying?”
“They are not of our land. They care not for any in their path. The stories tell that they are here to take us all.”
“Are you saying I should go to war to defend the North?”
Gyrn bowed his head, and then shook it slightly. “Of course not, Brother.”
“After all the damned council of Bhrungach has done? Their crimes of selfishness and betrayal!. How they have watched our people suffer in drought and famine! If it were not for the people of Norrow, or the city of Cardoon, we would be but a stain on the land… I would see them all burn and walk upon their charred…”
“Yes… yes… yes… we hear you, Brother. All of the kingdom hears you.” Gyrn cut off his brother’s tirade, despite the cold look the act bestowed him. “If I may suggest… wait for Bhrungach to fall, and then launch an attack against this new foe. Defeat them, and take the lands of the North as your own. The Lake Lands have already fallen.”
Drith’s eyes brightened. “A brilliant idea, dear Gyrn. I knew you were as devious as myself. You always feigned the more honorable one, the one Mother cherished above all else. But you have shadow inside you, too. I always knew it.”
Gyrn didn’t answer. Instead, he bowed his head and exited the throne room. He heard his brother snarl behind him, a sound most would take as contempt or anger, but for Drith, it was a sign of contentment, even joy. The very thought of seizing the lands of the North stoked the fire inside Drith. Gyrn was pleased with himself; their truce with the North had lasted too long.
###
Despite her fever and weakened body, Olani managed to drag herself from her bed in the dead of night. The attack had hit home. The walls of Bhrungach trembled, but held.
Outside her window, she heard shrieks and howls. Strange green fire filled the sky. Soaring rocks assaulted the walls and thundered with terrible sounds. The city buckled. It cried out with terror. The streets flooded with chaos.
Tears streamed down Olani’s cheeks. They’d refused to believe her. Stubborn, foolish old men had condemned them all.
She was surprised at how well the walls were standing, taking hit after hit, magical attack after magical attack. How long could they last?
“M’lady,” Nachin threw open her bedroom doors. “Forgive me, but we must take refuge. The council is fleeing to the tunnels.”
“Cowards… let them face the consequences of challenging me.”
“M’lady, your people are heading below, too. They need your support.”
Olani threw on a sheer robe and followed Nachin out of the palace and to the cobblestone streets. People ran in every direction, screaming. Rooftops were ablaze; a huge, spiked boulder sat in the middle of the road, and black smoke choked the sky.
What was left of Bhrungach’s soldiers raced to the walls. They climbed the stone steps and met their deaths in a hail of dark magic, jagged spears, and blades and fire. Their bodies exploded into ashes as the magic swarmed them.
Olani’s jaw dropped, and her heart pounded in her chest. Stark fear seized her. What ghastly sights waited on the other side of their own walls? A part of her wanted to face it, but she knew she needed to carry on, be with her people, and reassure them that they would not fall to evil from the bowels of the abyss.
Nachin flung the sewer cover from its perch and climbed down. Olani followed him, taking one last look at the wall and the flaming boulder hurtling toward her.
Chapter 5
The young boy from Bhrungach rode to the gates of Cardoon in the morning sun. He’d ridden all night, and his horse was on the verge of collapse. The beast trembled, snorting.
Tolan, recently freed from the stockade, walked the gates, spotting the boy’s approach
.
The guards pointed their crossbows at him as he grew closer. Merchants and traders swarmed the boy with live chickens, furs, and bottles of wine.
“Hold! State your name and business in Cardoon,” one of the guards called.
“Please, sir,” the boy’s voice cracked under stress. “I am Revis from Daustra; our lands have been invaded by a foreign army.”
“Cardoon does not get involved with the quarrels of the North and the South. We are neutral.”
“It’s not the South! It is a strange dark army with magic and fire. The Lake Lands have fallen, and Bhrungach is under siege. Please, I beg you, let me see the King!”
“Let the boy in,” Tolan said. “He’s been sent by Bhrungach under a sign of distress. It is just as Sooth-Malesh has said. Our lands are under attack.”
The guards stared at Tolan in disbelief.
“Let him in!” Tolan growled, and the guards grabbed the gate’s wheel.
The courtyard swarmed with soldiers, and Jorrel came running from his quarters.
Tolan led the boy through the city. His horse was taken to a fountain. Tolan’s friend, Geyess, followed Jorrel to the city center.
“What is this?” Jorrel asked. “Tolan, why is he here?”
“The North is under attack,” Tolan called to the men.
“Yes, by the South, again,” Jorrel answered. “This is not news, we do not interf—“
“No, not by the South: by mysterious invaders that threaten all of our lands!”
“Not this again, Tolan. There are no invaders from the east… there is nothing…”
“I saw them,” the boy spoke up. “They are monsters… burning village after village. There are unstoppable! My mother sent me to Bhrungach, and the Lady of the Council sent me for your help! Please… before all is lost!”
“The boy is in hysterics,” Jorrel said. “He’s imagining things.”
“Hark!” the guards of the gate called. All eyes turned toward them. The gates slowly opened and a lone rider strode into the city. He was slumped over his horse, his body badly burned, and still smoldering.
Shocked gasps resounded. Tolan ran to his comrade of the Circle Guard and pulled him from the horse.
“Can you speak?” Tolan wiped the blood from the man’s eyes.
“An army… come through the mist. Things… creatures. They sailed to the Red Coast on deathships, firing magic. Their war machines were massive, monstrosities, launching fire. There are mages more powerful than I have ever seen. They were endless… countless numbers, thousands of ships. I… I… may Thet have mercy on us.”
“They’ve come!” Sooth-Malesh called from the other side of the courtyard. They all turned to him. The crimson-clad mage made his way through the crowd.
Tolan stared up at him with tear-filled eyes, his dead comrade in his arms. Jorrel stood with his jaw open.
“The armies from the mist wield a piece of the Grimstone. That is why their magic is so strong. That is how they broke through the mist. They are now seeking the rest of the stone. They must be stopped! The North will fall, and they will move on until they find what they’re looking for.”
Jorrel turned to Tolan. “The Grimstone? The fabled stone that’s in missing pieces?”
Tolan shook his head.
“Yes,” Sooth-Malesh said. “One piece has been found. It has started a path of destruction that will cut right through Athora.”
“Tolan,” Jorrel continued. “I am sorry that I did not listen.”
“Our friends are dead,” Tolan said. “Our lands are in danger. This enemy has already taken the North. I tried to tell you, I tried to tell you all! This is what our hesitation has reaped! This is what our ignorance has given us! There is much more out there than Cardoon! We are all connected! If one falls, we all fall!”
“Forgive me, I should have listened. I should have gone to the King.”
“It’s not too late,” Sooth-Malesh said. “We must stop this army from finding the stones.”
“Stop them, we shall,” Tolan said. He gestured to a few soldiers who came and carried away the body of their fallen friend. “This is an attack on Cardoon, and attack on our world and all we love about it. We will not just stop them; we will send them back from whence they came!”
The men around him cheered, including Jorrel and Geyess.
“Mount the cavalry,” Jorrel called. “We will defend the weakened North, and save Bhrungach. Tolan, you will lead them?”
Tolan stood at attention. “All riders, to me!”
The crimson mage went to Tolan, laying his withered hand on his shoulder. “I will ride with you, as your battle mage.”
Tolan smiled. “No, my friend. You haven’t been a battle mage in over sixty years. Your magic is not up to that, these days. You must stay here, protect Cardoon, and scry the battles.”
Sooth-Malesh looked at him with disappointment, but nodded. “Of course. May Thet watch over you.”
Tolan didn’t like refusing him, but he was not the fierce mage he used to be, and his magic these days was little more than amusement for the King. Tolan nodded back and ran to the armory with his men, picking out the strongest, sharpest weapons the city had to offer.
The gates opened, the trumpets sounded, and a single bell rang in the spires. The cavalry of Cardoon rode out to battle.
From the spires, Sooth-Malesh watched, and the skies darkened. Black clouds thickened, and the morning sun dimmed against the scourge of war.
###
They’d held out all night, but the battle was beginning to take its toll. Olani wept with her handmaidens and servant girls; Nachin sat in the corner, watching, his face in shadow. Somewhere in the depths of the tunnels, the council of old men cringed.
Debris rained down upon those hiding in the tunnels. The smell of soot and burning flesh flooded their senses. The structures trembled.
Olani feared the worst. Were the walls even still up? Was the city filled with strange, fierce creatures? What of her people above? Were there any left?
She looked up at the ceiling, dust assaulting her, and prayed quietly.
Monstrous, guttural howls wafted in the winds of war, the whistle of catapulting boulders cut through the air. The sound of thunder cracked, but above all the din, Olani heard the sound of trumpets: soft, fighting to call above the sound of war.
A sliver of hope entered her heart, and her tears halted. Those around her noticed her demeanor shift, and their eyes brightened.
All was not lost.
###
Tolan led the men through the North’s lush, green lands. Above him, the sky shrouded with dark, black clouds. Wind lashed at his face; the smell of death was in it.
He came upon Bhrungach’s grand carriage roads, and took the main path to the city proper. The sound of war grew louder as they approached. Tolan snapped his reins harder, the horses galloped faster, the horns blared more loudly.
The young soldier’s heart slammed against his chest, his adrenaline rushed through every part of his body. Hoisting his spear above his head, his men armed themselves, spears aloft, bows loaded.
The city towers came into view above the hemlock trees and the firs. One of the towers was in flames. Moments later, the first of the enemies’ war machines came into view: a massive catapult, which unleashed another spiked ball into the air as Tolan watched.
He gritted his teeth, swallowed, and prepared himself. Sweat seeped from beneath his helmet.
The first of them came into view.
By Thet, himself… what are they? Tolan thought his eyes had betrayed him. This army before him was something from childhood nightmares.
The creatures stopped their assault on the city walls, and turned in the direction of the cavalry. Their flesh was a patchy gray and charcoal, black lips curled over jagged teeth, and tufts of hair sprouted from their knuckles and muscular arms.
They wore plated armor covered in bones: bleach-white bones of both man and beast. Bone necklaces were strung ar
ound thick necks. Their eyes were the darkest black.
Round and rectangular shields were covered in chains, femur bones, and animal hides. Battle axes, pole arms and clubs glinted with razor-sharp edges.
Some of the creatures stood on legs like tree-trunks, while others sat on reptilian steeds, whose saddles dripped with chains sporting morning stars and skulls of their victims. Their tails lashed like whips.
All of the creatures clicked clawed hands, gnashed sharpened teeth, and wore hides of bristling fur on their backs. What really shocked Tolan and all of his men, though, and sent the fear of the dark right down their spines, were the spirits that hovered above each of their enemies.
Shrieking, misty forms floated above each soldier in this monstrous army. They were pale-white with spindly, clawed fingers, like ghosts tethered to each of the flesh and blood bodies. These spirits were bestial, feral, with long faces and jaws, hollow eyes, and misshapen forms. They accompanied each of the foot soldiers, and rode on the backs of their reptilian steeds.
Tolan knew the men were shaken, and that terror crawled inside them, but he led them on, shouting his encouragement and showing no fear in the face of evil.
It was a second’s glimpse of the enemy, but Tolan’s mind soaked it all in with utter horror that he would never forget. He let out a roar and aimed his spear.
Tolan let the spear fly at the first thing that made eye contact with him; it hit in the center of the beast’s chest. The creature squealed and fell down, and the apparition attached to it shrieked, as well, slipping into the air and vanishing. Tolan drew his sword and charged.
The cavalry clashed with this unknown force, and chaos ensued.
Two armies collided, with the enemy army’s axes swinging like mad, chopping the legs off Cardoon soldiers, and ripping open their horses’ throats and bellies. Reptilian steeds pounced onto the horses, biting into their hides and necks as blood flowed like a river.
Cardoon soldiers launched spears and arrows, piercing the tough enemy armor, shattering bones, and gashing gray flesh.
The ghostly spirits reached with long, clawed arms, tearing riders from their horses down to the ground, where axes fell and chopped.
