by John Grover
Yellow-green fireballs shot through the charging cavalry, burning both rider and horse into ashes. Screams filled the air, arrows soared, and fire crackled. Men swung at the ghosts all around them, but their weapons went right through them as the mortal monsters clubbed and bashed their stunned victims.
For every creature that fell, the animal spirit tethered to it wailed and vanished. The dual enemies were like nothing the Cardoon men had ever seen: they were powerful and fearless. They slaughtered horses with clubs and axes, even breaking their necks with bare hands. The men would fall and meet their deaths by axe or club.
The enemy pushed on, some with many arrows stuck in their hides, seeming to be impervious to the pain.
Tolan raced through the legion of them, slashing at thick necks with his sword, a man galloping on either side of him until fireballs plucked them from their rides in a cloud of ash. Tolan looked past the carnage and saw two enemy mages standing on a catapult in the rear of the flanks, spinning ghoulish flames in the palms of their hands, heads crowned with hollow skulls with curled horns, bodies covered in black animal skins.
Tolan grabbed a spear from a fallen comrade and raced toward the mages. He kept them in sight and hurled his spear.
It soared through the air with true aim, and ran one of the mages right through. Black blood spurted across his fellow mage, and he toppled from the catapult. Tolan drew his sword and howled.
Claws raked down the length of Tolan’s back; searing pain rippled through him. He turned and swung his sword, but it ripped through nothing more than an apparition. The spirit laughed at him as its master smashed a club across Tolan’s shoulder, sending him toppling from his horse.
He looked up to see a spiked club coming straight down. Rolling out of the way, the club narrowly missed his head. The creature wound up again, and Tolan kicked him in the gut. The creature barely moved, but it halted his swing.
He got to his feet and attacked, sword meeting club. His enemy bashed him in the face with his head, forcing him to stumble backward. Tolan swung and swung, parrying against the brute, but he found himself moving back further and further, losing ground.
He tripped over a downed horse, and lost his sword. The creature raised his club, and …
Geyess jumped on top of it, smashing the thing with his sword. The creature turned and bashed Geyess with a backhand, knocking him to his rump.
Tolan jumped to his feet, and found an enemy axe. He swung and smashed the bone armor across the creature’s chest.
“Remember, Geyess,” Tolan called. “Bone breaks!”
The two of them slashed and hit the creature, its spirit animal lashing out, but unable to strike them. At last they battered through the creature’s armor, and sliced it open from gullet to tail.
It grunted and went down, black blood seeping from it. Its spirit animal howled and vanished.
“Thank Thet for you, my friend.” Tolan extended his hand to Geyess.
“They have ghosts fighting with them!”
“That, or their souls travel outside their bodies.”
“Whichever the case, the ghosts don’t die by sword or arrow, yet they do damage to us! It is like fighting two foes!”
Tolan looked around the battle scene: his comrades fell and screamed as foes of both flesh and spirit pressed against them relentlessly. Howls and growls rose, weapons clattered, horses screamed.
A catapult launched another boulder at Bhrungach. Tolan followed the rock with his gaze as it smashed against the walls. They were riddled with cracks, and the top crumbled; it wouldn’t be long before it came down. He spotted Bhrungach soldiers there, and a woman… it was her: the Lady of the Council.
He looked back to see the enemy loading their catapult, again.
“Hold them back, my friend!” Tolan shouted. “Shatter the bone armor!” Geyess nodded, slashing his sword across a stalking reptilian’s neck.
Tolan raced through the battlegrounds to the catapult. Ghostly claws reached for him, and battle axes swung toward him, but Tolan eluded both. He leaped onto a reptilian beast and launched himself into the air.
Coming down on the catapult, he ran his sword through its controller, and was swarmed by six other hairy, hulking creatures, their axes and clubs sweeping past him. He managed to climb up into the catapult chamber, and with all of his strength, rolled the boulder out and over the side.
The rock crashed down two of his enemies, their wails carried above the sounds of battle, and their spirit companions evaporated. Tolan raised his sword to the other four, but a green fireball exploded at his feet, sending him to the ground.
His enemies circled him, but their bodies were suddenly riddled with arrows. He looked to see Bhrungach archers looking down on him. Some of his foes fell, but one stubborn one fought on. Tolan dodged its axe, climbed up, and rammed it into the catapult wheel, forcing the arrows all the way through its tough hide. The animal spirit clawed at Tolan’s face, and the creature hissed at him before it died.
Tolan gasped for breath. Yellow-green fire roared past him, setting the ground aflame. He looked up at the Bhrungach archers.
“The mage!” he yelled, and pointed. “Take out the remaining mage, on the other catapult!”
The Lady of the Council understood, and directed her men. A hail of arrows found their mark, and took down the other mage. His magic was no more. Tolan saw that half of his men were gone, but with the fall of their mages, the creatures backed off, retreating to the nearby tree line. Horns and drums called. Creatures groaned.
Geyess met with Tolan. “They retreat?”
“No,” Tolan answered. “They’re calling for reinforcements, and for more mages. The magic gives them power; the mages call upon the piece of the stone in their possession. Which means…”
“It’s not with them, here.”
“No. It’s mostly likely back at their base of operations, the Red Coast. Geyess, we must get the Lady and the council, and whoever else we can out of Bhrungach, before they regroup. We have no more forces here. I’m afraid Bhrungach is lost.”
Geyess nodded and turned. “Collect yourselves, men! Help evacuate the city; help the wounded.”
Tolan looked up at Olani. “M’lady! We must get you away from here! Your city is lost… it is not safe. The enemy is returning with more forces.”
She waved to him and left the wall. The city gates eased open, and Tolan met her at at them.
“You have saved my people.” She put her arms out with open palms, her eyes bright with hope.
“I’m afraid it’s a temporary stay, M’lady. They are just disrupted without their magic. More have been summoned. We need to flee now while we can. Half of our forces are gone. We do not have the strength to fight on.”
“May Thet bless you for your efforts. I will summon my council, now, and my guide, Nachin. Please take as many people as Cardoon can accept. The rest of my army will be at your disposal.”
“You are gracious, M’lady.”
“I’m afraid many of my people have fled into the Wizened Forest.”
“There is no time to find them all, M’lady. Let us pray they find their way to safe havens.”
“My heart breaks for them.”
Over her shoulder, Tolan saw the white-haired men of the council stumbling out of the city one by one, their faces drained of all color, far-away looks in their eyes.
Behind them, Nachin made his way, joining Olani’s side.
Tolan and his men gathered their dead, ushered the people of Bhrungach to the roads, and compared notes on the enemy with the soldiers of the North.
The ragged group headed away from the North and its beauty, the green forests, and the cool, rushing rivers, and tranquil lakes.
In the distance, they listened to drums, and knew the creeping terror would follow them through all the lands.
###
Pim sat at the table with his mother and father. It was the morning meal, and the family passed around toasted homemade bread, buttered with briar nut jam. Hi
s brother, Tal, was absent from the table, still sleeping in his bed. He’d always been a late sleeper, missing most of the morning meals. Not Pim. He had been awake most of the night, bubbling with the excitement of his new achievements. He was bursting at the seams to tell them all about it, but he dared not. For now, he enjoyed toast, porridge, juice, and chicory tea.
He caught a glimpse of the sky outside. Dark clouds stirred across it, swallowing the sun. He’d never seen anything like it. The sky looked menacing, as if at any moment, it would unleash something terrible over Gonnish.
His parents seemed unmoved by it. If they were nervous, they kept it a secret.
A dog barked in the distance. The sound of thunder echoed.
His parents shifted in their seats. Their infant daughter cried, and Pim’s mother went to her, forgetting her hot food.
Pim thought of the Red Coast and the wall of clouds. The sky reminded him of it. Had something come through? Were the whispers among the other Wivering true? Now more than ever, he wanted to join the Warrior Guild. If something did come, he wanted to help and be a part of the protection.
The sword he borrowed was under his bed; he could have it in his grip in seconds.
Thunder crashed now, right above them. The table shook. His father stopped eating as the spoon tumbled from his grip. Tal entered the room, crying, and ran to his mother’s arms.
“Something scary is coming,” Tal cried. “Something wants to devour us.”
“Hush,” his mother soothed. “It is just a storm, nothing more.”
“No, no… the other kids said… it is a herald. Nameless terror comes for us. Evil ones from the mist.”
“Tal,” his father called. “Enough. Do not speak of such nonsense. It is a storm, nothing more, just as your mother said.”
Tal whimpered and buried his face into his mother’s apron.
Pim grinned, then looked outside again. Wind whistled.
I’m ready.
Chapter Six
Inside the great palace at Cardoon, many of the land’s leaders gathered at a massive round stone table. Tolan watched King Endrille enter the meeting hall, a pair of guards escorting him.
Jorrel of the High Guard stood with Tolan, and on his other side, Olani and her escort, Nachin, waited. Some of the other council members of the North stood behind them. A few of the survivors of the Lake Lands lingered in the shadows, fear crippling them.
Ministers from the peasants and farmers of Cardoon also joined the table.
Dwellers of Llewallen Forest, a small, peaceful people, with no real army had sent representatives. They hadn’t fought, but they’d taken in refugees from the Lake Lands.
Representatives from Gwythroth, the Gray City, the most mysterious of the people of Athora, arrived swathed in robes and tribal masks. They were taller than anyone in the city.
Chatter filled the room as people posed question after question and terrified hypothesis after hypothesis. No order had come to the meeting; everyone talked, shouted, and accused. Wild stories were exchanged and compared.
The doors to the room flew open, and all eyes turned to see Drith and his twin brother, Gyrn, from the South, make a grand entrance into the room.
Nachin reached for the dagger in his belt, but Olani put her hand across his arm, halting him. She eyed Drith as he crossed the room, his body and face painted with swatches of scarlet, white, and turquoise. Gold chains pierced his nostrils and stretched to his earlobes, which were also studded with onyx pins. He carried a bejeweled scepter.
Drith turned his head to Olani and nodded to her with a grin. He and his brother, accompanied by a few of their people and some servant girls, stopped at the table.
Finally, Sooth-Malesh appeared. The crimson-robed mage seemed to step from the shadows, themselves, as if they’d woven him there on the spot. His expression was grim.
“Sooth-Malesh,” the King bellowed over the others in the room. “What news of this threat do you bring us?”
“I’m afraid it is bleak, my lord. More of their deathships have arrived on the Red Coast. Their army increases with every passing day. “
Sooth-Malesh pulled a crystal from his robe and set it on the stone table. The crystal spun and spun, moving to the center of the table until a shower of light burst from it.
Everyone took a step back, shading their eyes from the bright light.
A vision appeared: hundreds of thousands of raging creatures with hovering spirits tethered to them marched from the beaches of the Fifling Sea. War machines rolled with fiery quarrels; monstrous reptilian steeds howled and stomped. The crystal scoped the beach, showing the armies marching into many different directions, clubs, axes, daggers, and pole arms clattering against bone-clad armor and shields, stone-like teeth clicking, dozens of mages wielding powerful magic of fire, shadow, and necromancy.
“They have already regrouped in the North, and are cutting a path through it,” Sooth-Malesh said. “They have invaded Bhrungach. The walls have fallen.”
Olani’s head bowed, sadness in her eyes. Drith smirked at his brother.
The old mage continued. “Half of their vast army is marching this way, up the coast toward Cardoon.”
“What of the ghosts with them?” Tolan asked. “These spirits can attack, but cannot be harmed, in return.”
“They’re familiars. They are the spirits of creatures or animals slain in their homeland. They are tethered to them with totems. You see, the bones on their armor are the bones of the creatures they have killed. Their mages have enchanted the bones, thus binding the spirits to their killers. It gives more power to these things… whatever they are. If you break the bond, destroy the bones of the animal, they will be freed, and the master will weaken.”
“What do these monsters want?” Olani asked, her eyes welling.
“Ah, I am glad you asked.” Sooth-Malesh gestured to the crystal and the vision shifted back to the beach on the Red Coast. Among the thousands of tents and barges, a circle of high mages appeared. The horned wizards, twelve or more, wove their clawed-hands over a piece of stone, floating inside a receptacle.
Green-yellow energy swirled around the stone, waves of it rippled off as the mages focused their magic into it.
“They seek the other pieces of the Grimstone.”
“The what?” Nachin asked.
“The Grimstone: the ancient stone that nearly destroyed the First People. Long held as the most powerful magical artifact known to all of Athora. The First People, the Mulcavrii, knew it was too powerful for anyone to master. They tried to destroy it, but it would only shatter into three pieces. They were hidden over a thousand years ago. These creatures have obviously found one of the pieces, and they want the other two. They will wipe out everything to get them.”
“Grimstone?” Olani said. “I have never heard of this stone.”
“Only the oldest of grimoires make mention of it. It had all been forgotten by the people of Athora.”
“We did not forget it,” said one of the emissaries from Gwythroth. He drew closer to the table, tall, statuesque, his movements fluid. “We know it as the Ebon stone. It harnesses the abyss and the world of magic. Its power cannot be tamed. It is not of our world. That is why the Mulcavrii warred over it, and in the end, knew they had to rid themselves of it. It cannot be put back together… not by any being.”
“Why should we care what these creatures want?” Drith said, his brother grabbing hold of his arm. “So far, I see that they attack those whose cups run over.”
“That is not all they will attack!” Sooth-Malesh thundered, turning his enflamed eyes toward the King of the South. “They will stop at nothing to get the stone; they will crush every kingdom until they get it. And once they do, all of Athora will fall. The stone could destroy every living thing on our world. This army means to take our land and wipe all of us from it. No one is safe. This problem is all of ours.”
“Hence why I have summoned each one of you,” King Endrille said. “Dear friends, le
t us fight for what is ours. I ask you to join Cardoon in our crusade.”
“If we agree,” Drith said, “if we fight for all of our land, we in the South want compensation.”
“Of course,” the King bellowed. “What do you wish?”
“We want some land in the North. Our lands are dry and hot, and we cannot grow food. We want fertile land to keep our people from their harsh lives. What good is saving our lands if we still suffer?”
“Never!” Nachin raged. Olani turned to him in shock. “We would see you dead, first.”
“Northern dog!” Drith whipped his scepter. Its crown sprouted spikes and detached with a chain.
“Enough!” Olani yelled. “Enough of this fighting! Enough of this prejudice and hate! We have common enemies: foes that will destroy us all! In that matter, how can we fight them? They have already conquered all of the North, they march on, unstoppable, unchallenged. They have magic and familiars, and the power of their stone.”
“Together,” said Tolan. “They are but one army. Together, we can defeat them.”
“They are not the only ones with power,” the emissary from Gwythroth said. He vanished from his spot at the table, and then reappeared on the other side of it. Everyone in the room gasped.
“You can teleport,” Sooth-Malesh said.
“Yes, we can. Short distances. It can be useful in battle.”
“They are not the only ones useful in battle,” Drith said. He backed away from the table and headed for the nearest wall. He jumped onto it and scaled it like a spider. When he reached the top, he crawled across the ceiling, and dropped to the floor.
“Very good!” King Endrille clapped. “We will work out compensation: it is the only fair thing to do.”
“Please do,” Drith said, panting. “We have suffered enough; we will not help without bettering our situation.”
“So be it,” King Endrille said.
Nachin snarled. “M’lady, this cannot be allowed. The North will never surrender its land.”
Drith’s brother, Gyrn, walked up to him, and whispered into his ear. “Do not be so hasty to withhold, my brother. If we were to help defeat these creatures, we could claim the stone for ourselves. Then we could destroy the North and take all of its land, at last.”
