by John Grover
A whistle shot through the air again. Another boulder screamed across the sky like a comet. It came down and crushed a wagon full of Wivering. Pim’s heart shattered; he realized suddenly that Jun had been in that wagon, the Wivering warrior who had given him his first sword.
Cold terror filled Pim. He trembled violently. Despair tore his bowels into pieces. He couldn’t accept the loss of his people, his friends. What had they done? Tears streamed down his cheeks, slipping into the whipping wind. He searched for survivors—he prayed for them—but he saw nothing in the sea of advancing soldiers.
He turned to face the huge army of nightmares and their ghosts ahead of him, and screamed. His terror turned to rage, and finally, he drew his sword.
A flash lit up the sky. Yellow-green bolts of magic snatched Cardoon soldiers off horses one by one. War machines launched more boulders into the skies. Roars and screeches pierced Pim’s ears.
The largest armies in all of Athora clashed.
Cardoon cavalry raged into waves of creatures wielding clubs, axes, and pole arms, riding atop scaly beasts with forked tongues, and teeth the size of sabers.
Tolan galloped a straight line into their thick numbers. He lobbed the head off the first thing that came into his line of sight. The head spun through the air and its familiar screeched and vanished into the mist-shrouded ether.
Enemy mages hurled green fire and energy bolts, incinerating men and beast where they stood. Tolan slung his dagger and nailed the one highest on the catapult before him. The blade caught the creature in the throat, toppling him to the ground.
Drith led his war wagons to the right of the Cardoon cavalry, and joined the fray. His Southern warriors launched a hail of spears into the air, plunging them through the feral creatures, spilling ebony blood, and dissipating their familiar spirits.
Northern foot soldiers took up the rear, and, circling around them, the ministers of Gwythroth teleported into battle.
The enemy creatures and their reptilian steeds raged, pushing onward against the collected forces, fighting to stay on their path. Axes and clubs swung hard, bashing soldiers from their horses, smashing faces, breaking necks, shattering jaws.
Spirits clawed at horses and dragged men to the ground, lashing with spindly, pale fingers.
Reptilian mounts overturned Southern wagons, ripped into painted flesh, and swung their tails, cracking ribs, busting shields, and stomping the fallen.
Tolan swung his bastard sword across throats, splitting armor from gullet to gut. His blade was smeared with black, oily blood.
Pim had yet to swing his sword. He sat, frozen, on the back of Tolan’s horse, heart pounding in his chest, sweat rolling down the back of his neck. A rider stormed them, and Tolan reared back on his horse. A stone axe swung, and missed Pim’s face by inches. Tolan took up his shield as the axe swung again, and blocked it. Ghostly arms slithered through the shield, and slashed at Tolan’s face, brushing his cheeks.
The warrior leaned back, just out of the spirit’s reach. The thing howled, and its master grunted, pulling back its axe. Its broken teeth were covered in spittle; hairy-knuckled claws curled around the axe handle.
Suddenly Pim lunged, seizing his opportunity. He plunged his blade deep into the monster’s belly. The thing hissed and spat before going limp. It toppled from its steed. The spirit vanished with a scream.
“Well done!” Tolan cried.
Pim trembled all over, staring at his blood-slicked blade. Suddenly, the rider’s reptilian beast bit into Tolan’s horse, ripping into its throat, and sending them all crashing to the ground.
Pim and Tolan rolled in the dirt. A horde of enemy creatures descended on them, familiars cackling with glee.
The reptile climbed over Tolan, snapping its jaws at his face. The warrior scrambled for his sword, and whipped it across the big lizard.
The beast’s throat tore open, and it fell over with a thunderous crash.
Clubs and claws came down on Pim, but the young Wivering flipped to his feet and launched into his fleet. In the blink of an eye, he spun around the three creatures advancing on him, and cut the back of their knees open.
All three went down, and turned to look behind them, searching for the illusive Wivering. Pim was now in front, cutting each of their chests open. Flailing spirits grew confused, slashing at the air until their masters died, and they vanished in puffs of mist.
Another creature raced toward Pim, a spear in its grip. Pim dashed out of the way, dodging the attack, and watching as the thing impaled one its brethren.
Tolan jumped to his feet as Pim came to a stop. The warrior focused and finally set eyes on the Wivering. “Do not get too full of yourself! Behind you!”
Pim turned too late as a creature plowed into him, sending him down. Pim’s sword flew from his grip. An axe came down just beside his ear. He scrambled for the shield of a fallen comrade, grabbing it just in time for the axe to come down on the shield hard, cracking it up the center.
The creature pulled the axe out of the shield, reducing it to two pieces. Pim opened his mouth to scream as the creature and its familiar reached for him.
Tolan jumped into its path, blocking its attack with his sword. He and the creature traded blows, and the familiar slashed him across the face, yanking the helmet from his head. Tolan kicked his foe in the gut, but the creature recovered, back-handing the warrior.
Tolan went down, spitting blood. He reached for the dagger in his boot as the foe pressed its clawed foot to his back. Tolan stabbed the dagger behind him blindly, sinking it into the creature’s kneecap.
The creature wailed, and Tolan rolled onto his back, kicking with both of his feet. The creature fell backwards, landing on a spear, and impaling itself.
Tolan crawled to Pim, and pulled him to his feet. “Are you alright?”
Pim managed to nod. His lips trembled. He was unable to speak. His eyes scanned the battlefield, and soaked in the horrendous carnage around him.
Northern archers fired wave after wave of arrows, but the creatures kept on coming. Southern warriors leaped from their wagons and climbed to the top of the enemy’s war machines and catapults, cutting apart the ropes and mechanisms until they were reduced to ashes by the mages and their fiery dark magic.
Drith’s wagon was overturned by a group of creatures, but the fierce king battled on. He took up swords in both hands, and flipped onto his downed wagon. He kicked rushing creatures in the jaws, buried his blades in bald heads, and let out a hellish battle cry, despite the wounds and scratches the familiar spirits inflicted upon him.
The Wivering jumped from wagons and horses, and used their fleet to race into battle. Pim caught their blur as they rushed to the rear of the creatures, dragging swords with them, opening guts, cutting through bristly hides, cracking bone-plated armor. But the enemy was catching on.
The next flanks were ready as the Wivering raced to their rears. The familiars tethered to the foul creatures turned at a speed almost matching the Wivering, and pulled half of them to the ground. Clubs and axes fell on screaming faces, ghostly claws ripped into throats and chests.
The remaining Wivering rushed to the protection of the Cardoon soldiers and the Gywthroth teleports. But even the mystical teleports found their abilities matched by the familiar spirit companions.
Spirits tore hooded robes from the Gwythroth ministers, revealing thin membranes covering frail bodies, inverted ears, and large blue eyes that radiated with ethereal light. Spiked clubs and studded lances adorned with bones tore at their fragile, fairy-like flesh.
The teleports were no slackers: from beneath their hoods, they slung barbed chains, and vanished only to reappear in a new position, wrapping the chains around enemy necks, twisting and severing their heads with a pop.
All of this offense was still not enough. More and more creatures stormed the allied forces. Mages appeared to take the place of fallen ones. New war machines hurled flaming boulders from the distance.
The grounds fille
d with the broken, burning bodies of men, teleports, and Wivering. Green flames scorched the horizon.
“Come!” Tolan shook Pim. “We must move! Do not make yourself a target.”
Hopelessness filled Pim as he watched all manner of people fall. Gnarled teeth nipped at him, scaly tails swung at him, bone-clad, hairy, barrel-shaped creatures with ghostly-white spirits hovering above them leered at him from every corner.
Pim ran with Tolan, and suddenly spotted Ono battling one of the creatures. Another lumbered behind him.
“Ono!” Pim called before launching into his fleet of foot.
“Pim!” Tolan called, but the Wivering was gone.
Pim ran and ran, his feet burning, his eyes tingling, He hit the carcass of a horse and launched himself off it, soaring into the air. He lifted his sword in both hands.
The Wivering came down hard on the creature, driving his sword into its neck. Its familiar spirit took a swing at Pim, but vanished before connecting.
Pim climbed from under the lifeless body and looked up at Ono.
“Pim!” Ono smiled. “I owe you my…”
He watched Ono stammer, blood seeping from between his lips. A lance had impaled him, bursting through his chest.
Pim rushed to Ono, catching him in his arms. His friend tried to speak, but couldn’t. In seconds, he sighed his last breath.
Agony ripped through Pim; his heart shattered, and he felt his very soul split in two. He wailed as Ono’s killer loomed over him.
Tolan ran as fast as his legs would carry him. “Pim!” He leaped over bodies, burning banners, and crushed wagons, spotting the monster as it raised its club.
“Pim! Pim!” Tolan stopped, took aim with his sword, and launched it.
The blade sailed across the battleground, and plunged through the beast’s neck. It crashed to the ground, coughing up blood.
Tolan bent over and panted, recouping his strength.
“Tolan! Hark!”
The warrior looked up to see Geyess ride up and toss him another sword. “Behind you!”
The spiked club caught Tolan in the left arm, and sent him down. His gauntlet shattered, and blood dripped down his hand. The creature swung the club again, and missed, smashing the ground, and tossing up rubble.
Tolan swung his sword with both hands, and chopped the club in half. He yanked the blade up, and caught the creature in the chin, gouging his face. Blood spattered. The enemy’s spirit screeched and reached for Tolan, but the warrior ducked out of its reach and plunged his sword into the creature’s ribs. It fell to its knees, where Tolan then beheaded it.
Geyess cheered as Tolan turned, wiping sweat from his brow. Tolan started toward him when the axe tore into Geyess, ripping him from the horse.
“By Thet’s hammer!” Tolan cried, running again.
Geyess tumbled onto the ground, two other creatures chopping at him until a fireball hit them all, bursting into flames, and turning them to ash in mere moments.
Tolan fell to his knees mid-run. His head dropped as he watched the ashes blow past him in the winds of war.
The enemy pressed their attacks with more fireballs and catapults. The grounds trembled, and soot choked the air. Blood streamed like rain. The kingdoms lost ground, with Southerners falling, Northerners, too, and Wivering retreating. Tolan realized they had the right idea.
“Retreat!’ He called over the din. “Retreat! We cannot win this! The stone’s power makes them too strong!”
“Damn them all!” Drith called, signaling to his men to pull back, chopping the head off one last creature, and then gutting its lizard steed.
The people of Gwythroth teleported out of the battlefield, and the Wivering raced, blurred, out of the reach of both magic and catapults. Tolan saw Pim still wailing over the body of his fallen friend. He made his way back, and grabbed hold of him.
“Pim, come, we are retreating.”
“No!” Pim cried. “No! I cannot leave him. No! No!”
“Come, Lad, there is nothing more you can do for him. He is gone. I am sorry, but we must go!” Tolan retrieved his father’s sword and bent to Pim.
“Come, Pim, or we are all dead.”
Pim looked up, face soaked with tears, and nodded.
Tolan helped him up, and they ran to a wagon that Drith commanded. He helped the two in as one of the enemy creatures lunged for Pim, sinking a claw into his ankle.
Pim screamed in pain as if fire ate at his flesh. Tolan turned to attack the thing when the familiar swatted at him. Tolan ducked, and bent, dodging the ghostly claws. He swung his sword through the spirit, but the blade passed through it. As it dropped, it ripped the bone necklace from the master.
The spirit smiled, and, free of its tether, soared into the air, vanishing into the clouds.
“Hold on to it, Pim!” Tolan called. “This is our chance!”
Pim locked onto the monster instead of kicking it off as Tolan grabbed the wagon’s reins. He severed them with his sword.
“Are you mad?” Drith called.
“Some say I am.” Tolan slung the rope around the creature’s arms and neck. He punched it in the jaw a few times, and then kicked it off of Pim. “It’s not as strong without its familiar.”
The creature fell to the ground, and the wagon dragged him away from the battlefield back to Cardoon. They’d just captured their first prisoner.
Pim curled into a ball in the corner of the wagon; the pain inside him was overwhelming.
Tolan looked down on him, placing a strong hand on his shoulder.
###
Moonlight shimmered into the chamber through grated windows. The creature stood in the center of the room in chains. Its arms were bound to the floor.
Sooth-Malesh stood in the room with the leaders of the kingdoms: King Enrille of Cardoon, Drith of Glenghora, and Olani of Bhrungach.
Jorrel of the High Guard watched from the doorway, as did Tolan and Pim. Pim still shuddered, the battle still raw in his bones. It had only been an hour since their return.
Sooth-Malesh approached the creature slowly. He carried a crystal in his hands.
The beast snarled at the mage, railing against his chains, frothing at the mouth.
Sooth-Malesh, the red mage, extended his arm and placed the crystal on its forehead. The old man shivered, and the creature froze. The crystal lit up with white light, and began pulsating. Light glimmered down the mage’s arm, glowing beneath his skin. Suddenly his eyes rolled to the back of his head, and his mouth opened.
“Nesh.. Nesh… Neshing. They are called the Neshing.” Sooth-Malesh quivered, and his legs buckled. “Their homeland… savage… hostile; hot, thick air; lava pits, volcanoes. No relief, no sustenance. Slavering beasts… danger everywhere. Harsh. Food is scarce.”
For over a hundred years they had held the stone, studying it, trying to unlock its magic. They used it to break through the wall of mist. When they arrived, they liked what they saw, and wanted to take it. They wanted to find the other pieces of the stone in order to exterminate all else and take the land.
Sweat poured from Sooth-Malesh. His arm twitched. The light grew brighter until he could no longer withstand it. He let go of the crystal, and slipped to the floor. The crystal tumbled, and the Neshing pulled up his chains from the floor.
He lashed Sooth-Malesh across the face, and ran.
Everyone in the room scattered, and the Neshing stormed toward Tolan. He reached for the warrior with clicking claws, yanking the dagger from his belt. The Neshing warrior drew it across his own throat, and ended his life.
Everyone stared in disbelief.
“What a distasteful creature,” King Enrille said.
Olani rushed to Sooth-Malesh’s aid, helping him to his feet.
“Yes. Thank you, young lady,” he croaked.
“So… what do we do now?” Drith asked, placing his hands on his hips, staring down at the creature in a pool of its own blood.
“We cannot defeat these Neshing on our own. Not with th
e power the one piece of stone gives them. There is no choice.”
Everyone stared at him.
“We must locate the other pieces of the stone, or face annihilation.”
“How?” Pim asked the question that was perched on everyone’s lips.
###
Pim sat in a long hall with marble floors and archways. Above him, a sconce flickered with orange-amber light. His sword lay at his side. He felt listless, defeated. He stared at the floor. In its surface, he saw Ono’s face.
“I’m so sorry.” Even as he whispered it, he knew it made no difference. Tears dampened his face; one rolled down his cheek to the edge of his chin, and fell. It splashed the floor, chasing Ono’s visage away.
“It is okay to mourn,” Tolan’s voice roused Pim. He looked up at the noble warrior, battle worn, dusted with ash and dried mud.
“I know.”
Tolan got down on the floor with the young Wivering. “We both lost our friends today. Our best friends. We are kindred, you and I.”
“He tried to tell me how scared he was, and I wouldn’t hear him. I was a fool. I’ve been a fool about everything.”
“No, you wanted to help. You wanted to make a difference to your world, to your people.”
“And what good did it do? I didn’t just lose my best friend today, I lost my people. Many of them. Arc was the smart one. He chose not to go to war. He chose to live. I should have done the same. We all should have.”
“We all have our own paths to follow, Pim. Arc’s path is not your path. Yours is still before you.”
“And Ono’s path?”
Tolan looked into Pim’s eyes. The Wivering noticed the fire still burning in them. He saw in them pride, courage. But Tolan’s head sank just a little. “I knew Geyess since we were small boys, chasing goats through the roads of Cardoon, sitting on the roof of my parents’ hovel, and counting pixie lights in the Northern sky. Today he is gone. His path ended here, and I will miss him, but mine goes on. I must fight on for him, for we were kindred. Just as you and I are.”
Pim returned Tolan’s gaze and understood. It didn’t ease the pain just yet, but he knew what Tolan meant. The fight had to go on.
