Reyce didn’t think; he acted. If Ivy didn’t change her path, she would carve a fiery swath of destruction through the whole village. He threw himself in front of her and made ready to take the first blow himself. It likely would do no good, but if giving himself would spare one of his people, then so be it.
He braced himself and shut his eyes, body angled for impact. The blazing heat felt like it would roast him alive, but moments before Ivy would have struck him, the pounding footfalls came, then gave way to a grinding slide.
Reyce opened his eyes to find Ivy standing before him. The fiery aura had diminished greatly, and for the first time since the battle began her face had an expression other than blind rage. She was fighting the emotion. As she looked about and saw the fear in the eyes of the other malthropes, she visibly struggled to control herself, to push away the anger.
He turned away from her as he heard the flap of ponderous wings. Boviss had taken to the air again. Ivy’s distraction and willful subversion of the emotion that fueled her had visibly weakened her, and the ancient dragon was far too savvy to let an opportunity like this pass. Reyce called for him to stop, but Boviss swiped once more with his iron claw, narrowly missing the chieftain and striking Ivy full force. The blow threw her into the wall of the nearest hut, punching her through and collapsing the roof on top of her. After a few moments more, the smoldering red glow beneath the ruined roof faded away.
Reyce snapped into action, rushing to the damaged hut and issuing orders.
“You, get Notta and Nehri. You three, help me clear the debris! The rest of you, to arms. And gather the wasps. I want everyone ready for the final assault within the hour.”
Boviss touched down just outside the village and waded among the huts, his heavy iron tail dragging a furrow through the walkways and scraping at the walls of the huts. Fire was billowing between his teeth, and though the battle was over, from the look in his eye he had unfinished business with Ivy.
“Back, Boviss. You’ve done too much already,” Reyce called over his shoulder, heaving at a beam and throwing it aside.
“Not enough. Not enough by far. That thing made me bleed,” Boviss fumed. “You have your power. Let me finish this one…”
Reyce spared a glance toward the shrine. It was gleaming like a violet sun, every crystal filled to capacity. For a moment he wondered, if not for its mystic thirst drinking away Ivy’s power even at a distance, if the raging malthrope might have actually won the clash with Boviss.
“She is still a malthrope, Boviss. You will not kill one of my people. Remember what happened all those years ago when you threatened us.”
Boviss glanced about, raising his intact paw as if surrounded by rats when he realized how many of the malthropes had come to help Ivy.
“Yes. They made me bleed as well.”
“Then go. I’ll send Nehri to heal you when we’ve seen to Ivy. The battle begins in hours. We shall need your claws and flame.”
“Keep your healing,” Boviss said, spreading his wings. “I shall be ready when the time comes to do what has been coming for far too long.”
He flapped hard, almost scattering those below him, and flew off. Reyce and his people finally uncovered Ivy. Whatever mystical power had protected her in the battle had absorbed the brunt of the final attack and impact, but she was still much worse for wear. Blood trickled from her nose and lip, staining her white fur. The edges of her clothes still smoldered, and the slash from the misaimed arrow was wide and horrid. But despite her bout with Boviss, she was barely conscious and still breathing.
Nehri arrived as they made ready to move Ivy from the broken remains of the home. Notta was with her, bandages in hand. The priestess worked feverishly to treat Ivy. As she did, she spoke to Reyce, not sparing the moment to look him in the eye as she did.
“The shrine is burning bright. Brighter than I’ve ever seen. What would have taken our own people weeks to provide, she provided in minutes, and from afar.” She gritted her teeth. “She could have been such an asset to Den…”
“She will survive.”
“Oh, I’ll see to that. But I do not think you will be happy that I did.” She tightened a second layer of bandage over the wound from Reyce’s own arrow. “After what happened here, what would you do when you awoke? Would you help the people who would use you to fuel a war against her own friends? You have made an enemy of the creature who could have been our savior.”
“She has fueled the gems. She already is our savior. I did what had to be done.”
“You did what Boviss convinced you had to be done! I came to you today with what may have been a solution. But you decided that war was preferable to peace, that blood now was better than blood later.” She shook with anger but forced herself to calm lest unsteady hands foul her work. “I don’t know when it happened, but somehow I lost you to this war before it even began…”
Both were silent as Nehri struggled through the incantations that might close Ivy’s wounds. The D’Karon offered many gifts, but their healing magic was limited.
“I shall consult the texts and ready the portals. You stay here and tend to her.”
“You will need me during the battle. No one knows the D’Karon magic better than I.”
“I am going to war, Nehri. Even if things go precisely as planned, I am more likely to die in battle than to return to Den. The village will need a leader if I do not return. When Ivy awakens, if there is any who can quell her wrath, it is you.… And when the Chosen arrive, tell them where we’ve gone. Tell them the assault has begun.”
“They’ll come for you.”
“Better they come for me then destroy Den.”
“If that is your wish. I only hope their sense of duty to those they serve is greater than their thirst for revenge for what we’ve done to their ally,” she said. “Notta, we’ve done what we can do. Take her to my hut. I shall need to watch her closely.”
As Notta gathered some others to carry Ivy away, Nehri stood. She took Reyce’s hands in hers and pressed her forehead to his.
“May the blessings of the D’Karon protect you. And may the generations we preserve with this terrible act redeem us all for its darkness.”
“Farewell, sister,” Reyce said.
#
For the hours between Nehri’s departure from their camp to her arrival in Den, Myranda and Deacon had been free to embrace the joy of the discovery for their future child. Deacon oscillated between remaining guarded and cautious—pregnancies did not always end in happiness—and being utterly elated at the thought of raising their child together. Myranda joined in his joy, even though she knew that when the emotion of the moment began to subside, he would have questions for her that it would pain her terribly to answer.
Their dreams of growing their family and continuing to make a safe, happier world for their child to inhabit were thrust aside when they felt an unmistakable upwelling of power. Ivy, and she was angry. Knowing they couldn’t afford to ignore it, they’d taken to the air and followed the bright, burning point in their minds’ eyes. Ether surged ahead of them, determined to find her ailing ally. Even when it faded, they traced a straight line to where Ivy’s presence was felt. Grustim and Garr struggled to keep pace as Myn sliced through the air. The dragon fully understood what was at stake. If Ivy’s anger had destroyed its target, people may have been terribly hurt in the process. If it did not, she was helpless with a foe still alive.
“Are you certain we are heading in the right direction?” Garr called, his voice barely audible over the rushing wind. “We should have seen something by now.”
In the failing light, it seemed that there was little but rolling hills and green fields between them and the horizon.
“We are dealing with D’Karon magic. You cannot trust your senses. I’ve never seen it used so effectively at this scale, but I have learned never to underestimate it,” Deacon called back.
“Lower, Myn,” Myranda said. “We are close. I can feel it…”
&
nbsp; #
Reyce stood inside the shrine and finished his preparations. It was a veritable gallery of brilliant indigo and violet gems. Ancient runes marked those created months before, the gems set aside for the day when the offensive could begin. They’d been filling one by one, but now they were fully charged and ready for any with the knowledge and will necessary to unleash their might. Rows of his soldiers were assembling outside. He stepped out to address them.
They were the best Den had to offer. The fastest. The smartest. The wisest. He had asked for volunteers, those willing to risk their lives to protect Den now and forever. Nearly every malthrope in the village had obliged. Most had been trained in the D’Karon blessings and in the ways of battle as a matter of course. If you were a species that was the target for all other thinking species, failure to learn to defend yourself was a death sentence. All but the oldest and weakest had crafted weapons and trained for this day. Now they stood before him. The weapons were simple, but deadly. Wooden swords, honed to cruelly sharp edges thinner than paper. Heavy spiked clubs. Thin, needle-sharp spears and javelins. They were, perhaps, not a match for what the dwarfs might have fashioned, but they needed their gold to bribe the keeper of the Seven Brothers to offer up a golem to their cause. They did not wear armor. With the D’Karon magic, they would be unseen, unheard. They would leave no scent. An army of spirits with no need for layers of leather or metal. They would be better served by speed.
The air filled with the buzzing of wings. One by one, fairies landed on the right shoulders of the soldiers in the front row. The wasps, summoned from the small grove near Den where they were trained and equipped. Each held a thorn tipped with deadly poison, distilled according to D’Karon teachings. Reyce directed one of the soldiers to begin handing out the gems.
“The day has come. Sooner than we would have liked, but that cannot be helped. Another malthrope than I might mark this moment with speeches of glory and honor. You shall not hear such from me. There is no glory in what I ask you to do today. This is about survival. The survival of Den. The survival of the malthropes. We must act quickly. We must act decisively. We must cut deeply and take as many as our blades will allow. We must be relentless and leave behind a legacy that will last in the minds of our enemies until the end of time. When the sun sets tomorrow, I want the very thought of ever setting foot upon North Crescent to be unthinkable. If we do this properly, our children need never know the fear of war. If we do it poorly, Den will fall, and take the last of us with it. Do not fail us. Give all you have. And may the D’Karon protect us.”
They finished equipping themselves from the shrine and marched past the edge of the village, far into the surrounding fields. Boviss set down before them, his wounds scorched black by his own fiery breath. Reyce selected a large, intensely glowing gem and held it aloft. After a steadying breath, he willed it to release its enchantment. The air shimmered and sparked before them, then swirled in a mixture of darkness and violet light. The ring of churning magic spread into a portal. Others began to appear beside it as it grew large enough for Boviss to pass through. The view through the center of each churning magic ring was a different stretch of the border between the desert and the fertile fields of the isthmus.
Reyce gave a final look to the people of his village, ready to wage war on the unsuspecting and unprepared elves to the south. He wondered how many would live to see their homes again. In the distance, strange winds seemed to be blowing, and low to the horizon, two dragons approached… The Chosen… The Adversaries… He needed to be gone when they arrived, a distant target to draw them away from his home. He prayed it all would be worth it. Soon, he would know.
“Forward, to your destiny,” he ordered.
The malthropes marched through the portals. He selected the one nearest to where the golem would be, the better to reach it quickly, and ordered Boviss through.
#
Myn angled her wings and dove, sweeping forward again only when the grass brushed her claws. The air had an unnatural, eerie tingle. If there was an enchantment upon this place, they were nearing its fringe. The mark upon Myranda’s palm itched, reacting to the D’Karon influence around her. Then, in the distance, a sequence of powerful bursts of magic. Myn didn’t need to be told to follow them. They were potent enough it hardly took a wizard to notice them. Ether’s blustery form joined them. The new path clearly took them deeper into the enchanted patch of land, intensifying the unsettling feeling it brought.
When the change came, it came slowly. Thriving, flourishing trees seemed to wither before their eyes, leaves vanishing and bark fading. Hearty bushes turned gnarly and dry. The landscape shriveled and decayed, as if years of terrible drought had come upon the land all at once. There were other changes as well. Where moments before there had been nothing but wilderness, now paths became visible. Isolated fields still clinging to life showed where carefully tended farms grew. And ahead, wrapped about a tall stone shrine, a village revealed itself.
“We are through the enchantment,” Myranda said. “I’d never imagined it would be so substantial.”
“Something terrible happened here,” Deacon said. “Look at the edge of the village, those scars in the ground. And those others, off in the distance. Those are the craters left by D’Karon portals closing. The residue of power is like a stain on the land.”
“I shall look to the site of the portals,” Ether said, streaking off to the south.
“I can feel Ivy. She’s weak, but she is alive, in the heart of that village,” Myranda called.
The words put new life into Myn. She quickened her pace and left Garr behind. They swept over the village. Half-seen figures dashed for cover in paths between huts. Here and there, fresh damage told the tale of Ivy’s outburst. Myn touched down, effortlessly shifting from flight to a sprint. She navigated the huts nimbly until Myranda and Deacon both called out when they reached the hut that held their friend. Garr touched down a moment later, and the humans dismounted to approach the doorway. Inside, a violet light sparked to life. Nehri stepped from the doorway, clutching a gem. Her expression was hard, held rigidly in place but failing to hide the torment inside her.
“Leave this place, Chosen,” she warned. “This is a place for malthropes. You do not belong here.”
Myranda looked past Nehri, where Ivy was just visible resting fitfully and heavily bandaged.
“You have our friend, and she is hurt.”
“She is of our kind and thus she is ours to care for. Go. I do not wish to fight you.”
Myn lowered her head and glared at Nehri. “Move…” the dragon warned.
“We won’t leave our friend until I know what has happened,” Myranda said.
“There is dragon blood here… fresh,” Grustim said. “And potent. This is from an elder dragon.”
“That is the blood of Boviss. He serves our people. If you continue to threaten my people with your presence, you shall have to deal with him,” Nehri said.
Grustim stalked forward. “If you believe you can exert any authority over an elder, you are fools. Elders are old as the mountains. They have survived since the land was young, battled their own, fought off generations of challengers. They are wiser and stronger than you can imagine. If you have seen one and lived, it is because you were beneath their concern, or because they have use for you.”
“Do not come to my home and question our ways. Leave us. Please. This village has already seen more battle than I ever wanted it to,” Nehri said.
Myn’s patience was waning. Her claws split the ground, and her muscles tensed.
“Move,” she rumbled. Her tone suggested it would be her last request.
Myranda looked about. “Your village is nearly deserted. Where have your people gone?”
“To assure our future. To begin their assault, the very assault you were called upon to stop. And if it means my death, I shall ensure there is a place for them to return to.” Her voice wavered. “Please… if you have any mercy… leave this place.
Things are in motion that cannot be stopped.”
“It isn’t too late to find another way, Nehri,” Myranda said.
“It is!” Nehri tightened her grip on the gem, and it crackled with dark energy. “I am sorry, Myranda, but it is. It was already out of my hands when we spoke. The troops are moving. The plan is unfolding. You should never have left your home. Go back while you can. You have a mate, and soon, fate willing, a child. Don’t make me take that future from you.”
The threat was more than Myn was willing to bear. In a terrifyingly swift motion, she snatched at Nehri with a forepaw, but the malthrope deftly dodged into the doorway. She held out her gem and summoned an all-too-familiar blast of curling darkness. Myranda struck the ground with her staff and raised a shield, dispersing it. Deacon raised his own gem and wrapped his mind about Nehri’s crystal, willing it from her hands. She rushed forward, chanting an incantation that made the stolen gem shudder and flash with a forthcoming attack, but a few words and a moment of focus from Myranda snuffed it out. Myn struck. With a swift, carefully measured blow, she pinned Nehri to the ground. The priestess wheezed as the air was forced from her.
A scattering of malthropes who had been watching from the shadows emerged brandishing weapons. With the strongest of the village already gone, those left to defend their homes were the oldest, the youngest, and the weakest. Some were withered by years of offering themselves to the D’Karon shrine. Gray fur threaded among the red or tan. Others were little more than toddlers, pudgy vulpine paws barely able to clutch their weapons. They held their ground, but from their body language, it was taking all of their resolve to do so.
“Easy, Myn.” Myranda crouched down to Nehri and spoke softly. “Nehri, you worship the D’Karon. We fought them. And we won. I admire your dedication to your people, your desire to defend them. I would do and have done the same. But the way to protect them now is to tell me everything about this plan so that I can stop it before it escalates to a full-scale war. And let us see to our friend.”
The Crescents Page 25
