by Rex Hazelton
Timed to perfection, the Wisdor Stones were covered up in a way that snuffed out their magic, an act that revealed the deadly shieldwall to the remaining calvary. As expected, the terrifying sight of the carnage the Magic of Invisibility had hidden from sight stopped the rest of the cavalry in its track. Then, before they had time to adapt to the horrific situation, the fiery shieldwall advanced on them, expanding the carnage as it went. In short order, the Ar Warlers were forced to retreat. Retreat was turned to an all-out route when Dalnostrokynd’s horsemen arrived to make certain the cavalry couldn’t regroup and mount another attack.
Skillfully using bows and arrows as they controlled their mounts with pressure from their knees, the Forest People continued to pester the Ar Warlers until their intentions to leave the field of battle for good was clearly established. After rounding up all the riderless horses the Ar Warlers left behind, the Dalnostrokynd took them to their footmen and offered them to those who could ride. As a result, the number of Nyeg Warl horsemen that took up their journey to reach the Hammer Bearer again was much larger than it was when they left to defend Nyeg Warl’s army that was amassing on the banks of Malam River.
Watching the Dalnostrokynd ride off in the direction the Ar Warlers had fled, Fyreed shared his thoughts with Ballastyn. “We dealt Ar Warl’s cavalry a dire blow, but we didn’t break their back.”
“Aye,” the Hadram king agreed. “Nor do I think they wanted to break ours, otherwise, the white-skinned fiends would have fought until either we or they were destroyed. Their attack was only meant to cripple us. Fortunately, things didn’t turn out the way they expected.”
“Aye. I think you’re right,” Fyreed said as he signaled for Far’Lynn, Thrower and Thor’Shom to pick up the Wisdor Stones they were assigned to carry and follow him back to the longboats. “See you at the Hall of Voyd.”
“Next time we meet,” Ballastyn smiled at the Bjork as he began to walk away, “you’ll provide the wine.”
“The finest the Bjork make,” Fyreed cast his words over his shoulder as he headed for the Malamor River.
Taking a deep breath like he was savoring the fragrance friendship brought with it, Ballastyn turned and joined Nyeg War’sl northern army as it hurried off to join the Hammer Bearer. He wasn’t about to overlook the blessings that were at hand for ones that might never come because of the war they were all caught up in, especially not a war where the enemy was led by a dangerous and evil entity that had come from the Warl of the Dead.
****
Not aware of the fighting that had broken out on the eastern side of the Voyd River, Bardensen and his warriors were struggling to survive the trap Claude had set for them. Even with the Tsadal, elves and Otrodorians’ help, the prospect of their ranks being thinned so much that the Shomeronians would be rendered an irrelevant fighting force was still a real possibility.
Alynd is trying to reach me, Bardensen surmised after he slashed at a Clay Giant he had ridden past.
Watching the Elf-Man’s twin leaf-blades moving in a blur as he rode toward Shomeron’s king was a wonder to behold. His eyes, sending out intermittent bursts of blue light, added to the wonder. Seeing him leaping on a Clay Giant and drive the blades into the giant’s lump of a head before jumping back onto his horse without the animal losing stride, was something one would expect to see in a dream, not in the waking warl. The way the Otrodorians matched their lethal king’s fighting fury wasn’t something Bardensen ever wanted to face. It gave him comfort to think Claude would have to do that very thing.
“Elf-Man. Avenge me!” Bardensen bellowed. Shouting his words the way he did made the king feel like he was releasing the virtue needed to see that, that very thing happened. On the other hand, it was an admission that Bardensen thought he would soon be killed; and the Thrall Giants that worked their way towards him gave creedence to his thoughts.
A fourth of the giants had been felled along with half of the Hag that had hidden themselves in Plagea’s ranks. An equal number of Candle Warriors had perished, as well as thousands of Shomeronians. All in all, the battle was a tragedy since most of the dead were Nyeg Warlers, though the Bro’Noon and Vinelanders were slaying their fair share of Ar Warlers who moved against them. If the fighting didn’t end soon, the battle could turn into an all and all out disaster.
That’s when Shaw, ten of his men, and two Candle Warriors made their move.
As it turned out, the Hag weren’t the only ones who disguised themselves as Plagean warriors. The small company of Tsadal and the two Candle Warriors had done the same thing. Prepared for the kind of treachery that was inevitably perpetrated, but not having enough evidence to prove it ahead of time, Shaw had decided to position himself to intervene if it did. Biding their time until the chaos of battle had taken hold, Shaw and the men and woman, a Candle Warrior, who were him worked their way closer to Plagea’s king. Once they arrived, the Candle Warriors lit their candles and dispatched the king’s general and his aide with their fiery lances doing the work.
Caught by surprise, Claude’s eyes grew as big as saucers when he turned to look at the warrior who had the temerity to shout, “Claude, over here,” and saw the man who had been spying on him, the one who was- no doubt- responsible for Sandyl’s disappearance. To his chagrin, the disconcerting man was looking at him with the same steady gaze he used to watch the king at the meeting Goldan held as the Nyeg Warlers approached Malam. If it was possible, his eyes grew larger when he saw the bothersome man lift his hand and throw the knife he held at the king. And as the erstwhile assassin had done more than once in a former, darker life, he hit the target he was aiming at.
With the throwing blade sticking out of his cheek just left of the helmet’s noseguard, Calude turned to look at Bardensen one more time before he spewed blood out of his mouth and toppled off his horse.
A moment later, the two Candle Warriors had their fiery shields in hand as they stood guard over the general and the king’s bodies. The ten Tsadal who were with them formed an outer ring that kept the Plagean warriors at bay while Shaw shouted, “The King is dead and his treachery has gone with him. Stay your hand and cease striking your Nyeg Warl brothers. You’ll find no comfort in either the Nyeg or Ar otherwise.”
Not knowing what the king had told his men, Shaw hoped he had said enough to stop the infighting. Those who were troubled with the direction Claude was leading them, quickly capitulated. The others did so only a little slower. Since Claude’s sons were only children who had stayed home, there was no one to take the king’s place now that the general had been slain along with the sovereign. Those that followed the general only did so out of loyalty to their commander, not out of a desire to give aid to the Sorcerer they all feared. Now that he was dead, they certainly weren’t going to throw their lot in with the Ar Warl’s Dark Lord. When they saw Alynd the Elf-Man heading their way, they hoped the renowned champion could find a way to herd them back into Nyeg Warl’s fold. Until that time came, if it came, the remaining commanders ordered the Plagean warrriors to withdraw and take up defensive formations that would provide protection until the dust, so to speak, settled.
Recognizing what had happened, the Hag who were pretending to be Plagean warriors turned and headed back to Ar Warl forces that were busy fighting the savage hunchmen and the Vinelanders. Once the black-robed wizards, who were leading the attack, saw their brethren coming their way, they gave orders to break the assault off and head back to the Voyd River where they would regroup. With Forrest Deep’s elves, the Cassians, and the Otrodorians chasing the Thrall Giants off, though the Hag had more to do with the timing of their retreat than the Nyeg Warler’s did, and then turning their might against them, the Ar Walers were quick to obey the wizards’ orders.
This left the Clay Giants to deal with who were trying to follow the Ar Warlers as they left. But the Nyeg Warlers would have none of this. So, they cut the giants’ escape rout and ordered them to surrender. With the hope that the Sorcerer would keep his word and give them
full control of the Clay Swamps and Blood Canyons after the war was over, they chose to continue to fight as they pressed eastward to join the Ar Warlers at the place where they were regrouping. This was a foolish mistake, because the elves were too quick for them, there magically enhanced thred-arrows too accurate. Besides, there were too many Candle Warriors wielding the one thing they were truly vulnerable to, fire.
In the end, the Clay Giants were all killed; but no one was happy about having to do the deed. The giants had once been allies. Grief, more than anger, rose out of their demise, though anger was not missing since too many died trying to keep the malleable giants from adding their strength to the enemy’s own.
Chapter 20: East of the Voyd River
Vlad ‘Aeroth was addressing those gathered around a large campfire. Unlike other kingdoms or realms, neither the Neflin nor Fane J’Shrym had tents that were large enough to house a sizeable meeting in, since such a thing could be easily seen and stealth was always their friend. Historically, both the elves and men travelled in smaller groups to avoid drawing too much attention to themselves. This made carrying a large tent or pavilion around impractical. Even with the demands of war being heaped on them, few tents had been constructed for a fight that none believed would be a protracted one.
“All the peoples and beings of the warl have gathered in this dreadful place where we find ourselves, in this bowl-shaped piece of terrain whose length I could ride across in a single morning if I spurred my mount into a trot. Thousands upon thousands of warriors have gathered here, ready to fill the bowl with their enemy’s blood.” Vlad’Aeroth shook his head in disbelief. His pale skin made it look like the moon had come to the meeting with the way his curly, black hair framed his face. “Who among us would have guessed we’d find ourselves here at a time like this?”
Looking at Mar’Gul’s spirit, Vald’Aeroth drew in a quick breath before blowing it out of his nose in a huff. “Alright, some of you here thought something like this would happen: Mar’Gul, Bacchanor and, no doubt, the Hammer Bearer. But not me. Not one of the Neflin. Nor any of the Brie’Shen. Burn it to ashes, not too long ago, the Brie’Shen had no idea they’d be calling themselves Fane J’Shrym.”
“You’re point being,” Ilya’Gar mistook Vlad’Aeroth’s words for complaining. And this wan’t a time to complain.
“Ilya’Gar, my point is that I’ve come to think we have a chance to win this thing. If something as unbelievable as this is happening,” Vald’Aeroth spread his arms wide like he was trying to embrace the hundreds of thousands he had spoken about, “why don’t we let our faith lose and believe for more?”
“Aye,” the Bro’Noon let out a snarling laugh, “point taken.”
A dry chuckle come from Vlad’Aeroth as he asked, “Well, who are we going after first: the army of Hag that block the way to the Hall of Voyd or the sea of whiteskins that stand with them?”
“They’re all Malamor,” Bacchanor added. The burnished bronze armor he saw flickering beneath the blue cloaks the Nyeg Warlers wore as he flew along in griffin form while scouting the area, armor that had the image of a blazing sun embossed on it just like their master had on his own star’s blood breastplate, led him to this conclusion.
“What?” Ay’Roan heard the Brown Wizard well enough. But he wasn’t certain he believed what he heard.
“The Sorcerer has cast the Spell of the White Hand on every one of the Malamor as far as I can tell: every man, woman, and child.” Bacchanor stroked his thick, curly, brown beard as he let his words sink in. “They no longer exist as a people. The Sorcerer has simply absorbed them into himself. They are all flesh of his flesh and bone of his bone in the most macabre way. And when we fight them, or any of the other whiteskins that fill Ar Warl’s ranks, we are fighting the Namless Evil itself. The Sorcerer now possesses hundreds of thousands of arms, just as many hands, and an equal number of legs. Its mouth is legion. The same with its eyes. And if any of us are unfortunate enough to survive a war the Evil One wins, our bodies will be added to those that the Spell of the White Hand infests. There will be very few the Sorcerer will leave unfettered by its spell, though I believe their will be some left so that the monster can sate its hunger for pain by feeding on the suffering that it will inflict on them.”
“Burn the fiend to ashes, it will!” Travyn had heard enough. “I’ll not let that happen. I swear this by the swords I and my brothers carry and by the hammer our father wields.”
Lamarik’s teeth looked unusually white with the backdrop of night behind her and the firelight washing up against her face as she smiled.
“I think Vlad’Aeroth has a handle on things,” the Hammer Bearer said as he nodded his head at the Fane J’Shrym Wylder, “With all of the unbelievable things that have happened to us, why not think more unbelievable things lay ahead?” But Jeaf didn’t say what those were, though all knew that one of the unbelievable things was focused on Muriel, since he was determined to see that his wife was freed from bondage.
“Well then,” Vlad’Aeroth repeated his question, “where do we strike first?”
“Monsters are coming,” a Neflin scout pushed his way into the meeting.
“What kind of monsters?” Leolynn, the Neflin chief asked as he stood to his feet.
“Huge, crawling things.” The scout looked from Leolynn to the others. “They’ll be on us before too long.”
“They’re the cretchym that live in the Voyd Gorge,” The rings of amber light grew brighter as Travyn spoke. “Rouse the Candle Wielders. Father, we’ll need the Hammer of Power. Ay’Roan. Vlad’Aeroth. Gather the Fane J’Shrym. Leolynn, you know what to do. Kaylan, J’Aryl… let’s go.”
Grour Blood, Bala, and Bacchanor, who now looked like the griffin’s twin with a wraith sitting on his back, took to the air. Six more griffin who were in camp, joined them as they flew off into the night sky.
****
When Travyn and the others reached the camp’s edge, a battle was already raging where the rebels who had come from across Ar Warl to join the Hammer Bearer were cutting and hacking at two monsters as big and as long as ten merchant wagons hitched together. The fighting was so fierce that the heads of the huge cretchym looked like they were covered with feathers from all the fletchings from the arrows that had been shot at them. With eyes as yellow as an eagle’s and configured like those humans had, the monsters were as eery to behold as they were frightening. The hands that were attached to the hundreds of legs each cretchym had added to the surreal impression the creatures exuded, hands that held more than one unfortunate rebel in their grasp.
Armed with poison-filled appendages that looked like two of the arms, reaching out from either side of the monsters’ head, had been turned into spears, the monstrosities had downed a score of the rebels who had the courage to fight them. More fell by the moment as the sharp appendages repeatedly plunged into the throng the monsters wound their way through. A cheer went up form the rebels when one of the appendages was cut off. An instant later the rebels stormed the side of the head that had been disarmed, sending the huge creature into a writhing defense of itself that threw bodies about like they were water it was casting off after taking a swim.
“Back away,” Bacchanor’s magically enhanced voice boomed out of the skies, though its griffin-like timber confused those who heard it at first. “Give the Candle Wileders room to work.”
With fiery shields appearing behind the rebels as they fought, the warriors began to work their way back to the promise of safety the shields brought with them. Still, more of them died as the second cretchym joined its companion in twisting and writhing in a way that used their massive bulk to crush as many of the rebels as they could as the warriors fled. Once the rebels were out of the way, the Candle Wielders began throwing fiery spears they made with candles that were lit with the Words of Power they uttered, those that continued to burn as they sunk into the monster’s bodies.
To the rebels’ surprise, creatures the size of wild hogs joined them as
they fled. Passing the fiery shields that were too few to erect a continuous barrier, the aggressive beasts ran into the camp and bulled the warriors over before trampling them under foot. Covered in hair as yellow as the mane sprouting out of the Sorcerer’s head, the insect-human cretchym were armed with mandibles that were used like long knives to cut at those that had knocked over. In time, hundreds of the beetle-like monsters swarmed into the camp on either side of where the Candle Wielders set up their defense.
It was sometime after the centipede-like cretchym had been destroyed before quiet settled on the camp, signaling that the heard of hog-sized cretchym had been dispatched as well.
****
Meeting with the griffin who came to report on the fighting that was taking place on the other side of the Voyd River, Jeaf and his sons were horrified to hear what Claude had done. Shomeron had suffered more than any other Nyeg Warl kingdom had during the Battle of the Breach, and it appeared they would do so again during the present violent conflict. If it wasn’t for the all or nothing nature of the war they were fighting, the merciful would have sent Bardensen and his decimated army back home to keep them from having to suffer more.
The griffin that gave the report were Muriel’s dear friends. With how many times their mother had called Shar Blood and Nazar Blood her sister and brother, the Oakenfel brothers refered to them as “Aunt Shar” and “Uncle Nazar.” When the boys were feeling rascally, they called them “Mittens” and “Slim” like their mother did when she spent time with them alone.
