by Ben Hale
His lips twitched. “Dwarves are so . . . direct,” he said. “They see what needs to be done and head right for it.”
“So why are we moving closer to the battle?”
Murai winked at her. “While commander Braon could see the battle, he could watch our front line for us. With that no longer possible, we must be able to see it for ourselves.”
They crested a small hill and the battle came into view. Brynn stopped, stunned at the sheer volume of moving people. For the last three days she had listened and felt the effects of the battle, but had never been close enough to see for herself. Tens of thousands of dwarves as well as a smattering of the other races fought to defend their four mile stretch of cliff, dying by the hundreds. Snarling fiends leapt over the cliff and launched themselves at the stockier dwarves, perishing on their braced axes.
A series of explosions went off as stonesap detonated, tossing fiends into the air and causing Brynn to flinch. From the river on her left, to the edge of the still burning black elf contingent, the dwarves bled and died to keep the black creatures from overwhelming them.
Feeling sick, she tore her eyes away from the battle, only to see a line of heavily laden wagons wending their way through weapon stands and barricades. Limp figures had been piled high, and even as she stared, the wagon stopped to add to its load. Nauseous, she took a deep breath to steady herself—but immediately regretted it. The air reeked of death and blood, causing her to gag when the wind swept past her.
“It gets better,” Murai said, touching her shoulder.
She looked at him with wide eyes and her hand on her mouth, muffling her desperate question, “How can such a thing ever get better?”
Murai looked away, his expression full of sorrow. “Your heart will begin to harden, until it no longer shocks you to see someone bleed and die.”
Brynn tilted her head back and looked skyward, desperately trying not to vomit. The sun, partly eclipsed by the vast cloud above the black army, seemed to be willing her to not relinquish her hope. Then the images of what she had just witnessed, magnified by her other senses, assailed her with crushing force. She closed her eyes and fought against them, struggling even as her resolve weakened.
Brynn, it will be ok.
Her father’s mental voice rose up and slid between her and the gaping dark.
How do you know?! she wailed.
Because I trust Braon, he thought to her.
At the mention of the young commander a lifeline appeared, as strong as iron within her mind. From the moment she had met him he had exuded confidence, and even in her memory of him, that confidence seeped into her. Drawing as much strength as she could, she opened her eyes and looked at Murai.
“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice full of compassion.
She nodded and, without a word, began striding down the slope towards the new tent being erected for Onix. Murai fell into step beside her and said, “Unless I tell you to, do not leave my side. Understood?”
She glanced at him and saw an intensity to his eyes that she had not seen until that moment. Forcing a smile, she said, “Worried I might get killed up here?”
He raised his thin eyebrows and nodded.
She gulped down her fear and hastily agreed. A moment later they arrived at the tent amidst a bustle of activity. Joining in, Brynn did her best to avoid looking at the bloody battle less than a hundred feet from where she stood. It was unsettling how quickly she became numb to the sounds of the dying.
She stopped for a break around noon and gulped down water, pausing in her efforts to bind the tent flaps when Onix and Braon needed to communicate. Then she continued using rope to tie the canvas to the thick wooden poles. Several times she refused the help of others, focused on her task almost to the point of forgetting where she was.
—A roar shattered her false serenity, causing her to jump.
Sprinting around the tent, she saw what had occurred. Several of the giant fiend captains had gotten a foothold on the cliff—directly in front of the command tent. Six were already in view, with more climbing into sight. Brushing aside the desperate attempts to slay them, they formed a phalanx before any of the magic users could mount a united defense.
A callused hand yanked on her shoulder, causing her to spin and face General Onix.
“Tell Braon we have been breached!” his rough voice barked.
She passed on the message and within seconds received new orders. “Summon the druid contingent to attack from the left flank, and place your mages on the right. You hold the center and rally your dwarves.” She struggled to keep her voice calm as she had been trained, but the sounds of the crumbling line were deafening.
In seconds Onix had called the orders and begun marching towards the front, gathering his forces into a tight spear with shields facing front. Dwarves added to the group on all sides, answering the bellowed call from their commander. The spear shape swelled, forming a solid mass of armored dwarves, surrounded by overlapping shields, headed by Onix.
Movement from the right drew her eye, and she turned to see several druids, mounted and riding towards the foray. She gasped as she saw the grace and ferocity of several tigers and lions, a couple of armored rhinos, and one elephant. Compared to the dwarves, their formation seemed scattered. Then one of the lions roared, and the ferocious sound carried over the din like a battle cry, galvanizing even more into action.
At that instant, chunks of hard stone launched towards the black blot on the cliff that had swelled to over fifty fiends. Dwarven mages waited until the stones struck, then detonated the stonesap hidden inside the boulders. Torn fiends flew in every direction—but the rest merely snarled and began to charge.
The four groups collided in a titanic crunch of flesh, metal, and bone. Fiends roared in pain, animals bellowed, and dwarves sang their battle song. The defenders had numbers and courage. The attackers had strength and fury.
After an eternal moment where both sides refused to yield, the fiends began to give ground, until only three krakas remained. Brynn breathed a sigh of relief as she watched the allied races regain control of the defenses . . .
—The remaining fiend captains bolted . . . straight towards her!
Plowing through defenders, they were struck on all sides. The elephant druid managed to catch one, its tusk shattering its armor and crushing it to the ground. A well aimed fireball and hundreds of axes managed to take down the other, but the last kraka shrugged aside every attack. Passing the last of the defenders it picked up speed as it streaked towards her, a titan of tattered flesh bent on her destruction.
Brynn started to turn and run, but the creatures’ roar held her fast, her terror freezing every piece of her frame, shivering across her skin and fluttering her heart into immobility.
—Without warning a solitary figure darted forward, a katsana appearing in his hands. Ten paces from the charging behemoth, Murai leapt upward and launched himself off a weapons stand, his thin form lifting into the air in front of the massive kraka.
Impossibly fast, the beast lifted an enormous obsidian sword into Murai’s path—but the elf was even quicker, twisting in midair to fly a hairsbreadth to the side. In a flash of lightning steel, the long katsana struck just once as he sailed over its shoulder, but it struck true. The mighty kraka tumbled to the ground and rolled to a stop less than ten feet from Brynn’s frozen form.
In seconds Murai had landed and returned to her side. “Are you alright?” he asked.
She nodded, oddly aware of the dark blood still on the long blade and the unmistakable voice of Onix bellowing at his forces to reform their ranks. “I’ll be okay,” she mumbled.
Murai’s soft smile caught her eye as he said. “I’ll make sure you stay that way.”
Watching him casually wipe his sword clean, she didn't doubt his words.
***
Gaze eased himself onto the old horse, suppressing the urge to vomit as the animal shifted.
“Are you up to this?” Lexi asked, alr
eady astride her own mount.
His lips tightened and he willed his stomach to settle. Then he forced a smile. “I have been stuck in that hole for too long, listening to people dying. I want to help.”
She eyed him for a minute. Then she shrugged and swung her steed towards the northern gate of Azertorn. Gaze nudged his horse to ride next to her, and heard the remaining Riverguard fall into line behind them. The four survivors had suffered various wounds, but had been healed enough to fight. It made him wonder if anyone would survive the war unscathed. Unable to resist, he looked back as they went through the gate.
Smoke and ash rose from the city, obscuring the view and tingeing the air with its scent. The distant cries of the dying mingled with the clash of metal as the elven people defended their city.
“It’s hard to listen to without wanting to join them,” Arzai said, where he too had stopped to look back.
“You have no idea,” Gaze murmured, feeling an ache that did not come from being magesick.
Finally he couldn’t bear it and turned away, directing his steed to follow Lexi onto the patch of ground outside the gates. A hundred paces across, it was bordered by the two branches of the river that wrapped around the city. Together, they formed an ever-flowing moat that protected Azertorn on top of the cliff.
Their small group rode towards the eastern bridge that spanned the river, passing the few guards that had been stationed there. Half-way across he caught up to Lexi and said, “I’m glad we were able to get the horses. I thought we were going to have to walk.”
She reached down to pat the neck of her aging mount, “Our rides come from the stock of older animals, too slow or sick to use in battle. They have been carrying supplies or extra forces to battalions along the cliff.”
Arzai spoke up from behind them. “How many archers are being sent to reinforce Eastern Falls?”
“Four hundred or so,” Lexi replied, throwing a look back at the ranger. “Prince Graden reported a shortage of ranged soldiers, so we have been sent to help with their night command.”
Gaze looked away, hiding a smile. He suspected that Lexi had volunteered the remaining Riverguard to join the archers of Eastern Falls. Since that battalion was from Talinor, he hoped it was because of him. He doubted he would get a chance to fight, but perhaps he would have an opportunity to assist in some minor capacity. Doing nothing had been agony.
“Can I ask you a question?” Lexi asked, pulling him from his thoughts. When he nodded, she asked, “How well did you know the prince?”
“Which one?” Gaze replied, stalling. The death of Anders had been the last thing he’d seen before he blacked out from using too much magic.
“Both.”
He sighed, recognizing he wouldn’t be able to sway her from her curiosity. “I kind of grew up with the princes. Their father was the only father I knew.” He shrugged and added, “They were like brothers.”
“What was Prince Anders like?” she asked.
“Handsome, tough, and good with most any weapon—and any woman.”
She laughed, but it sounded odd and out of place with the sounds of war coming from the clifftop to their right. The tired soldiers around them looked up at the sound, as if it were something they had never heard.
Uncomfortable at the attention, he added, “Prince Graden was good too, but in a different way. Level-headed and smart, he always paid more attention to his studies than to the girls in the classroom. If our people survive, I am sure he will be a great king someday.”
Their conversation paused as they worked their way past a knot of shuffling soldiers. Once clear, Lexi said, “When we rescued you from Herosian I thought you were his brother. It wasn't until later that I learned that you were not."
Gaze sighed, catching sight of a wagon carrying the dead away from the battlefield. Limp limbs hung from the overburdened cart, and he looked away.
“I can’t believe he's gone,” he said, feeling the sting of the loss once again.
“His sacrifice saved your life, you know,” Lexi said. “Perhaps it saved us all.”
“What do you mean?”
Rather than Lexi, it was Arzai that responded, kicking his horse to get close enough to answer. “His cavalry, led by his father, you and him, delayed the fiends several days. If they had arrived a week early . . .” He shrugged and swept a hand towards the fortifications along the cliff.
“I know,” Gaze said. “But it doesn’t change that every single one of them was killed in the effort. Prince Anders, King Drayson, and two hundred valiant cavalry were all slain. And I can’t even count how many forests and cities we burned behind us. Talinor lies in ashes because of us.”
It hurt to admit what he felt, but the guilt had been weighing on him. With Anders gone, and Graden leading a hundred thousand men, he had felt alone.
Lexi’s disapproving glare caught his eye, and when he met her gaze, she said, “Talinor may be destroyed, but it can be rebuilt—just like our nation. Even the forest of Numenessee can be regrown. But the dead do not come back. Your two hundred cavalry gave the people of Lumineia a chance at survival.”
“We couldn’t have done it without you,” Gaze said, glancing at each of the five elves. “You helped us escape from Famine, the trap they laid for us, and countless other battles. It’s because of you that we fulfilled our duty—and the reason I am alive.”
Arzai touched his legendary bow and looked skyward. “It’s because of those we lost.”
For several minutes they plodded forward in silence, listening to the sounds of battle nearby. Finally they arrived at the command tent for Eastern Falls. General Graden was already outside, chewing on a piece of dried meat as he listened to the young woman by his side.
Gaze felt a rush of gratitude that Graden was still alive. He hadn’t been back to visit him, and it was good to know that at least someone had survived. Four days of battle had taken a toll on the prince though. Dirty and haggard, the prince-turned-general looked like he'd lost weight. Recalling the wagon of dead, Gaze wondered what it felt like to carry such a burden.
As General Graden caught sight of them and raised a hand in greeting, Gaze saw the weight reflected in his eyes. With a start he realized that he had contributed to it. When Gaze had last seen Graden, the prince had charged him with taking care of his older brother, a charge he had failed.
What can I say to your brother after I failed him? Gaze thought, wondering what Anders would say.
Tell him that he makes a good general—but that I would have been better.
Gaze couldn't help himself, he grinned as he dismounted. The expression must have caught Graden off guard, because his eyebrows twitched in puzzlement.
"Something amusing?" Graden asked, embracing him.
"Just thinking about what Anders would say right now."
Graden's features begged the question, so Gaze told him. Lined with fatigue, Graden's face split into a grin as moisture glistened in his eyes.
"He would say that, wouldn't he."
Gaze started to laugh, but the humor couldn't stop his tears. Graden joined his levity, his own tears leaving furrows in the dirt on his cheeks, and together they laughed at the words of their lost brother.
The light mood soon evaporated, leaving the two of them wiping the wetness from their faces. Unable to stop himself, Gaze exclaimed, "I'm sorry Graden. I tried to . . ." He couldn’t find the words, so he looked away.
"It's not your fault, Gaze. Your friend here" —he gestured to Lexi— "told me how you tried to save him, but we both know he was as stubborn as a goat. He wouldn't have wanted to be the one rescued."
Well that's true, Anders voice echoed in Gaze's head, and both statements caused him to grin. Despite the loss, the pain, and all the death, it felt good to talk about him. Although Gaze had been adopted into the family, both the princes had been the best family he could have asked for. Anders would not have wanted them to feel sorrow. Even in death, he would want the last laugh.
Feeling li
ke a burden had been lifted, Gaze nodded. Reaching to his hand he removed the ring that Anders had given him moments before he'd died. They had gone out of their way to retrieve it from Herosian, and it had been one of the king's most prized possessions. Handing it to Graden, he said, "He would have wanted you to have it."
Graden accepted the gift with a tight smile, controlling his emotions. Rolling it over in his fingers, he voiced the inscription. "Remember the end."
"What does that mean?" Lexi asked..
Graden 's eyes brightened with a determination that had been muted before. "Right now it means that this war is going to end, and we must not forget that."
"Then first we must survive," Lexi said, her eyes narrowing. "Where would you have us stationed?"
Graden jerked his chin to the side. "The eastern flank has sustained heavy losses. You can reinforce their ranged line." He reached for a spear on a rack next to him. Tossing it to Gaze he said, "Since you are magesick, you can use one of these."
Gaze reached out and clasped Graden's arm. "We will do what we can."
"It was good to see you again brother," Graden replied, and then flashed a warning look at Lexi. "Make sure I get to see him again."
"To my last breath," she said, her chin rising to accept the challenge.
Let's hope it doesn’t come to that, Anders voice whispered to Gaze. At least not before you've kissed her.
Gaze grinned, feeling a rush of courage that he hadn't known in days. Embracing Graden one last time, he departed with Lexi at his side. You know she has to kiss me back, he thought to Anders.
The reply came with a mocking laugh. She will.
Chapter 16: Reinforcements
“The last wall is about to fall,” Thacker said.
We will not survive then, Braon thought, his heart sinking into his stomach.
When he didn’t answer, Thacker's voice became nervous. “What do you want Golic to do?”
