by Ben Hale
He had failed.
I can help, a familiar voice echoed in his mind.
“Reiquen,” he breathed, and then thought, What do you have in mind?
If we give you the time, will it be enough? The phoenix spoke straight to his thoughts.
He ran through some quick calculations, and then thought, Yes, I can move some dwarves from higher in the city.
“Then it is done,” a deep voice spoke beside him.
Braon whirled and looked at Newhawk. His face was drawn and lined with fatigue, but his eyes were bright, and his expression full of determination. Reaching down, he placed a hand on Braon’s shoulder. “Promise me you will survive the day, and that you will protect my people.”
Braon’s heart sunk. “No, Newhawk, you can’t—”
“Promise me!”
Braon swallowed the sudden knot in his throat. “I promise,” he said in a whisper.
Newhawk nodded before spinning on his heels and striding purposefully towards the door. Rokei and Thacker just stood, open mouthed as the druid swept from the room, but Braon knew that his second in command understood the truth. There was no other way.
You have been a true friend, Reiquen thought into his mind, the silent voice resigned. Know that you have earned the respect of a firebird.
Braon felt a drop break free and trickle down his face. Choking the words out, he said, “Thacker, send the stone mages from higher in the city to seal the eastern tunnel. Tell Val-Trisian to do the best she can until then.”
“But they won’t make it in time—” he protested.
“Do it now, Thacker,” Braon said, “Or Newhawk’s sacrifice will mean nothing.”
The orders sent, they could only watch and wait—and pray.
Stepping right through the magical map, Braon walked to the south face of the room. Enchanted as it was, he looked out over the writhing mass of black fiends as if he stood at the top of the great tree Le Runtáriel. Without warning, the great firebird burst into view below them.
“To the last breath,” Braon whispered.
***
Newhawk patted the great bird’s neck as they glided down towards the base of Azertorn, dodging Skorpian spears on the way. Although he knew this would be the end of his life, he felt oddly at peace, and the warm air that flew around him, heated by the phoenix he rode, reminded him of better days.
Like the day you summoned me? Reiquen thought.
Of course, he thought back with a grin. I hope you have no regrets my friend.
The answer came clearly, Of course not. We started our journey together, and we will end it together.
Newhawk sighed, his sad smile fading from his lips, to be replaced by a firm resolve. “Let’s make it count then,” he said, concentrating on the massive bird's mind until the two of them linked together.
A moment later, they plummeted downward, dodging well aimed spears, and launched a massive fireball from their wingtips to the base of the cliff. It struck true, blasting a wall of flame to block any from entering the broken gates of Azertorn. Fiends screamed as they burned, dying before they could get to the lake.
Banking sharply to avoid the retaliating salvo, they flung another fireball, striking the gates again. Now the raging flames engulfed the area, blocking the fiend's path. Swerving, the two of them fought to avoid the rain of deadly missiles, but this close to them, they could only survive unscathed for so long. After several blazing attacks, they were too slow.
Two long shafts found their marks. One pierced right through one wing, but the other grazed the phoenix’s chest, sending bloody sparks and red feathers scattering behind them. Reiquen screamed in pain, and fought for altitude. Laboring to reach a safe height, they both knew it signaled the beginning of the end.
Newhawk gasped, clutching his own chest. Feverishly, he leaned forward, feeling more in tune with his Joré than ever before. Urging him downward, Reiquen folded his wings and dived, plummeting towards the black army below.
Wind whistled past Newhawk, but he didn’t feel it. With his mind sinking more and more into his companion, he felt the light begin to gather around them. White light streaked past the plunging phoenix and his rider, blending with the billowing flames that cascaded behind them.
The white magic built faster than they could fall, until suddenly a blinding flash of light enveloped them. The next instant Newhawk disappeared—just before the firebird struck the ground.
Three hundred paces from the cliff, the magic detonated in a single, explosive discharge. Red flames and naked magic exploded in a thunderclap of sound and energy, hurtling outward in an enormous sphere of power. Faster than thought, it streaked in every direction for hundreds of paces, incinerating fiends without mercy. Heedless of their cries of agony, the whirlwind shredded the black forms.
Just as the flames were about to reach into Azertorn, the fire-cloud began to subside. Dissipating as quickly as it had come, it left a vast expanse of ground, shaped in a perfect circle, blazing with white fire, preventing any fiends from entering the city for almost an hour.
***
“What just happened?” Rokei asked, his tone confused.
Braon shook his head. “I’m not sure, but I don’t think they planned that. That was something else entirely.”
Thacker blew out his breath. “Whatever they did, they gave us the time we needed. All three of the generals below just reported they were able to fight back. The tunnels are now sealed. No fiends will be entering the city from the lower caverns.”
Braon nodded but his thoughts lingered on the great man's sacrifice. “Send the black elves and dwarves to strengthen the gardens, but have Loken take the elves to the top battlements.” When Thacker nodded, he added soberly, “Let me know when their bodies are spotted.”
But when the fires had finally diminished to scattered pockets of dying flames, there was no sign of Reiquen or Newhawk.
Chapter 29: Diversion
Siarra sat with her eyes closed, waiting at the very end of the corridor. With her sight stretched to the fortress, she made sure each of the other forces was in place. Immersed as she was in her magic, the world of stone around her appeared as a solid, ash colored gray. Fifty feet above her, hundreds of thousands of dark swirls of light moved. Tinged with red, the fiends were an evil sight. She did her best to look past them.
The humans, with the shortest distance to go from the splitting tunnels, were first. As planned, a single flameless torch flared, but the change was only visible to the humans in the tunnel, and her. Like a star blinking in a black night, she saw a second torch brighten and go dark. The giants were in position. Now all she had to do was wait for—
There, she saw another twinkling spot of light south of the citadel and positioned beneath the road that led to the valley. With everyone in place, she knew it was time for her part. Although there had once been a ladder that led to the surface, it had long since crumbled. She was going to reach the surface her way.
She paused, gathering her courage, wishing she wasn’t so afraid. Faces of those she cared about swirled through her mind, Jack, Taryn, Liri, and all the rest. Last, her mothers’ face appeared in her mind. She missed her so much it hurt, and she hoped that her sacrifice this day would honor her mother’s memory. Fighting the wave of sadness, she readied herself for her last moments.
Taking a deep breath to quiet her fluttering heart, she reached outward and used her magic to grab the stone around her. A moment later, the rock beneath her began to rise, lifting her towards the surface. At the last possible second, she blew the top above her and ascended into the valley
As her head passed into the gray light, her heart stuttered. Quare, skorpians, krakas, and sipers stretched away from her in a roiling black sea of snarling flesh. Sliding to a stop twenty feet above the ground, she stared at the endless horde, her courage wavering. Positioned as she was in the center of the destroyed valley, the army of Draeken turned as one at her sudden appearance, but she didn’t wait for them to flo
od towards her.
Lifting her hands above her head, she brought them down with her fists clenched, sending a blast of air exploding outward. Hundreds of fiends were tossed away, left to rain down on those a hundred paces away. Even though the spell didn’t kill many, it cleared the ground around her, giving her the breathing room she desired.
“Come and get me,” she said under breath, reaching out for the energy swirling all around her.
As if they heard her challenge, a rising roar began to sweep the valley, and then the black tide descended, shrieking for her death. Flooding towards her in a great tidal wave of black and red, she began her grisly work.
Hundreds died in the first few seconds.
But the loss wasn’t even noticed.
***
Jack crouched in the crawlspace beneath the ancient mechanism as the two fire giants, Aiden and Dulnak, worked. They had signaled their readiness to Siarra a couple of minutes ago, but there had yet to be any sign of movement above them.
“Shh!” Aiden growled when Dulnak dropped a tool. “Do you want to bring them down on us?”
Jack peered upward, even though he knew there was little to see. Shifting to look through a crack in the stone, he listened carefully. “I think we’re clear,” he whispered to the two giants. “But be more careful.”
Dulnak cursed under his breath and the two went back to work. Jack took the time to examine the room around him. Impressive at any age, the ancient machine workings had been designed to drop the enormous bridge above them in case of an attack. Gears the size of wagons sat coated in rust. Long metal bars connected the various parts to an enormous winch. Supposedly, turning the winch would cause the supports for the bridge to break, but the machine had most likely never been used for its intended purpose.
Hearing a rumble, Jack peeked through a gap in the stone beside him. Spanning almost half a mile, the arch of stone was a feat of engineering that could only have been built by the dwarves. Directly above their position, the north end sat on the mountain of Xshaltheria. The southern end had been placed on a neighboring hill, where the ruins of a small fort remained. From there, the old road descended into the valley below—where Siarra was fighting for her life.
Shifting a little, Jack squinted to get a look at the single support that held the long bridge aloft. Constructed in two towers of stone, they reached skyward for over three hundred feet. The mere fact that it still stood spoke volumes of the dwarves that had built it.
Another rumble came from above, and this time, Jack was able to see the fiends flowing downward, into the valley. He grinned savagely. “Looks like they took the bait,” he whispered. “How long until you two are ready?”
“Five minutes,” Aiden said, “No more.”
Jack shook his head, irritated that his role was that of a watchdog, but the giants needed a watcher, and it was the closest of any position to Siarra. Even if there was nothing he could do, at least he could be close to her. He briefly ran through his inventory, toying with the idea of rushing to her side. The thought appealed to him, assuming he was actually able to help—which, he hated to admit, was unlikely.
He smirked as he thought of the speedstone hidden in one of his secret pouches. Imbued with a special air magic spell, it had the ability to control the wielder’s weight and speed. Although its usage time was limited, he could run a couple of miles before it gave out. Master thieves had become adept at using one to jump hundreds of feet in a single bound, making it invaluable to their trade. It was also one of the guild secrets, and one of the few that the general populous knew nothing about.
Siarra is just two miles away, he thought, resisting the impulse to reach for the secret pouch. Not for the first time, he wondered what it was that attracted him to her. Since the moment he’d laid eyes on her he’d thought of her as the most stunning woman he’d ever seen, but her looks weren’t all that drew him to her. Perhaps it was her power or confidence? He shook his head as the train of thought circled back to when he’d first met her. Whatever it was, he felt an undeniable force drawing him to her.
A change in the sounds above pulled him from his thoughts, and he peeked again to see that the majority of the fiends had passed. Hopefully, enough had departed the ancient fortress for their plan to work. It was time to seal them out.
“It’s done,” he exclaimed, sliding out of the lookout point and darting back to the machine. “Let’s do it.”
Aiden growled and pulled himself out from under the rusted wheel. “We may have a problem.”
“What?” Jack demanded. “I thought you could do this?”
Aiden grunted and pointed at the gear he’d been working on. “One of the shafts is almost rusted through. When we turn it, it might snap from the stress.”
“Do you think it will hold?”
“I don’t know,” the fire giant said, moving to the crank. “But there is only one way to find out.” Gesturing for Dulnak’s help, he prepared to turn it. Once they were ready, the two of them leaned against the two sides, straining with all their might—but it didn’t budge.
Jack snorted. “I thought giants were supposed to be strong.”
Dulnak growled back at him, “It was built for a score of dwarves to turn, human, and the gear is frozen with age. Care to try?”
He smirked and swept his hands out wide. “I don’t want to make you look bad.”
Aiden snarled, but before he could say anything, the crank shifted a bit, then more, and then finally began to turn. The sound of metal grinding creaked so loudly it reverberated throughout the room, and Jack winced. “If they aren’t deaf, I am sure they heard that.”
But suddenly a loud rending and snapping noise came from the machine and the crank spun freely, causing Dulnak to stumble.
“By Skorn!” Aiden bellowed, leaping to the broken gear. “Dulnak, get over here. We are going to have to melt it into shape and hope it holds!”
The sound of pounding feet caused three heads to snap upward. Cursing under his breath, Jack bounded to the door. “Fix the machine! I will buy you some time!”
He caught a glimpse of flames beaming from their hands before he disappeared up the stairs. Leaping up the steps with the agility of a panther, he reached ground level in no time. Passing the iron door that rang with blows, he flew upward into the ancient guard tower. Reaching the third level, he ducked into a room and raced to the balcony.
Careful to not reveal his presence, Jack paused to scan the courtyard. The tower in which he stood was situated on the Northwest corner, matching the remains of three other guard towers located on the other points of the square. A large gate dominated the south side, its iron colored and bent with age. Partially open, it led out onto the great bridge. Broken battlements spanned above it, connecting the southwest and southeast towers.
Directly below him, hundreds of fiends massed at the guard tower’s base, pummeling on the door he’d passed. It would not hold for long. To make matters worse, some of the fiends that had gone down into the valley were beginning to turn around and come back.
He had two choices after he attracted their attention. He could either draw them up towards the citadel, or across the bridge—which at any moment would begin to fall. Unfortunately, the bridge was the only path that would help Taryn succeed.
Growling at the prospect, he bounded to the edge of the balcony and leapt south to a neighboring ledge. Moving with speed and agility, he raced from one balcony to the next until he reached the gate. Jumping from the last ledge onto the battlements above the portcullis, he heaved himself on top of them—and cursed as he saw the bridge.
Decorative tone beams soared above it, held aloft by pillars of shaped rock. Collectively they formed thin pathways that lead to the opposite end of the bridge. He'd intended on using them to cross—but the supports at this point had given way. Casting about for another route, he saw that the trusses extending from the southeastern tower were still intact.
Turning, he picked up his pace as he crossed the
road to the next guard tower, listening for his cue. Just as he reached the opposite side, he heard it. In a rending of metal, the door to the machine had begun to yield. Knowing he couldn't delay it any longer, he reached into a pouch and dropped a small pellet to the road below. Without looking back, he began to climb the tower. Counting the seconds, he ricocheted upward, catching a higher balcony with one hand.
Ascending fast, he heard the smoke bomb detonate and grinned. The disorienting blast of light, sound and smoke would draw attention to him, leaving the machine clear for another few minutes while the fiends chased him. Snarls and furious bellows signaled he’d been sighted, and the pounding on the broken door came to a halt.
Reaching the highest level, Jack threw himself onto the top of the turret. He rolled to his feet and sprinted towards the bridge. The moment his foot touched the edge of the roof, he leapt up and out. Sailing through the air, he caught the nearest crossbar.
With a grunt of effort, he pulled himself onto a stone buttress. Scarcely a foot wide, he stood on the end of beam that would take him to the south end of the bridge—if the fiends didn't get to him first. Balanced on the precarious path, he began to run. With several hundred feet to the ravine on one side, and a sixty foot drop to the bridge on the other, any mistake would leave him tumbling to a hard death.
He didn’t misstep.
The howling of angry fiends pounded in his ears, causing him to surge forward, ignoring the quare that were climbing the supports all around him. Like giant ants, they clawed their way up the columns on both sides of the bridge, hungry for his blood. Out of nowhere, a skorpian spear came at him, but he leaned to the side and kept running.
Dashing across the beam, he reached the center of the bridge . . . and then he saw it. The path he was running on had crumbled ahead, leaving a gap over thirty feet wide. He didn’t hesitate. He reached the end and jumped. Arcing through the air with his hands wind-milling to maintain balance, he reached his feet out.
