by C. Greenwood
If Nakul heard her request, he made no answer.
* * *
Not long after Varian Nakul left, Eydis and Geveral were dragged out of the little house that had served as their prison. They were forced to join a long line of soldiers heading out of the ruins of Arneroche. Nakul had apparently meant what he said about marching toward Endguard right away.
To Eydis’s surprise, Geveral’s staff was returned to him as she had asked. But the guards made no other concessions to the dryad’s injuries, requiring their prisoners to keep a pace that soon had Geveral visibly struggling. Eydis feared her friend would not last long at such a rate.
As they left Arneroche with its still smoking rooftops and set out across the valley, Eydis watched her enemies. She must stay alert if she were to discover their weaknesses and find a way to exploit them. She still clung to the hope of eventual escape.
The undead soldiers who had guarded them the previous night still watched over Geveral and her now, forming a ring immediately around them. Eying the weapons they carried, Eydis noted these were more sophisticated than the rusted weapons and farming implements the enemy had fought with at Asincourt. More than likely, many of the new weapons had been stolen off the corpses of the fallen defenders at the seclusionary.
Eydis knew even if she managed to snatch a sword or dagger from the nearest guards, she would not get far. Beyond the ring of close guards were more undead soldiers. And beyond those walking corpses were the living soldiers Varian Nakul had enspelled and pressed into his army.
In their way, these dead-eyed villagers were more unnerving than the walking corpses. These men and women looked like ordinary folk, fit and healthy and in better fighting condition than their decaying companions. But Eydis sensed in them an emptiness that went beyond their vacant expressions and unquestioning obedience. With the robbing of their wills, they had lost something of what had made them human. She would get no help from these, Eydis was certain. They were beyond reason and even more deeply enslaved to Rathnakar than the undead.
And so, freedom remaining unobtainable, Eydis prepared herself for a long march. Endguard was many days journey away, but Varian Nakul sped his army as if he wished to cross the entire Lythnian kingdom in a single day. The valley with its winding river disappeared behind them. The morning wore into afternoon, and still they did not stop, either to eat or to rest.
By the approach of evening, Eydis was surprised at the speed with which such a large troop had put the rocky hills behind them. There were hundreds marching under Varian Nakul’s command. Maybe more than a thousand now that their ranks had been swelled by the inhabitants of Arneroche. How many more villages, she wondered, would be raided along the way? How large would Rathnakar’s army be by the time it reached Endguard?
For the first time, she considered the Raven King’s ultimate goal in sending his army to the fortress. Endguard was strategically positioned where the corners of three countries met. The Lythnian kingdom and the barbarian land of Kroad occupied opposite sides of the border. The one-time enemies formed an uneasy alliance against the wild inhabitants of the Lostlands, who occasionally encroached on the territories of both countries. Built to guard the shared border, the fortress of Endguard was uniquely positioned to be manned by both Lythnian and Kroadian troops. Or so it had been until infamously betrayed from within and overrun by foul Lostland creatures. In the time since, the fortress had never been retaken.
What did Rathnakar intend to do at Endguard? To wage war on the Lostland beasts or to ally with them? It was difficult to imagine anyone uniting such reasonless creatures as the winged aviads and ravenous minohides. But then, Rathnakar had seemingly called aviads to fight for him once before, sending them to attack the dryad village of Treeveil. If they had dared fly so deep into Lythnia once before to do his bidding, what else might they dare at his command?
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
As the hours and the miles passed, Eydis grew increasingly aware of Geveral straining to keep up. Probably because he was unwilling to test the patience of their guards, he had made an obvious effort not to slow them down. But now, Eydis could see by the sweat on his brow and the lines of pain around his eyes that he had pushed himself to the limit.
“My friend needs to rest,” she informed the nearest guard. “We must stop now.”
At first, her demand was ignored. Geveral tried to reassure her he was fine. But Eydis continued to insist until, finally, either weary of her complaints or of Geveral’s slow gait, the guards gave in.
A number of wagons and horses to draw them had been taken from Arneroche to haul pilfered supplies for the army. Geveral and Eydis were placed in the back of one of these, and then the march continued onward.
Relieved at the opportunity to rest her feet, Eydis tried to distract Geveral from the pain of his leg.
“What do you carry in there? Anything we could eat?” she asked, indicating the knotted-up handkerchief dangling from his belt.
Geveral grimaced when the wagon jolted over a rut in the road. He glanced around, as though to be sure no one was listening.
“It is the ashes that are all that remains of Keir,” he explained in a low voice. “After he incinerated himself together with the shadow monster, I collected what was left. I don’t know what compelled me to do it. Maybe…”
He glanced at her, then looked away quickly. “I don’t know why I did it,” he repeated. “Maybe I thought there would come a proper time and place for scattering his remains.”
Some instinct told Eydis that wasn’t at all why he had saved the ashes. “You thought I could bring him back from those ashes,” she realized. “You want me to use my lifetouch to return Keir to the living.”
“No,” he said hastily. “Maybe that thought did enter my mind. But Keir himself asked me never to let you do it. He warned that it would be impossible to bring him back without restoring also the shadow monster he sacrificed himself to destroy.”
“And you think he was right?” she asked. “Even though Keir with his powers would surely prove a useful asset in the fight against Rathnakar? You think we should give him up as forever lost?”
“I think the decision is not ours to make,” Geveral answered carefully.
Eydis wanted to argue the point. But the truth was maybe she was wrong. Maybe her desire to save Keir was not for the good of the cause but born out of her sense of personal responsibility. Aside from the three catalysts, he was the only survivor out of Asincourt who had a chance to live. It still disturbed her to remember the defenders who had lost their lives that day and to think of the fleeing adherents and dwarf children who had not long survived them. Perhaps a part of her thought if she could save just one of their number, all that had happened would have meaning. Then she would not have failed Keir as she had her small sister, Asfrid.
But she shook her head, rejecting that last thought. Keir was not Asfrid. The death of her sister at the hands of the shadow monster must not be allowed to color her decision. Besides, who knew if it was even in her power to restore one whose remains were represented by only a handful of ash? And assuming she succeeded, who could say whether she would be faced with the Keir she remembered or with a mindless, dead-eyed creature like those surrounding her?
She set the uncomfortable question aside for the time being and changed the subject. “Speaking of unique abilities, I don’t suppose one of your thunder storms could help us out of the situation we’re in?” she asked.
Geveral shook his head, looking regretful. “If I see an effective way to use my powers for our good, I won’t hesitate,” he said. “But alone I can do little against an army of this size. The best I could manage would be to blast a few enemies with lightning. And such a display would surely provoke our captors into killing us at once.”
Seeing little hope in that direction, Eydis turned her thoughts toward another source of possible help. “Where do you think Orrick is right now?” she asked quietly.
Geveral glanced cautiously at the near
est guards, before answering soberly, “There’s no knowing. I only hope he’s made it farther than we did.”
* * *
They traveled on until the rocky hills and green valley near Arneroche were a distant memory. The landscape changed, grass growing sparser and trees mostly replaced by low scrubby bushes. The ground they covered was dry, and there was little shade or water to be found.
As twilight descended, the army and its supply wagons finally came to a halt. Eydis had begun to fear they would never be fed again, but now she and Geveral were at last given a meal of dried beef and the chance to drink from a full waterskin.
While chewing the tough beef, she caught a glimpse of Varian Nakul passing through the surrounding crowd of soldiers. But he didn’t approach the prisoners. She took this as an indication he had still not received any orders from his master regarding their fate. Under the circumstances, she could only be grateful for that.
Darkness was settling over the camp. A guard came to bind Eydis’s and Geveral’s hands and to tie the two of them to a stumpy dead tree. With her back against the tree trunk and Geveral hidden from view on the other side, Eydis had nothing to look at but the fires blazing to life across the camp. In the failing light, the scene of living corpses and enspelled villagers quarrelling and roaming about was nightmarish. Eydis closed her ears to the harsh sounds of the undead fighting among one another and looked to the starry sky above, trying to keep alive the last small flame of hope.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Eydis was startled awake by a commotion in the night. Cries rose all around, and the ground shook with the running of many feet. Still half dazed from sleep, she tried to make out what was happening.
The camp seemed to be under attack. But under the faint light of the moon it was difficult to see from where the threat came. Some of the undead appeared to be fleeing, running past Eydis and Geveral to disappear into the night. Others were amassing at a point nearby from which a strange screaming noise arose.
It was an unfamiliar inhuman sound that blasted Eydis’s eardrums and made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up.
“What is it?” she yelled to Geveral over the tumult. “What’s happening?”
“Kalandhia,” Geveral answered, sounding at once amazed and thrilled.
Although the name meant nothing to Eydis, her hopes were lifted by the excitement in Geveral’s voice.
She strained against the ropes looped around her waist and chest, binding her to the tree. But they were too tight to wiggle out of and her hands too firmly bound in front of her to be of any use. Behind her, from the opposite side of the tree, she could feel Geveral tugging on the ropes too. She could only hope he was having better luck.
More undead soldiers ran past, joining the tight knot of fighters nearby.
Eydis could almost make out what they struggled against. It was a dark thrashing shape, a massive outline against the night sky. The great creature suddenly raised broad wings and beat them up and down, causing a stir of wind Eydis felt even from this distance and casting dust up into the air.
The swarm of soldiers who had been struggling against the beast fell back as it lifted its bulk up into the sky. Seeing the winged creature rising overhead, the moonlight falling across its glistening black scales, Eydis realized what she was looking upon. A dragon.
The majestic beast hovered briefly and then came to light again with a ground-shuddering thud only a short distance from Eydis and Geveral.
Undead soldiers immediately charged it with upraised spears and swords. With an angry scream, the dragon slapped them with its broad tail, knocking many down. It picked up one soldier in its jaws and hurled him through the air. When the solider fell back to earth, he slid across the ground, coming to a stop at Eydis’s feet. There he lay motionless, possibly unconscious.
Spying the gleaming sword that had fallen from his hand, Eydis stretched out a leg to reach the sword with her foot and drag it toward her. She heard the continued shouts of the soldiers and the screams of the dragon but ceased to follow what was happening with the fight. Her whole focus was on bringing the fallen blade just a little nearer, clumsily drawing it within reach of her hands.
Sweat dripped into her eyes. She heard Geveral behind her, shouting encouragement to the dragon. Then her fingers touched the blade, and she gasped as the sharp edge sliced her fingertips. She wedged the sword between her knees and tried to hold it firm while sawing the rope binding her wrists back and forth over the blade. She winced every time the sword slipped and she cut her wrists instead of the rope. Her hands grew sticky with wet blood.
At last, the rope snapped and her hands were free. She severed the ties binding her to the tree and scrambled to her feet, hurrying to free Geveral next.
“Kalandhia is trying to rescue us,” Geveral said as she cut him loose. “But he’s only a youngling and not even a fire-breather. We have to help him.”
He was right. The dragon couldn’t win this fight on its own. As soon as she had sliced through the last of Geveral’s bonds, she tossed him the sword and hurried toward the action, snatching up a new weapon from a fallen soldier as she ran.
The dragon was in trouble. It had felled a number of enemies, but the undead didn’t stay down for long, continuing to rise again and return to the fight.
Plunging into the fray, Eydis recalled what she had learned at the battle of Asincourt, that decapitation was the most permanent way to stop a living corpse. She swept off the head of the nearest enemy, who had been too preoccupied with the dragon to notice her arrival. She fought her way toward Kalandhia, knowing if the dragon was destroyed their last hope would die with it.
At the edge of her vision, she saw Geveral had joined her, attempting to cut a swath through the enemy. Although he looked determined, the dryad swung his sword as awkwardly as if the weapon was foreign to him. Other soldiers from the ends of the camp were streaming in to aid their comrades in attacking the dragon.
A strong wind suddenly kicked up, tugging at Eydis and lashing her hair into her face. She heard a piercing scream of inhuman pain rise above the noise of the fight. Clenching her teeth against the assault on her ears, she ran her blade through the enspelled soldier in her path. Only then could she look to the source of the noise.
What she saw made her blood freeze. A spear protruded from the chest of the dragon Kalandhia, likely piercing the creature’s heart. The dragon snorted and gave a great shudder, then dropped to the ground.
The earth shook at the impact of the dragon’s fall. Everyone went still, all eyes fixed on the massive beast, waiting to see if it would rise. Except for the blasting wind and the sound of her pulse drumming in her ears, Eydis’s world fell silent.
Then a great cloud rose up in the darkness, partially obscuring Eydis’s view of the crumpled dragon. It took her a moment to realize what it was—a dust cloud created by the storm. The wind, growing in power, slapped her in the face and stung her eyes with grit.
“Geveral, if this is your work, stop it,” she cried.
But the gale snatched up her words and carried them away. She could no longer see Geveral or the enemies around her. Even the moon above was hidden.
Trapped alone at the center of the swirling sand, Eydis covered her nose and mouth with her sleeve to avoid inhaling the dust. She crept forward blindly, pushing against the wind and keeping low to the ground, knowing the still form of the dragon lay somewhere ahead of her.
At every step, she expected to collide with an enemy. But nothing blocked her way. Nothing interrupted her progress until she stumbled over the bulk of the dragon itself.
Motionless, the great beast lay dead, oblivious to the scouring wind and sand. Coughing and squinting against the gale, Eydis ran searching hands over the smooth scales of the crumpled creature until she found the spear protruding from its broad chest. She took hold of the shaft and used all her strength to draw it free of the dragon’s flesh. Then she placed her hands over the gaping wound and closed her eyes. She for
got the sand storm, the surrounding enemies, and the imminent danger from both, and concentrated on only one thing. The power she had called upon that day she drew the sword from the statue’s grasp on the Isle of Bones. She felt again the stirring of magic that had flooded her then and opened herself to it now, letting it flow through her.
She directed that power into the dragon, willing the beast’s fatal wound to heal and life to return to its still form. At first, nothing happened. Then she felt it, a firm, unmistakable thud beneath her hands. And then another. The dragon’s mighty heart beat again.
When a shudder passed through the creature, Eydis stepped back, releasing her magic, and waited. The dragon rolled over suddenly, like a great ship righting itself in a storm, and let out an earth-shaking roar.
Until now, Eydis and the dragon might as well have been utterly alone, separated from the rest of the world by the winds of the storm. But now Eydis glimpsed a shape lurching toward them. Geveral, cloak flapping in the wind, sword still clutched in his hand, was struggling through the swirling sands.
Eydis shouted his name. Her mouth instantly filled with grit, leaving her coughing. But it was enough. He had seen them.
When the dryad reached her side, he stroked the dragon’s scales soothingly. To Eydis’s relief, the creature appeared to recognize him and calmed instantly beneath his touch. She couldn’t think what she would have done if the beast had turned on her in all the ferocity it had shown the enemy soldiers. Instead, it waited patiently as Geveral quickly scrambled up onto its back and Eydis followed suit. She had never sat astride a dragon before, but there was no time for caution.
The dragon, seeming to share its passengers’ sense of urgency, rose to its feet and stretched massive wings. They made a rhythmic whooshing noise as they beat up and down, a sound that could be heard over the fury of the sandstorm. When Eydis sensed they were lifting off from the ground, her stomach pitched queasily. She flattened herself across the dragon’s back and held on.
