Elemni grinned, showing his blade, warm crimson blood glowing on the blade. But he winced suddenly, a sharp pain in his side, and looked down in surprise and confusion at the blade sunken into his gut. The Swildagg staggered back a step, his eyes wide as he stared back at Razbaar, and then he fell to the ground.
Those watching gasped in surprise. Razbaar stood a while longer, looking down at the body of his enemy as blood began to pool under the corpse, and knew that he, too, was soon to fall. Elemni’s blade had severed a clean hole through his lung, even puncturing his heart.
How ironic, he wondered privately, a wry smile twitching his lips, that the blade that killed my dearest friend should also pierce my heart.
Lamina was frozen in shock as Razbaar just stood there, blood seeping from a deep wound in his chest. He was dead. No one would help him. Eldrean Swildagg took a cautious step toward her fallen son, bewilderment obvious in her expression, and she turned a glare upon the mortally injured Grundagg standing over him. But he was already dead.
Razbaar fell forward and hit the ground beside Elemni.
Whispers began to arise among those surrounding the two corpses. Even the guards turned to one another, exchanging expressions of surprise and alarm. But Eldrean and the lady of Grundagg said nothing, nor did they look to each other, but rather stood wondering what to do.
“They have both died,” Lamina said at length, loud enough for the two nobles to hear. “The might of your goddess failed to protect your warrior. They have both died.”
“Then the Shadow Queen is not with us?” some whispered, “Or has she truly failed? What does it mean?”
“This can mean only one thing,” Eldrean said aloud for all to hear.
“That your goddess is dead,” Lamina put in, speaking in a low voice.
Eldrean turned a dangerous look upon the trapped fighter. Still held to the ground, Lamina met her gaze with equal power. She did not fear what the Swildagg might do. She did not fear to die like Gregarr or Razbaar, fighting for what they whole heartily believed in – for freedom.
“It means that the faithless must die,” Eldrean said, her tone hollow, her eyes narrow and full of impatience. She turned her dangerous gaze upon the guards, particularly the chiefs. “Kill the unfaithful! Kill any and all those who will not subject themselves to the Shadow Queen! Go forth and make her kingdom strong!”
A commotion immediately followed those commands; the forbidding sound of swords scrapping free of their scabbards, screams of death and pleas for mercy, all those who had followed Razbaar up to the footsteps of the citadel falling back or running forward in a last, desperate attempt to fight back. All of it was a terrible moment of pure destruction. And Lamina closed her eyes, listening to the screams, to the sound of a sword being drawn.
The people of Grundagg laid waste to their own city, Swildagg commanding the fray, and the chaos continued.
23
To Forgive
“Our world wasn’t always dark,” Dril’ead began. “Once before, I believe, we lived among our ancient glories. There was light and beauty up there, upon the surface, and a sun and a moon to guide our paths. The stars told stories; they created histories for us to learn from. I believe my father once tried to tell us of such a place, such a time...”
They walked up a narrow tunnel; Tyla Swildagg leading the way to where she said was the tower of her citadel. Dril and Yaldaa walked side by side, the ranger quiet in a forlorn fashion, keeping her eyes to the ground as they went. But Dril’ead was restless. He had retained his swords and kept them in his scabbards, intending to march upon the very gates of Swildagg to stand before Nel’ead, either in parley or combat. They would understand one another when all this was over, that was his promise to himself. He had to find them.
But as they walked, and Dril’s mind was left to ponder all that had transpired before this current moment, he couldn’t help speaking the thoughts of his wandering conscience. He didn’t care whether or not the Grundagg or the Swildagg cared for what he had to say. He had to say it.
“My father kept a strange book in his chamber, and he read from this book many times to clear his mind,” Dril continued. “I do not know its name, or what he called it, but I believe it was a history of our people. It spoke of a place...”
“It is a lie,” Tyla said, though she didn’t look over her shoulder at him as she led the way up the tunnel. “Whatever that book has to tell you, it is a lie. Whatever places that book claims we came from, it is a lie. They made it up, whoever wrote it, just to ease their minds and the minds of those they lived with.”
“But it speaks of the Order of Command,” Dril retorted, “and ever have we followed that order. And it speaks of the Urden’Dagg...”
“That much may be true,” Tyla interrupted again, “And we may follow some teachings from it, but that doesn’t mean it is whole truth.”
“Why?” Dril asked. “Why shouldn’t it be true?”
Tyla did not answer. She kept walking, never looking back at him; trying, it seemed, to put something out of her mind. Long moments passed in a dead silence, save for the tap of their feet against he smooth-cut surface of the tunnel, and Dril’ead decided that it was better to keep his thoughts to himself.
But it must be true, he told himself, If not this, than what else?
“I believe it is truth,” he said softly to Yaldaa. The ranger, though, made no sign that she had heard. However, Dril heard a quiet sniffle come from her sullen form.
She mourns for Juanna, he decided, and then nodded in understanding of the quiet she preferred at the moment.
“What is truth?” Yaldaa asked suddenly. Her voice, though, was hardly audible.
Dril turned to look at her in surprise at her voice. It was still strong, firm, though softer in tone. He thought over the question in his mind, trying to decipher it more wholly, and began wondering himself what he really meant.
The tunnel continued to slope upward at an angle, not winding to the left or to the right, but continuing on a forward path. How much alike the Branch of Swildagg is to this path! Dril marveled privately.
Truth is a strange thing, more often appearing in forms other then its natural shape. Waiting, almost, for the moment when you are weakest to reveal its true appearance,” Dril said. He paused, waiting a moment to think over his next words. “It is like the Master Element, constantly shifting its attack and appearance until it is sure you are defenseless, and then reveals itself for the initial strike. It is like a living beast, needing to protect and defend itself like you and me. Such treasures of truth cannot be taken without a price. A lot of the time it is given, more often after long years of study and training.”
Yaldaa did not say more. Whether or not she was content with his answer, Dril could never know. But Tyla stopped suddenly, and turned round to face Dril as he came up the path behind her. When he looked up into her face, glowing in the infrared spectrum, he saw the obvious distain in her eyes and expression.
“What is the matter with you, Vulzdagg? Why must you go on so, troubling us all with your twisted words of seeming wisdom?” She spat toward his feet, and Dril stepped back in surprise at her sudden outburst.
“Am I at fault?” he asked innocently.
“You expect there to be a price for all good things, believing that in the end, if the years of tough, you will gain a fair reward!” Tyla said. “You cannot believe such foolish lies!”
“What, then, is there to believe in?” Dril’ead asked.
Tyla hesitated a moment. Her eyes were fierce, her face glowed hot with anger, and Dril wondered if she might summon a spell to strike him down. But she did not chant any curse, or speak any answer to his probing question. However, a loud and deep blast echoed down the tunnel from, shaking the very passageway.
Yaldaa looked up in alarm, raising her crossbow up to her shoulder in readiness. “It is a horn call,” she said.
“The horn of my city calls forth the warriors of Swildagg,” Tyla said, conceding
with Yaldaa. “A battle is to commence hereafter, somewhere yet to be revealed by the following blasts. Three is the city of Grundagg. One is Zurdagg. Two is Vulzdagg, and four is my own city.”
They waited for the following blasts. None of them could expect where the march would be directed, though least of all they thought of Zurdagg, the city having been destroyed years ago. But Dril thought of the attack Swildagg was intending to send against his city, and wondered if they would still march on Vulzdagg despite their obvious discovery that none of his people were there. And if Tyla knew where it would be directed, she did not show it.
And then a blast sounded, deep and hollow, shaking the stones under there booted feet. It was followed by another, and then another, until the echoes drifted away into the very corners of the Shadow Realm. The order had been given.
“Grundagg,” Tyla said once the trembling had passed. “The people there must have rebelled against my families desires.”
“You mean the desire of the Shadow Queen?” Dril’ead said.
“That too,” Tyla replied. “They share the same want for power. Both are equal lies.”
Dril’ead glanced at Yaldaa, but the ranger showed no sign of grief for the news of the battle there. Her friends were already dead. There was nothing more that the ranger could lose; nothing that could stop her from fulfilling the destiny set before her.
“We are very near my city,” Tyla told them, turning round and continuing along the passage.
Dril shook his head as he fell in step behind her, Yaldaa staying a safe distance at his side, and wondered what all of it meant. Find them.
*****
Tyla crouched behind a protruding boulder. Dril’ead and Yaldaa crouched beside her, and together the three of them peered over at the ominous tower looming over them, its tip rising high into the darkened ceiling. Several groups of soldiers were aligned outside its front gates, waiting to be sent away, and a dozen Drakes waiting beside them.
“They will go to Grundagg,” Tyla told them, “And then is our chance to get inside to my brother and sister.”
Dril and Yaldaa nodded. A sick feeling began to creep within Dril’ead’s stomach, and he admitted to himself that he had never felt more nervous before in all his life. Looking at those platoons of soldiers, armored in their tunics of blue and green, swords and spears and shields gripped tightly in readiness. They were fit for battle, for killing, and if they saw him... Well, that would be the end of it. But the worst part was that they were all his brothers and his sisters. If there was anything his long life had taught him, told him, and even showed him, it was that people could care. The only question was, would they?
No, he decided. They would not.
His brothers and his sisters were marching to kill one another. It was a sickening sight to be seen.
A dark shape flittered before the ranks of soldiers, and those nearest to it shuddered and flinched, obviously afraid of what they saw. But the shape was gone in seconds, passing its orders onto those commanding the platoons, and a horn was lifted and blown to begin the march. They set out, marching in strict perfection, trained all their life to do as they were about to do: To kill.
“I would put a spell of invisibility over us so we might move now,” Tyla said, “But I will need all my strength and power to throw down the foundations of this wretched tower.”
Dril’ead looked at her, uncertain, though he felt a sudden stab of respect for the mage at his side. “I forgive you, Tyla,” he said to her.
Tyla hesitated, confused for a moment, and then nodded. “Thank you, Lord Dril’ead Vulzdagg,” she replied. She opened her mouth as if to say more, but instead kept it to herself.
“And I do not hold you accountable for the deaths of my friends, and my comrades,” Yaldaa said.
Tyla nodded to the ranger. “Thank you, brave fighter of Grundagg,” she said.
They turned back to the tower, watching as the troops passed down the tunnel they had taken from the borders of Grundagg, the Drakes taking a different route through the chasm. And, for that moment, Dril’ead felt a warm filling arise in his chest.
“I think it is strange,” he said quietly, “that we three, each a member of a different Branch, should sit her side by side to take down a common enemy. How such times draws us together!”
Tyla and Yaldaa looked at him, and to all of their surprise they grinned at the thought. It was strange!
“Not all the Branches of the Urden’Dagg Tree,” a voice said from behind.
They all spun round. Tyla’s wand appeared in her hand with a flash of blue, Dril’ead grabbed for the hilt of his scimitar, and Yaldaa lifted her crossbow to be level with the throat of the purple and red robed figure standing above them. But the newcomer only smiled, finding their expressions and reactions to be more humorous than alarming, and chuckled softly.
“Maaha Zurdagg!” Dril growled, and he began to unsheathe his sword, a raging fire beginning to glow in his eyes.
“Peace, my old friend,” Maaha said to the fierce warrior, “I do not come to combat you like in times past – though I admit that such times were best – but rather come as the friend that I should have been to you and your family.” Her features suddenly became serious, and she looked down on each of them with an air of respect. “Oh how you have all fought these past few days. It is remarkable how strong each of you has become since the first years of your life. Especially you, Yaldaa of Grundagg, have become stronger.”
“Give me a good reason why I should not slay you,” Dril’ead growled. “You, who destroyed my city, killed my people! And you, who have caused such hurt in me!”
“I, who has made you stronger,” Maaha replied. She shook her head. “If I regret such actions, I shall not say them now. But for the importance of my life at this moment I shall say this... The Shadow Queen cannot see me as she sees all of you.”
“What do you mean?” Dril demanded. His sword was in his hand now.
“She knows you are here,” Maaha replied. “But she is so much a fool that she glories in the drama of having you die in a final attempt to bring down her strongest fortification. She wishes to prove her strength through her greatest servant, Alastra, and allow her to kill you in the halls of the Swildagg citadel. No further does she expect you to go. But with me at your side, virtually invisible to her vile eyes, you shall go even further.”
Tyla shifted beside Dril’ead. “But I thought Gorroth was her greatest servant,” she said.
Maaha shook her head. “That demon is as much a nuisance to the Shadow Queen as the three of you. He is so... Well, that is a different story, and much to complex to be told now.”
She motioned for them to put their weapons away, and Dril’ead was surprised to find himself actually lowering his sword from her, though he kept it ready in case Maaha was toying with them. Maaha stepped up to the boulder and peered at the soldiers march by. They had not seen them, having cast an invisibility spell over them as she came toward them, and she nodded in deep thought as she examined their passing.
“So,” Tyla said slowly, “are we to stop those soldiers, then?”
Maaha shook her head, frowning. “No,” she answered. “What is to be done must be done.”
“What do you mean?” Dril asked.
She looked at him curiously. His face was much narrower than she remembered, more firm in the jaw and broader in the cheeks. His eyes were full of an unyielding power. She liked that most about the battle hardened warrior. But what struck her most profoundly was his fatigue, and how he had used it to his advantage, directing the exhaustion to strength and determination. He had always been that way, but now more than ever it showed in his eyes and appearance.
“You have grown much, Dril’ead Vulzdagg, since last we met,” Maaha said to him, and she couldn’t hide her smile. But she quickly replaced it with her firm expression as she answered. “I mean, and I do mean it when I say it, that the Shadow Realms must be destroyed.”
“They are to destroy them
selves,” Yaldaa said in a distant voice. “It has always been that way.”
“And it always will,” Tyla added.
“Do you see, Dril’ead?” Maaha asked him.
Dril looked away toward the soldiers, the last of the groups beginning to enter the passageway. “Yes, I can see,” he said, and shook his head.
“Good,” Maaha said. She turned to the Swildagg mage standing directly in front of her. “Tyla, feel free to use as much of your power as you find necessary. Mine should be enough to bring down the foundations of your home.”
Tyla nodded.
“Well, then, what are we waiting for?” Dril’ead said.
Maaha smiled at his inapt attitude. “Lead the way, captain of the Basilisk.”
*****
They went round the boulder and toward the tower, each step bringing them nearer their fated doom, though Dril’ead knew in his heart that they would succeed. Although the coming of Maaha startled him, he believed that she would bring about their immediate victory. Her power was great, he knew, beyond anything he had ever seen in his life. She alone had nearly destroyed his city, the entire complex of Vulzdagg. And yet, with that knowledge ever in his mind, he allowed her to join in their cause.
I will not let pride come before necessity, he told himself. Maaha will bring about our victory.
Dril stopped as he saw movement before the gates of the citadel, and quickly he ducked beneath a boulder, signaling for the others to do the same. But Maaha stood upright, smiling down at him.
“I’m sorry, but that won’t be needed,” she said to him. “No one can see us. I can assure you that my power will carry us unseen to the very doors of this place.”
Dril hesitated, unsure if she could be trusted, but slowly rose to his feet. Six guards stood at the gate of the citadel, spears in hand, searching the grounds for any movement in the infrared spectrum. At length he was satisfied that she was right, and motioned for Yaldaa and Tyla to stand.
Passage to Glory: Part Two of the Redemption Cycle Page 22
