by Toni Cox
“Maia, you are not concentrating,” Jaik chided her again.
They had been sparring all morning. Jaik wanted to teach her a few more things about close-contact combat, now that he knew she wanted to fight on the front line.
“I’m sorry, Jaik.” Maia sat down on the ground. “I don’t think I can do this today, something is just not right.”
“What is it, Maia? Did you have another premonition?”
Concerned, Jaik sat down next to her on the ground. He had learned to heed Maia’s feeling. She was always right.
“I don’t know, Jaik. I feel like something is out of place. Midnight is feeling the same. He has been on edge the last two days. Something bad is going to happen, I know it, but I don’t know how to stop it.”
She put her head in her hands and cried quietly. Jaik took her in his arms and rocked her until her sobs subsided.
“We are all on edge, Maia,” he said. “We will be marching into war in a fortnight and everyone is feeling the pressure. I can only imagine how much more intense this must be for you. Come, I believe Ma has made pecan nut pie, maybe it will cheer you up.”
Maia let Jaik lead her away from the Sparring Grounds. She appreciated his efforts to make her feel better, but deep down she knew it was not just the anticipation of the coming war that was making her feel out of sorts. Something sinister was afoot, she could feel it in the very air around them.
Her favourite pie tasted like dry sand. She could not concentrate on her grandmother’s words, nor Jaik’s conversation with her grandfather. She was all too happy to leave when the light started to fade and the Night Watch un-shuttered the lanterns. As they walked along The Median, the city was quiet. Everyone had turned in early. Maia felt the hairs on her arms stand on edge as they made their way home. A mist had come in from the plains and was slowly creeping up the Gathering Grounds. Maia lengthened her stride, her brother hard pressed to follow.
“Maia, wait, what is it.”
Wordlessly she pointed at the mist. Jaik looked at her, confused.
“I am scared, Jaik. It is the wrong time of the year for this ground mist; it can only be another omen. I have to tell Father.”
They sped down the last few steps to their home and had just arrived at the front door, when the signal horn started blaring.
For the next half an hour, there was pandemonium. Everyone came out of their houses, or their temporary quarters, some still in their nightclothes and rushed to the Gathering Grounds. Maia and Jaik almost collided with Jagaer as he rushed out of the house. Together they made their way down The Slope and Jagaer took up position on the speaker’s platform, with Malyn, Maia and Jaik standing behind him.
The crowd before them was vast, spilling over into the trees and city around the grounds. Because of the mist, the sound coming from the crowd sounded like an angry beehive and Maia shivered. Then Tallson Robynreed, one of Jaik’s Guard, ran up the steps and gave a brief account to Jagaer. Her father’s features changed, his cheeks coloured a deep red, his brow was puckered into an angry scowl and his lips were stretched into a tight line. Maia almost fainted with the strength of the premonition that crept over her. Malyn reached out a hand to steady her and Jaik stepped forward to stand next to his father.
Maia held her breath.
“Silence, everyone, hear me!” Jagaer yelled so loudly that Maia’s eardrums rang and she let out her breath in a harsh whoosh.
A hush fell over the crowd, the tension as solid as the mist around them.
“The Vampyres are through.”
The noise from the crowd picked up again, making it impossible for Jagaer to continue. Jaik, Tallson and Jagaer conferred some more, then Jagaer banged his staff on the heavy, oaken planks of the stage and the crowd fell silent.
“The Vampyres started arriving the day before yesterday. Aari Fyrlane and two Scouts from Braérn were patrolling the Gate when they arrived. Aari managed to escape, but the others are dead. They also killed the horses, which is why Aari only got here now.”
Another murmur spread through the assembled warriors, discussing the implication of what Jagaer had said. Jagaer gave them a short moment before he voiced what everyone was thinking.
“We must assume that they have had almost two days to bring their army through. We can only guess at their numbers. We need to leave immediately. If we march through the night, all day tomorrow and through the night again, we should reach them on the morning of the day after tomorrow. Pack your things. We are leaving within the hour.”
For a few moments, there was chaos. Then, as if some other force had taken over, everyone moved off purposefully. Maia exchanged a brief glance with her brother, before she, too, moved off to gather her things.
She took Annoll’s Path, then onto Lower Walk, before climbing the Rosy Steps, up the Sleepy Stairs, and finally along Stony Lane, racing towards The Crags. The commotion coming from the odd-shaped rock formation was almost deafening. The dragons were clacking and shrieking, beating their wings furiously, wafting their strange smells over her as she approached. She was not the first one there. The place was already crawling with warriors dragging their saddles up the hill. Maia made her way to the contraption that lifted the saddle on to Midnight’s shoulders. He was already there, impatiently swishing his tail from left to right, knocking down some trees in the process. Maia reached out to him to calm him, but it was a fruitless gesture. The turmoil within her too great even for her to overcome.
“It is time,” she said to him instead.
He looked down at her, his red eyes sparkling in the lantern light.
As fast as she could, she lowered the saddle onto his shoulders. Then she ran up his leg and fastened all the straps. Her hands were shaking and it took her longer than she would have liked.
“I will meet you on the plains. I have to get Fire and my gear.”
Midnight acknowledged and then, with one great whoosh of his wings, disappeared into the darkness of the night.
Maia turned and ran back down Stony Path. People were hurrying to and fro alongside her. She ran along Sky Pass to the Armoury, picked up two spare quivers with arrows, then raced through the Silver Forest back to her home to collect her other gear. Once she had everything, she crossed The Ascent to get to the Stables. Her brother was already there, saddling his bay charger, Stormborn. They exchanged a brief look, each drawing strength from the other, then carried on with their tasks.
Fire pranced nervously in his stable, his eyes rolling wildly in their sockets. Maia laid a calming hand on his neck and it settled him enough for her to saddle him. She strapped her sword, bow and quivers to the saddle, threw her pack with her armour and medicine bag over his back and was in the saddle by the time her father led Cloud out to the plains where the Battle Dragons waited.
It had taken over an hour for everyone to get ready. Although they hardly had the hour to spare, Maia was astounded by how quickly they had managed to get ready. Their final numbers stood at ten thousand and forty three armed men and women, of which two thousand three hundred and two were on horseback and one hundred were on their Battle Dragons. Midnight hovered in the air above the assembled army and Maia suddenly felt a surge of hope as she beheld the vast numbers and determined faces before her. She lifted her chin, took a deep breath and fell in next to her father and Jaik as they led their army towards Greystone.
They marched all through the night, keeping close to the edge to the forest on their right. They moved with purpose and determination, their heads held proud and their armour glinting in the moonlight. By morning, Jagaer made them stop to water and feed their horses and dragons. They did not rest for long. Soon, they were marching again, the sun now glaring down on them from a crystal clear sky.
By noon, they were all sweating and those further back were caked in dust from those marching before them. They trudged along in silence, never complaining, but the excitement of going into battle had worn off. Maia noticed Jagaer’s concern as he watched his troops. They had t
o get there fast, but he did not want to reach the enemy exhausted either. He called for another halt by dusk. The animals were fed and watered and the warriors were allowed to lie down and rest for a while. They would march again through the night and by morning, Jagaer planned on giving each a flask of Silva. Silas had spent the last few Quarters brewing it. It was expensive to make and only the most skilled could do it right. Silas was a master in the craft and Jagaer knew that one flask of Silva was enough to sustain even ten Elves through the harshest conditions.
“Father,” Maia approached him as he stood surveying his troops. The sadness in his eyes worried her. “Have you heard anything from the Scouts you sent ahead?”
“No.” His voice rasped on the single word and it put Maia’s nerves on edge.
“I have just sent two more Scouts,” Jaik spoke from behind her. “They are not to engage anyone and report back as soon as they sight anything.”
“I was thinking that, maybe, I could fly ahead with Midnight. I can fly high, so I am not seen, but Midnight will be able to see them, no matter how high he flies.”
Jaik’s eyes brightened for a moment, but Jagaer immediately shook his head.
“No, you need your rest too. Ask Midnight if he can do it alone, I trust that you will be able to interpret the information he retrieves.”
“They are moving towards us,” Maia repeated to the assembled Commanders.
After they had rested, they had marched some more. It was cooler at night and they had made good progress. They had reached the edge of Menandril Fields just before dawn. Midnight had come back as the first rays of the sun broke over the horizon. His news was dire and Jagaer had immediately called council with the Commanders.
“Midnight reports that there are a few of them left at the Gate, but the bulk of their army is on the march and will be upon us within the hour.”
Maia’s voice was shaking and she felt Jaik take her hand as he stood next to her. She drew strength from his presence as she carried on.
“I estimate their army to be around twenty-five thousand strong. And they did not come alone. About half of their force is riding their beasts, the Werewolves.”
A commotion ran through the assembled men. Most were not aware of the fact that the Werewolves were fully sentient and thus able to achieve Travel. Maia watched as, one by one, the Commanders realised how hopelessly outnumbered they were. It squeezed her heart and tears threatened to overflow her eyes as the despair rolled off her people. She began to shake and Jaik put an arm around her to steady her.
“Get your men ready,” Jagaer said in a quiet voice. “We will face them here. It will give us another hour to rest and prepare. Hand out the Silva. Set up defences and the war machines. Commander Hollowdale, station your Battle Dragons between us and the approaching Vampyres. Jaik, ask the rest of the Commanders to organise the different Legions into formation.”
Jagaer continued to give orders, but Maia could not listen anymore. They had talked in private before assembling the Commanders and she already had her orders. All their carefully laid out plans meant nothing in light of these new developments. No ring of dragons around the stones, no elven army to hold back the enemy, no riders to hunt any that escaped. Now they were hopelessly outnumbered and on the defensive. They were on open ground with nowhere to retreat to. With a heavy heart, she took the saddle off Fire. She would not ride him into battle. She put her hand onto his forehead and let all her emotion flow into him, telling him to go home. He snorted his displeasure at her.
“I know, Fire, but I don’t want you to get hurt.”
A tear rolled down her cheek and she closed her eyes for a moment.
“Be safe,” she whispered as he turned and galloped back the way they had come.
She watched him only for a moment, before she turned and made her way to the edge of the army where the dragons rested. Midnight gave a soft bugle when he saw her and he immediately settled on the ground so she could lie next to him. He folded her into his wings as she curled up next to him and sobbed silently into her hands.
The silence was eerie. Their entire force was spread along the ridge in a long line, about ten people deep. Even the horses weren’t snorting their displeasure at having the dragons so close. Everyone was holding their breath.
Jagaer had gotten them into position only moments before. They were on a slight rise, overlooking a small valley. It was beautiful. The grasses swayed in the morning breeze, birds darted to and fro, and a flock of geese was flying overhead in a V-formation. But no-one took notice of the beauty of their surroundings. Everyone had fixed their eyes on the ridge opposite. They knew the Vampyres would crest that ridge at any moment and then spill over into the valley towards them.
Maia sat on Midnight’s back, stationed about a hundred paces behind their army. Even at this distance, she could feel the tension roll off the warriors and she wondered how many of them were as afraid as she was.
Midnight shook his great head, knocking her into one of the spikes on his neck. She rubbed her ribs where the spike had struck, but she could not scold Midnight. She could sense his tension as well.
Just when she thought she could not bear it any more, the wind carried a strange noise to their ears. To her, it sounded like a deep thundering, interspersed with wild shrieks. But, through Midnight, she learned that the thundering was the padding of thousands of Werewolf paws trampling the ground as they ran and the shrieks was their yelping as they were being whipped to greater speed. The Vampyres did not make a sound.
Midnight crouched, ready to spring. A horse snorted. A man coughed near her and she saw sweat drip off his chin. She looked towards the front of the army, but was unable to see her father or her brother. Her heart beat heavy in her chest and she gripped the handholds on her saddle tighter.
Then, suddenly, the Vampyres broke over the ridge like a dark tidal wave, rolling towards them relentlessly. For a moment, the Elves were silent, watching in awe as the vast horde of monsters came on. Then she heard her father shout a command and their army moved forward with determination, the wariness and fear suddenly forgotten.
Maia did not have to tell Midnight what to do. As the army moved off, he rose into the air. Once he was high enough not to frighten the steeds of their own warriors, he overshot the elven army and flew toward the horde racing down the hill toward them.
As they approached, Maia felt the disgust Midnight had for the creatures he was about to extinguish. Through his eyes she saw not only their physical form and facial expressions, but also their attitudes and intent.
The Werewolves were hideous creatures. They had narrow hips and odd-shaped back legs. Their shoulders were massive, their forearms long and muscled and their head seemed to sit at an odd angle on necks that were too long. The coat colour ranged from light tan to dark brown, with only very few of them so dark brown they were almost black. They all looked shaggy and some of them mangy. Long strings of matted fur hung off their underbellies. They ran along at an ungainly, but fast pace, with the Vampyres sitting on strange saddles perched high on the beasts’ shoulders.
The Vampyres, some running, some riding, all looked the same. Snarling faces with their lips pulled back to bare sharp incisors. Their eyes were black. Soulless. Maia noticed how silent the Vampyres were compared to the Werewolves. If not for Midnight’s enhanced hearing, she would not have heard the sound that came from their running feet or the sound they made when they drew their swords.
Then, the time for watching was over. The two armies were almost upon each other. Maia signalled Midnight for their first manoeuvre and he dived immediately. They had not practiced this, only the principle of it, because it could be dangerous for Maia, but Jaik was confidant it could be done and he hoped it would distract from the initial onslaught long enough for the Elves to gain the upper hand.
Maia closed her eyes and leaned closer to Midnight’s neck as he let her know he was ready. She had taken precautions. She had tied her hair and hid it under a leather helm
et. She was dressed in leather from head to toe. Still, nothing could have prepared her for the heat that suddenly engulfed her, as Midnight sprayed the first row of Vampyres with fire. She felt her lungs burn as she breathed in the hot air. It lasted so long she though she might pass out, but just when she thought she could not take it any longer, Midnight rose high and circled, getting ready for another pass.
Maia sucked in the cool air as Midnight circled and then dared a look below. The two armies had reached each other. She watched as the first battle dragons rammed into their front line, the warriors slicing through the Werewolves with their long swords and the dragons ripping at the Werewolves with their long talons.
Some of the Werewolves trailed tendrils of smoke, but otherwise they all seemed to be unaffected by Midnight’s fire. Warriors on foot and on horseback surged forward into the mass of creatures and just for a moment, Maia saw the hacking and slicing and stabbing and smashing that ensued, before Midnight turned for another dive. But it had been long enough. The sight of all that blood and hurt and violence made Maia’s stomach heave. Only just in time did she close her eyes and bury her nose in her elbow before Midnight unleashed yet another stream of fire on a group of Vampyres further back.
This time, Midnight concentrated his fire in a more condensed stream and, when Maia glanced back, she saw two Werewolves down, burning, writhing on the ground. The grass all around them was on fire and so was the armour of four Vampyres, but they were still standing, shrugging out of their smouldering clothing, even as she watched.
