by Swanson, Jay
The wings on his temples flew out and away, catching the wind and forcing him to actively keep his head forward as he rode for fear of having it twisted completely off should he turn. The wings were the remainder of some ancient marriage between the Renaults and another great family. The Kings of Islenda had always worn wings from their helmets to battle, but the Renaults had added the snarling teeth of the wolf.
Arrows flew back and forth in exchanged volleys as the men of the west pressed their enemy backwards. They were actually gaining ground on this side, he realized with a smile. The darts returned for his archers' arrows were greatly reduced in number.
“My compliments on your successes today, Sir Berrywine,” he hailed as he pulled up to the tribune's retinue. “It seems I am surrounded by the most supreme competence today, something for which I am exceedingly grateful.”
“You are too kind, your Majesty.” The large man lowered his head in a dramatic bow from the saddle.
He sat up grinning, his long beard trailing slightly to the side in the breeze. He had refused to cut it in over a decade, unwilling to part with the last of the red in it as gray came tumbling from his face. Now it looked like he had stained the lower half of the long, wiry hair with the wine of his namesake.
“Welcome to my command hill! We'll route them shortly, I promise, and then we can make for greener pastures with some sense of security and something to drink!”
“I certainly hope so.” Rendin paused to inspect the line from afar.
They were, in fact, breaking the Knobacks on this side. Even the Dunmar were unable to press into the hail of arrows and javelins that Berrywine's light infantry hurled over the front rows of spearmen. Rendin was impressed, and he said as much.
“Your Majesty,” Berrywine laughed. “You act as though you were actually uncertain as to how this day would fare.”
Rendin permitted himself to smile in turn. “My good tribune, there was ne'er a doubt so long as you took the field.”
“Well.” Berrywine patted the deep maroon of his surcoat with a grin. “There's a reason that, when Berrywines pick a fight, there are rarely any takers.”
“Sire!” Blassen came into their midst with a flurry of red dust. “Your Majesty, please.”
“Excuse me.” Rendin turned and walked his horse to the fringe of his bodyguard, who had created a half-circle around the small lump that Berrywine called a hill. “What is it?”
“The horse returned, but never the messenger.”
“What do you mean?” Rendin pressed closer as he lowered his voice.
“He never came back, your Majesty. No one knows what transpires in the north.”
Rendin knew exactly what was transpiring in that instant. His heart went cold at the very certainty. “Move that cavalry unit north in its entirety,” he said as he turned his horse again. “We'll be soon to follow!” He walked back to Berrywine and spoke with a low urgency. “How much horse can you spare without risking your line?”
“My line?” Berrywine blinked. “Rather, my horse? For what does my King need horse?”
“How many?” Rendin pressed.
“Of course. Forgive me, your Majesty.” He looked out at the line before turning with a shrug. “I can give you my Second Cavalry. They're fresh and won't need to enter the battle.”
Before Berrywine could finish his thought, a shout went up from the archers just beyond his hill. Suddenly men everywhere were pointing up and shouting, fear spreading through the troops like a plague. Rendin looked up in time to see the silhouette descend, smoke trailing from its long snout as its wings pumped to keep it aloft over the canyon.
No... it's not possible. Not now... not now! His eyes grew wide as his hands tightened on the reins and he fought to swallow back the fear. “Dragon!”
THIRTY-FIVE
ARDIN VITALIS HAD BEEN TRAVELING FOR DAYS, AND NOW HE WAS DOWN TO ONE HORSE THAT HAD THE STRENGTH LEFT TO CARRY HIM. He had been forced to leave the others behind, worried for their well-being but not enough to outweigh his need for haste. He had to reach the Desert Mountains in the north; he had to get to the Renaults and put an end to the Relequim's plot before all of mankind was undone.
He didn't know if he could swing the tide of a battle, not without his power, but he had no choice. He had never realized just how heavily he had come to rely on the warmth to augment his own endurance and strength until he had lost it. Now even with the added strength of the Shadow, he found himself far too human, far too frail.
The ashen wastes of the Truan empire only served as a reminder of his earlier attempt to slow the Relequim's release and of the long trip he had taken to get there with Rain. He had never felt so lonely in his life as he did crossing the center of the Grandian continent to reach what remained of his few friendships on earth. He would get there and would put an end to all that beset them, that was what he told himself to press on every day. But he knew that without his power he was of no use to the Brethren, and thus of no real use to anyone.
But perhaps he could find the Relequim's weapon, that much he could do. If only he could find a way into Krakador undetected, and could sneak into the depths where the weapon was sure to be, then he could do his part. But no, he needed to find the Renaults and fight alongside their army. He only hoped he managed to get there before the Islendans and their allies were routed and killed by the Relequim and his army.
Every day Ardin looked to the sky, hoping to catch sight of the winged Brethren, that they would know how to fix him and carry him to his final destination. But if they had intended to take him with them, they would have done so when he last saw them. Whatever their mind was set to, whatever task they now worked at completing, they didn't need or wouldn't risk having him along.
Ardin knew he had been on the verge of matching their strength, which drove the fear deeper into his bones that he might have lost his power forever. He needed it. Not even just to right the skewed path of the world, but because it had become such an inseparable part of himself. Not, unfortunately, so inseparable as he had assumed, but it was now tied to his identity.
The fear of its loss ate at him at night, competing with his desire for Alisia and the grief for his family in force. Vengeance on the Shadow King had only left him with a deeper sense of sadness, a loneliness in a world in which so few strange travelers remained. Soon he would be completely alone, an odd mixture among the sane, straight population of this world, and in that state of singularity he feared he would be driven to madness.
He propelled himself ever onward with little more than his strength of will, for without Charsi's power at his beck and call, he was lucky to stumble on water and ran low on the rations Paul Donovan had given him. Thankfully he had what remained of Shill's to supplement his own stock, but without knowing how much farther he had to go, there was no certainty that what remained was nearly enough.
His white armor was the only thing about him that kept from looking frayed or tired. Every night he practiced the art of the Shadow that he knew so well without truly knowing. The sense of having an innate, inherited knowledge was not so strange to him now. The skills and abilities of the Shadow King came to him so quickly that he felt they had always been his own. In the process, every time he made the jump, his armor and skin came back clean, having dropped the dust and grime that had gathered on him to the ground. He was grateful for the enhanced endurance and his lessening need for sleep as well, but it still wasn't proving enough to keep his sense of exhaustion at bay as he continued on.
The ash finally thinned until he rode through the most barren desert he had ever seen. There was no sand, nor were there shrubs or even wispy grasses fighting to take root among the low, scattered rocks that spread as far as he could see. There was no life here, and it didn't require the power of the Magi to imagine why. As much as his heart lifted to know he was on track to arrive at his destination, knowledge of what waited for him there soured the mood and left anxiety in its wake.
Two days into the desert and
he began to wonder if he would ever find the mountains of which he had been told, until the next morning he saw them rising in the distance. As he kept forward, he could make out smoke rising as well. The hope of finding friends mixed with the dread of the state he might find them in. He pushed his spent palfrey on with suppressed expectations for fear of a devastating discovery.
An hour later he came upon the carnage of what looked to be a long caravan of carts. The bodies of humans, horses, oxen, and Woads burned and rotted in the open sun. There weren't even flies upon them yet, so far were they from any life in this forsaken desert. Ardin checked his surroundings, then began sifting through the wreckage in hopes of finding food or water.
Most everything had been rummaged through, he could tell, but in haste. Soon he found a barrel of water that was cracked but still held enough to fill his canteen and water his horse. He grabbed some dried meat and bread from another cart, having to roll the corpse of a Woad off of it before he could get to it. The stink of the monster almost tempered his hunger, but he had run out of his own food that morning and knew that he was lucky to find anything.
A column of dust rose in the north, the remnants of an army on the march. He could only assume it was friendly, for though soldiers lay dead about the baggage, there weren't enough here to constitute a force that needed this amount of supplies following them. He needed to catch up to them, but in spite of how close he had come, the mission seemed impossible.
There were no fresh horses, and Ardin felt a pity for his own when he pulled himself into the saddle again. “Just a few more miles, girl.” He patted her neck as they made north, following the column of red dust rising ahead of them. “Just a few more miles.”
There was nothing to see save flat, broken earth and the tall, flat-topped mountains that grew densely ahead. He had heard of mountains like this before, though never had he been told of this many so close together. They weren't as big as the mountains of the Northern Range back home, nor the Dragon's Teeth, but they didn't come to much of a slope at their base either. Some did, like their missing tops had simply crumbled and fallen to rest at their feet, but most looked like they had simply punched their way towards the sky straight from the ground.
His haggard horse walked steadily onward, and he refused to risk asking more of her for fear of her dropping dead on the spot. Finally he entered between the first of the mountains. The canyon directly ahead rose at a slight but steady incline and was far more broad and flat than those that branched off to the sides. He kept his wits about him now, the tall walls of the mountains awe-inspiring but also fear-inducing. Something was here, his connection to the Shadow told him, something lurked nearby.
I have to get to the armies before it's too late...
He passed the first of the mountains, the shadows hiding from the noonday sun, when he spotted something on the ground to the west. He stopped the horse, uncertain of what he was seeing but unwilling to risk ignoring it. The army had very clearly passed north, the path of thousands of armored soldiers and horses unmistakable in the clay they had broken and loosened up. But horses had broken to the west along this path as well.
How long ago he couldn't tell, but something was very clearly moving slowly along the ground this way. He walked his horse another hundred yards before dismounting and approaching on foot. Then he realized what he was looking at with a start and began to run.
“Rain!” he yelled as he came closer. “Rain, I'm here!”
He slid to a stop and dropped to his knees, turning her over onto her back as she tried to crawl another few inches forward.
“Rain.” His heart broke to see her skin so dry, her lips cracked and bloody and her hair in a knotted mess. He pulled Donovan's canteen out, his fingers fumbling with the cap as he tried to unscrew it quickly. “Oh God, Rain, what happened?”
“Parnithons...” she mumbled as she squinted against the sun. “They attacked...”
“Drink this,” he said as he pushed the canteen gently against her lips. The dry blood cracked and glistened wet in the sunlight at the pressure. “You have to drink, just a little. Don't go crazy!”
He laughed as relief washed over him. She coughed a little as he pulled the canteen back and blinked against the sun and the dryness of her eyes. Finally she looked up at him as if seeing him for the first time, wonder and suspicion mixing on her face to show her confusion.
“Ardin?”
“Yeah,” he said with a smile. “Sorry I'm late.”
“Where have you been?” She coughed and reached for the water.
“Careful,” he said. “That's about all we have left.”
“My brother,” she said. “We can get more from him. Where is he? You must have seen him?”
“I found what I think was his baggage train,” Ardin said. “I haven't seen him yet.”
“You think?” she said as she tried to sit up.
“Here.” He picked her up and walked over to the slender swath of shade underneath the nearest cliff. The temperature dropped instantly, and he sat her down with her back against the mountain. “I don't know what I saw for sure, but there were dead soldiers in purple.”
“Hembrody...” she growled as her throat began to clear. “That snake, what has he done now?”
“I don't know,” Ardin said. “But I think your brother's army has already moved forward to fight. I followed their trail in here and only just saw you by luck.”
“Luck,” she laughed. “Someone with your power doesn't need luck.”
Ardin didn't respond to that. He didn't know how exactly, so he took a drink from the canteen and put it away. “You've had enough for now,” he said as he started to pick her up. “Time to stand on your own.”
She wobbled a bit as she stood. “I don't know that I can.”
“You can,” he said with certainty, then he noticed the blood caked on her arm. “What happened to you?”
“My men...” She looked off the way she had come. “A Parnithon clawed me.”
Ardin didn't know what a Parnithon was, but she didn't look like she wanted to talk about it.
“I don't want to move yet, Ardin,” she said pitifully as he slung her good arm over his shoulder and began walking her back towards his tired horse.
“You don't have much choice in the matter. I need to catch up to your brother as quickly as I can before they make it to Krakador.”
“Krakador?” she said as if waking from a dream. “But Krakador isn't that way!” she yelled weakly. “No... no they've gone the wrong way!”
“What?” Ardin stopped to look at her. “Where is it?”
“It's in that direction,” she gestured behind them. “Just north of this road.”
“How far?”
“Perhaps a half a day's ride,” she coughed. “But my horses... they're dead... all of them.”
“You don't have enough in you to cry,” he said as he started walking her again. “You can't afford it, and we can't afford half a day, but it will take us the rest of it on my poor horse.”
It's open. Somehow he knew this was his chance. I can't help the Brethren in a fight, but maybe I can turn it to their favor.
“My brother...” She was still on the verge of wailing.
“Your brother will be fine,” Ardin said. “The Brethren have to fight the Relequim, and we can help them in that task.”
“The Relequim?” She whipped around on him so quickly he was afraid she would turn feral. “We can't!”
“We can, Rain. We have no choice.” He kept her walking, hoping she wouldn't stumble. “We have to find it, his weapon.” He didn't want to see her response if she found out his power was gone. “We have to destroy it.”
“Let the Brethren do it, Ardin. They can fight the Relequim. My brother needs to know he's marching in the wrong direction!”
He turned her and held her up by her shoulders as he looked her in the eyes. “Your brother is beyond our help, Rain. He's too far into the mountains. I have been charged with the Rel
equim, and if Krakador is this way, then we can't waste a day chasing your brother when we should spend it reaching his fortress. I'm going to need your help, Rain. I need you, but I can't do this if you let your fear get the better of you!”
She simply stared at him for a minute before the regal resolution began to creep in at the edges of her dust and blood-spattered face. “I'm sorry, Ardin.” She shook her head and stared at her feet, swaying slightly under his care. “I just... I'm sorry.”
“It's alright.” Ardin pulled her arm back over his shoulders and started walking again. They were only twenty or so yards from his horse, he figured. “But I mean it, Rain. I need you.”
They made decent time towards the west. Ardin didn't know if it was the brief respite he'd given the poor palfrey, Rain's presence, or the availability of shade, but even carrying two people, the horse suddenly had more hop in its step and enough energy to continue on at a decent trot. Ardin was thankful, because even making it to Krakador by nightfall would be a miracle at this point. Rain slept on the horse's neck more than she stayed awake. Ardin wished he had his power in that moment so badly, to heal her, to energize them both. To face the Relequim.
The sun began to set as Rain took them north through the mountains and then struck west again after passing a few of the headless peaks. He realized as they continued on that there were a lot more questions he should have been asking before now.
“Rain,” he asked after she seemed more alert and had eaten some of the dried meat he had found. “How do you know that Krakador is over here? Why isn't your brother headed this direction?”
“Oscilian told me,” she said as she bit off more of the salted meat. “He found me... he's the reason I'm alive.”
“Oscilian...” Ardin looked to the sky as if the warrior would appear upon uttering his name. “What did he say?”
