by Sam Ferguson
A few moments later, three of the winged beasts landed in the entryway. Arrows flew and the three were slain.
Another round of terrible shouting erupted outside the temple.
“We’re weakening them!” one of the Varvarr warriors shouted.
“Akuhn is with us!” Halsten bellowed. “Do not fear the demons!”
Another winged monster landed on the ground and entered the temple. Again, arrows flew out as soon as he crossed the threshold, but this time the missiles did not hit their target. A flurry of thin, blindingly fast lightning bolts erupted from the demon’s sword and consumed the arrows.
The demon then pointed the sword at the archers in front of him and several thicker bolts of lightning blasted holes through the warriors, leaving smoldering, charred holes in their chests. The archers fell to the stone floor.
A pair of warriors rushed the demon from the side, but with one sweep of his sword the demon cut one warrior in half at the waist, and buried his sword deep in the second warrior’s torso.
Then, a half dozen more demons landed in the entryway and rushed immediately around the sides to engage the archers stationed along the front wall, though how the demons had known where the archers were exactly, Halsten did not know.
“Attack!” Halsten shouted. His warriors closed in on the small group. They slew two of the demons, and then there was another eruption of purple lightning. Several Varvarr were blasted into the air, sent flying over the others to slam into the far wall of the chamber. Then a thick bolt of lightning shot upward into the ceiling. Fragments and slabs of stone rained down upon the Varvarr. It didn’t kill any of them, but several received lacerations as the sharp fragments tore through their skin.
Halsten felt his rage boil up into his chest again and he called upon his Varvarr Bloodlust to aid him now. He rushed forward and swung his axe at a demon’s back, yet somehow, without seeing him, it dodged the attack and then lashed out with a wing, knocking Halsten to the ground. The young chief growled and jumped up to his feet just as a large number of shadows fell over him and his warriors. He looked up to see the main body of the demon army coming through the hole that had been blasted in the ceiling. They dropped faster than any of the warriors could react, and at least fifty Varvarr died in the blink of an eye.
The rage reignited in him once more at the death of his kin, and Halsten turned his fury on the nearest demon. Again, as the first had, it dodged all of Halsten’s attacks without even watching. It lunged left, then spun right. It ran its sword through a male Varvarr’s chest, and then leapt into the air to avoid another attack from Halsten. It was impossible. How could the things be so fast?
Halsten called upon Akuhn for help. As he glanced around him, he noticed that he was not the only one having the problem. It seemed that the demons were all moving with ethereal speed and agility, as if they knew where every Varvarr was and how each of them were moving. Varvarr were falling every second, and for the first time in his life, Halsten wasn’t sure how to fight the enemy before him.
A flash of light blinded him and a hot stab burned into his chest. Halsten’s eyes were shut against the force of the blow, but he could feel that he was flying through the air. Something had hit him, hard. He slammed against the wall and his breath left his lungs. He gasped for air, slumped against the stone and clutching his axe in his hand.
All at once he realized what had happened. The demon with the magic sword, he had hit him with one of his lightning strikes. Halsten looked down to his chest and saw smoke rising from his leather armor, but there was no hole
Suddenly the air came back into his lungs and he gulped it in. Strength flooded his muscles and he stood back on his feet, using the wall to steady himself. He glanced around the chamber and saw that there were less then a dozen Varvarr left alive. Somehow, the demons were going to win. They were too fast, and too strong.
Halsten couldn’t understand why Akuhn had forsaken them. Why had she led them here to die? Had the Great Goddess been so offended by his father that the Gray Wolf tribe had been sentenced to death either by starvation or extermination? Had he displeased her somehow?
In those few moments as the demon with the magic sword approached him, time slowed down again. Halsten’s senses heightened. His ears could hear the sounds all around him. The flutter of great wings, the sound of sword ripping through flesh and severing bone, and the cries of the dying. For the first time in his life, he could not see a strategy that would allow him to win the battle. In that moment, just before time sped up again, he knew that he was going to die.
His last thoughts shifted away from Akuhn. He thought of his wife. Her smile, her gentle kiss. He thought of his unborn child. Would it be another son, or perhaps a daughter that would look like her mother? Then he thought of Sarkis. His heart grew heavy with sadness. Halsten knew he was not going to be there the day Sarkis became a man. He wasn’t going to see what Varvarr princess he married. He was going to miss everything from this point on.
It was not the Varvarr way to cry, but Halsten had lived the Varvarr way the best he knew how, and it had utterly betrayed him. He let the tears flow, and then he lunged forward toward the approaching demon as time sped back to its normal rhythm. He slashed at the demon once, then reversed the swing and went back the other way. The demon dodged both easily, but Halsten had expected that. Had made to swing again at the demon with the magic sword, but then turned and flung his axe through the air to his right. Just as he had suspected, the demon to his right had not anticipated that Halsten would switch targets. The axe caught him in the neck and nearly severed his head from his body.
As with the previous times, the demons all screamed and recoiled in pain at the death of their comrade. Now was Halsten’s time to strike. He pulled his skinning knife from his belt and lunged in at the demon with the magic sword. The demon was holding its sword out at Halsten, but the Varvarr kicked the blade away and then came in with a quick thrust of his knife.
Just before the tip of his blade reached its target, another demon pushed the first out of the way. The knife went into this other demon, breaking through ribs and burying itself deep in the demon’s chest. Another wail went up from the demons, but Halsten tripped on the corpse’s legs and went down to the ground. By the time he recovered and managed to pull his knife free, the demons had recomposed themselves.
The apparent leader of the group had retrieved his magic sword, and it was crackling with lightning again. Halsten took the dead demon’s sword in hand and rose to his feet just in time to lift the sword to block an incoming chop. The demon’s sword crashed against his, and then, in an explosion of sparks and violet smoke, Halsten’s sword broke. An instant later, there was an intentse, fiery pain ripping through his chest. He staggered back a couple of steps, his back to the entrance of the temple now, and he looked down at himself. His armor was split, and a sizeable hunk of flesh was now hanging out from Halsten’s upper chest. Blood was running down his front, and his strength was fading fast.
He saw the demon stepping toward him, but he knew there was nothing more he could do. He dropped the handle of the broken sword and held his arms out to the sides as he closed his eyes and whispered his wife’s name. The last image he saw was the memory or their first kiss. A smile crossed his lips as he remembered how it felt when she had her mouth to his, and then there was a great flash of light and Halsten’s broken body flew out of the temple and tumbled down the front steps.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
After the battle was over, Kamal knelt beside his brother’s corpse and picked up his cold body. He wept for Weys, and the others joined in his sorrow, sharing it telepathically, and gathering around him. It was several hours before the grief turned to numbness. The other Krilo warriors gathered their dead kin and carried them off to bury them in the temple’s central gardens.
Kamal exited the temple and went to the broken body at the base of the stairs. He looked down at the slain Varvarr and tried to remind himself why the battles had
been necessary. From his side, he knew what Interis Aruhat had explained, but why had the Varvarr not chosen to leave in peace? Had it been revenge for the Tarthuns, or was it truly that the temple was so precious to the Varvarr that they would stop at nothing to take it once more as they had from the elves?
What could a race of unenlightened barbarians ever want with the temple anyway that they could not have found somewhere else?
When they had taken it the first time, they had never found the secret chamber beneath the temple. They hadn’t even understood the Taish runes or their importance. They had instead built over it, and taken the temple and turned it into something profane. If all they needed was a room for an altar for their animal sacrifices, it seemed that one could be built anywhere in the valley.
Kamal had to wonder if there would be peace in the valley now. The Varvarr army was destroyed, at least as far as he knew, but there could be more. Would others be as persistent in their pursuit of the temple? If so, would they clash with the dwarves after the Krilo had left the valley with the crystal and the book that Interis Aruhat needed protected?
Looking down at the broken body before him, it was not a thought he relished. He didn’t want to spend his days taking lives, nor did he want to think of the dwarves continually struggling against such a powerful and ruthless enemy.
When the others came to bury the Varvarr, most likely out of habit of burying the enemy dead as they had always buried the fallen Tarthuns, Kamal retired to the underground chamber. As he had before, he placed the rings on his fingers and the crown on his head.
“Kamal, you have triumphed,” Interis Aruhat said happily as her projection came back into the chamber.
Kamal took in a breath. Against his better judgment, he asked a question that was burning on the forefront of his mind. “Did you know my brother would die?” he asked.
Interis Aruhat’s blue eyes looked upon him with empathy and she shook her head. “I knew only that you were to be the next captain to lead the Lunar Centurions,” she replied. “I had thought that my gifts would have enabled all of you to survive.”
Kamal shook his head. “There were several who died, and my brother, Weys, was one of them.”
Interis Aruhat bowed her head low. “I am sorry,” she said. “But it was necessary,” she added. “You had to fight the Varvarr, and stop them from reclaiming the temple.”
“I know,” he said softly. “I understand the reasons, but that doesn’t take away the pain.”
The Ancient nodded understandingly and then came in close and set the top of her head to his. In a moment, he felt his pain lessen as she took some of it into herself and lessened his burden. “Know also that because your people have entered into the covenants with Icadion, they will be blessed, both in the mortal life, and afterward.”
Kamal nodded. That assurance did help a bit.
“Now go and get the others. Bring them here so I can endow them with wings. Soon, you shall all be on your way to a new, peaceful life.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
It was several weeks before the elders finally declared that it was safe to send scouting patrols to find the temple of Akuhn. By that time, Sarkis was past the worst of his grief. His heart still ached for his father, but the sting had gone, leaving in its place a dull ache that never seemed to diminish.
The scouting parties were gone for many days before they finally returned and reported to the elders.
Sarkis watched them deliberate back and forth amongst themselves for hours before Deggeira finally stood from the group and looked at Sarkis. She motioned for him to come to her. He did so and she placed a hand on either shoulder and gave him a soft smile.
“Your father was a good man,” Deggeira said. “He restored our tribe’s honor. He has please Akuhn, and his sacrifice shall mean our prosperity. Do you understand?”
Sarkis sniffed and nodded his head without saying a word.
“Good, then you and your mother will come with me and the other scouts.”
Sarkis walked for two days with the scouts, his mother, and Deggeira before they finally arrived at a large building of stone. It sprawled out across many acres, and was every bit as grand as he thought it would be.
The scouts told them of numerous graves a short distance from the temple, but said that none of the graves were marked, so it wasn’t worth looking to find Halsten’s place in the ground.
Sarkis’ mother didn’t cry, for that was not the Varvarr way. But he knew that she missed his father. He had heard her toss and turn with bad dreams at night, calling out his name in her sleep. Even if he hadn’t noticed those, he could see the emptiness in her eyes. He felt it too. A void that was never going to be filled again.
“We can rebuild,” Deggeira said. “The scouts reported that there are no other people here anymore. There is a city to the south of the temple, but it is vacant.”
“We looked everywhere,” one of the scouts said. “By all appearances, it looks like after the battle here, whatever people were here have gone away.”
“But where did they go?” Agatha asked.
The scout shrugged. “Perhaps they crossed the Inner Sea and fled. We did find boats along the western shore of the sea. Or, maybe they all died in the battle. It’s impossible to know for sure.”
“And what of the dwarves?” Agatha pressed.
“The mountain tunnels are sealed. There is no indication that the dwarves were here at the temple, and none were found in the vacant city either. I suspect that after your husband defeated them in battle, whatever survivors they have are sealed in the mountain.”
Deggeira placed a hand on Sarkis’ shoulder. “You should be proud of your father. He made amends to Akuhn. He cleared the entire Sacred Valley, and he has punished the defilers of her temple! We will enter a new era of prosperity.”
Sarkis pulled away from her and ran toward the temple. He wasn’t sure what made him do it. Perhaps he wanted to see the temple that his father had died for, or maybe he was tired of hearing the old woman jabber on about everything. Whatever it was, Sarkis soon found himself climbing the steps. He marveled at the large stone columns and wondered how men could have built such a large structure. Then he looked down in the entryway and he saw something familiar.
His father’s axe was propped against the right side of the entrance opening. Coiled neatly beside it was Ingvar’s necklace of orc tusks.
Sarkis bent down and picked up his father’s axe. He looked at the blade and stroked the side with his left hand.
“What do I do now, father?” Sarkis asked. “I’m here, in the temple, and I don’t know what to do. Tell me what to do to end the pain.”
As Sarkis finished his plea, a great, loud howl of a wolf filled the temple.
Sarkis looked to the back of the chamber, and a large smile appeared on his face.
Other Books by Sam Ferguson
The Sorceress of Aspenwood Series
The Dragon’s Champion Series
The Wealth of Kings
The Netherworld Gate Series
The Dragons of Kendualdern series
The Fur Trader
The Haymaker Adventures
Other Books by Dragon Scale Publishing
The Protector of Esparia by Lisa M. Wilson
Kingdom of Denall Series by Eric Buffington:
The Troven
Secrets at the Keep
The Changing
Tales of the NoWhere and NeverWhen by Jason Hauser
Wisp the Wayfinder
Puck the Pathwinder
Nobb the Nightbinder
Also available exclusively on the
Dragon Scale website:
Tharzule’s Tome of Wishes by Malinda Smiley
Orcs and Elves by Bethan Owen
