by Lynn Hardy
“Milady Reba, it would be my pleasure to assist you,” he replies with a bow.
An annoyed huff escapes me. “I appreciate your willingness. However, I ask this as Archmage Reba, the Flame-haired One. This is no small undertaking. I intend to draw most of the needed energy from you. Depending on the strength of the approaching attacker, the process could leave you unconscious or even dead.”
Craig snaps to attention. The smile drops from his face. “Archmage Reba, sir, it would be an honor to die providing such a service.”
Satisfied he understands the risk involved, I extend one hand to him and the other to Merithin. “I’ll supply the power, but you have probably had more experience disabling shields.”
The master sorcerer nods.
At a faster pace than is comfortable, I withdraw energy from Craig, adding to it a small stream from my own diminishing supply. I feel the slight tug that tells me Merithin has joined our powers.
“Magic called by another, disperse.”
Royal blue energy entwining with two lighter azure hues shoots from the hand of the sorcerer next to me. Hundreds of yards away, our power comes into contact with the enemy shield. The heavens lighten like the aurora borealis. Laserlike beams of blue and purple put on a show that would be marvelous to behold if we weren’t surrounded by beings intent on eradicating the human race.
Long minutes pass while I draw energy from the lieutenant, passing it on to Merithin. The men who crowd the moat back up to the safety line as the approaching attacker grows closer and the size of our newest foe becomes clear.
Four hundred yards from us, the demon’s shield buckles under Merithin’s constant barrage as Lieutenant Craig collapses to the ground. The men on the field tremble with fear. Soaring toward us is a creature straight out of myth and legend. The huge, winged lizard is blood red and has a broad, fanged mouth; long, sinuous neck; and two sets of taloned appendages. The dragon is larger than a 747, with a two-hundred foot wingspan. The magic-wielding demon descends.
The Dragon
Merithin releases a fireball at the monster. The blue magefire rolls harmlessly off the beast’s skin.
“Laser, laser.” The beams have no effect on what I thought would be the vulnerable underside of the wings.
I take note of it in the back of my mind when a healer tending to Craig pronounces that he will live; he has merely lost consciousness.
“Merithin, the shields will never hold against a dragon. It’s larger than anything I anticipated and magical too.” Frustrated, I lapse into English, “It’s like trying to stop a charging grizzly bear with nothing but arrows.”
“If your grizzly is anything like the giants of the north, I see your point,” Merithin replies to the redundant statement I made in English. “I know an enlargement spell, perhaps between the two of us we could make a formidable arrow.”
“That’s it!” With the flying menace less than two hundred yards away, I leap to the lamppost. Whispering, “Release,” I withdraw the thirty-foot spear from the ground. My Conan fingers grind into the wooden pole as I chant, pacing like a javelin thrower.
“To the neck you’ll now fly,
To ‘penetrate’ as time goes by.”
I chuck the spear with all my might. True to the words of the rhyme, it soars to the dragon. A tremendous bellow escapes the monster as the magically enhanced weapon drills into its neck. The winged beast pulls upward, hovering in midair less than a hundred feet away.
The intelligent creature swings its snout around. It sneers at the object piercing its hide. The iron-hard shaft flexes like a bow as one huge claw reaches to try to snap off the impaling object.
Sprinting, I dart to another lamp.
“It doesn’t shake like a bowl full of jelly,
But you will ‘penetrate’ the tender underbelly.”
The second rod lodges in its stomach. The living nightmare does midair summersaults, trying to grasp both of the light posts.
A rear claw and a fore claw slide down the twin shafts. Trying to remove the spears, the beast grasps the glowing balls at the ends of the poles. Evil appendages wrap around the mage-globes. Crushing pressure is applied to the glowing spheres. A blinding light shatters the darkness as the luminescent balls explode. The beast plummets earthward.
Having felt the creature’s death, I nod at Merithin and race back toward my designated position. The ground trembles under our feet as the goliath collides with Mother Earth. A cheer arises from the men as we continue in a jog back to Southgate.
“If that was a distraction, I hate to think what the assault will be,” I mutter.
The ground vibrates as though a convoy of Mack trucks were skirting our position. I extend my hands to my companions as the ground quakes again. Taking our feet from the ground, I hurl us toward the danger I discern.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
“Nice touch, using those light posts as spears,” Szames compliments, as if a 120-pound woman throwing a thirty-foot javelin is an everyday occurrence.
“I got the idea from Merithin: Bigger arrows.” I smile.
In silence we wait. We stare at the horizon as the trembling grows stronger. Even with my night vision, I cannot see the coming danger until it is two hundred yards away.
The next attacker is shaped like an arthropod. Each section of its segmented body is as large as a minivan. Its jointed legs hit the ground with such force, the earth quivers with each step it takes. Like a giant centipede, it winds its way over rolling hills.
“Magefire,” the first segment of its body disintegrates into ash, but the rest of the creature seems unaffected. “Magefire, magefire, magefire…” A popular arcade game comes to life as the beast’s progress is unaffected by the repeated blasts of flame. Several sections are disintegrated, but the monster continues, like a preprogrammed robot. The sections aren’t connected. I’m gonna have to hit each one! At fifty yards the demon still has more than ten bulbous portions, each blindly following the pattern of the one before it, as they march toward us as fast as a horse can gallop.
The monster hits the stun shield. It lets out an odd hissing sound like a wet sponge on a roaring fire as the legs fold up. The creature’s momentum causes it to roll. “Laser,” slices open the belly of the segment in front. Demons tumble out of the fifteen-foot sphere. Having played right into their hands, too late the purpose of the beast is made crystal clear.
The remaining three sections hit the main shield, dissolving with a fiery blaze as demon flesh comes into contact with the safety line. But only the outer husk is dissolved. Beasts are disgorged. Dozens of invaders spring to life in the midst of our sanctuary. The enemy waits for us in the moat; five times that number occupy the safety zone. We are surrounded!
Soldiers charge from all directions. They encircle the enemy on all sides. Even though the attackers are outnumbered eight to one, it does us little good.
Demonstrating cunning at odds with their grotesque forms, orcs hurl one soldier at a time through the shield. The waiting demons pounce on each man. Their constant barrage breaks through the protective barrier created by the paladin stone.
“Laser, laser, laser.” In the seconds it takes to clear the moat and destroy a half dozen monsters, twice as many men lay dead in the safety zone.
Scanning the immediate area, I look for opportunities to take out a demon without endangering human life. Like a cat at a mouse hole, I watch for an opening as Szames and two of the guards work steadily, keeping a ten-foot orc occupied. The giant has several wounds, but they have yet to disable him.
“‘Ware, behind you!” Sheridan’s warning comes from my left.
Pivoting in that direction, I bring up my hand, ready for danger. Sheridan’s sprint to the approaching creature puts her between the beast and me. Twenty feet away, she levels a sword at the gremlin. A skilled strike separates its head from its shoulders. It falls to the ground, dropping a glowing red sphere it had carried like a football. Time slows as the horror unfolds.
&nb
sp; “No!” I roar.
Sheridan looks over her shoulder at me but continues to bend down, intent on retrieving the object the demon held. As her hand touches the maroon ball of demon energy, her mouth contorts in pain. Black tendrils intertwine with what is left of the blue in her aura. The oozing strands brighten, glowing fiercely.
An explosion knocks every man within ten feet of her to the ground. The dust settles. The air clears. There is no trace of Sheridan. A ten-foot hole occupies the spot where she stood.
“Stand down to the moat!” I bellow at the top of my lungs.
Soldiers break off their engagements, retreating to safety. It gives me the needed openings. “Laser, laser, laser.” The field is cleared of the enemy.
Men assume their stations again. The line is sparse now. More than ten feet separate the soldiers as Szames comes to stand beside me. Once again we peer toward the hills, wondering what they will throw at us next. With the moons setting, we don’t have long to wait. The enemy knows the night will soon come to an end.
A buzzing fills the air, like a swarm of bees we can’t see. From the northwest, three flying, demonic shapes approach. Longer and slimmer than the wyverns, these demons are humanoid in shape. Landing a hundred yards out, they hold helpless humans before them, blocking my laser fire. Two are soldiers and one has a green sash at his waist, labeling him as a healer.
“Take our lives swiftly, Flame-hair!” cries one of the two men who remain conscious.
His captor sticks a long claw into his thigh, giving it a savage twist. The warrior’s screams cease when the demon retracts its claw.
The creatures are more than six feet in height and have clear, locust-type wings, but their appearance is more like a tarantula wasp. Six arms sprout down their elongated chests. Black skin bristles with stiff hair covering their muscled legs and arms. Their heads cause me to clamp my jaws shut against a shriek determined to break free. A jutting jaw slopes back into a large cranium holding five eyes, providing a grotesque backdrop for a pair of human lips. I clench my fists, fighting the urge to squash them like the bugs they remind me of.
Truce Maker Demon’s
(Tarantula Wasp Demons)
“A truce!” rings out a stilted, guttural, yet understandable voice. “We ask to confer under a pledge of truce.”
“You attacked without provocation,” Szames’s deep voice booms. “What possible interest can you have in talk of peace?”
“It is not you to whom we wish to speak,” the words slither out of their lips. “Sorceress, are not the lives of three of your men worth a mark of your time? Join us here on this field so that we may end this bloodshed.”
“I have your word,” I shout, “you will release them to my custody, no matter the outcome of our talks?”
“Yes, you have our word that they will be released if you join us to discuss terms for a truce.” The giant bug’s reply grates irritatingly, even shouted from a distance.
“Archmage, don’t tell me you are considering their parlay,” Szames’s fierce whisper comes on the heels of the demon’s reply. “These monsters have no code of honor. It is clearly a trap.”
“General, I agree with your assertion. However, that doesn’t change the fact that I’ll take them up on their offer. I’ve got a few tricks left up these sleeves of mine. All I need to do is get within fifty feet of them.” I pause, unwilling to disclose my plan.
“I will stand beside you as your second,” Szames proclaims in a voice that tells me I will need more time than I have to change his mind.
“There are three demons,” Andrayia states matter-of-factly. “There should be three of us. I have sworn to stand by you throughout this battle. I will not be dissuaded from accompanying you.”
Knowing when I am beat, I turn, and in a tone that brooks no arguments, decree, “Agreed. Mikaela, you and Keeton wait here. Szames, Andrayia, watch for my signal. If my hand comes down to my side, you must be touching some part of me as well as the prisoners.”
All involved nod their assent. I march double-time, leaving the safety zone I have constructed. A general and one of the kingdom’s most skilled swordswomen flank me.
“I’m here, as you requested. Now release the hostages.” I halt sixty feet from the new flying monsters.
“After the parley.” Closer now, the demon’s voice takes on a clicking, chittering echo.
“If their lives don’t depend on the outcome, I see no reason for them to remain in your custody,” I retort.
“What guarantee do we have that our lives will not be forfeited as soon as we stand unprotected?” Extending my empathy, I still perceive nothing from the monsters before us.
Tearing a hunk of brown grass from the ground, Szames wipes his blade, sliding his sword home in the scabbard. He growls, “Because we have a code of honor. If this truce is violated, it will be by you. Trust must begin somewhere if the truce is to have a positive outcome.”
A flylike buzzing ensues as we wait for their decision. With no consideration for his wounds, the leader pushes its prisoner forward. The two other demons follow suit.
The healer and soldier lift the unconscious man between them, struggling toward us. Hoofbeats ring into the silence of the night. Once again the ground beneath our feet begins to tremble.
Cursing, I whisper, “To the wounded!” We dash to the prisoners. At the top of the knoll, I give the signal for my companions to bring all the defenders into contact with me.
I whisper, “Firerin—” halting just short of releasing a fifty-foot circle of magefire as I feel the location and identity of the new arrivals.
“Alex!” Andrayia hails our galloping savior.
The crown prince charges into the spot we vacated seconds earlier. Several jarovegi emerge from beneath the earth. Horses dance on hind legs, throwing their riders. The sight of the crown prince falling from his horse, his head striking a rock, will be with me for the rest of my days.
Swiveling on my heel, I hiss, “Laser, laser, laser,” taking down the three truce negotiators. Turning back, I find Andrayia is no longer at my side. She fights beside the new arrivals.
Swearing in frustration, I begin picking off the burrowing demons. When the ground around us begins to shake, I turn to Szames. “It’s time to get back to the safety net. You feel up to carrying that one?”
Without a word, he reaches down. Slinging the soldier over his shoulder, he leads the way. Helping the freed prisoner with the leg wound, I follow Szames. The ground continues to vibrate as we reach our would-be rescuers.
Andrayia’s feet are planted. Anger blazes crimson on her fair complexion as she wields the deadly blade. Behind her in a crumpled heap lies the one she loves. Before I can fire a shot, a second jarovegi falls before her shining steel.
The healer, having stabilized both men, tends to the prince. Alex struggles to rise. The healer has stopped the bleeding, but dizziness still plagues him.
Pointing southward to the horizon, he delivers the message that brought him onto the field. “Archmage, Nemir has sighted a mass of demons traveling at an unheard-of speed.”
“Then I would have you and Andrayia see the wounded back to safety. Szames will supply me with energy. We can fly back ten times faster than a horse can run.”
“I will stay,” the crown prince argues. “I have assumed the field; therefore, I now lead this army. Szames, see the others back to the moat.”
“Your Highness, you don’t have the supply of power I need,” I insist.
“I concur,” Szames announces as a cavalry soldier approaches, leading two horses. “Alex, on the battlefield our combined votes override you, General and Magic Counselor.”
“I concede to your decision.” Alex gives a slight bow of his head before swinging into the saddle.
To my amazement, Prince Alexandros gestures toward the unconscious man. By the time Szames has him draped over his brother’s horse, Andrayia is mounted behind the soldier whose leg wound has been stabilized. With a salute to Szames, Ale
x charges back to the castle with the rest of the cavalry in tow.
I look to Szames. A dip of his head, and we rush to higher ground. At first we see nothing, but within minutes the new threat crests a distant hill.
“By Andskoti’s holy name…”
An enormous sphere is plunging straight toward the castle. It is as if a giant hand has released a bowling ball with earthshaking strength, hurling the oncoming object in our direction. Blacker than the night surrounding it, larger than most of the town’s buildings, it bears down on our position.
“Magefire,” I whisper as it crests the next incline. The fireball hits squarely, taking out the top layer, but the monstrosity continues, unaffected.
“Szames, a little height.” I extend my hand. As if we have worked together for years instead of days, Szames responds instantly. Pulling energy from him, I take us aloft, conserving my dwindling reserves. We hover a few feet off the ground.
“Magefire, magefire, magefire,” I chant over and over until my voice becomes hoarse. Still, the mass continues toward us. “Magefire, magefire, magefire…” I can now make out what the demons have thrown against us. Horror boggles my brain. I lose concentration. We drift back down to earth.
Threads of magic link the demons at the waist. What looks like a solid black ball is really a seething, boiling mass of the most grotesque, demonic shapes a mind can conjure. Using their arms, the beasts add momentum to the sphere of what started out as hundreds of monsters.
My continual battery has reduced the globe by half its diameter, but I know I don’t have enough energy to finish the job, even if I milk Szames dry.
“Laser bolt.” A thick beam of blue light streams out from my hand.
I break off the beam of incandescent light, my attempt to cut the sphere in half, incomplete. A string of expletives fly from my lips. Why didn’t I try this sooner?
Regaining control of my anger, I turn to my partner. “Szames, I’m almost out of energy. If I take any more from either of us, we will be in no shape to defend ourselves.”
