by Jon Kiln
“Take care, Ganry,” Artas said in a low, somber tone. “You still have much to teach me.”
“And take care yourself, young Artas,” Ganry replied, smiling. “Even I cannot teach a corpse.”
Taking his sword and a small backpack, Ganry set off alone, moving quickly into the cover of the trees.
Artas watched him go with a heavy heart. He had grown fond of Ganry over the last few years. He looked up to him as a father figure, especially after the death of his own father at the hands of the usurper, Duke Harald. He could not help but feel, deep down inside, that he would never see his mentor again. He shrugged off the feeling of doom that had descended upon him and turned to the men awaiting his orders.
“You heard, let’s go give them hell!” he yelled, raising his sword in the air as his fighting spirit returned.
The guards split into small groups of ten or so and advanced on the enemy. The invaders were completely unaware of the danger approaching them. They were so embroiled in the battle before them, surrounding the castle walls. The Mirneans had much success over the last few days, easily sweeping across Palara with little or no resistance. They had become overconfident, believing they were untouchable, especially with the protection of the witches. They were soon to be shaken from that belief.
Artas and his men were almost upon the enemy, still with the element of surprise. Silently, with no rally cry, the men fell upon the Mirneans, slashing and hacking at them, until many were lying dead or wounded on the ground. The surprise attack had increased the effectiveness of their fight. As the enemy became aware of the attacking Palarans at the rear, they attempted to surround them.
“Fall back,” Artas shouted. “Fall back. We will come at them from another direction.”
They fought a rear guard action as they quickly retreated to the protection of the dense forest that lined the battlefield. A few of the Mirnean soldiers followed them into the trees, but they were soon cut down. On seeing none of their numbers return from the forest, the rest of the Mirneans returned to their ranks, concentrating on the castle attack.
“Let’s move along the creek and come at them from the left,” he shouted at the men who followed him through the forest.
This was done with good success, and very little loss to their own ranks. They attacked swiftly from one point before spiriting away back into the protection of the forest, and then emerging elsewhere to inflict more damage. They may not be able to win the battle with this strategy, but it was causing confusion and chaos in the ranks of the Mirneans. The enemy were constantly on the lookout behind them, expecting and anticipating an attack.
On one of their sorties into the rear of the attackers, Riley spotted two witches arriving on the battlefield. He was uncertain of their purpose, and had no doubt that it did not bode well. As they knelt down on the grass, he assumed they were summoning a spell to assist their own side of the battle. Quickly, joining Artas and helping him dispatch a couple of the enemy, he pointed out the witches to him.
“Damn, I knew this was going too well. Whatever evil they have planned, we should try and stop them.”
Both men quickly advanced upon the witches. As they both felt that speed was more important than stealth, they threw caution to the wind and moved rapidly towards the conniving witches. Barely halfway to the witches’ position, they felt a shuddering terror as the skies loomed with an ominous darkness. Heavy black clouds blocked out the sun. The atmosphere changed as it became dark and foreboding, with an evil heaviness hanging in the air. From nowhere, all heard a huge crack of thunder, followed by a bright lightning strike that cracked against the walls of the castle, sending stone splinters flying into the air. When the smoke cleared, a large hole had appeared in the castle walls.
Both men looked at each other, aghast. They could see that the witches were once again summoning a spell, and they increased their pace to try and stop them before it was too late. As they drew closer, Artas yelled out a battle cry and raised his sword in attack. He hoped to distract the spell casters, but one of the witches saw him coming and flicked her wrist in his direction. A bright blue light flashed from her finger tips and crashed into his sword, sending shockwaves through his entire body. For a moment he stood, frozen by the blast, before his legs buckled and he crumpled to the floor.
Artas’s battle cry had attracted the attention of other Palaran Guards, and on seeing the witches, they too charged at them with swords drawn. Every man’s intention was to cut them down right where they stood. Soon the witches were surrounded by the guards, who hacked into them mercilessly. These were not humans, they were abominations who had risen the dead, and threatened the very survival of their kingdom. They showed them no mercy, gave them no quarter.
Riley ran directly to Artas, fearing the worst as he saw his friend’s motionless body on the ground.
“Artas, Artas, my friend. Are you still with us?” he cried, hopefully.
“Yes, Riley,” he managed to croak. “I still live, but I’m blinded by the damn witches. I can’t see anything.”
Riley smiled in relief. He and Artas had become good friends and he would mourn his passing, deeply. He reached down and helped a shaken Artas to his feet.
“You’ll have to leave me somewhere, Riley. I can’t see. I’m just going to hinder you,” Artas said with some urgency to his comrade.
“I’m going to take you back to the castle tunnel. You need the help of the wolves for this one,” Riley told him.
One of the Palaran Guards brought a horse they had found wandering. Its rider was probably lying dead on the battlefield. As Artas stood, he felt Riley pushing him to mount the horse. Once he was certain that Artas was secure in the saddle, he climbed up behind him and directed the horse into the woods. There, they could make it to the hidden tunnels that led into the castle.
He spurred the horse to ride swiftly, but it was already exhausted from the trials of the day. Riley was an experienced horse rider and knew how far he could push his mount. Luckily, they did not have far to go to get to where the guards watched the concealed tunnel entrance.
“You there!” Riley shouted to one of the guards as they approached. “Take Artas into the castle, he needs the healers. I’m going to look for a wolf to come and treat him. He’s been blinded by witchcraft. Take good care of him.”
The guard nodded as he recognized Artas, one of the Queen’s companions. Every soldier in Palara knew of Artas and how he had returned injured from a quest to find the dragons. They all knew him for the hero he was. Watching as the other man swiftly rode off on a fresher horse, he assisted Artas down the tunnel and into the castle.
His part in the battle was over, for now.
38
Cronos, still on Rochmyr’s back, moved deeper and deeper into the woods with the wolves following by their side. They had to find the witch woman and stop this death and destruction. He was sure she was the main source of power. If they cut her down, then the others may fall too. He’d ordered the giant, Rochmyr, to chase after the bear when she had made her escape. They must not lose her. Bumping up and down on Rochmyr’s shoulders, he encouraged him to go faster. They must find her at all costs.
They were near, he could sense her. Unsure if he would be powerful enough to take her on, he hadn’t really given it much thought, up until now. Nonetheless, he had to try.
A feeling of dread swept over him. It seemed as if the very air had changed and was tinged with an evil presence. The giant let out a long mournful wail before staggering slightly, then dropping to his knees. He knelt for a brief second, then fell forward onto the hardened ground, throwing Cronos off his shoulders.
Rochmyr was unconscious and Cronos knew exactly why. It was her, it must have been. Luckily, just as the boy was picking himself up from the ground, Torno, his wolf protector, arrived.
He climbed onto the broad back of the large, long haired wolf. Torno sniffed at Rochmyr to see how he was fairing. He had grown fond of his comrade.
“Fear not, he only sleeps. T
he witch has enchanted him.”
Reaching down Cronos brushed his hand over the giant’s forehead, lovingly.
“Sleep my friend, we will be back for you.”
The hairs on the wolf’s back bristled. He growled deeply from his throat at the thick bushes before them.
“Yes, Torno, I sense her, too,” Cronos said. “Let’s go hunt her down.”
Torno entered the dense area of shrubs. A bear that size could not hide itself easily. Whilst the witch had managed to cast a spell on the giant, she would not find it so easy on Torno. His magic bloodline would protect him against almost anything she could conjure. He was not afraid of her. She had to be stopped, here and now. This was the best opportunity they had.
That is my thinking also. Cronos said in Torno’s mind as he read the wolf’s thoughts. We may never get this close to her again. Let’s find her, quickly. I’ll know what to do once she’s in my grasp.
They did not need to go in search of the bear, as it found them. The witch, known as Ravyyne, stepped out from the undergrowth in front of Cronos and the wolf. She stood on her hind legs and towered over the wolf and boy, her mouth open in a deep rumbling roar, sharpened teeth bared ready for the kill. She knew this was the perfect opportunity to grab the child. One lone wolf could not stop her when she had such strength as a bear.
Without warning, she sprang at the wolf, claws extended. She hoped to make a quick kill and take off with the boy. But Torno was too quick for her large, slow moving body. He easily evaded her swinging paws and ducked under her lunge, Cronos still firmly upon his back.
I’m going to get off, Torno, the boy communicated, in his mind. We’ll fight better apart. Then she has two opponents. You keep her distracted for as long as you can. I have a plan.
No. The wolf was not happy with this idea. Stay on my back. I want you where I can protect you.
Too late, the boy had already slid off the wolf’s back and was running into the thick bushes. Ravyyne saw this as a good opportunity to kill the wolf and she lunged again. Torno reared up and sunk his teeth into the bear’s chest as the beast landed on him. The pair rolled around, wrestling with jaws and claws. Both making deadly growling noises as they each attempted to rip and slash at the other’s body.
Cronos searched for the prickliest bush he could find. He willed it to open up its branches so he could climb and hide within. From his vantage point, he closed his eyes and was soon witnessing the fighting wolf and bear through his mind. Both creatures were covered in sore red patches of blood, both inflicting terrible injuries to each other. He must work quickly.
Torno had an opening and he lunged on to the back of the bear. He sunk his teeth into its neck, growing wildly as he did so, and hanging on to it by his long claws. Soon it shook him off, but he was succeeding in tiring it with his constant lunges and bites. Where was the boy and what was he up to?
As Torno fell to the ground, the bear was instantly upon him, ripping at his torso with the razor sharp claws, slicing through his skin. The burning sting of her claws was excruciating, but he must fight on, he must stop this witch from getting ahold of the boy. Where were the others? Hadn’t they sensed his need of help?
I need you to get out of there, now, the boy’s voice rang in his head. His voice was firm and insistent.
Torno could hear a strange sound, a loud humming noise, and it was getting closer. As he managed to pull himself away from the bear, he could see a large, dark shadow in the sky, and it was coming their way. The bear was oblivious to it. So intent was she on killing the wolf, she was ignorant of all around her, until it was too late. The wolf did as he had been instructed and with all the remaining strength he could muster, he darted into the undergrowth.
He expected the bear to be instantly upon him, but he could not feel its presence and he heard no heavy footsteps behind him. Swiftly he turned around to see where the bear had got to, or even worse, had it gone to get the boy from his hiding spot. The bear was still in the same place he had left him, but what he saw shocked him. How? Where had they come from?
The bear was staggering around the clearing, batting its paws at a dark swarm that had surrounded it. It took a moment for Torno to realize that the creature was being attacked by bees, seemingly millions of them. The battle was completely one sided as the bear was enveloped by the stinging, flying insects. It staggered about the clearing, growling and snapping at the deadly attackers, as it battled vainly for its life. Finally overcome, it dropped to its knees, and with one last mournful wail it fell forward onto its face, and lay on the forest floor completely still.
She was poisoned by the venom of bees.
Changing back into his human form, Torno observed the bees blanketing the bear and the ground around it. There were so many of them carpeting the forest floor that it seemed to take on a life of its own, as if the ground were moving.
A small hand took his own. He looked down to see Cronos by his side.
“I do not have the strength of a warrior, but I have many, many friends,” he said smiling at Torno, who smiled back at him.
The bees lifted as if they were one single entity. The dark cloud flew into the skies again, dispersing once it was above the canopy of the forest.
A female human body lay upon the floor in the place of the bear. Swollen and red, her entire body was covered in tiny seeping lumps. The bees had poisoned the witch. Even witches were not immune to nature and her protectors.
39
Ganry desperately wanted this day of battles to end, but he knew that further deaths were inevitable before that could happen. Hopefully, the wolves and the boy would find and kill the witch, but it was up to him to find Jeon and put an end to this madness.
Ganry moved through the camp with ease, no one challenging him. They were all too busy as the battle raged around them. His clothing was plain and unmarked. He could easily pass for a mercenary, on either side.
It was not going too well for the Palarans, especially with the witches’ trickery. There was a gaping hole in the battlements of the castle wall from the lightning strike. He hoped Myriam was safe inside. Still, the Mirneans were suffering their own dreadful losses, their hospital tents full of the wounded, with many dead littering the battlefield.
Jeon was nowhere to be seen. As the main commander of this battle, Ganry would have expected him to be in the thick of it, commanding his troops. The old Jeon he knew would have been. He fought many battles by his side in the past. Keeping his head down and trying to blend in, Ganry searched for his nemesis.
***
General Jeon had just finished a consultation with the witches in the forest and was riding back to the battlefield. All was going well. The Palarans were trapped inside the castle. The witches had tricks that would turn the course of this fight in their favor. They were a powerful ally, not ones you would want as an enemy.
Briefly, he felt a pang of sorrow for the death and destruction that would be meted out today. Many would die, but it was too late to turn back now. He had come too far, sold his very soul to the witches so he could have his son returned to him. They promised him his boy, exactly as he remembered him, and not as some walking shell like the monstrosities that had been risen for the purpose of this war.
Ganry had lied when he said his son would not be the same, How could he know anyway? He had to believe that his son would be normal, or all this was for nothing.
He hated meeting the witches. Getting so close to them made his skin crawl and he always felt debased afterwards. They were a means to an end; an end which was finally in sight. Entering the camp, his spirits were lifted by the thought that it was almost over. Once reunited with his son, they would go somewhere and start a new life.
Glancing across the camp, the General felt a shudder down his spine as he saw a familiar figure. He knew it was him the minute he saw him, even from a distance, and he knew why he was here. He knew that Ganry was looking for revenge for the death of his family. He had not personally killed them, but h
e had ordered it to be done.
Just for a fleeting moment, he considered calling for a guard to take him down. Jeon knew that this fight would be to the death. Something stopped him, perhaps it was a lingering respect for his old comrade, or maybe it was the driving urge he had to exact his own revenge for his son’s death, of which he held Ganry responsible.
“Ganry de Rosenthorn, you have entered the lion’s den. Prepare to meet your fate,” he shouted.
***
Ganry suspected that the General was not in the camp. Moving towards the forest, where he was to link up with the wolves, he was stopped dead in his tracks by a familiar voice crying out a challenge.
Ganry turned and faced General Jeon, still mounted on his horse with a look of triumph plastered on his face.
“I intended to kill you, once everything you held dear was dead. I wanted you to feel my wrath before I finally put an end to your miserable existence. I yearn to see the look of despair on your face as the Emperor’s son, who you have tried so hard to protect, is sacrificed to the witches. And when that foolish child Queen, who you hold in such esteem, is lying dead in the castle. Tell me, Ganry, does she remind you of your daughter? They would be about the same age, wouldn’t they? I will enjoy taking this daughter from you, too.”
The General’s final remark cut deep. This from the man who had allowed the slaughter of his wife and daughter, purely because of his own grief. Today was a day of reckoning, and while deep down he felt that this may be his last, Ganry knew with a certainty he would have his revenge before it was over.
“You’re an old fool, Jeon. The witches have played you to their advantage. They have no intention of returning your son as he was. Not even the mightiest of witches or wizards could do that. He is gone, moved on to another place where there is no return. I think you probably know that yourself deep down inside.”
As Ganry spoke, the hatred for the man before him swelled up inside of the General. He would listen to no more lies. Digging his spurs cruelly into the horse’s side, he charged at Ganry, his sword before him, intent on cutting him down where he stood.
