by Jon Kiln
Once on the plains, she changed into her lupine form to allow her to keep up with the wild wolf pack. Within the day they could see a haze of dust on the horizon, kicked up by the marching army. As they drew closer she called a halt to the wolves, on the brow of a hill, in direct line of the marching soldiers. They awaited their arrival.
Soon, the first of the soldiers marched passed them, in rows of five, disciplined and organized. Scouts were ahead checking for enemies. Despite their vigilance, it seemed they were unaware that a pack of wolves watched them go by.
She waited until at least half the army had passed, and looking down from her vantage point, she saw the Palaran flag. Sitting on a white horse, fully regaled in royal armor, sat Myriam, the Queen of Palara.
She threw back her head and howled, long and deep into the sky.
The marching troops came to a halt, scanning the surrounding area to find for the source of the call.
Grecia turned back into human form, and stood at the edge of the precipice, looking at the soldiers below.
“Welcome, Queen of Palara, you are indeed a welcome sight!” she shouted, before making her way down the hillock.
Myriam was overjoyed to see Grecia coming her way. She immediately dismounted and went to greet her.
“Grecia, it is so good to see you alive and well,” Myriam said as she embraced the shaman.
“It is good to see you too m’Lady,” Grecia responded in kind. “I bring further glad tidings. We have the young Emperor in our care, and his bodyguard, my kinsman, Torno, watches over him.”
“Oh my, this news just keeps getting better,” Myriam said, even more overjoyed to learn that Cronos and his personal protector were alive and well. “We have good news for them both. If you look down the line, you will see a giant of a man in the march. We have Rochmyr, and by the force of his will, he freed himself from his demon. Cronos will be delighted to have both his personal bodyguards back by his side.”
“Indeed, my Queen.” Grecia was pleased at the news about Rochmyr. Torno had said he would do all he could to find and rescue him. Now they could be reunited, and battle side by side once again.
Qutaybah rode up and greeted Grecia.
“Welcome, shaman, what can you tell me about the enemy forces?” he asked, keen to understand what lay in wait.
“We’ve been picking them off for the last few days. I have wolves patrolling the borders and reporting to me daily. A huge force of demons guard at the border. We must hurry though, for I fear they are there to invade Palara.”
“It is with haste that we ride then,” Qutaybah said. “Lead the way, and we will follow.”
Grecia changed back into her wolf form and called the others down from the hilltop. They set off at speed towards their camp.
They rode hard, aware of the urgency, the wolves leading the way and the human army close behind. A shout stopped some of them in their tracks
“Aaagghh! A beast! A flying beast!” a soldier from the front cried out.
They scanned the skies, and soldiers pointed their bows at the huge creature gliding just above them. On its back could be seen the shape of a small figure.
Grecia turned back into her human form and calmed the anxious soldiers. “Do not fear, it is friend, not foe.”
Myriam watched in fascination, if not with a little trepidation, as the huge beast flew lower, gradually decreasing in circles, until it landed near to the Palaran flag. It was graceful for a creature of its size. Myriam spurred her horse to jog over to the beast. As she arrived, she saw the prince dismounting from the Asgwern.
Cronos ran up to Myriam, who quickly dismounted. They hugged in greeting.
“That is some pet you have there, Cronos,” she said, laughing.
“He’s my friend and protector,” he replied, looking back over his shoulder fondly at the beast. “He saved my life.”
Myriam spotted Torno walking towards them, and called him over.
“You look better than when I last saw you, Torno.” She admired that he was rid of the leech of a demon. “I have someone who will be pleased to see you two.”
Myriam turned back and pointed in the direction of a huge man, who stood further back.
“Rochmyr! Rochmyr!” Cronos cried out and ran to his friend, closely followed by Torno. “I can’t believe it. You look so well.”
The giant picked him up and put the young boy upon his shoulders. Then he exchanged greetings with his good friend, the wolf man.
“We have already fought our battles,” Torno said to him. “What say you to returning to the palace and seeing what Ganry is up to?”
“Do you think we could?” Cronos said, excited. He so longed to return to the royal city. “We could all fly upon Canne’s back. He is big enough, even for you, Rochmyr.”
“I’m not sure I trust that thing,” Rochmyr answered. “How do you know it won’t try to take over our minds?”
“Canne is not a monster, Rochmyr,” Cronos defended his flying beast. “He saved my life and I trust him implicitly. He will not betray us.”
“We’ll discuss it over dinner,” Torno said. He could see the giant was none too pleased with the idea, but it would provide them with speed in getting to their destination.
The army was directed to a temporary camp, while Cronos had gone on ahead on Canne, to warn the remaining wolves of the coming forces. Soon, fires were burning and food was being cooked as everyone ate a hearty feast, as though it may be their last. For many here, it probably would be.
43
Azmariddian was familiar with the palace layout and many of the hidden passageways, though he had never had much cause to use them in the past, so they tread with care as they moved around. Once inside the city walls, they made their way to the palace, which had proved easier than expected. Much of that was due to his spell that had broken the gloomy dark weather. Most of the beasts were nowhere to be seen, but Azmariddian still felt their presence, probably hiding in the shadows.
One thing the two traveling friends had learned well, and that was to sneak around unnoticed. Now though, they would not need to stick to the shadows themselves, they could walk where there was light. They would wade through the confusion, and simply enter the palace by the kitchens.
Azmariddian was not a stranger to the palace kitchens. Often he had eaten there with his old friend, the head cook. When they entered, all was unusually quiet and deserted.
“The kitchens were my favorite place in the whole of the palace,” he said, turning to Hendon. “Always full of delicious smells, and a hive of activity.”
“Fear not,” Hendon tried to console the druid. “If everything goes to plan, these kitchens will soon be buzzing with activity once again.”
Azmariddian did not respond to the younger man’s attempts to bolster his confidence. Instead he walked away, towards one of the cooling pantries. If he remembered correctly, a network of hidden passageways began there, spreading throughout the palace. Hendon followed the druid through the maze of narrow passageways running through the walls. Soon, they arrived at a trapdoor, and Azmariddian stopped to look down at it.
“Where does it lead?” Hendon asked.
“Exactly where we want to go, but are we ready for this?” The druid was unsure if he was strong enough to face what they may find down there.
Hendon took out from his backpack the spell book they had stolen.
Azmariddian placed his hand on Hendon’s, which held the book tightly closed.
“We’ll need more than that, my young friend. Whoever is leading this rabble will be down there. I guarantee it.”
“Yes, I believe you’re right again, old man. But we have to get closer to the portal to close it. Once we’ve done that, I think it should cause confusion down there.”
“We can’t risk it being opened again,” Azmariddian said. “We need some battle spells, so we can take on the leader. It’s time to go face it. I can do this part alone, Hendon. I would understand if you leave now. You have d
one more than your fair share already. This is my kingdom, I must go all the way.”
“You don’t get rid of me that easy,” Hendon laughed. “I’m going to call upon the spirit world, see if there’s any help to be gained there.”
Hendon wasted no more time. He sat on the floor, lotus style, and entered a trance. Azmariddian was aware of this procedure. He had seen Hendon do it before, so he waited patiently. Meanwhile he used a small spell of light, and began to look through the spell book to find the right one for closing the portal.
I’m here, a voice spoke to Hendon, as if it had been awaiting his arrival in its world. You are confronting one who has already died in your world. Yet her body is as mortal as yours. If you destroy the body, then her soul will be cast back into the underworld.
The voice faded and Hendon found himself back in the narrow passageway with Azmariddian.
“Well, that was simple,” he said to the druid, who sat studying the book. “Her body is as disposable as yours and mine. All we have to do is kill her, and her soul will be banished to the underworld once again.”
“Who is she?” the druid asked.
“I’m not sure, but I think it’s probably the queen witch, Thalia.”
“Her, again. Will Mirnee ever be free from her evil doings?”
Hendon was taken aback by the druid’s venom at the mention of her name.
“I’ll close the portal,” Azmariddian offered. “I have the spell right here. You deal with the woman. Are we agreed?”
Hendon nodded as he opened the trap door. They lowered themselves into the dungeon unseen. A wretched scream was the first thing they heard. They guessed that humans were being tortured.
“We need to get closer,” Azmariddian whispered. “I want to see this portal before I close it.”
Hendon understood. It was something neither of them would ever get to see again.
The corridors were busy with the beasts that had entered through the portal and were heading upwards to the battle.
Finding a chamber with a metal grid, they could see into the main room clearly, and Hendon recognized the familiar figure who was chained to a wall. The witch queen was flaying Ganry’s back with a whiplash of fire.
“It’s Ganry. They have him captured,” Hendon said, a little louder than he meant to.
The druid hushed him.
“Look, it is her. The Witch Queen Thalia,” Azmariddian pointed out to him. “This is our chance to be finally rid of her.”
“That will not be so easy,” Hendon replied, remembering the havoc she managed to cause two years ago, and she was not even on this world then. “She has powerful magic.”
“So do we, my friend. Let’s not forget we have Ganry, too,” the druid pointed out. “If he doesn’t die before we can free him, he is a strong one in battle.”
Thalia lashed with fire across Ganry’s back again, raising another welt to match the many others that swelled on his burned skin. Ganry took his torture in silence. It was other humans that were screaming in fear.
“Why can’t you just accept that you have new rulers in this world?” Thalia yelled. “You know, I could use a human as strong as you, you fool. Take this offer while you can!” Clearly frustrated at this stubborn man, she was readying herself to kill him.
“I serve my own Queen, in Palara,” he said, his voice surprisingly strong considering his situation.
“But you are in my lands now, human. Here, I am ruler, and I could give you powers you have never dreamed of. A human queen cannot give you these things. You are a fool not to take it,” she finished, vehemence dripping in her voice.
“There is only one ruler in Mirnee, and that is the Emperor Cronos,” he said, his head drooping down to his chest, his skin dripping with salty sweat.
“What’s that you say?” Thalia thought she had heard him wrong. “The albino boy is dead, he can hardly rule Mirnee from the spirit world.”
“He lives, and every human around you serves him. We will take his kingdom back, and once again banish you from this world,” Ganry spat back at her.
“The boy lives!” Thalia rumbled, and even the walls shook at her fury.
“Now’s our chance,” Hendon urged. “Let’s get that portal closed, Azmariddian, while her mind is elsewhere.”
Azmariddian needed no further urging. He was already chanting the words from the book, quietly, his spell almost complete. The swirling red lights of the portal stopped, and turned pitch black. The whole room suddenly lit up with the brightest of white lights, blinding all within. Hendon did not waste any time. He spoke to Lucy, the monkey, who was hidden in his cloak. He gave her images of unfastening the chains that held Ganry. She was soon scuttling across the floor, towards the chained warrior that she had seen in her mind.
Madness ensued around them; the brilliant white light was too much for the demons in the chamber, and they fell to their knees, screeching in agony.
In the confusion, the little monkey was unnoticed, and soon climbing the walls to unfasten the clasps that held Ganry captive. Once free of his chains, he slumped to the floor. Under the cover of the brightness, he crawled away, dragging his body out of sight.
Thalia realized, as her eyes adjusted to the brightness, that the portal was gone. Quickly, she looked over to the human she had been torturing, but he was also gone.
“Who dares to interfere with my magic?” she cried out with a shaky voice. Yet there was no one in the dungeon chambers but her, and her pathetic creatures who writhed on the floor. She felt the chill of fear shoot down her spine. Whoever had the power to close the portal was indeed a powerful magician. She knew then that she must hide.
44
The armies of Palara and Vandemland moved into position along the border, hemming in the demons trapped between the attacking forces and the magical barrier. Surrounded and outnumbered, it was only a matter of time before the creatures would be overrun, but they were still a formidable force, and had repelled the first wave of attacks. For now, there was a stalemate.
Myriam, Artas, and Qutaybah surveyed the battlefield from a knoll that overlooked the border crossing.
“They are well entrenched in their position,” Artas said, as they looked down on the massed forces below. “We’ll lose many men in a frontal attack.”
“The barrier,” Myriam said, a sudden thought coming to her. “If we can remove the barrier, we will have them surrounded with my own forces on the other side. We need to find those witches, they can’t be far from their own magic. They’re the ones holding that barrier.”
Qutaybah agreed, and they spurred their horses, riding back to camp to plan their next move.
***
Cronos was not to be included in the battle, nor his Asgwern, as much as he wanted to be there. Grecia and Myriam had insisted that he return to the royal city. He should prepare to take back his palace when the battles were all won. His people would need him there, after all the chaos and destruction they would have been through. At first he refused to go, but once his closest friend and personal bodyguard, Rochmyr, agreed to go with him, he reluctantly gave in.
“Head straight for the underground tunnels and hide out there until you can find Ganry,” Grecia advised him. “With luck, Ganry will have control of the city already.”
He said his farewells to Artas and Torno, who he wished was going with him. Having just found his friend the wolf man, he was reluctant to leave him. But Torno had his own role to play in the unfolding battle, and Cronos understood this.
With a heavy heart, he and Rochmyr headed to the Asgwern who rested in a clearing. Climbing onto his back, the great beast opened his huge wings and slowly began to rise off the ground. It was a strain for Canne at first, carrying the boy and the giant. Once in the air, he would pick up speed. He was not going to let his master down and soon soared high into the sky, heading towards the royal city which they would reach by nightfall.
With the wind blowing through his hair, Cronos soon forgot his disappointment
at missing the battle. Now, he looked forward to returning home and taking his rightful place as the Emperor of Mirnee.
***
“I’ll take Torno, and a small pack of the wild wolves,” Grecia said. “We’ll find the witches, my Queen, and will take great pleasure in killing every last one of them.”
“Take care, Grecia,” Myriam replied, embracing the wolf shaman. “My kingdom owes a lot to your people. I’d like you by my side when we liberate Mirnee.”
Grecia left immediately, taking Torno and around a dozen of the wild wolves with her. She had spoken in their minds before leaving, informing them of their task, and they immediately began sniffing the air and ground, swiftly searching for the familiar scent of a witch. Grecia and Torno watched on, as the wolves scurried from spot to spot, their noses barely lifting from the ground. It seemed just for a moment their efforts would be in vain, with no scent to be found. Then, one of the wolves let out a long yet quiet howl, before it ran off into a small woodland on the border. The others quickly followed. Grecia and Torno changed into their wolf form, and immediately chased after them.
The hunt was on.
***
Qutaybah rode to the front of his troops, ready to attack the demons once again. The passageway into the pass was quite narrow and easy for the beasts to defend. Already he had lost a number of soldiers trying to get through. He was reluctant to attack head on again, as many more would die. Instead, he ordered his troops to stand down and wait for the barrier to fall. He was joined by Queen Myriam and Artas, both dressed in armor, ready to ride into battle.
“Do you sense that, Qutaybah?” Artas asked, reining his horse to stand by his side. “There’s a lift in the very air that we breath. It’s less gloomy with a brightness pushing through those clouds. I feel the tide is changing in our favor.”
“Yes,” the Vandemlander smiled back at him. “I feel it too. It’s definitely brighter, and look, the rain has petered out. Perhaps you are right, young Artas, and the reign of this impostor is over. I will feel happier when that wretched barrier comes down.”
