Windbreak

by Derek Alan Siddoway

  Her uncles relented, but only on the condition that a personal guard accompanied her. The group was comprised of two members of the King’s Wing — not Tahl, unfortunately — two members of the Lord Commander’s Wing — of which Sigrid was one, fortunately — and a handful of others, chosen by Eva. Which of course meant Ivan, Chel, and Wynn. When Wynn asked, Eva almost told her no, until she realized she was treating the younger girl the same way her two uncles treated her.

  Eva hid a smile, watching Wynn stare wide-eyed around the gathering. A horn pealed from the edge of the rock circle. In the swirling snow, Eva had a hard time making out the source. She knew what the sound meant though: the Juarag had arrived.

  Hands tightened on weapons and faces grew tense. A few minutes later, Eva saw the dark, hulking shapes of sabercats padding across the snow. The silence of their approach made it all the more unsettling. There were fifty or so in all, their lithe bodies painted for war. The wet snowfall caused the beasts’ markings to trickle down their sides, dripping reds, blues, purples, oranges and green into the snow, like a bleeding rainbow. A man out front — Arapheem, Eva guessed by the look of his war cat — called a halt a bow shot from the western delegates.

  As the Juarag crested the hill on foot, Eva started forward, ignoring the protests of her guard who followed close behind. The Juarag riders dismounted and left their snarling sabercats on the edge of the Point. Even with the distance between the cats and the gryphons watching from the crags and rock of the cliff face behind her, Eva could almost feel the mutual hatred between the two magnificent animal breeds. Humans aside, she doubted it would take much to start a fight between the gryphons and sabercats.

  “Hail Arapheem, mighty chieftain of the Juarag,” King Adelar said when the party drew close enough to hear his words over the moaning winds. Eva took a place beside her uncles and the Scrawl Elders.

  “It is good weather to talk about the ending of days,” Arapheem said, glancing up at the swollen, snow-filled skies and grinning. When he looked back at them, the warchief held out his hand to Eva in the same gesture as the first time they’d met. Without bothering to check for permission from the king, Eva stepped forward and returned the greeting.

  “I have brought the Juarag chiefs as you asked, Bloodrider,” Arapheem said to her. “Now tell us how we may defeat the Smelterborn.”

  This time, Eva deffered. “My uncle, King Adelar of Rhylance, will tell you our plan for battle.”

  Adelar began a long talk about the importance of uniting against the Smelterborn. As he spoke, Eva studied the other Juarag chiefs. None of the women accompanying Arapheem looked especially glad to be there. Most wore unconcealed scowls while they listened to Arapheem confer with the king. Some studied the rest of the delegation and the gryphons, no doubt sizing up their opponents should the gathering turn into a fight. One man, an older warrior with hair black as coal and a milky-white left eye, stared at Eva. His gaze fell on her as cold and devoid of life as the snow-drenched mountains around them.

  He reminded Eva of Uthred, the second-in-command of the Windsworn and her uncle Andor’s right-hand man. When Eva had first come to the Gyr to begin her training, he’d ordered Sigrid — who, at the time, harbored a deep resentment for Eva — to beat her into a pulp in the sparring circle. For most of her first year, Eva thought Uthred was trying to kill her. Instead, in his own harsh way, he had tempered her resolve, and made Eva earn everything she got, even as the rider of the fabled red gryphon.

  In the years since, Eva developed a begrudging respect for the hard, gray warrior. She sensed the black-haired Juarag chief across from her was just as hard, but without any of the moral limitation or sense of honor that reined in Uthred. As Arapheem and the king spoke in earnest about how an alliance might work and how a grand attack on the Smelterborn could be accomplished, Eva forced herself to meet the man’s good eye.

  “I cannot just give you the eastern frontier,” Adelar said after a lengthy exchange. “I’m aware that it was once Juarag lands, but that was hundreds of years ago. My people have built settlements there —”

  “Juarag are there now,” Arapheem said. “Settlements are gone. All your people fled over the mountains. That is where they should stay.”

  As apparent as a shift in the wind, Eva felt the negotiations take a turn for the worse.

  “Are you threatening me?”

  Arapheem let the king’s word blow away before he shrugged. “Juarag chieftains do not threaten. We only promise.”

  Several members of the western delegation muttered in discontent. Their discontent seemed to fuel the king’s resolve even further. Likewise, the Juarag chiefs behind Arapheem toyed with their weapons.

  “Need I remind you that your people are at our mercy?” Adelar said, voice rising and hardening. “The Smelterborn will crush you against the Windswepts if you choose to fight us both. There will be no Juarag left to claim the frontier.”

  “Then maybe we will come for you, instead,” Arapheem said. “Your mountains and snow will not be enough to stop us sky-king.”

  “Stop!”

  Eva jumped between her uncle and Arapheem. “The Smelterborn are who we must fight, not one another! If we do not work together, only golems will live on the frontier.”

  For a long moment, both her uncle and Arapheem stared at Eva, neither speaking. The wind howled a forlorn note through the mountains. Everyone hung on what would be said next.

  A black flash passed the corner of Eva’s eye, close enough for her to feel the whisk of the cold metal before the large iron javelin struck the frost-bitten stones and skittered away. A moment later, several more javelins filled the air, striking Juarag and westerner alike.

  “Treachery!” Arapheem shouted, drawing his sword.

  The two parties might have slaughtered one another if Eva hadn’t spotted the dark shapes darting between the rocks off the edge of the Point.

  “No!” she said, pointing. “Smelterborn!”

  Swift, dark, metal forms leaped from cover, hefting more javelins. Shouts of alarm erupted from both sides. Eva spun and found Smelterborn surrounding them on all sides. These were a new make she’d never see before — smaller and leaner like the scout golems, but heavily armed like their bigger, slower counterparts.

  “Protect the king and the princess!”

  Tahl and both guard parties rushed to shield Eva and the king but Eva pushed away.

  “They need me!” she said, drawing her father’s sword. The runes on the blade flashed pale blue in the gray light of the day.

  Before anyone could stop her, Eva joined the fray. The complete chaos of her first pitched battle nearly stopped her in her tracks. There appeared to be only twenty to thirty of the smoke-colored Smelterborn, but each fought with the ferocity of ten men. Gryphons screamed and dropped like arrows from the sky. Juarag raiders, Sorondaran knights, Windsworn and Scrawl rune mages fell like trees beneath an iron avalanche

  “Aim for the eyes!” Eva shouted as a burst of flame shot from the hands of nearby Scrawl. She knew their magic might be the only thing to turn the tide. “Aim for the eyes — it’s the only way to bring them down!”

  In the chaos, she wasn’t sure anyone heard her. To her left, a man screamed as he flew through the air before smashing into two of his fellow soldiers. Eva pushed her way forward, ignoring her friends' shouts for her to stop. A Smelterborn loomed out of the blizzard in front of her.

  Pushing aside her terror, Eva summoned her training. The Smelterborn swung at her with a sword the size of a lance. Eva raised her weapon and braced to parry the blow. Aleron’s rune-inscribed blade cut through the golem’s weapon. The Smelterborn registered no surprise or shock at having his sword cut in two. Instead, it tossed the hilt aside and raised its shield in both hands, then charged.

  Eva dove to the side and shifted the grip on her sword. She swung hard sideways and sparks filled the air as the blade scored the iron face of the shield. Pivoting with the momentum of her swing, Eva severed the go
lem’s arm at its elbow. But the Smelterborn registered no pain. With its remaining hand, it hefted its shield overhead in a crushing blow.

  Eva stumbled backward and lost her footing. She looked up just as the Smelterborn’s shield swung toward her. She gritted her teeth. So this was how it would end.

  At the last moment, a figure collided with the falling shield, forcing the edge inches to the right of Eva’s head. Tahl rebounded off the shield and hit the ground hard. Scrambling, Eva swung low and severed the golem’s leg. The Smelterborn toppled over backward. Before it could recover, Eva buried her blade in its armored chest.

  An all-too-familiar bone-chilling wail split the air and a dark shape shot out of the ruined helmet, like a streak of black tar in the snow-filled sky. Eva ran to Tahl’s side as he stood, using his shield to steady himself. The tumult of the battle around them faded into the back of Eva’s mind as she searched him for any serious wounds. A relieved sob tore from her chest upon finding him okay.

  “Gonna be…sore tomorrow,” he grunted.

  “I had it handled,” Eva said and they shared a grim laugh.

  Pushing her soaked hair out of her face, Eva saw about two-thirds of the Smelterborn were down, although the humans’ superior numbers wore thin. Not far off, Sigrid, Iva, Wynn, and Chel toppled another Smelterborn after a blast of Ivan’s ice kenning struck it in the head. When they joined Eva and Tahl, the Scrawl bent over, hands on his knees like he’d just ran up the mountainside.

  “Everyone alright?” Eva asked them.

  “No thanks to you,” Sigrid said, hefting her notched ax. She grinned. “I’m supposed to be the one who rushes into a fight without thinking it through.”

  Chel held a broken spear in her hand and nodded. Wynn only stared, face as pale as the snow.

  “Wynn,” Eva said, seized by concern. “Are you okay?”

  Before she could answer, Ivan, bent over again and spewed his breakfast at their feet.

  “Sorry,” he muttered, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

  The westerners and the Juarag fought side by side as a wall of weapons and shields, herding the remaining golems toward the cliffs. Shouting and screaming, the unlikely allies drove the band of golems off the edge. Only two Smelterborn remained. Both charged the king and Arapheem. Once again, Eva charged forward, leaving her friends to follow.

  The first golem fell beneath a blast of fire from a Scrawl kenning. The last, instead of retreating from the lost battle, went berserk. The Smelterborn hit the first wave of knights, armor smashing into armor as it abandoned its weapon, tossing the men and women aside with both hands. Nearby Juarag sprinted to the defense of their war leader and were crushed beneath the golem’s iron fists.

  A shot of ice hit the Smelterborn in the shoulder sending it spinning. Faster than Eva could blink, the golem recovered as if the defeat of its fellow somehow added to its strength and speed. Several kennings hit the golem all at once, a storm of ice, fire, wind, and earth. The Smelterborn absorbed each blow, in turn, wading through the rune magic. More soldiers died as they crossed in front of its path.

  Although nothing could stop it, the golem’s progress slowed just enough. Eva struck. Her overhead slash cut deep, leaving a gaping line of heated metal curling back on itself. Dropping to its knees, the golem continued to crawl forward and a horrifying, guttural chant filled the air.

  Eva screamed and swung down again with all of her might. A blast of ice struck the Smelterborn’s helmet. It didn’t stop crawling. Summoning the last of her strength, Eva raised her sword in both hands and drove it through the back of the golem’s head. The dark spirit trapped within burst free, knocking everyone within an arm’s length of the Smelterborn to the ground. The now-empty suit of armor gave a last twitch and lay still.

  “Nothing would stop it,” Arapheem said in a hushed voice. “When we killed the others, it only grew stronger.”

  Adelar could only stare at the smoking hole in the golem’s helm.

  The two leaders tore their eyes from the horrific sight and grasped hands. All around them, Juarag and westerner alike stood in shock and exhaustion, any thought of battle amongst themselves forgotten.

  “We will fight this evil together,” Arapheem said.

  King Adelar nodded. “Together.”

  Chapter Five

  In the coming weeks, Eva’s remaining hopes of resuming a normal, quiet routine were squashed. After the council at Eagle’s Point, both the Gyr and Gryfonesse transformed into a night and day war machine. Riders flew constantly from the mountains, scouting the advancing Smelterborn horde or ferrying supplies and men over the mountain passes of the Windswepts whenever the snows allowed. Builders worked tirelessly to assemble fortifications and choke points in the high passes in anticipation of the arrival of the golems.

  The winter proved to be a double-edged sword. While it slowed the Smelterborn and allowed more time for preparation, the defenders constantly battled the snow and cold, especially in the heart of the Windswepts. But the deep of winter passed, and hints of spring appeared in the lowlands. Instead of providing comfort, however, the tiny buds on trees and clumps of grass poking through the rotting snow reminded Eva that they were running out of time.

  A hodgepodge of carts and sleds fought through the sopping mud, melting drifts and dirty spring runoff to climb the western side of the mountains where assembly on the fortifications continued. From a distance, the long lines of workers stretched up the foothills and into the passes like trails of ants.

  For as many Sorondarans and other westerners that went east, hundreds of Juarag refugees came west. After tense negotiations with the nobles, the king and council placed the nomads in the fields to the south of the capital, saving the farmlands and orchards to the north for their crops, pastures, and orchards. Their arrivals were the old and very young, along with whoever among the men and women were not warriors. Arapheem had sworn no sabercats or raiders would be sent over the passes into Rhylance. Although he kept his word, whenever Eva visited Gryfonesse the city was tense, the citizens muttering about the “savages” at their gates. Eva found it borderline ridiculous that they were more worried about the half-starved Juarag refugees than the army of Smelterborn drawing closer with each passing hour.

  In the hustle and bustle, Eva rarely saw any of her friends. Ivan worked on the front lines, using his rune magic to assist in building the mountain fortifications. Sigrid and Tahl stayed busy commanding wings of scouts on reconnaissance missions. As a member of the king’s wing, Eva saw Tahl more than she would have otherwise, but it was never enough. She savored each moment they stole away together — mostly late at night when no one demanded their time elsewhere.

  They still hadn’t told anyone about their engagement. Whenever Eva thought she had a moment with Adelar, something always came up demanding the king’s attention. She worried Tahl would be angry but they saw one another so little that neither wanted to waste time on anything but the moment they shared.

  Chel served as an ambassador between the Juarag refugees and the king’s council. She received little appreciation from either side. To the Juarag, Chel was an outcast, unclean and possessed by bad spirits. To Rhylance’s nobles, she was no different than all the other warriors who had raided the frontier for years.

  With as much time as Eva spent in Gryfonesse, she thought at least Soot and Seppo would have been around to visit. But the smith and golem were as busy as everyone else. The Scrawls continued to study the Dark Wonder and interview Seppo to glean every bit of information possible about the First Forge. The rest of the time, Soot and Seppo worked long hours in the forge, preparing tools and weapons for the coming war. As back-breaking and exhaustive as the labor was, Eva would have given anything to join them, to pretend just for a few hours she was just Eva, the smith’s assistant.

  Instead, she was Princess Evelyn, rider of the red gryphon and heir to the throne of Rhylance. She soon found the work behind the crown was much less glamorous than the title itsel
f. For the most part, Eva sat in council after council as various leaders from across western Altaris plotted the progress of the Smelterborn and strategized the most probable routes they would take to cross the mountains.

  The Windswepts stretched from the border of Maizoro in the north all the way to the land of the Scrawls in the south. Blocking all of the westward passes was impossible. Therefore, the plan was to bottleneck the Smelterborn into a handful of locations where their numbers and inhuman strength would count for less. It seemed like a good plan, but Eva worried what would happen if the Smelterborn simply chose another route.

  Each day, additional fighting forces arrived from all over Altaris. Pandion — a coastal country inhabited by Sorondaran descendants — sent hundreds of soldiers and supplies through the milder Curtain Mountains to the west of Rhylance which were already clear of snow.

  Scores of Scrawls, their carts, and beasts of burden painted with as many runes as their riders, poured in from the south. From the north, the Maizorans came with heavy wagons carrying corn, squash, beans and more — produce from a softer land that never felt the bite of winter cold. Eva had never seen so many different people from different places, not even during their brief stay in the Mother of Cities during its festival to the Ancestors.

  As busy as her friends and loved ones were, Eva’s days were filled with the most mundane tasks she could imagine. Instead of performing her regular Windsworn duties, such as flying on patrol, Eva was grounded in Gryfonesse attending to more princess-like endeavors. None of them offered any excitement or physical labor and made Eva want to scream and pull her hair out.

  She lived for the few evening flights she was allowed with Fury and the rare duties that took her out of the citadel grounds into the rest of the city or surrounding countryside. Likewise, she longed for the days when she could fly patrol with Fury and her fellow riders or spend the night curled up with either a book or Tahl by the fires inside the Gyr’s library.