“The pretty little princess is scared of spiders,” one said.
“Kill it!” she shouted hysterically causing them to laugh harder.
“Go squish it,” the one she was hiding behind said to the other.
“Alright,” he chuckled. “I’ll take care of the spider for you, Princess.” He walked over to the table and bent over looking for it. “I don’t see a spider,” he said.
Suddenly, Lisabeth shoved his friend toward him, but not before clasping his sword by the hilt, drawing it as he fell forward. In a fluid motion she killed the now unarmed guard and then spun and sliced through the throat of the other, before he was even able to draw his sword all of the way from its sheath.
Lisabeth then turned and stuck her head out of the tent and into the darkness of night. Seeing no one around, she slipped outside.
***
Willem rode Shimmer as the dracen soared through the air alongside the walls of the castle, spouting flames from her mouth at the drakmere attempting to scale them. There were so many draks. Thousands of them. The draks feared the dracen, especially the flames, but they were becoming braver.
Relying on vastly superior numbers, the drakmere began to challenge the dracen and their nephilim riders. As Willem and Shimmer flew past, the drakmere threw weapons at them. A large battle axe nearly took Willem’s head off.
“Watch out!” Shimmer shouted as she dove down beneath the onslaught of flying weapons. Shimmer soared back up into the air, snatching a drak off the side of the wall as she rose and tossing him out into the air with a shriek.
Shimmer turned and began to climb back toward the spire. Willem knew that Taite was in the spire and presumably so was Ashleen’s mother and sisters. Thus, the primary objective had to be defending the spire. He would protect his friends’ families.
It was clear that Terrwyn had the same idea, because Willem saw Avon rise up the spire roasting drakmere as he passed. Then he gasped as he watched draks leap from the spire to attack Avon, Terrwyn, and Erec in the air. Three landed on Avon’s back and wings causing him to flutter downward toward the ground as he and his riders fought them off. Willem was relieved to see that Avon had managed to land softly enough that he Terrwyn and Erec were not injured, but now they were on the ground with thousands of drakmere.
Willem glanced up at the spire. There were too many draks climbing it for Willem to abandon it to save his friends. He knew that Terrwyn and Erec would much rather he save their sister than them.
“Stay with the spire!” he shouted to Shimmer as he felt her desire to protect the others. She reluctantly obeyed.
Willem could see guards fighting the draks at the windows. The beasts would have a very difficult time entering there. The balcony was a different story. Drakmere were swarming over onto the balcony and were already piling up at the door as they tried to force their way inside.
“Fire the balcony!” Willem said, but Shimmer was one step ahead of him and already diving toward it. She screeched as she descended and then let loose a burst of flame incinerating several drakmere as she flew past.
Willem felt a thud and turned in the saddle to see two draks had leapt onto Shimmer’s back the way others had leapt on Avon’s. “Hold on!” Shimmer’s voice shouted inside Willem’s mind and the dracen flipped over as she jerked skyward, sending both drakmere falling to the ground below. She streaked skyward, soaring past the top of the spire and then turned and dove back down.
Shimmer flapped her wings, stopping and hovering above the balcony. The draks were clearly afraid, but most stood their ground hissing and baring their teeth as Shimmer roared. A burst of flame leapt forth clearing an area for Shimmer to land. She did so and shot her neck forward, snatching a drak in her powerful jaws and chomping down, biting the beast in two and allowing both halves to fall harmlessly to the floor of the balcony. The other draks leapt backward in fear. Shimmer breathed fire igniting most of the drakmere. Those that avoided it rushed from the balcony and back down the spire. Shimmer spread her wings wide and lifted her head in a mighty roar. It was a sign that she was the guardian of the spire and if any drakmere wanted to take it, they would have to go through her.
Willem quickly climbed down from Shimmer’s back and rushed to the door, pounding on it. “It is alright!” he shouted to whomever was listening on the other side. “It is Prince Willem of Elophborne. I have come with Ashleen to defend you!”
A small window in the door slid open and Willem saw eyes peering out. Then the window closed and Willem heard the sliding of the brace. The door swung out and Willem saw a golden armored Paladin standing there.
“Welcome to Caerwynspire, Your Highness,” the Paladin smiled.
“Willem!” he heard a little girl’s voice and saw Taite dart out past the Paladin. She charged into Willem’s awaiting arms and he lifted her up into an embrace.
“It’s good to see you, Taite,” he smiled and then returned her to the ground. “Go back inside where you’ll be safe.” As she backed away Willem’s eyes met those of another small girl peeking her head out from behind the Paladin as tears ran down her cheeks. He recognized her from his dreams. It was a powerful feeling for it meant that what he had dreamed was true. The seraph sight was active in his subconscious as Ashleen had suggested.
Willem swallowed hard as he took a step forward. “Tallah?” he asked. The girl burst forth and ran straight for him. He knelt down as she reached him and pulled her close as she wept into his chest.
“I knew you would save me!” she sobbed. “I always knew it.”
“It is alright,” he said softly as he stroked her hair. “You are safe now. I will not let them harm you ever again.”
***
Terrwyn scrambled to her feet. Avon had landed hard tossing her, Erec, and the drakmere from his back. Now the dracen was standing on his hind legs, his wings spread menacingly as he let loose a ferocious roar. Terrwyn noticed one of his wings was torn which might mean his flying was over for the day. Other than that he appeared mostly unhurt and she turned her attention to Erec who was a few feet away, trying to stand.
Terrwyn rushed to her twin brother’s side and helped lift him to his feet. “Are you alright?” she asked.
“Yeah,” he said, but the answer came out as a half moan and she knew that he was hurting. He already had a broken wrist, but the crash landing may have added some other injuries to the list. Nothing appeared to be too serious or life threatening at the moment though.
“Can you fight?” she asked.
Erec nodded. “Draw my sword for me,” he said realizing that it would hurt to do so with his broken wrist. She drew the sword from its sheath and handed it to him. He accepted it with his left hand.
“Have you ever fought with your left hand before?” she asked.
“Sure. Remember when we were kids and would play swords. I always fought with my left hand to give you a chance.” Terrwyn frowned. That was not comforting.
“Well, stay close to the dracen,” she said. “He’ll protect you.” With that she drew her own sword as the drakmere rushed toward them. Erec’s eyes went wide as he saw his sister charge the draks ducking a swing from a battle axe as she sliced the first through the middle before rising to her feet and thrusting upward through the lower jaw of another.
Terrwyn fought hard stabbing and slicing through the drakmere. Months of training against better warriors than herself had paid off as it was all coming naturally to her as she fought for her life. The draks were everywhere, however, and it seemed that for every one she killed three more would take its place.
Terrwyn fought harder and harder. She glanced quickly over her left shoulder and saw Avon engulfing a horde of draks with his fire breath, sending more fleeing from him. She smiled to herself. It was nice having a dracen at her back. She glanced over her right shoulder and saw Erec fighting with a drak. He was struggling, not used to fighting left-handed. The drak knocked Erec to the ground. Fright surged through Terrwyn’s entire body. “No!” she s
houted as the beast raised its mace to crush her brother. She flashed to them, like a seraph streaking through the night, and cut the drakmere in half. Green blood splattered all over Erec. She reached down and lifted him back to his feet.
“How did you do that?” he asked.
“I don’t know,” Terrwyn replied, but suddenly did it again, spinning and fighting her way through the rows of drakmere, killing them so quickly they barely had time to react. Erec watched her, his mouth agape.
Chapter 23
Ashleen let out a gasp as she watched Rayfen toss Dillan over the wall. In a flash she was upon the shedom, shoving her steel blade deep into his back. He shrieked in pain, then turned, slapping her with the back of his black gauntlet, sending her flying through the air to crash upon the stones. Rayfen jerked the sword out of his back and let it drop harmlessly on the stones. He sped to her, moving smoothly through the darkness, crossing the distance in the blink of an eye.
Rayfen snatched Ashleen up by her throat and held her high. “That hurt,” he hissed as Ashleen gasped for breath. She kicked and clawed at him, but it did no good—he was too strong. Rayfen reared back and slammed his dark jagged blade into her stomach, twisting it as it entered, cutting easily through her armor and flesh. Her eyes went wide and then turned black with the darkness. Ashleen’s body went limp in his hand.
“Ashleen!” came the scream and Rayfen turned to see Dillan ascending upon the back of his dracen. The Black Knight let Ashleen’s body drop lifelessly to the ground as he prepared for the imminent attack.
Bran dove toward the shedom, fire leaping from his mouth, but Rayfen was again too fast. As they flew past, Dillan leapt from Bran landing atop the The Black Knight and tackling him to the ground. Rayfen quickly threw the human off and leapt to his feet. Dillan recovered and raised the Sword of Light.
“You killed my family. You killed my people. And now you have killed my friend. You will die this day, demon!” Dillan shouted.
Rayfen laughed a raspy cackle. “Not at the hands of a human,” he taunted.
“No!” Dillan replied. “The hands of a nephilim!” Dillan was on him in a flash, moving like a seraph and taking Rayfen completely off guard. The Sword of Light streaked through the darkness. It took all Rayfen had to continue deflecting the blows. As they fought, Dillan’s sword began to glow brighter and brighter until Rayfen had trouble seeing.
The Black Knight heard a blood curdling roar from behind, and turned to see Bran diving toward him. Rayfen ducked out of the way, just in time, but Bran was able to get a claw beneath his helmet, ripping it from his head. Rayfen turned back toward Dillan, his face now uncovered and unprotected. Dillan thrust his sword through the shedom’s face and Rayfen released a blood curdling shriek as his entire body began to glow. Soon the shedom was engulfed in a ball of light which burned out, leaving nothing remaining of the Black Knight.
Dillan fell to his knees, exhausted as Bran flew down, landing beside him. Bran tossed Rayfen’s helmet on the stones in front of Dillan. “A prize for your victory,” the dracen said.
Dillan glanced up to see Metatron cradling Ashleen’s lifeless body. It did not feel like much of a victory.
***
Metatron had heard Ashleen’s name leave Dillan’s lips and echo through the city. He had turned to see her fall to the shedom’s sword. “No!” he shouted and leapt from Chaundra’s back, darting to her as quickly as he could fly, landing beside her.
Metatron held Ashleen up in his arms peering into her once beautiful shining eyes. Her eyes were now as black as pitch. The light that had once flowed through her was now darkness. What remained of Ashleen was her human self, the shell of flesh and blood. No life existed there. Metatron squeezed her tight to his chest as tears began to pour from his eyes. “Nooooo!” he shouted sending a booming thunder echoing through the mountains.
Metatron had lived in the Middle Realm among the humans for over a thousand years, yet it was not until he met Ashleen that he had learned to truly love as they did. It was Ashleen that had made him understand why his brothers, his fellow elophim, had done what they had done. The elophim had learned that humanity, for all its apparent weakness was more beautiful than the seraph. As beautiful as the light was, it was the emotions and caring of humanity that was truly radiant. Metatron understood that now.
He bent over, kissing Ashleen gently on the lips and then lowered her body softly to the ground. He wiped the tears from his eyes and stood. He glanced around and saw his target. There she sat, guarded by se’irim. The witch with the reddish gold hair could only be one person. Terrwyn’s cousin, Anne. The Dark One.
***
Anne sat atop her mare Isabella, staring at the battle and fuming with anger. Her army of drakmere were fleeing now, scattering out over the mountains, terrified of the seraph and dragons that had joined the fight. Dragons! The battle had been all but won until they arrived, her draks having already swarmed throughout the city were in the process of taking the castle itself. Where had the dragons come from?
“The drakmere are too afraid of the dracen!” she heard Asmodeus hiss from beside her, as if reading her mind.
“Where are my dracen?” she demanded.
“Dracen serve the light, Your Majesty. Drakon serve the darkness.”
Anne turned angrily in her saddle to stare fiery-eyed at the talking shadow beside her. “Then where are my drakons?” she roared at him.
“It doesn’t matter,” Morgan snapped. “The battle is lost, Anne. We must flee.”
“No!” Anne shrieked. “I am Empress! They shall bow to me! Everyone shall bow to me! Or they shall all die!”
Suddenly, they heard a cry and footsteps fast approaching. Everyone turned to see Lisabeth, wielding a sword and charging toward them. She leapt into the air, sword raised ready to cut Anne down. Anne’s eyes sprang wide with fright, but just before the sword fell a giant, clawed se’irim hand swept forth, batting Lisabeth away like a fly. Lisabeth flew backward through the air to land several feet away, apparently unconscious from the blow.
“Kill her!” Anne spat angrily and the massive se’irim moved to obey.
Before he reached her, however, he was stopped by the frightened cry of Andrick as he pointed to the sky. “Look!” Andrick shouted. All eyes followed Andrick’s finger to see a beam of light streaking toward them.
Stone cracked and rocks and dust flew into the air as Metatron landed in front of them. He raised up straight and spread his majestic wings wide. “Andalynn Valestead I presume,” Metatron shouted accusingly in a thunderous voice.
“And who are you?” Anne shot back, not an ounce of fear evident.
Metatron’s lips curled up into a sneer. “You shall know me as death!” Metatron darted forward as the se’irim moved to intercept him. The mighty beasts swung their weapons at the seraph, an axe from the right and a mace from the left. Metatron moved with blinding speed, deflecting the blows. He spun slicing one se’irim through the middle gashing its stomach open and spilling its guts out onto the rocky ground. He then thrust upward into the jaw of the other, his sword protruding from the back of the monster’s horned skull. The two se’irim fell over dead and the others backed away nervously, snorting and huffing. Metatron was prepared to cut through them as well when a form erupted from the darkness slamming into his chest and sending him flying backward.
“Orrick!” Anne shouted excitedly. He turned to her.
“I promised not to interfere,” he said. “This is the last time I shall.” Orrick’s eyes fell to Asmodeus. “Take her to the gateway!” he shouted.
“Yes, My Lord,” the shade hissed.
“No, Orrick, I…” Anne began, but Orrick was having none of it.
“Go, now!” he snapped. He had never raised his voice to her before and it frightened Anne. She nodded and turned Isabella away, following the dark shadow of the shade, with Andrick, Morgan, and the two remaining se’irim close behind them.
They galloped away from the battle and as they
rode, Andrick and Morgan shouted at their men to follow. The men mounted as quickly as they could and darted off into the night after their kings and Empress.
After riding for about an hour, Andrick finally spoke up. “Where are we going?” he demanded.
“North, further into the Scorched Mountains,” Asmodeus’ disembodied voice hissed from the darkness. “There is a cave there that…” but Andrick cut him off.
“A cave?” he asked. “You want us to retreat to a cave?”
“It is not just any cave,” the shade said.
“I do not care,” Andrick snapped. “I am returning to Libetha. I suggest you all come with me.”
“Trust me!” Asmodeus said.
“Trust a bodyless ghost? Or are you another shedom? The last time I trusted a shedom’s strategy he led us to defeat. I am returning to Libetha. The rest of you are free to do as you wish.” With that Andrick peeled away and rode beside the column of soldiers. “Any of you men that wish to return to Libetha with me are welcome. Otherwise you can ride north to hide in a cave with the shedom and se’irim.”
“I think we should go with Andrick,” Morgan said to Anne.
“How long do you think Libetha will last against the united armies and flying dragons?” she asked.
“How long will we last in a cave?” Morgan countered.
“I trust Orrick,” Anne said.
Morgan nodded. “Very well,” he said.
“Have it your way,” Andrick said and galloped away. All of their soldiers to a man went with him. None wanted to hide in a cave with shedom and se’irim.
“Do not fear, Your Majesty. We shall go to the gateway, and everything will be fine,” Asmodeus hissed as he led them north.
***
Metatron regained his feet as he stared defiantly at the Dark Lord. “Shebath!” he sneered.
“Yes, Metatron. It has been a long time,” Orrick replied. “This time you threatened my love and you shall not survive.”
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