The world was fading from Erec’s view just as the shining face of Aura came into sight. She knelt beside him and cradled his head in her arms as tears fell from her eyes onto his face.
“No, Erec, please!” she pleaded, as if begging him not to die could stop it. “Do not leave.” She began to weep.
“I love…” Erec began before coughing up more blood.
“I love you so much. You taught me how to love,” Aura said. “We can be together. We can make it work, somehow, Erec.” Aura stopped speaking as she realized no life existed in Erec’s eyes any longer. She squeezed him close to her as she sobbed. She had never felt such pain. Even when Alaric died the sadness she felt did not compare to this. She felt as though her insides were being ripped apart. After a long moment, Aura laid Erec’s head gently upon the ground and wiped her eyes, attempting to compose herself and push away her emotions.
Aura looked up and saw se’irim everywhere. Erec’s men had been slaughtered. The walls of the city were quickly being overrun and the soldiers fighting there would not last much longer. The se’irim would break through the gates of the castle soon. Aura glanced up into the sky and noticed the dracen and the nephilim still fought. She marveled at how well they were doing against such overwhelming numbers.
Aura stared at the castle and thought of Ashleen, the daughter she had with Erec. As much as she had loved Erec, she loved that little girl even more. She knew that if the se’irim and shedom took the castle, Ashleen would be killed, or worse. Aura stood and drew a sword in each hand, crying no longer. “They shall not have my child,” she said through clenched teeth.
Aura turned toward the mass of se’irim in the city streets. “You shall not have my child!” she thundered so loudly many of the se’irim stopped to stare at her. Then Aura was off as fast as light she entered the fray, fighting and killing as many se’irim as she could.
***
Lisabeth did not know where Tomfrey or Rodrick were, but se’irim were everywhere. A quick glance up and down the western wall showed that she was one of the few left alive and defending it. At least she did not see Rodrick or Tomfrey’s dead bodies, so there was a chance they still lived. The reserves that were supposed to reinforce them were busy defending their rear, fending off the se’irim that poured through the northern gate.
A se’irim appeared on Lisabeth’s left and she spun and swung her light sword at it, but before the blade could reach the beast the se’irim swatted her from the wall. Lisabeth fell and fell until landing hard upon her back on the ground and gasping for air as she stared up at the battlements above. Suddenly she felt a hand grab her as she was yanked to her feet. She smiled as she recognized Tomfrey.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
Lisabeth nodded. “I thought I’d lost you,” she said, happy to see him alive.
He smiled. “Not yet, but I was shown the quick way off the wall, just like you.”
Lisabeth glanced around to find rows of men fighting the se’irim that were pressing in from all sides. “Where are my sisters?” Lisabeth asked.
“Lyn is tending to Rodrick,” he said with a nod toward the side of the wall where the young Princess applied a tourniquet to the stub that had once connected Rodrick’s left arm to his shoulder as the Paladin gritted his teeth through the pain. Lisabeth gasped. “Gwyn is with your uncle,” Tomfrey said and pointed over the heads of the soldiers toward Tythan and Gwyn standing with the men fighting the hordes of se’irim that pushed inward.
Lisabeth watched as her little sister awaited her turn on the slaughter of the front lines. She was proud of Gwyn, but worried at the same time. “Let us assist them,” Lisabeth said to Tomfrey’s nod and they both pushed through the mass of men to join Gwyn and Tythan.
Lisabeth placed a hand on Gwyn’s shoulder as she reached her. Gwyn turned, startled at first, but flashed a toothy grin when she noticed Lisabeth. Lisabeth could see the fear in her sister’s eyes. “It is going to be alright,” she said. “You are well trained.” Gwyn nodded, but did not speak. “I love you,” Lisabeth told her as she wrapped an arm around Gwyn’s shoulder.
The two warrior princesses watched as the men two rows in front of them were beaten to death by se’irim and the next row of soldiers stepped forward to fight. Lisabeth drew a deep breath and readied for her turn. She could not see any possible way they were going to survive. They could not possibly win this battle. She realized that now. She just determined to take as many se’irim with her as possible.
***
Karissa fought beside her men and the citizens of Avonvale as the drakmere continued to push forward up the hill. There were so many of them, she did not know how long they could continue to hold the beasts at bay, but she suspected it would not be long. They would eventually be overrun. The influx of Valish citizens had helped the Epheneen troops at first, but they were now losing ground again, falling back up the hill.
Suddenly, the drakmere stopped attacking all at once as their respective eyes popped open wide. They turned and fled and Karissa saw a burst of flame incinerate a group of them as Eamon and Jade came to land in front of the lines of the defenders. Jade released another burst of flame at the retreating drakmere.
“I must go protect the castle,” Jade told Eamon. “Be careful.”
Eamon nodded. “You too,” he said and kissed the dracen upon her snout, just before she flapped her mighty wings and rose up into the air, leaving Eamon behind. The Prince turned to see his mother, soldiers, and citizens of Avonvale. The drakmere had retreated back onto the docks revealing many dead and wounded Epheneen. Moans rose up from them.
Eamon turned back to the soldiers. “Assist our wounded!” he shouted, waving for the soldiers to help. The soldiers and citizens alike rushed forward and began pulling people from the field of battle. Karissa joined them.
“Your Grace,” she heard and glanced to her right to see Tibor still alive. She knelt beside him. He was badly wounded and covered in blood.
“Help me!” she screamed and two men rushed over to her, picking Lord Tibor up and carrying him back. Karissa was about to follow when she caught her son’s eyes.
The drakmere were already beginning to move forward once more. The beasts had regained their courage following Jade’s departure. “Eamon, come on!” Karissa shouted.
Eamon sprinted to his mother and kissed her on the cheek. “Hold the lines with the men, Mother,” he said.
“What?” she asked as she took his hand. “You’re coming with me.”
He smiled calmly at her. “I shall be there momentarily,” he assured her. “I love you. Go, now.” He waved her away and turned his back to her.
“Eamon…” she began, but he interrupted her.
“Go!” he barked.
“I love you, too, son,” she said and turned and sprinted back to the lines.
Eamon watched as the drakmere hissed and bared their teeth. They were trying to determine if the dragon was coming back and wondering if this was some sort of trap. Eamon smiled as he spun his light sword in his hand, twirling it in large circles by his side.
“Come beasts!” he shouted at the drakmere. “If you have the courage to fight me!”
The draks glanced at one another and then in a single mass charged forward, shrieking violently as they did so.
Karissa’s hand went to her mouth as she watched hundreds of drakmere attack her son. “No!” she tried to scream, but it came out as more of a whimper. She began to run toward him, but felt someone grab her arm, and then another hand took hold of her other arm.
“Let me go!” she shouted to the men, her own soldiers, who held her.
“No, Your Grace, you will be killed,” their voices said.
Karissa began to scream as tears streamed down her cheeks. She could barely support herself as she watched the drakmere pounce at her son, the love of her life. He was her only child and the only thing remaining of her beloved husband.
Then something shocking happened. Eamon was not run over
and trampled, or cut down, or eaten, or any of the other horrible things Karissa expected. In fact, Eamon met the beasts before they reached him, his sword flashing as he moved in a blur of action. A green mist of drak blood filled the air as the Prince cut his way through the rows of lizards.
Eamon moved so quickly it was as if the drakmere were standing still. The creatures shrieked in pain and agony as they were slaughtered on the docks. Karissa wiped the tears from her eyes as she stopped crying and began to laugh. Not a laugh of humor, but an involuntary laugh of overwhelming relief.
The ranks of the drakmere were thinning quickly as Eamon fought like a seraph, slicing them down. Karissa glanced up and down the lines. “Well, let’s not just stand here watching!” she shouted. “Let’s drive those monsters back into the river!”
A roar rose from the soldiers and civilians alike and they charged forward to help Eamon destroy the drakmere.
***
Willem locked swords with a shedom as Shimmer fought and clawed at the drakon beside her. Two more drakon flew toward them and Shimmer pulled away, in an attempt to escape. Willem held tight as his dracen dove toward the ground. She dove toward the se’irim in the city below and released a burst of flame frying at least a dozen of them as she flew past.
Willem scanned the area, searching for the others. Chaundra was down, Avon fought a drakon, but Terrwyn was not with him. Dillan and Bran were doing everything they could to stay alive and keep the drakons from attacking the city. Eamon and Jade were flying toward the river.
Suddenly, Willem was thrown from the saddle as a drakon slammed into Shimmer’s side. He fell, fell, fell, until he landed hard, slamming into a se’irim, who fortunately broke his fall. Somehow Willem managed to push himself to his feet and saw a score a se’irim staring dumbfounded at him, then looking up into the sky and then back at him.
Willem and the se’irim stared at each other for a long moment. Then Willem raised his sword, inducing the red demons to attack. This is it! Willem thought as the beasts closed in on him. He was about to die.
Willem met them in battle, his light sword flashing. Willem fought for his life against the se’irim surrounding him, and was surprised at how slowly the creatures moved. He was able to avoid their blows and cut them down a lot easier than he would have thought possible. Suddenly, he realized, it was not that the se’irim were moving so slowly. He was moving so fast. Fast like Ashleen. Fast like Dillan. Fast like Terrwyn. Fast like a seraph.
Willem sliced and fought his way through dozens of se’irim, but the more he killed the more emerged to take their place. He could not fight them all and he knew it. There were just too many of them. He needed to get away, but there was nowhere to go.
Se’rim attacked from all sides. Willem slashed outward with his sword then spun to fight another swinging an axe at him from behind. “Help me!” his thoughts shot out through the air to Shimmer. His dracen was trying, he knew that, but she was fighting her own battles. He could feel the drakons’ claws tearing into her flesh.
The se’irim pushed closer and closer and Willem fought harder and harder. He was fighting desperately now. The control he had earlier was gone. He released a strained cry from his lips as he fought, slicing and spinning, stabbing and dodging.
Suddenly, Willem felt a slice across his back as the blade of an axe cut through his armor like butter and took a bit of flesh as well. Willem screamed in agony, but managed to turn and counter, killing the se’irim. Then Willem felt the bones in his left leg break as a giant mace slammed down, just above his knee. Willem fell to the ground. The creatures were all around him and above him. He heard Shimmer cry out in his mind: I am coming!
The silver dracen dove toward Willem a burst of fire scattering the nearby se’irim. Shimmer landed next to Willem. Her wings and scales torn, blood smeared across her body. She released a blood curdling roar forcing the se’irim to fall back further. The roar was followed by another burst of flame as she stood over Willem protectively.
The se’irim regained their courage or blood lust and began braving Shimmer’s jaws and flame. Shimmer did not have to look at Willem to know she was too late. She could feel it. It tore her apart inside, but she knew Willem was dead.
She turned and looked at him, his body punctured at least half a dozen times, his eyes staring lifelessly into nothing. Shimmer fought the urge to curl up beside him and die right there along with him. Instead, she scooped his body up into her mouth as gently as she could and with a flap of her mighty wings was off the ground again. Willem was dead, but Shimmer would not allow him to become food for the se’irim.
Shimmer carried Willem to the castle keep where she saw Lord Galt and a handful of others staring at her, eyes wide. She landed atop the keep and leaned Willem forward and Galt and two others took him from her mouth. She watched as they laid him gently upon the stones. Then Shimmer looked skyward and released a pained roar into the air. With that, she flapped her giant wings and flew from the keep toward the drakons. The black beasts were charging toward the castle, ready to destroy it.
***
The gelding snorted, perhaps sensing Staphon’s unease. The young lord sat atop his charger at the head of the Greynault forces, reinforced with other cavalry. The se’irim were trying to force open the castle gate and when they did, it would be up to these men to run them down.
Staphon smacked his lips together attempting to produce moisture in his dry mouth, but it was to no avail. He had yearned to see a battle his entire life, yet now that he was on the verge of fighting one he was so scared he felt as though he might wet himself.
“It’s alright, lad,” Sir Stanlas said, obviously sensing Staphon’s unease. He patted the young man on the shoulder. “Everyone is nervous before their first battle.”
Staphon turned to him. “Even Father?” he asked, referring to the deceased Lord Theron Greynault. Oh, how he wished his father were there now!
“Yes, lad, even your father. I remember him trembling in his armor so bad I thought he was going to wet himself,” the old knight chuckled. “But once the fighting started, he forgot about his nerves and commenced to the task at hand. And you shall too.”
“You really think so?” Staphon asked.
“Sure,” Stanlas replied. “You’ll be so busy fighting for your life you won’t have time to be scared.” This caused Staphon to frown, but Stanlas just laughed boisterously as if this were all a big joke.
“I don’t see how you can laugh at a time like this,” Staphon said.
“Well, me young Lord, outside of those gates are tens of thousands of se’irim. When the gates come down, they are going to come in. We are about to join the most fierce battle the Middle Realm has seen in a thousand years. And we are going to die while doing it. No use spending the last few moments of my life fretting about something I cannot change.”
“How do you know we are going to die?” Staphon asked.
“Because there is no possible way to win,” Stanlas said matter-of-factly. “I mean, unless a host of seraph suddenly descend on Avonvale,” he said with a laugh.
Just as the last words left the old knight’s lips, the giant iron gate crashed to the ground, crushing the men that were attempting to support it. As Stanlas had predicted, thousands of se’irim stormed into the castle courtyard.
“Now, Lord Greynault!” Stanlas said to Staphon. “Now!”
Staphon swallowed hard as he raised his sword. He was about to let his sword drop and give the command to charge when the se’irim suddenly halted. They stopped and stared above the soldiers, above the castle at something up in the sky.
Staphon, Stanlas, and all of their men turned to see what the se’irim were staring at. To their amazement, they saw what appeared to be a shining cloud moving toward them at incredible speed. “What in the Three Realms is that?” Staphon asked.
Stanlas shook his head. “Only thing it could be is a host of seraph.” He and Staphon turned to look at one another. “Well, what are you waiting for b
oy? Give the order to charge. We might survive this battle yet!”
Staphon allowed his sword to fall. “Charge!” he shouted as he squeezed his legs against his horse’s flanks urging the gelding to gallop toward the enemy. The se’irim were still watching the seraph until right before the Valish lancers rode into them, mowing the first ranks down.
Chapter 28
Herja saw the drakons and dracen battling in the sky above Avonvale and the hordes of se’irim storming the castle. She turned to Mihang’el who flew beside her at the head of the Valkyrie. “By the Light, what is this?” Herja asked.
“It appears the forces of Abaddock are conquering the Middle Realm, Commander,” Mihang’el replied matter-of-factly.
Herja motioned for them to halt, hovering above the city. She could not believe her eyes. “How could this have gone unnoticed? Where are our sentries? Where is the Keeper?”
“I do not know, Commander, but it does not matter now.”
Herja nodded and turned to the Valkyrie. “Sisters!” she shouted. “Destroy the dark ones!”
A deafening battle cry arose from the lips of the shield maidens, shaking the castle walls. Then the seraph dove toward Avonvale to destroy the armies of Shebath.
***
Dillan and Bran were frantically fighting three drakon and shedom at once. Actually, it was more like attempting to get away. Bran fought hard, clawing and biting at the dark beasts attacking him. Dillan swung his light sword at the drakon snapping at him from above.
Dillan knew this was the end. He was not giving up, but he could not see how either of them could survive this. He screamed a terrifying cry as he fought as hard as he could. He could feel the pain that was being inflicted upon Bran.
“No!” Dillan shouted as he clashed swords with a shedom. Suddenly, Dillan saw a glowing light descend all around him as several seraph warriors dressed much like Aura, but wearing helmets and carrying shields and swords, attacked the shedom and drakons. The shedom shrieked at the unexpected arrival of the seraph, but soon all three were dead along with their drakons.
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