Pure of Heart (the New Age Saga Book 2)

by Timothy A. Ray

  “Then there’s the subversion of Bendor. Mark, yesterday when I suggested that we attack the main force, what was the general’s reaction?” he pushed, knowing as he talked that he was right about all of this.

  Mark coughed, he hadn’t expected to be a part of the conversation this early; nor to question the actions of his former commander. “He was dismissive, rude, and told us to wait it out. To not risk the men and treat it like any other siege.”

  “I’ve known our dwarven friend for my entire life, never have I seen him shirk from a fight, never heard him not advocate himself for a direct attack. Yet, he told us to wait, even when threatened with demotion and removal. Looking back at his cranky mood, the out of character opinions, I know that it wasn’t Bendor I was talking to that morning. Which means the Phoenix wanted us to wait? Why?” he asked the others gathered around him.

  Windel walked in with the map and unrolled it on the table, taking paperweights out of his pocket and setting it on the corners to hold it down.

  He stood up and the others did so as well. “Okay, Alamar’s lost,” he told them, “I think that’s safe to assume at this point. She also said the human villages to the north had been wiped out by Famine, so let’s count Pathiel to Shoftiel out as well. Now, apparently, this Pestilence is working his way south from here at Kamdeac, heading to Branham next,” he went on, placing a rock over the cities as he named them off. “Then she sends a small army here to occupy us, draw dwarves from the west, elves from the northeast, and the army at Griedlok west. Now, tell me what you see.”

  “She said villages, not fortresses, so maybe Senatorian still stands,” Uriens offered, placing a rock next to the mountain stronghold, not yet willing to cover it up.

  Bordin’s eyes were studying the map intensely, shaking his head as it finally fell into place. “There’s nothing standing between the Deadlands and Forlorn. No resistance, no villages to send a warning, it’s all been wiped out.”

  He was nodding. “And you’re here, the closest army of any size able to march to their defense.”

  “Before the next full moon Forlorn will fall,” Tar Reiz intoned, the tone so closely matching the Phoenix’s that a shiver ran up John’s back.

  “She threw it right in our faces,” he told them all.

  Mark had moved closer to peer at the map, then looked up at his King. “How do you know it’s not a ploy to draw us out? Aren’t we just as vulnerable now as Forlorn is?” As the new leader of the army, it was his place to concern himself with their kingdom’s safety first and he felt appreciation that the man was quickly assuming his new responsibilities.

  “If she was serious about taking us out, we’d already be dead. She hit us just hard enough to draw our attention south, even more so by parking her army there instead of attacking us from the north, the direction they marched to get here. Sure, there are forest to the north, but that only makes it more convenient for them to build more siege machines in order to overrun our walls. No,” he told his concerned general. “She’s going to march on Forlorn and I will not let them face her forces alone. They will be larger than we faced here, you can be sure, because despite her words, she is worried about whatever my brother is doing and whether Erik will play a part in her demise. She’s going to move on them before Tristan can get there and if the Elves fall—.”

  “We all fall,” Brigette finished, nodding. “I agree. Looking at what’s been going on, the reports we’ve received and her words first-hand, Forlorn is going to be the next place she’ll attack.”

  “Then why tell us?” Bordin interjected. “Why give us time to stop her?”

  Noelani chuckled. “Can we gonnae-no 'er? Wa nae teel us? Leid us aw intae a body convenient place in order tae slaughter us aw wi' a body feel swoop, th' easier tae move sooth afterward an' tak' th' noo defenseless cities wi' nae armies left tae oppose 'er. Ah will teel ye thes, mah Rí ruirech isnae gonnae commit mair forces, despite yer “gut feelings”. He’ll march north tae Branham lang afair he sends me mair troaps tae help th' Elves.”

  “That’s comforting,” Tar Reiz snorted.

  The dwarf glared across the table. “If Taegen ur Earhen waur under lat at, woods Erik send his armies sooth tae help us? Don’t pretend thesis some racial —,”

  “King Erik would do everything he could to help the Dwarves at the same time as reinforcing our own cities!” Uriens interrupted, anger starting to flush the elf’s cheeks.

  He slammed his hand on the table. “We can’t fight amongst ourselves; it only serves the Phoenix’s purposes. Look at this map, at all the lives lost already, and tell me we can afford this petty bickering. General Noelani, you were sent here to assist me, I’m marching to Forlorn, will you continue “helping” or are you going to return home?”

  The Dwarf was still eyeing the elven knight and after taking another long drink, he finally turned to John and nodded his head. “Aye, I’ll gang wi' yah laddie, Ah ne'er meant tae say Ah wasn’t. Jist wanted tae say 'at mah men main be aw mah Rí ruirech will send.”

  Before Tar Reiz could say anything, John pushed forward cutting him off. “It’s more than enough and I thank you.”

  The Elven King on his left was shaking his head. “If the—witch sends an army larger than what we just fought, how can we possibly hope to defeat her armies? We have sixteen thousand soldiers currently camped here, half of her “token” force, how are we supposed to survive anything more than a “speck” of her hordes?”

  “I’m assuming Erik’s already mustering his army, including calling the other elven kingdoms for aid?” he asked Uriens, the fuming commander needing a moment before finally nodding.

  “Then we send messengers south immediately, from Guoldi to New London, and ask that every available soldier march north as soon as they’re mustered,” he told Bordin, then glanced at Windel.

  “Including Kershaw?” the elf aide asked curiously. He knew their history as well as John did.

  He shook his head. “Best leave them out of this. Make sure to have those dispatches written as soon as possible for me to sign, I want to leave no doubt that their presence is not a request. Lancaster is the capitol of the Human settlements and each swore fealty to my father when he was crowned. They owe him and now that he’s gone, they owe me. Make sure that’s clear.”

  “Yes Sire,” Windel acknowledged. “If I may, there is one other item I’d like to add, if you’ll allow.”

  It was odd for the aide to be so squirrelly. What was making him so nervous? John waited, but it was clear that he had to actually tell the elf to proceed before he would. “And that is?”

  “Sire, when I was traveling with Merlin, a member of our group was an orc,” Windel stated plainly.

  “What the hell is my daughter mixed up in?” Bordin suddenly raged. “You told me that she left with the mage to avoid coming to harm by agents of the Phoenix, and that they were simply retrieving a sword to take to Erik! What’s the hell is she doing running around with an orc?”

  The knights were nervous as well. The hatred was well established between the two races and even Windel was hesitant speaking about it.

  “Sire, this orc goes by the name Kore, and he is traveling with them because he’s fighting the Phoenix. He escaped the Deadlands and is trying to help bring the Phoenix down in order to free his people from slavery.”

  “And you believe him?” Tar Reiz interjected, just as skeptical as the rest of them were.

  Windel nodded. “We were in the woods hiding from an enemy patrol, and he led the charge against them when we could have easily stayed within the shadows and let them pass. He is not like any orc I’ve ever met and my personal experience with him makes me believe he’s sincere. And if there’s one orc willing to fight—.”

  “Then others might be as well,” he finished. “Look,” he told the others at the table ready to jump in and argue further, “I don’t see how this changes things. If there are other orcs wanting to be free of slavery, how are we to help them? March to the Dea
dlands, palms up, and hope they don’t kill us? If it were that easy, this orc friend of yours would be doing that instead of running around with that mage.”

  The others were nodding in agreement, and he knew that even if there were a way, the racial hatred bred over two thousand years would not so easily be put aside.

  “If they end up showing up and offering aid, we’ll deal with it then. Til then, I suggest we table that conversation and each spend time thinking of what that would really mean for our chances to destroy the Phoenix. Remember, the orcs only made up a small percentage of the horde attacking our home. Is that because the Phoenix did not trust them enough to send, or because they make up the main force marching on Forlorn? We can’t know and its useless speculating. Let’s focus on what we can do and let fate decide the rest,” he finished and his aide nodded his head, feeling relieved that he’d at least tried, and backed away.

  “See that those dispatches get written up and General Brasten, I want the army ready to march as soon as possible. The Elves are about to be attacked and I will not leave them to fight the Phoenix’s hordes are their own,” he told them, standing up.

  “Anything else?” he asked.

  Uriens stood as well, offering him his arm. “On behalf of my King and the Elven Nation, I thank you for your support and assistance.”

  He took it and smiled. “I made that witch a promise and I may be a lot of things, but what I’m not, is a liar. I just wish I could see her face when we take her best and shove it right down her throat.”

  The others cheered, even Noelani raised his mug in support. “We should get something to eat, we’re all going to be cursing field rations for a very long time. Hope you brought more Grog with you, we’re all going to need it,” he told the chugging dwarf, who slammed down his mug and grinned mischievously.

  “Ye’re damn reit Ah did,” the dwarf muttered, then chuckled.

  Now that they had a plan, all that was left was to put it into action.

  Turning from the table he ordered the stewards to prepare lunch, there was a lot to do and not a lot of time to do it.

  II

  They made camp at the edge of the Drago Mountains.

  Though he had been exhilarated by his ride on griffin back, he wasn’t as happy with the soreness between his thighs or his rear. It wasn’t the same as being on a horse. If he fell off a horse, he’d bruise an arm, maybe break a bone. If he fell off the griffin… His legs were sore from trying to stay in the saddle, regardless of the straps holding him in place.

  Willow was massaging her lower back as she helped him gather firewood from the nearby forest. Kylee had passed them a short time before, Tuskar not very pleased with being put to sleep. The ranger had taken him to find food and to let him run his frustration out a bit. Reyna and Jared were preparing to make dinner while Merlin and Kore unsaddled the griffins for the night.

  He had no idea where Trek went, and after earlier, he didn’t really care.

  Melissa passed on his right and he smiled at her weakly while she poked through some underbrush looking for smaller branches to get the fire started.

  “How did you know about Melissa?” he inquired, as they started their trek back to camp with an armload of wood.

  Willow chuckled, “like you could keep something like that hidden from Jared. He told Reyna, who found it funny enough to share. Merlin felt that her inability to change was a mental, not physical problem. Thought if we angered her enough, she’d react out of instinct and shift on her own.”

  “And you figured picking on me would do that for you, huh?” he countered, still feeling anger over the incident.

  “It worked, didn’t it?” she giggled, brushing a strand of loose hair back over her pointed ears.

  “Next time leave me out of it,” he answered, glowering. Try as he might, he couldn’t be angry at her for too long. One look at her reminded him of how much he truly cared about her, and the anger would start to disappear, with only remnants left behind to remind him of it while idle and alone. She had a powerful hold over him and yet—he was still having problems reconciling what had happened days before and allowing himself to once again be touched and loved.

  It was a process, one he was only just beginning.

  He dumped his wood next to the fire pit, and Reyna went about getting the fire going so they could start dinner. Looking over to where Merlin was setting down the last saddle, he caught movement on his left and was startled at the sight of an older man with a wooden walking stick watching him intently.

  “Can I help you?” he asked, not sure why no one else mentioned they had a visitor.

  Reyna shifted her gaze, thinking he was talking to her, then followed the direction of his eyes to see who he was talking too. Immediately she jumped to her feet, the smoldering fire forgotten, her hand on the pommel of her sword.

  “Can’t an old man rest his weary bones for a moment without being threatened with a pigsticker?” the newcomer asked, drawing Merlin’s attention at last.

  “I haven’t threatened you yet, state your business or I’ll start too,” Reyna snapped back. “I’ve just about had it with uninvited guest and I’ll quickly show you what this “pigsticker” can do.”

  Willow had laid her wood down and was clutching her amulet, Melissa at her side. He glanced at Jared and saw a confused look on his face.

  “Not nice to try and poke around someone’s head without their permission, young man,” the older guy fired back, giving Jared a nasty look. “Someone ought to teach you some manners.”

  Reyna bristled at the retort, her hand drawing her sword free and holding it ready. “You going to try?”

  Merlin rushed between them, glaring at Reyna before turning to their crotchety visitor. Tristan sighed, would there ever be an end to any of this? Couldn’t they just do what they came here to do and be done with it?

  For the first since he had known the mage, he watched the other man bow to the newcomer, something he hadn’t done even for his late father. What could demand such respect from the ageless mage?

  “Forgive them, they don’t know who they’re talking too. It’s been a rough couple of days. The roads are not as safe as they used to be,” Merlin apologized to the cranky bastard, a humble look upon his face.

  Okay, now he was curious.

  The old man nodded but still glared at the frustrated telepath. “He ought to knock that off or he’ll get another nosebleed.”

  “How do you know about—,” Jared began.

  “Cease, Jared,” Merlin commanded, making Reyna bristle even more. She took a step sideways and blocked the old man’s view of her brother; anger barely held in check.

  Melissa came forward and bowed before the older man as well.

  The old man chuckled. “Been a long time. Glad you finally got out of that musty dank cave of yours.”

  “Had no choice in the matter,” the witch replied grimly. It had cost her dearly and he experienced firsthand what had been forced upon her. The resentment was still there and he couldn’t blame her for any of it. He was starting to feel the same way.

  “Anyone mind filling us in on what’s going on?” Willow finally interjected, her impatience getting the best of her.

  Merlin gave her a look like she’d just disrespected a royal dignitary and she winced under his gaze.

  “Don’t let it bother you, old friend,” the old man told the mage, coming to stand between the two magicians and smiling at them. “You forget, they’re mortal, live shorter lives, and they don’t have the patience that comes from living as long as we have. My name is Wyrddlin.”

  “You’re named after a dragon?” Willow asked, an eyebrow raising.

  The old man chuckled. “Something like that.”

  “Willow, he is the dragon,” Melissa corrected her and Tristan’s jaw dropped.

  What?

  III

  Merlin had insisted that they get dinner served before explaining Melissa’s comment.

  It didn’t make any sens
e.

  This old man was a dragon? Were they not mythical winged creatures that breathed fire, or was it a metaphor for magic they employed? Trek had changed into one, was that a flight of fancy and not based on reality? He eyed the older man as he took a bowl of stew and nodded graciously at the irritated black knight. Reyna’s sword had been sheathed, but she hadn’t removed it even when she sat down to eat, keeping her attention on their new guest.

  Kylee had returned a short time before with a deer, telling them that Tuskar had remained behind to eat his own kill. She had already cleaned it and he watched her set up a rack to hold the carcass while she ate. Her eyes hadn’t shown surprise at the newcomer’s presence, and he knew that she was passed resigned to having unexpected guest when Merlin was concerned.

  “You’ve seen these two shapeshift, have you not?” Wyrddlin asked them point blank. When he didn’t get an immediate response, he went on, “the only difference is, I only have one other form. And frankly, that’s all I need. Now, what are you lot doing camping near my mountains?”

  Merlin chuckled. “You know why we’re here and what we’re after, why bother asking?”

  Wyrddlin eyed the mage. “Do you think I’d allow anyone to go after that… item? I’d rather it stays exactly where it is, thank you very much.”

  “If you know what we’re after, then you know why we have to find it. It has nothing to do with you,” Merlin returned, treading carefully before the flushing older man’s face.

  What the hell? Oh! Dragonslayer! I can see why he wouldn’t want us to find that. The robed figure across from him stole a glance his way and he knew that he’d just been heard. Damn it, he had to work on that. This was getting to be stupid.

  “What do I care about the race of Man or what the Phoenix will do to it? She’s left me alone since she summoned me through that blasted portal of hers, why should I get involved?” Wyrddlin asked. “The Phoenix has never hunted me, the same cannot be said of these pathetic human knights that seek me out to establish their fame.”