“How many?” snapped Greeb.
“My lord,” replied the tracker. “You have approximately eight hundred Hackles still under your command.”
“Excellent,” returned Greeb. “The loss of a few hundred Ulrog can easily be explained. Perhaps a protracted battle at the mouth of the Mnim. Sulgor need never know we left our post. What of the Eru?”
“From this vantage, we believe the death count to be close to one hundred,” answered the tracker.
The loss of one hundred horsemen was a major victory. The Malveel smiled. He had prepared himself for a ratio of three to one. However, the loss of only two Ulrog for every rider was a victory to Greeb. His situation improved with each bit of news. A second tracker appeared before the Malveel.
“My lord, the Derolians return. They harass the edges of our position in the woods. There are few, but already we have lost Hackles.”
The smile quickly faded from the face of the beast. Madness! Greeb’s trackers reported Portlo’s woodsmen as badly beaten. Why? Why did these fools continue to harass and bait the Army of Mnim? Greeb spun and stared at Temujen and his horsemen.
A few leagues beyond the Eru’s line stood sanity. The Mnim lay within a wide cut between the knifeedge of the Scythtar and the peaks of the Mirozert. If Greeb could return to his stronghold he might scheme a way to explain the loss of his Hackles. Unfortunately, Temujen was determined to add to those loses as the Ulrog marched to the Mnim.
The horsemen were all that stood between Greeb and his ability to gain control of the situation. Why did Temujen align what was left of his nations fighting force between Greeb and the Mnim? The Eru could hardly afford more losses. Anger boiled within the Malveel. He held the superior force, but something warned him that he committed a major misstep. His breath hissed between locked fangs. What did he miss?
Greeb noted a flash of red light from the heights of the Mnim. The beast’s spine tingled and the red orb widened. He fixed his sight upon the spot. He waited. Fighting erupted in the woods behind him. The Derolians made their move. He waited. Red flashed again above the ridgeline. The tingle grew as he stared into the distance at the heights of the Mnim.
“My lord,” shouted a tracker approaching Greeb’s position. “The woodsmen attempt to drive us from the woods and into the blades of the horsemen.”
Greeb ignored the tracker. Another flash of red splashed across the sky, tiny from this distance but the flames of Chaos were unmistakable. Greeb’s tongue slithered across his lips in anticipation of what he knew would follow the red flame. Immediately it was there. A steady glow of green pulsed out and held strong.
Fury! Anger! Hatred! All became clear to the Malveel. The answer to all of his questions stood on the slopes of the Scythtar wielding the power of light along the ridgeline trail.
“The Seraph,” hissed Greeb.
A growl rumbled forth from the depths of the Malveel’s being. It grew as his one red eye pinpointed the location of the green glow in the distance. Louder still rose the sound of Greeb’s anger as his attendants backed from their master. He, a Malveel Lord, was baited and toyed with. He led his Hackles into a trap and jeopardized his position in the rank of Amird’s Chosen.
The growl strengthened as the Malveel’s lips curled into an ugly sneer. Greeb’s head quivered in fury. He stared at the tiny green glow in the distance. All of this was a ruse, an exceedingly costly ruse to Greeb’s consolidation of power. A ruse orchestrated by one man.
“Seraph!” roared the Malveel.
He launched himself from the edges of the Derol directly at the line of Eru horsemen. A moment later the entire Ulrog host broke from the tree line.
Ader stood behind the boulders with hands raised to the heavens. A soft aura of green surrounded the Seraph and Kael. The boy stood a yard from Ader fumbling with an arrow. Red flame burst from within the huddled mass of Ulrog and sprayed down upon the pair. The green wall deflected the sparking Chaos and it spilled on the rock before Ader.
The Ulrog remained tightly packed, the priest centered in the formation. Beside the black robed priest stood a massive Hackle armed with an equally oversized cleaver. Upon the beast’s shoulder lay an unmoving lump, bundled within a burlap sack. Slender legs bound with a cord protruded from inside the sack.
The red flame halted and Eidyn quickly released an arrow into the group of Ulrog. The steel head deflected from the stony hide of a Hackle, sparking in the darkness. The priest waved a hand to a group of five clustered to his right.
“Vendi Ulrog,” shouted the priest. “Kill the Elf!”
The five immediately hunched forward and trotted toward Eidyn’s location. The priest waved to the hulking servant to the left. Lilywynn’s guard aligned himself behind the remaining Hackles and the priest joined him.
“At the Seraph,” ordered the priest to these Hackles. “The flames of Chaos will occupy him.”
The group huddled close and advanced along the cliff’s edge toward Ader’s position. Kael rose from behind his boulder and fired at the group, aiming low to avoid Lilywynn. The arrow slammed into the thigh of the lead Hackle. The beast roared in anger and halted. His brethren shoved him aside and quickened their pace toward the Seraph. The night erupted again in brilliant red flame.
Ader raised his hands just in time and a wall of green flashed before Kael and the Seraph. The flames of Chaos washed over the green and fell ineffectually to the stony floor of the mountain pass. Kael notched a second arrow and glanced to the Seraph. Ader sweated profusely and his brow tightened in concentration. He nodded to Kael and his hands dropped. The Southland boy rose and fired once more. His shaft met the forearm of a Hackle and stuck there. The Ulrog roared in anger and snapped the arrow shaft off at the wound’s entry point. Black blood ran down the beast’s awkwardly held arm.
The cluster of five on the opposite side of the path moved more slowly toward Eidyn. The Elf was quick with his bow and he had no prisoner to worry over. Two Ulrog fell behind the pace tending to injuries. The priest noted their slow progress.
“Kill the Elf. Flank the Seraph’s position,” shouted the priest across the mountain path. “The eternal gifts of Amird will be showered down upon you!”
The Ulrog roared with fervor and raced toward Eidyn. Their brothers, advancing on Kael, responded in a like manner and raced forward to the boy’s right. Ader stepped from behind his boulder and called upon the light. It pulsed forward, creating a sturdy wall two yards before him. The Seraph strode purposefully toward the cleaver wielding Ulrog. The priest and the giant guard remained up slope, exhorting their servants.
The Hackles closed to within five strides of the Seraph when Ader closed his eyes and bent his will on the wall. His hands swung wide to his left as if he grasped an unseen object. The wall of light lifted and crowded left. The Hackles advanced to within two strides. Ader’s hands swung across his body, throwing him forward. With a loud crack the wall of green light snapped across the cliff top in the same direction, smashing into the running Ulrog.
Kael stared in awe as the Seraph used the wall like a giant club. The boy could feel how his friend shaped and used the power. The Hackles toppled sideways. Two plunged from the cliff into the darkness below. Three others dropped dangerously close to the edge of the precipice, raking the shale with their black claws to halt their progress over the ledge.
Ader stood slumped forward. His hands extended toward the Hackles as he tried to wring every bit of energy into the blow. The Ulrog priest’s eyes shifted between the sprawling Hackles near the cliff’s edge and the Seraph. Fear registered there, but also opportunity. He squealed the name of Amird and his hands gathered power about them.
Kael’s eyes widened. The boy fumbled with the arrow in his shaky hand, trying desperately to notch it properly. He glanced to the Elf. Eidyn no longer held his bow and engaged the remaining pair of Hackles on his side of the path with dual sabers. Kael’s mind screamed for him to calm, to act. He looked back to Ader. The Seraph’s heavy eyes glanced
to the red flame sparking across the Ulrog priest’s hands. A frown of acceptance crept across his face. He was exposed and could do nothing to counter the priest’s attack.
Desperation exploded in Kael’s mind. He jerked the bow up, trying to level it at the priest. His sweaty hand slipped from the fletching about the shaft and the arrow clattered to the rocky ground. The priest smiled wickedly and red flame burst from his hands, arching toward the Seraph.
“Ader!” shouted Kael as his hand reached out.
Instantly, a brilliant ring of blue light encased Ader. The light stretched from Kael’s extended hand and cradled the old man. The red flame of Chaos poured down as the blue light lifted Ader and ripped him through the air toward Kael.
The old man dropped breathlessly to the ground next to the wide-eyed boy. The priest roared in anger and immediately shifted his attack. Eidyn dodged a cleaver strike and plunged a curved saber deep into the belly of the last of his Ulrog.
“Kael, how did you...,” began Ader.
The boy couldn’t respond. He saw his power clearly now and forced his control upon it. He put a firm hand on Ader’s shoulder, shoving the Seraph behind him as a wall of red slammed down.
A dome of blue light encased them and the flame of Chaos diverted just inches above their heads. Kael continued as if in a trance. He opened his hand and raised it slowly above his head. The dome grew.
The priest chanted and rocked, calling upon Chaos to deliver all it could offer. Finally exhausted, the creature hunched forward, his black eyes darting across the scene before him.
Eidyn stalked forward and the crazed Ulrog caught the motion.
“The Elf,” shouted the priest to his Hackles.
The three Ulrog whom Ader nearly toppled from the cliff scrambled toward Eidyn. Kael marched forward, the blue light shimmering about his body. The priest spun to his large attendant, motioning with a black claw toward the cliff just a few yards from their position.
“Kill the prisoner!”
The massive Hackle grunted and ran toward the ledge. The bundle upon his stony shoulder thrashed and the legs kicked within their bindings. Kael heard the order and saw the movement but neither raised alarm. He was detached, acting, not thinking. His hands rose and extended before him as he marched on.
The large Hackle reached the ledge and launched the sack out and over the chasm below. Kael’s right hand extended toward Lilywynn palm upward. The priest regained his strength and red sparks flared before him. Kael’s left hand extended toward the priest palm down. Lilywynn’s body hovered in the air for a moment then plunged downward. The priest cursed at Kael and sent a plume of flame up and out toward the boy.
Another flash of blue erupted from Kael and split before him. One stream of light shot toward the falling body of the Sprite. The other created a dome similar to that which protected Kael and Ader moments before. However, this dome extended out and over the priest of Amird. The dome slammed down upon the priest, cupping the fire of Chaos beneath it.
The priest howled in pain as the fire meant for Kael became entrapped inside the dome and consumed him. The half circle of blue light flared then faded. The body of the priest lay lifeless upon the charred shale of the Mnim.
The sack fell twisting and kicking into a cradle of blue light beneath it. Kael drew his hand toward his body and the sack shot across the space separating it from the boy and fell at his feet. Kael stood motionless, encased in a rippling aura of blue. The three remaining Hackles raced past Eidyn not bothering to raise their cleavers. They fled down the valley of Mnim. Lilywynn’s bearer took a final look at the smoldering remains of his master then he too fled, running back up the ridgeline path.
CHAPTER 25: THE PRECIPICE
Greeb was upon the Eru line in a moment. One great claw lashed out severing the throat of a stallion and dropping its rider to the ground. The Malveel’s eye washed all within its sight with the molten flame of Chaos. Horses reared in terror and riders tried to protect themselves with their shields. His second claw raked a rider from the saddle and quickly the beast’s massive jaws locked on the man, extinguishing the rider’s life with rows of six inch sharpened daggers.
Those riders within the Malveel’s reach attacked with vigor. However, blade and arrow bounced from the nearly impenetrable scales of the beast. The Ulrog host quickly followed Greeb. Stone rained down upon the Eru. Rocky fist and heel pummeled their mounts and hammered the bodies of those Eru unlucky enough to be unseated.
The Malveel slashed and stabbed, spinning wildly to pin a rider beneath a massive claw then engulf the trapped enemy in flame. While he battled, Greeb kept the Mnim foremost in his mind. The boldness of the Seraph astounded him. Ader De Hartstron stood in Greeb’s stronghold, trying to disrupt the plans of his master. The Malveel spun back toward the Mnim to face the onslaught of seven riders. Behind them he noted the top of the valley in the distance. It exploded in a flare of blue light.
Greeb nearly faltered from the shock of it. De Hartstron was in league with another of great power. The tingle Greeb felt earlier in the evening ran like a shock through his system. The new Seraph walked with the old. The pair stood in his valley!
The seven riders closed on the Malveel, their sabers held high. Greeb locked his claws in the earth. The great black wings tipped with razor sharp scales flashed outward. The beast launched himself forward into the riders. The wings knocked the sabers harmlessly aside then swept through the seated horsemen. Each man ripped from the saddle and plunged to the ground as the claws of the Malveel trod over them.
Nothing stood between Amird’s chosen and the Mnim. He tore at the ground racing toward the mountain valley. The battle receded as Greeb charged up the foothills of the Scythtar. The Hackles must fend for themselves. Greeb wanted the hearts of the Seraphim.
“Something stirred the Malveel,” thought Temujen.
Greeb retained no support, unusual for a Malveel. Typically the Chosen of Amird surrounded themselves with guards and retainers. The Eru held a rare opportunity. Temujen knew more riders would lose their lives to the beast but they required just one fortuitous stab. The more Greeb engaged the Eru, the more likely one of Temujen’s men might deliver such a deathblow.
Temujen turned his midnight mare and the Malveel vanished within the darkness shrouding the Mnim Valley. The chieftain groaned. Opportunity lost. A sudden roar behind Temujen called him back to the battle. Hundreds of Ulrog assaulted the Eru line. Temujen took a last look at the valley in the distance and turned to the matter at hand.
“Fare you well, Giftgiver,” prayed Temujen. “The beast is on the prowl.”
Eidyn leapt to the sack in a moment, drawing a curved dagger from his belt. The girl groaned in pain as the Elf prince tenderly cut the bindings from about her swollen, purple ankles. He slipped the sack from over her head and slowly cut similar cords from her wrists.
Lilywynn blinked and squinted in the moonlight. Its illumination seemed blinding compared to the darkness from which she emerged. When the cords dropped to the ground, Eidyn tenderly drew her close. Their eyes met and the Elf prince nodded reassuringly. The girl remained expressionless, too exhausted to react. A tear streamed down her cheek.
“Kael, let it go,” came the feeble voice of Ader. “You waste yourself.”
The boy stood staring at the Scythtar path. His body remained encased in blue flame. He felt like a dam, holding back the torrents of the Frizgard.
“Kael, let the power still,” continued Ader. “Allow it to subside.”
Kael took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Slowly the power dissipated. The blue aura flickered and vanished.
The Ulrog formed a massive throng and charged north across the Tre. The Mnim was their destination. It would be a long, bloody march, but the Ulrog held the numbers to achieve their goal.
Temujen formed a gigantic war ring and his riders galloped about the Ulrog army harassing every step. Rocks flew into the ranks of the riders. Ulrog packs tore at mounts that strayed too
close. Cleavers cut man and animal. Hackles dragged several riders to their death.
The Eru remained conservative in their attack. Horsemen rode down Ulrog that mistakenly separated from the Horde. Small skirmishes broke out behind the main body as Ulrog stragglers encountered roaming Eru support riders. Arrows rained upon the center of the Ulrog army, skipping from the stony hides of the lucky and skewering those who were not.
Temujen ground his teeth in anger. This battle would harm the Eru numbers far greater than the Ulrog, but he held a duty. The chieftain promised to occupy the Hackles for as long as he could. He would be forced to press the attack all the way to the Mnim opening but still the Ulrog advanced too quickly. Temujen turned to an attendant.
“Take a dozen riders and lay flame to the grassland two hundred yards in advance of the lead Ulrog,” ordered the Chieftain. “Let us see if we can hamper the enemies flight.”
The rider nodded and sped north, calling comrades to his side.
The blue glow from the top of the valley disappeared, but Greeb marked its location. The Malveel raced past broken boulders and mountains of shattered rock as he sped toward the Scythtar path. His stride spanned twice that of a stallion and the valley flew beneath his outstretched wings.
Anger fed Greeb’s speed. De Hartstron lay behind the manipulation all along. The Seraph must have slipped into the valley at the beginning of Greeb’s encounter with the steward of Astel. The old man and his raiding party hiked to the heights of the ridgeline path and lie in wait for those transporting the new Seraph.
The Trees And The Night (Book 3) Page 31
