“Oh yes,” Idonea said, “probably in heaven being ridden by both my mother and Raine.”
“I had all these witty comments to make,” Drakar said, looking back over his long neck at Raine, “but I’ve quite forgotten them all.”
“I’m sure they’ll come back to you when we’ve rescued your mother.”
“It’s hard to picture my mother needing help,” Drakar said.
And yet she did. Even from a distance, they could see that the great creature was bedeviled by many smaller, flying creatures. They weren’t quite bat or bird, but some disgusting combination of the two, with the same leathery and pus-like qualities of all the Hyr’rok’kin.
“Why doesn’t she flee?” Drakar asked.
“She can’t,” Raine said.
And then Drakar saw it, the rope about one of Talan’s legs, the golden rope held in the claws of some of the bat-like creatures. Talan strained against it, fighting the whole time against the monsters that dove in to tear and slice at the flesh of the beautiful drake.
“If what my mother said is true, there’s nothing I can do against that rope.”
That was so, Raine thought. Talan had been restrained by a mere filament before, and it had drained her strength to near death. Hel had designed the cable to restrain dragons.
“I can’t disenchant it, either,” Raine said. “But I can kill what’s on the other end of it.”
Drakar swooped down and in and under in an acrobatic maneuver. With a sharp twist of her wrist, Raine snapped out her bow and began firing arrows with the powerful weapon. They caught the flying Hyr’rok’kin by surprise, for they had been told there was not another dragon in the vicinity once they killed the sentry and captured the red one. The black dragon incinerated a trio of them while the Scinterian took down two more with her deadly arrows. Drakar swooped in tightly to Talan, knocking one free that clung with its fangs buried in her wing. In the close quarters, Raine moved to her swords, slicing up whatever Drakar veered towards that somehow escaped his flame.
Talan was now more free to defend herself, but two of the bat-like creatures still held the rope. Drakar had to steer clear of the dangerous cord, uncertain what effect its touch would have on him. But Raine had no fear of the golden thread. On one precarious dive, she leaped from Drakar’s neck and grabbed hold of the taut line, sliding down its length towards the two monstrosities that held her love in check. She met them feet first, hitting one with such force it knocked it free and sent it spinning toward the ground. The other she fought one-handed, blocking the vicious swipes of its talons with her short sword. With a tremendous swing, she decapitated the beast.
But now that the line was no longer held taut, Raine hurtled toward the ground. The rope snapped tight in a jarring move, and yet somehow she managed to hold on. Now she was only a few feet off the ground, and was able to get a very good look at the multitude of Hyr’rok’kin that gnashed their teeth below her, leaping up and slicing their claws at her.
Talan did her best to gain altitude as Raine began to climb the rope. The muscles of her arms corded and flexed as she pulled herself upward with incredible strength. She finally reached the great toes of the dragon’s foot and pulled herself onto the foot, wrapping an arm about the ankle. With the other, she struggled to jar the heavy rope loose, angered when she saw where it had cut into the skin. With a pull, she freed the ankle and the rope went tumbling down in a spiral. It hit the ground below, knocking a group of Shards off their feet.
Instantly, Talan’s strength returned.
“Drakar, we must retreat!”
The black dragon blew one last funnel of fire, then swept his wings forward and wheeled about. He joined his mother in their head-long flight back across the Empty Land.
Raine clung to Talan, caressing the smooth, scaled skin between the heavy plates. She leaned down and pressed her lips to the skin, devastated that Talan had been injured.
“I’m fine, little one,” Talan said.
“How were they able to get that rope around you?”
“I didn’t see it at first. They shot it from the ground with some sort of catapult. And then those flying monsters attacked me and I was unable to get myself free.”
“I’ve never seen flying Hyr’rok’kin before,” Raine said.
“Nor I,” Talan said grimly. “I’m certain they were bred specifically with dragons in mind.”
That made sense, Raine thought. Air superiority was no longer guaranteed. It would not be so easy for the dragons to annihilate the ground troops if they were fighting their own battle in the air.
The sight of both dragons returning was a huge relief to those waiting at the edge of the Empty Land. Talan and Drakar both landed, and once Raine was free of the dragon’s neck, they transformed to their human shapes. Raine ran to Talan and embraced her tightly. It was unusual for Talan to ever be in any danger, let alone injured, and it grieved Raine. Idonea ran to her brother and hugged him, and he took advantage and pressed against her in a lingering manner.
“That’s enough,” Talan said to her children. Drakar released his sister with a look of disappointment.
“Elyara,” Raine said, supporting Talan when she started to limp. “Could you see to Talan’s wound?”
“Of course,” the doe-eyed elf said, and moved to tend the injury with her gentle touch. Gimle also moved to assist.
“What happened?” Senta asked.
“We have a few problems,” Raine said as everyone gathered around. “I got a very good look at them up close, and there are thousands of them. Worse, they have some sort of flying Shard with them that will have to be dealt with or the dragons will take a lot of damage. The flying beasts weren’t heavily armored, like Talan or Drakar, but they were fast. In a swarm, and in a multitude, they could take down a lesser dragon.”
“But neither Talan or Drakar is a lesser dragon,” Senta pointed out.
“No, but the Hyr’rok’kin have something else with them. They have a rope that can restrain even an Ancient Dragon, and it’s huge. That’s what caused the injury to Talan. They fired one from a catapult and it caught her ankle in flight. She’s lucky she didn’t go down.”
“Is it the same—?” Idonea asked.
“Yes, it’s the same.”
Idonea frowned, her dark eyebrows knitting together. Her mother had been incapacitated by little more than a strand of that material and it had taken all of Idonea’s power to break her free. A rope, especially one the size that Raine was describing, would be impossible to break. And it could very well kill her mother if it drained her like before.
“We’re going to have to take out those catapults,” Senta said grimly.
“Right,” Raine said.
“This is not good territory to fight in,” Nerthus said “especially so outnumbered.”
The Knight Commander, First General, and Scinterian all looked out at the flat plain stretching before them. It was terrible terrain to fight in. There was no cover, it was wide-open, and the much larger force could easily flank them on both sides. They would be hemmed in, and if they couldn’t make it back to the Deep Woods, they would be surrounded.
“Yes,” Raine agreed, “Terrible. Which is why we’re going to change it. Elyara, can you do it?”
“I can,” the slender elf said with confidence.
“Do you want it to move this time?” Idonea asked, leaving Senta and Nerthus baffled.
“No,” Raine replied. “You can decorate it with your usual touch, but I need you to save your power for something else.”
Raine knelt down and began to draw figures in the sand. All leaned in as she began to lay out her plan. When all was said, Senta leaned back, stunned. She could barely picture what the mages were going to attempt. Overall, the situation was nigh insurmountable, but the Scinterian had just laid out a battle plan that might work. Raine’s grasp of tactics and strategy was jaw-dropping. Although Senta had seen Raine fight on many occasions, she had never seen her lead before. Raine’s co
mmand presence was such that it did not occur to Nerthus or Senta to take charge of the campaign.
Senta was staring out over the desert, mulling this strange acquiescence to the Scinterian’s authority when Talan came up beside her.
“The plan is brilliant,” Senta commented.
“You seem surprised.”
“No. I guess it’s that I’ve always seen her fight as an individual, not as part of an army. Her military leadership is extraordinary.”
Talan gave a low chuckle. “You have to remember, the Scinterians didn’t have Kings or Queens, they had only Generals. In the Great War, Garik Estania, Raine’s father, was one of the greatest.” The dragon started to walk off, then paused.
“In fact,” she said over her shoulder, “if the Scinterians did have a King or an Emperor, it probably would have been him.”
Before the sun reached its peak, they were joined by another seventy or so imperial troops, a welcome addition. But as the dust loomed closer and closer, the true size of the approaching horde became evident and an unease settled on the small force. The imperials shifted from side-to-side, restless. The Tavinter checked the fletching on their arrows, and then did so again. The Ha’kan stood in formation while their Queen sat on her horse in full armor, next to her First General. Astrid, like all Ha’kan, was proficient with a sword, but both Halla and Senta insisted she stay to the rear of their forces. The Queen was the soul of her people, the First General, its strong right arm, and the First Scholar, its mind. But the High Priestess was the beating heart itself, and none could bear for her to be in danger.
One stood out in front of everyone, arms crossed, serenely confident as she gazed out across the desert. Her eyes were the ice-blue color of her father. The blue and gold markings rose on her skin, a testament to a ceremony so painful most would not survive. The multitude of weapons she carried gleamed in the sunlight. If any felt their courage begin to waver, they had only to look to her and it would return. And as the mass approaching them began to resolve into clumps, then individual figures, she smiled a grim smile full of anticipation.
“Can you imagine an army of them?” Senta murmured.
As the horde approached, the Hyr’rok’kin foot soldiers began to spread out across the horizon, confirming their intent to flank the much smaller force, then surround it. Raine watched carefully for signs of hell hounds, the dreadful four-legged beasts that could cover the remaining distance in an instant. She had seen some while dangling above them on the golden rope, but she did not see them now. And the winged Hyr’rok’kin hovered above their own army, waiting for their dispatch.
Raine counted nine Marrow Shards, which were easily identifiable because they were enormous and lumbered along, taking one step to their comrades forty. The size of the hideous creatures caused dismay even among the more seasoned troops.
“The first time I met Raine,” Skye said quietly, “she killed one of those things single-handedly. Ran right up the side of it and cut off its head, laughing the whole time.”
This recount heartened those near her, and they gripped their weapons, steeling themselves.
Elyara and Idonea joined Raine, one on each side.
“I don’t see or sense any Reapers,” Idonea said.
“Nor I,” Elyara agreed.
“That’s good,” Raine said. The wraith-like monstrosities carried their own dangers above-and-beyond the Horde Shards. They required powerful magic to banish.
“Maybe they got tired of you killing them,” Idonea said. A single Reaper could destroy a small town, and Raine had prevailed against them on several occasions. Her immunity to their dark magic proved a powerful, defensive weapon.
“I never get tired of killing them.”
The approaching horde was now close enough that they could be heard. Their howls, screams, and screeches were unnerving. The roars of the Marrow Shards carried across on the wind. And although they could not be seen, the baying and growling of the hell hounds carried as well. Senta glanced to Raine because the enemy was getting very close. The very end of their line was slowly beginning to curve around to trap the small army.
Raine removed her bow from her belt and with a flick of her wrist, snapped the deadly weapon into form. She pulled an arrow from her quiver and very carefully took aim.
“What is she doing?” Queen Halla said, and Senta shook her head. They were not even close to being in range. It was twice, possibly even three times the reach of even a skilled archer. Accuracy wasn’t achievable at that distance.
Raine made one adjustment for the wind, then let the arrow fly. The projectile sped away and disappeared, too small to be seen. And across that great expanse, the lead Hyr’rok’kin clutched his chest and fell to the ground, spitting blood from the arrow buried in his heart.
The horde stopped.
“Well, that got their attention,” Raine said.
“By the gods,” Senta muttered. That hadn’t been an attack, it was a warning.
Slowly, but with far less certainty, the horde began to move forward again. They were no longer moving lock-step, however, and were far less organized. Still, the massive force began to curl around the much smaller army.
“Elyara,” Raine said, “would you do the honors?”
The elven mage, Elyara of the Halvor, acolyte of Y’arren of the Deep Woods, raised her slender arms to the heavens, and the ground began to rumble. The sands began to shift and snake about like something alive. The earth shook as two great lines split the terrain and moved outward across the desert. The lines became cracks, then fissures, then the sand itself shot straight upward, becoming two enormous walls that stretched out nearly the distance to the approaching army. They were too high to scale, even for the Marrow Shards, and too thick to breach.
“Well done,” Raine said as Elyara calmly maintained the spell.
“She created a canyon,” Queen Halla said in disbelief.
“Perfect terrain for a small force to engage a much larger one,” Senta said, now understanding Raine’s intent. The Hyr’rok’kin could no longer flank them and would be forced to funnel through the narrow entrance to fight.
Nerthus also assessed the dramatic change in terrain, and wondered whatever made her think that going into battle without mages was a good idea. It would have taken months, if not years to build such a siege structure.
“Would you like to add a few touches?” Raine asked.
“I would be glad to,” Idonea said. At the entrance of the canyon, the sand again began to slither about. Deadly spikes shot out from the ground, pointing outward at the approaching army. That would slow any full frontal assault down the funnel, and a frontal assault was now the only option left for the Hyr’rok’kin.
The horde had again come to a halt, or at least the part that they could see. The walls blocked out all the troops that had sought to curve around, and only the force directly in front of them was visible. The foot soldiers milled about uncertainly while their superiors screamed at them in fury.
“If I know them,” Raine said, “they will send those Marrow Shards to try and take down those spikes. If they do,” Raine said to Idonea, “let them fall. I need you to conserve your energy.”
Raine mounted her roan and rode over to Gimle. “I’ll need you to come with me.” She signed to Skye, and Skye chose ten of her best archers. They mounted up and followed Raine.
“In and out,” Raine cautioned. “This is just the beginning skirmish.”
The troops left behind tried to quell their impatience for battle and their anxiety for their comrades. That was a very small force Raine was leading into the maw of the enemy. But Raine did not travel all the way down to the spikes.
“Is this close enough?” she asked Skye.
“Yes, this is within our range.”
Raine nodded. It was what she anticipated. The skilled Tavinter were within their range, but still well out of the Hyr’rok’kin range. “Aim for their throats, here,” she said, indicating her own jugular vein. “
It is their weakest spot.”
True to Raine’s prediction, the Marrow Shards let loose their terrible roar and began stampeding toward the spiked entrance. They swung their massive fists and smashed the sharpened, earthen spears, but not without taking damage. Blood began to run from their torsos, legs, and arms, and they screamed in rage and pain. But the spikes were going down.
The Tavinter coordinated their targets without outward communication, intuitively knowing which enemy was theirs.
“Fire!” Raine said, and all loosed their arrows.
The projectiles flitted through the air, almost all finding the necks of the Marrow Shards. The lumbering beasts staggered about, clutching their throats, stumbling into one another. Three crashed to the ground, one impaled itself upon a bed of spikes, and a fifth began to crawl away, mortally wounded.
“That’s enough,” Raine said, “retreat!”
The small unit wheeled about and fled back down the walled canyon. As Raine expected, the flying Hyr’rok’kin massed into a swarm and gave chase. They were almost upon them.
“Gimle!” Raine called, out, “a ward!”
The First Scholar concentrated, and the air above the fleeing Tavinter shimmered, then took on a more solid form, appearing almost liquid. But it was not liquid, for the bat-like creatures slammed against it as if it were a solid wall, bouncing backwards in confusion and rage. They screeched in a frenzy of indignation, denied the prey that had seemed helpless.
“I cannot maintain the ward very long!”
“You don’t have to!” Raine cried back.
And Gimle understood as something enormous blocked out the sun. A fiery red dragon glided over them and a blast of flame drove the flying Hyr’rok’kin backward. An ebony dragon joined in, diving downward and wreaking his own havoc. The two, heavily plated dragons sustained little damage from the sharp talons of the monstrosities.
“Not too close, Drakar,” Raine murmured. Both dragons were to reveal themselves, but only over the canyon and not too close to the entrance where the enemy was massing. She wanted the Hyr’rok’kin to bring the catapults forward. Those had to be destroyed, and early in the battle. Otherwise, she would not risk Talan or Drakar.
The Dragon's War Page 12
