And then he saw it. A brilliant ball of flame shot from one of the catapult batteries. He grinned savagely. It was time for revenge. Melgit drew his sword and began the advance on the Goblin army.
Thick ropes of blood spiraled through the air to the sounds of steel hacking and ripping flesh. Men, Goblin and horse fell dead in the fury. The attack was swift and brutal, hundreds dying in the first few seconds as the horsemen thundered through the enemy encampment in total surprise. Four thousand riders tore into their foes without remorse. Sword and axe rose and fell, splitting flesh and breaking bones. The first ranks bore steel tipped lances; the second flaming brands. Soon the majority of the Goblin camp was in flames. Screams rose from the dying and the ones who didn’t know they were already dead.
Melgit skewered a Man of Gren and cursed wickedly. Sweat beaded on his brow, mingling with the drying blood and spots of gore. His muscles were sore and ached from the continual strain of so much cleaving. He reined up in the middle of the carnage and looked around. Most of the Goblins were up and arming themselves and preparing a counterassault. His own men had penetrated the enemy lines by five hundred meters and were reaping a terrible price. Occasionally he watched one of his men fall from the saddle or being dragged down by dozens of grey hands. He knew if he stayed any longer the enemy was going to decimate his forces.
“Roffort!” he bellowed. “Have the bugler signal retreat!”
The surviving horsemen disengaged and fled back the way they’d come. Most didn’t bother hacking down at the Goblins. Instead they chose to barrel down on them and keep running. Melgit was the last to leave. He turned and looked back at the Goblins and was pleased to see so many following. The enemy was falling into the trap. Melgit only hoped the trap was in place and ready to go. If not…..
* * *
Jin yawned again. It seemed that’s all he’d been doing lately and he couldn’t figure out why. Horses snorted and pranced anxiously all around him. The noise was almost deafening. He couldn’t even see the majority of the riders. Like so many others this morning, he too wondered how much longer it was going to be. Then he heard the sounds of thundering hooves coming at them fast. The answer came swiftly. Averonian cavalry emerged from the mists like things from a nightmare. Horse and rider were covered in blood and ruined flesh. The smell of sweat and blood permeated the air. Jin looked into some of their eyes and knew fear. They were the faces of grim death, and they knew it.
Melgit was the last to ride in and he halted when he saw the young soldier. A chunk of Goblin flesh clung to his neck, leaking ichors down his armor.
“They’re fast behind. No more than a few hundred meters,” he told Jin.
The man to Jin’s right, old and with a gray beard, clutched his spear tighter. He looked appraisingly at the younger commander and turned to his adjutant. “Sound the call.”
Trumpets rang through the formations spanning the width of the valley.
“I didn’t think you were going to be joining us this fine morning,” Melgit told the rider in purple and black. He noticed the elk head on the man’s shield. The riders of Harlegor had finally come to their aide.
Gray beard aggressively replied, “ For too long the Goblins have been free to do their evil. That all ends today.”
Melgit took an instant liking to the man.
Small dark shapes began to appear in the mist. The Goblins were upon them. They came on recklessly, frothing at their mouths and cursing guttural cries in their own foul tongues. They were so intent on murder they never saw the six thousand reinforcements charging at them. The lines clashed in a vicious impact. The contest was fierce and bloody and the riders had the advantage. Foot soldiers were no match against heavy cavalry. The Goblins collapsed and were slaughtered to the last. The riders, with Melgit’s men reformed and at their center rear, continued the attack into the enemy camp.
The hasty defense Jervis Hoole had erected was no match for more than ten thousand cavalry fighting for their lives and lands. Men and Goblin alike turned to flee the onslaught. Resistance lightened and the combined forces swept from one end of the camp to the other and rode on south. Both Melgit and Graybeard didn’t think they Goblins were going to make the same mistake of following them again and gradually eased their horses to a trot and then a walk. Man and beast were exhausted and the day was still growing.
“I’d say we stung them hard today,” Graybeard laughed.
Melgit agreed. “It was a good day. Let us get back across the river before they decide to finish it. Commander Steleon will want to speak with you.”
* * *
Jervis Hoole stood in the middle of his encampment seething with rage. Thousands of his forces were dead, butchered was more like it. Those who lived left their fallen comrades and scoured the battlefield in search of dead enemy. The ones they found were torn apart and mutilated beyond recognition. Hoole ordered companies of Battle Trolls to form and prepare to attack. He was not going to let the Mage send in his dragon and rob him of another victory. Gren Mot should have been his, but Sidian stole it. The plains of Averon were not going to be in question. The Man of Gren stood alone, long black hair sweeping across his face, and stared across the river at his hated enemy.
* * *
Steleon slid his looking glass closed and let out a pent up sigh of relief. The raid had been executed better than he hoped. Enemy casualties were atrocious and their camp was now in worse shape than his army. Hundreds of his forces died in the attack, but the cost, as regrettable as it was, was worth the results. The temperature began to drop and it was barely past midday. Maelor folded his arms across his barrel chest and said nothing. Their thoughts quietly turned to Fennic and Delin and the hope of a nation.
FORTY-SIX
Winter erupted with a fury. Snow swirled in thick blankets around the ruins of Ipn Shal, covering the ground in a matter of minutes. Howling winds drove the storm to frenzied heights. The stone buildings rocked under the assault. Trees bowed under the combined weight of snow and ice. The desolate land soon became a winter battlefield. Tarren awoke with a start as something heavy crashed against her window. She was comfortable under the thick furs and warm fire burning brightly near the bed. Once her heart slowed, she yawned and stretched. Until now she hadn’t realized how worn out she was. One night in a real bed was almost paradise. Tarren slid into her robe and slippers and eased her way downstairs with a rumble in her stomach. She was hungry.
A row of travel packs lined the base of the stairs. Her heart beat a little faster. The guests Dakeb promised where finally here. Now she could learn the full story, or so she hoped. In her mind, Dakeb seemed a little off. Her apprehensions eased somewhat when she entered the kitchens and saw Dakeb preparing breakfast. He looked up at her and smiled.
“Ah, good morning. I trust you slept well enough?” he asked.
She yawned again. “Quite well, thank you. I could have slept that day away.”
“And miss my cooking? For shame,” he laughed. “You wouldn’t do that to an old man, would you? I so rarely get the chance to show my true talents.”
Tarren held her hands up defensively. “I’d never.” She hesitated before saying, “I see we have company.”
Dakeb handed her a cup of tea. “Indeed. They arrived late in the night.” He paused and looked out the big bay window. “And just in time I’d say. That storm is terrible. You’ll meet them soon.”
Tarren just nodded and ate a meal of quail eggs and fried toast. Dakeb refilled her mug and added a drop of honey to it. She thanked him with a warm smile. For a while they sat and talked about nothing at all. They laughed and joked, expressed private sorrows and past pains. It was midday before they knew it. Dakeb excused himself to add more wood to the fire.
Tarren looked up at the sudden movement in the doorway and felt her mouth drop open slightly. Two tall and lean figures with long, flowing hair and sharp features entered and bowed to Dakeb. The old mage waved their formalities off and gladly introduced them to Tarren. She
was almost too shy to say anything to the prince of the Elves. Norgen stumbled in a while later and headed straight for the food. He tore a leg from the roasting lamb and helped himself to a mug of thick mead. Tarren hardly knew what to think. Elves and Dwarves, Centaurs and mages. She wondered what came next. According to the number of packs in the hall, there were four more guests. Would they be as strange as the ones already present? A child’s excitement gripped her.
A pair of men entered, talking in low tones. Both were dressed in rugged clothes and had the look of soldiers. She thought she recognized one of them, but couldn’t place him. There was a dark air about him and that worried her slightly. Voices came from the hall and her heart stopped. She definitely knew them, but couldn’t believe it. Delin and Fennic stepped into the kitchen and she almost feinted. Dakeb smiled behind her. Delin stopped short, his dark brown eyes soaking her in. weeks of travel and hardship did little in the way of diminishing his love for her. He almost thought she was an illusion and was hesitant to speak lest the spell be broken.
“Tarren?”
She broke out in tear and rushed into his arms. They almost fell down if not for Fennic putting a steadying hand in his friend’s back. The moment was bittersweet for him. Not for the first time he wished he had something so promising to look forward to at the end of the journey. He wasn’t jealous per say. Both were good friends and deserved as much, but he wanted his turn. And deep down inside the hurt blossomed.
Hallis leaned close to Norgen and said, “Lovely girl. I see why he goes on about her.”
The Dwarf snorted. She didn’t have enough hair for his liking and was too thin.
“Cheer up, Master Dwarf. I’ve lived a dozen lifetimes and love is the one thing I never came to know. This is a queer world indeed,” Dakeb told them.
“Wondrous at times,” Hallis added. “I was about the same age when I met my
Chella.”
Tolis Scarn didn’t share their enthusiasm. He watched the girl with a repressed fascination. He knew her from somewhere before and finally put it together. The bar maid from that dumpy village he’d visited south of Rellin Werd. So, he smirked, he’d been closer to the stone than either he or the Hooded Man believed the whole time. He stood and quietly thought of their differences.
Pain and suffering gripped his life. He’d left home at a young age and grew up alone and empty. He was forced to provide for himself from the age of ten and learned the rules of a hard life. His first lesson was the cruelty of men. Nothing came easy for him. Not from the day he stumbled home to find his papa standing over the corpse of his mama with a bloody dagger in his drunken hand. Tolis ran for his life and never looked back. He left the youth to their pathetic reunion and plotted how to kill them all.
“I never thought I’d see you again,” Delin whispered between kisses. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you,” she replied.
Her eyes darkened when they caught Scarn in the background. Why was he so familiar? He was unkempt, his hair was uneven and stringy and he wore a gnarled beard. The man she feared and spent so many nights dreading was clean-cut and evil. This couldn’t be the same man. Mystery swirled around him and it was that moment she decided to stay away from him entirely. Nothing good would come of talking to him. She lost herself in Delin’s embrace.
Delin felt tiny slivers of warmth spread through him. The heat from her body ebbed into his own, breaking the growing darkness in his heart. He almost felt alive again, which made his next words all the more painful.
“You shouldn’t be here, Tarren,” he told her. “You have no idea what you’ve become involved in.”
Her eyes narrowed in an accusing glare. “Delin Kerny! I’ve risked my life in one fashion or another trying to reach you in time. Didn’t you know the danger you were in when that stranger man came into town asking questions? I’ve been looking for you to warn you ever since you left Fel Darrins.”
Scarn’s head snapped up. His eyes bore a subtle glow. What else does this girl know, he wondered.
Delin was confused. “What danger? What man? The first trouble we found was after meeting Norgen in Alloenis.”
“Now just a minute. Don’t go blaming me for this. I was minding my own business until you two barged in and got us involved in the middle of a war,” Norgen growled back. Never mind the fact he was coming for the purpose of going to war to begin with.
Dakeb finished drying his hands on a kitchen cloth and stepped in the middle of them.
“Friends, I agree there is much to discuss and many adventures worth telling, but this is not the way to go about it. Eat first. The fate of all Malweir rests in our hands and I’ll not make that decision hastily. Not again. Arguing will not solve the riddles in your minds.”
One by one they made their way to the enormous oak table where they helped Dakeb pass out plates and mugs and served themselves a hearty stew of duck and winter vegetables. Brutal winds howled outside and the snow continued to fall. Finally, once the last plate was pushed back, Dakeb looked each of them in the eye while he carefully measured his next words.
“Centuries ago the order of Mages thought it wise to find a way to store all their knowledge for future generations to build and improve on. So we developed the Crystal of Tol Shere. You see, it held all our wisdom of magic and life. We poured our very souls into it in the dream of making Malweir a better place. But there were flaws we didn’t see. Somehow the crystal became cracked, and darkness crept in. It was unnoticeable at first, but that darkness soon began to corrupt. Sidian, who was a member of the ruling council became too close to the crystal and fell under the darkness. His mind turned to madness and he quietly began subverting our brothers to his dark cause.
“It was only later did we learn his true intentions. He aimed to open the paths to the underworld and release a plague of demons upon us. Our wars were long and bloody, and evenly matched in the beginning. Both orders were eventually destroyed. Only a handful survived the final battles and from them I have heard nothing in all my long years of travel. Only Sidian and I remain.” Sadness lingered in his eyes.
“The crystal was destroyed, or so we thought. The battle here in Ipn Shal shattered it into four equal shards. In fact, it was broken by Phaelor, Fennic, for that was the purpose the Elves built into it. The sword was made to destroy the evil of the crystal and restore order in the world. But it did not destroy the crystal entirely. The four pieces were next to impossible to erase and I hid them in distant parts of the world. The remainder of my life has been devoted to keeping them from Sidian.
“In this I have failed. For he now holds three of the four shards. I was able to recover the last right before he found it and have been in hiding ever since. Regrettably, his agents got too close to me when I was in the south and I was forced to leave the shard with a pair of boys on their way to Paedwyn.”
Delin and Fennic both gasped and looked at each other. Delin slowly reached into his pocket and withdrew the purple stone he’d been carrying for so long.
“You’re the crazy old man from Rellin Werd,” Fennic exclaimed.
Dakeb offered a loving smile. “I regret the ruse, but it was necessary. There was so much I needed to prepare for and I had faith in you when I spied Phaelor. You see, you were already involved, though you didn’t know it. The instant Phaelor chose you, Fennic, was the day you became a part of this eternal struggle and the fate of the world. I wish it were otherwise, but the sword chooses who it will.”
Tarren looked at her love and felt her heart sadden. Dark Mages and war. She had a terrible feeling she was going to lose him forever. Then a thought struck.
“But what about me?” she asked. “What part do I play in all of this?”
Silence filled the kitchen until even the crackling fire became a whisper.
“That,” Dakeb answered in a slow voice, “is a matter I can’t figure out. My heart tells me that you have an important part in the coming days.”
Scarn saw the object
of his quest for the first time and felt his throat go dry. After so many days and months searching it was now within his grasp. He forgot the legend the mage just told and focused on how to steal it back and end his affair with the Hooded Man.
Dakeb help the shard up. “This tiny piece of crystal, without value as a gem, is the very key to existence in Malweir. But there is hope. Phaelor is once again in our hands and even young Tarren is here.” He looked at her. “Perhaps you remember a pony in the woods?”
Tarren smiled. All of the doubt and emptiness in her left with the knowledge she’d been watched over since she left Fel Darrins.
“What of the rest of us?” Norgen asked. “And just how much time is left before it becomes too late?”
“Very good questions,” Dakeb replied. “The second is the more easily answered. Time runs out on Winter’s Day. That is the one time of the year Sidian can complete his dark ritual and bring doom unto the world. The crystal must be whole again exactly at midday. Only then will the gate open. That gives us just seven days to reach Aingaard and destroy the crystal once and for all. Your parts in this are unclear at the moment.”
“Know this. Sidian fears you boys. He fears what he can’t control. His agents are scouring the countryside in search of you. They will kill you and steal both sword and stone if they can. We will not let that happen. This is a dangerous time for us all. The
balance is disrupted. Not even the Fates can say who might win or lose.”
Dakeb’s words drowned out for Scarn. He couldn’t take his eyes off of Tarren. His nerves were jumpy. His chest constricted under the pressure. Play it cool, he had to remind himself. Goblins and the occasional Gnaal would serve to keep their suspicions off of him until he found a way to contact the Hooded Man again. His biggest concern lay in Tarren. He saw the way her eyes silently accused him. She knew. She had to know. Scarn decided he needed to get her alone and find out exactly what she knew.
Armies of the Silver Mage Page 27
