by Cindy Dees
Will stared. Destroyed? “What is the Green Court?”
“It is a fae gathering of nature-aligned beings.”
“Fae!” Sha’Li squawked. “Listen not to her, Will. A trick this is!”
The dryad threw a glare at the black lizardman girl but, interestingly, did not attack her as Will would have expected. Instead, the tree faerie said urgently, “He whom you seek must be awakened, and soon. You must convince the guardians of these lands to lead you to the Laird of Dalmigan. He can take you to the one you seek.”
“Who is the Laird of Dalmigan?” Will asked.
“You shall know him by his black lion. He helped the Elder protect the Sleeping King. Beware the image of Unkareg which would keep you from him.”
“What is Dalmigan?” Raina asked.
“And Unkareg?” Will added.
The dryad pointed at the ground at her feet. “This place is Dalmigan, now called Talyn, now home to the Forest of the Thorns.”
Will thought he followed that. Dalmigan was an ancient name for where they now stood. “So, we are close to where we can find the Sleeping King?”
“Aye.”
“Where is it? Show us!” Will demanded.
She shook her head in the negative. “My kind are bound by the Accord. Were I to do what you ask of me, the Accord might be violated. Not only would I be destroyed by the keepers of the Accord, but so would you.”
“Then what use are you to us?” Will exclaimed in frustration.
The dryad lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The Thorns are not bound by the Accord. They have seen the same portents we have. They, too, seek the one who can complete the quest.”
She reached out with a finger to touch the wooden disk through Will’s tattered shirt. “By this sign shall they know you.” She laid her hand more fully on the disk, frowning. “The power of Lord Bloodroot is killing you. He expends nearly all of his remaining power to bolster your weak human spirit. Do not waste his sacrifice by failing, boy.”
Bloodroot was keeping him alive? The whoreson was doing a cursed poor job of it as far as Will could tell.
“Hurry, human. The Kothites’ lackey draws near. He must not find the king first or all will be lost.”
“What do you mean by ‘all’?” Will asked suspiciously.
“Everything. Everyone. This continent, and mayhap all of Urth, will perish.”
His jaw dropped. All of that rested upon his shoulders? “I cannot do it—” he started.
The dryad cut him off with an angry slash of her hand. She looked around the party fiercely. “All of you were brought here for a reason. All of you have lost your homes, your names, your families. I know not why or how, but you have been chosen. It all comes down to you.”
Will gulped. What on Urth had they stumbled into the middle of? How much bigger was this thing than even he had any idea of? “We cannot do it. We’re not experienced or powerful enough,” he protested.
The dryad shrugged. “Nonetheless, you must find a way. It is what heroes do.”
He snorted. “I am no hero. I am more dead than alive and can barely keep my feet.”
“Mayhap I can help with that.” She laid her hand on his chest, and a brief compulsion to lean in to her touch, to lose himself in the emerald depths of her intent gaze, washed over him. Was this what the others felt when they were around dryads? No wonder they sweated so badly.
The dryad frowned, breaking the momentary spell. “Your sickness is beyond me, human.”
“How’s that?” Rosana asked quickly.
The dryad scowled at her and answered shortly, “Lord Bloodroot poisons the boy.”
“He what?” Rosana squawked. “That’s it. That disk is coming off your chest now—”
The dryad literally stepped in front of Will and seemed to grow in size. “You will not touch him nor Lord Bloodroot. My lord does not mean to kill the boy. It is just that the human is not of sufficient constitution to bear the power of a treant. I assure you, Lord Bloodroot does everything in his power not to kill his host. But their union is … difficult.”
As Rosana’s hand moved away from her dagger the dryad turned back to Will. “I will do what I can to strengthen you. It will not be much, though.” She laid her hands on him and a green glow emanated from her. It tingled, but not unpleasantly, and he did feel a tiny bit less horrible.
“Thank you,” Will murmured.
The dryad threw Rosana a sidelong glare, then leaned forward quickly and shocked Will by kissing him on the cheek.
As she did so another strange tingling passed across his entire body for an instant, different from her healing. It was as if a wave of something like magic, but not magic, clung to him. Rosana jumped forward, practically snarling, and the dryad thrust out a hand. A burst of green nature magic exploded from her fingers like a miniature bolt of lightning, striking the gypsy squarely in the middle of the chest.
“No!” he cried, lurching toward Rosana. But the magic merely absorbed into her body and seemed to have no effect on her.
The dryad stared at the gypsy, a stunned look on her face, and then back at Will. “Passing strange company you keep, human. Chosen, indeed…,” she muttered under her breath.
And then the dryad leaned forward once more and whispered into his ear, “If you would wake a king, give his crown to him—”
She popped out of existence on the beginnings of a wail and disappeared before their eyes.
Eben commented dryly, “I guess she said too much.”
Who or what had the power to snatch away a magical creature like a dryad in an instant? Was that same power watching him?
Into the ensuing silence Cicero said, “So, I gather we have to go find a Boki thorn and ask him to take us to wherever we can find this Dalmigan guy?”
A general groan went up. Eben groused, “We just got away from the battle. Are you suggesting we wade back into it?”
Rosana spoke up reluctantly. “I can go back and find someone.”
Cicero snapped, “You assume that Anton’s mercenaries will honor your Heart colors. That may be an extremely optimistic assumption!”
She stared at the kindari in dismay as Will piped up, “I think we should go together. The dryad seemed to think we were all critical to the success of whatever she wants us to do.”
The group reluctantly turned to retrace its path toward the battle behind them. They’d barely taken a dozen steps, though, when completely without warning a big Boki stepped out of the shadows directly in front of them. Will about leaped out of his skin. For big, clumsy-looking creatures those orcs could sure move quietly.
“Come,” the orc grunted.
The creature said the single syllable like he knew exactly where Will and the others needed to go and like it was his job to get them there. Had the dryads said something to this guy, too? At least the orc was edging impatiently away from the sounds of battle.
“Do we follow him?” Rosana muttered.
“In for a copper, in for a gold,” Will replied. By silent consensus the party turned and followed the orc deeper into the forest. As soon as the orc saw them following he broke into a ground-eating run.
Will groaned. If he ever got out of these woods he was never running another step as long as he lived. He grew light-headed in a few strides and faint within a few more. Were it not for the healing the dryad had given him, he would have keeled over. He blinked hard, focused on Rosana’s white tabard, and ran with every ounce of strength left in his body. It did not amount to much.
“Fast-uhh,” the orc urged.
But Will was done. Even the girls passed him by and had to slow down to wait for him to catch up. As he staggered the last steps in him the orc suddenly dived off the rough path they’d been following. Literally dived. Headfirst.
Too exhausted to question it, Will followed suit. He landed on a leaf-covered slope, which broke his fall but also sent him tumbling head over heels down a short incline, probably no more than a few feet high but
too much for him to navigate in his weakened state. He fetched up hard against something tough and smelly—the orc. Will grunted as Eben slammed into him on the left. The orc sat up, grabbing at handfuls of mud and smearing them on his face.
Cicero bit out, “He’s camouflaging himself. Quick, everyone smear mud and crushed leaves on any exposed flesh. Rosana, ditch the white tabard.”
Rosana shot Will a stubborn glance and he muttered, “Just cover up the white with leaves for now.” He helped her partially bury herself.
From beside him Eben murmured, “Here they come.”
* * *
Leland ran through the woods as ordered, disbelief uppermost in his mind. This frontal attack upon a major Boki settlement was beyond folly. He could not fault Anton’s argument that it was time to bring this thing to a close. But this was not the way to finish it.
Anton bellowed at the leaders of his ragtag crew, offering a gold each for Boki hides and refusing flatly to allow a retreat from this battle. It was a fight to the death. The various slavers, bandits, and barbarians arrayed around the clearing flinched. Even Leland felt the mental power Anton was unwittingly—or maybe intentionally, knowing him—blasting them with. Stars, Leland hated dealing with Imperials.
Anton shouted derisively from somewhere behind them for the contingent of rakasha slavers to move farther forward and quit lagging like cowardly women.
Leland swore he heard a faint, ominous growl issue from the back of the tiger changeling’s throats. So. Dissension in the ranks was setting in. Perhaps, if there were enough defections from the battle, Anton would be forced to withdraw.
A scout burst out of the trees before him and Leland pulled up short.
The fellow panted, “Boki camp. Just over the next ridge. Three hundred or more greenskins. They were holding some sort of council when I left. Lots of shouting and axe waving.”
Anton’s black eyes glittered with greed and Leland looked away in disgust as the governor announced, “They rally their forces to attack us. But we shall attack them first. Sound the charge in two minutes.”
Leland blurted, “Three hundred Boki? And us with less than five hundred half-trained irregulars and mercenaries? We’ll be slaughtered.”
Anton wheeled on him in fury. “You would gainsay me? You, old man? I suppose you know better than I what to do? If you’re so smart, then you shall lead the charge, Leland. Out front. Like a proper battle commander.”
Leland stared, stunned. It was pure suicide. And it was also an order from his liege lord. Very slowly, Leland straightened to his full height. His spine went ramrod stiff. He clicked his heels together and gave a short military bow to Anton. “As you command.” He could not bring himself to call the whoreson my lord. But Anton did not seem to notice.
Leland pivoted and headed for the tiny clearing where his men were currently catching their breath. Stars, my men. He was responsible for them. And by opening his big mouth he’d just cost them their lives. They were all going to die, and there was no healing to be had out here. None. He’d doomed them all.
His men sat up, alarmed when he joined them. He said heavily, “I have been ordered to lead an assault on the Boki encampment just over yon hill. Three hundred or more Boki have been sighted.”
“That is madness—” one of his sergeants started.
Leland looked over at him grimly and the man broke off. Leland said quietly, “Aye. Madness it is. But Anton has ordered it. I want all of you to stay behind with the main body of troops. Follow the sergeant when I have gone down. He will see you safely through the battle. Stick together and you may live to see your families again.”
“We follow you through fire and forest, Landsgrave!”
“Hyland boughs do not break!”
“Hyland hearts together!”
The men pulled out their blazon sashes and slung them over their shoulders, proudly displaying the badges and marks of their service to Hyland.
He smiled in genuine gratitude at his men’s loyalty. “I thank you for the sentiment, gentlemen. But this day, I die. I refuse to take your lives as well. You have my orders.” Resolutely, he reached into his belt pouch and pulled out his tabard, unfurling the white stag of Hyland upon a field of green. If he died this day, he would do it in his colors, by the Lady.
He turned and strode away before they could argue further. Before they could spy the tears burning in his eyes. He did not shed a tear for himself. He’d awaited this day almost eagerly for twenty years and more. Nay, he wept for the better life he had failed to bring them, the freedom he’d promised himself he would give to his people before he died. But it was not to be. If he could buy Kendrick and Raina and the others even a few minutes more to escape the carnage and complete their quest, then he was glad to die.
* * *
Raina smelled an unholy stench to her right. Cicero, beside her, cursed on a breath of exhaled dismay.
Her eyes well adjusted to the dark, she made out a mass of green, muscular, gnarled flesh lurking in the forest. Had she not spent the past few hours staring at more just like them, she likely would not have picked them out, so well did they blend into the shadows and underbrush. She grimaced at the foul smell of them. The nearest ones looked to be liberally smeared with grease of some kind, maybe bear fat from the rancid odor.
And then Anton’s forces burst out of the forest on their left and stopped at the top of the rise, waiting.
Horror exploded in her breast. She and the rest of the party were about to have front-row seats for the main battle.
* * *
Leland studied the battleground Anton had chosen, a clearing covered by a dense canopy of green far overhead, but relatively open below. It was on the small side. Leland estimated only about a hundred combatants from each side would fit into this space. Not that it mattered how many of Anton’s men were brought to bear upon this fight. Against a hundred Boki, Anton would have need of a thousand Imperial soldiers to stand a chance. Surely the whoreson knew that. The governor was scared half to death of Boki. Why this fight? And why here? Why now?
Perhaps Anton planned to send his men against the Boki in waves. Except, of course, Boki had the stamina to fight all day and half the night without flagging. Leland frowned. Unless Anton planned to flank the Boki and send in forces from the sides … although the east flank was bordered by what looked like an impassable hedge of brambles running down a small incline. Leland checked the west margin of the clearing. It was no better for passability.
He scowled as understanding broke over him. This was a diversion. Anton planned to occupy the Boki force here with slaughtering Leland and his hired army while Anton and a few of his personal guard circled wide of the fight and went after the Boki treasure. Leland smiled bitterly. He would not be alive to see it, but at least he had the satisfaction of knowing Anton was doomed to disappointment.
A scout came sprinting out of the north and Leland winced at how young the lad was. Barely more than a boy.
“Boki coming. A lot of them.”
“How long?” Leland asked tersely.
“One, maybe two minutes behind me.”
That was not long. But perhaps for the best. It was not a good thing to dwell too long upon one’s imminent death. Leland turned and strode down the line of worried soldiers behind him, standing along the south edge of the clearing. He paused before his contingent of Hyland men, who looked strange to him swathed in nondescript cloaks instead of the green and gold Hyland colors. They had flatly refused to leave his side.
“Remember,” he murmured to his sergeant, “stay well back. You are not to follow me to the front of the line. That’s an order. This battle is but a diversion for Anton’s real objective. It is not worth dying for. Understood?”
The soldier nodded, a surly look on his face.
Leland moved on. The man would get over it in a few years when he was alive to see his children grown and grandchildren frolicking at his feet.
Leland did not have much time to find w
hat he sought, and he passed quickly down the line. There. A squad of barbarian warriors arrayed in full battle paint and the leather loinskins they preferred to fight in. This group was thirty strong, with a half-dozen archers more behind the main force.
This crew had been bickering and scrapping among themselves the entire march out here, but when a common enemy presented himself before them they would band together and fight as fiercely for one another as brothers.
“Sons of Rage, hear me!” he shouted. “Your blood calls out for battle. You were born to it like wolves to the wood. A mighty pack you are, and even the mighty bear falls to the power of your pack!”
With each shouted word, the barbarians yelled louder, brandishing their weapons and stamping their feet until they’d whipped themselves up into a fine frenzy. Perfect. These barbarians were possessed of their kind’s ability to battle rage. He would need their rages today.
We battle the bringers of the Green Fire this day! Snuff their lives like so many torches and our fires will burn this night, not theirs!”
Another hoarse shout.
“These monsters seek our doom, that they may feed their trees with our blood! If blood must flow like water, then make it Boki blood!”
Another enthusiastic roar.
He glanced across the clearing and thought he spotted the gleam of sharpened metal through the trees. It was time.
“Then to blood and chaos and glory we go! Charge!” Leland shouted with all his might. Raising his sword, he turned and ran pell-mell toward the Boki army before him.
The Boki met his charge, roaring out of the trees in force. Gads, there were so many of them. But his stride never faltered; his pace never slowed. Thankfully, the barbarians behind him were so bent on blood that they never hesitated. Which was exactly why he’d chosen them to lead the charge.
He drew close enough to see the open maws, the yellow tusks, of his foes, to smell the meat the Boki had eaten for breakfast. He grasped his sword in both hands.
