“Why are you telling me this?” he asked the wizard irritably. His powers had grown beyond his imaginings. There was nothing more the old wizard could teach him. He was losing patience.
Aljeron stroked his beard a faint smile on his lips.
“I tell you this Luxon because it is important. I have taught you for years and still you do not understand,”
Luxon opened his eyes frowning.
“What am I supposed to understand? I am ready. The longer we waste our time here the more danger my friends are in, the more mischief the witch can do. I am strong enough to face her. I know it,” he replied angrily.
Aljeron chuckled, infuriating Luxon even more.
“Very well. So be it,” the wizard chuckled. He walked forward a few paces and raised his staff high into the air. With his free hand he cupped his mouth.
“Umbaroth summoni” his voice boomed. The sheer volume caused Luxon to clasp his hands over his ears. He hated it when the wizard did that.
Aljeron’s voice echoed off of the nearby hills and a flock of the strange lizard like birds native to the Void launched themselves from the trees in terror.
A few seconds later the familiar sound of large flapping wings could be heard approaching. Luxon looked to the sky. Umbaroth soared over the mountaintop, his massive wings opened wide as the dragon glided down the other side.
With an agility that always surprised Luxon the massive beast landed gracefully into the clearing.
“You summon me Aljeron? It has been a long time since last we met. I was busy eating some Pucks when you called, I still have some bone stuck in my teeth,” the dragon said using one of its huge talons to pick his equally massive teeth.
“Yes my old friend. Luxon here says that he is ready,” Aljeron said.
The dragon arched a scaly eyebrow. He lowered his huge head to look at Luxon.
“You look old boy. But I do sense the power within you,” Umbaroth glanced at Aljeron questioningly. A look passed between the two.
Luxon frowned. What was that about? He thought. For the first time since his arrival in the Void he felt something, a nagging sense that something was wrong.
He doubted Aljeron.
Over the past few years the old wizard had become strange. He’d vanish for long periods of time to places he knew not where.
Something else nagged at him. He’d been trapped in the Void for what felt like decades and yet not once had he encountered Danon or even his minions. He’d had a few close encounters with Pucks, Redcaps and Banshees for sure, but nothing sent by the dark one.
Aljeron looked at the sky.
“It is late in the day. Tomorrow we will go to Danon’s tower and together we will send you home Luxon.”
*
Road to Eclin
Ominous dark clouds were in the northern skies. Bright flashes of distant lightning illuminated the distant mountain peaks before fading them back into shadow.
The Sunguard legion trudged its way along the Eclin road their feet sore from the long march north. Legionary’s helped their comrades as they succumbed to agonising blisters that slowed down the columns steady march.
Captain Odrin watched the men go past. He was sat upon his grey mare eating a slice of rock hard cheese frowning all the while. He had followed general Rason into more battles than he could count.
They had fought side by side on the Marble shore year’s earlier against the Yundol invaders. The battles fought deep in the jungle lands of Zahnia and the marshlands of Retbit had been like hell, but together they had come through it all. Rason had got them through it.
Now however for the first time in his long career Odrin doubted his general. Ever since that terrible night in Sunguard the general was changed. Any shred of mercy or kindness that had been in his soul was lost, replaced by a blind ambition and a dark ruthlessness.
His mind drifted back to the night when the royal family had been murdered.
Before the alarm bells had begun to toll their harrowing sound across the capital he had been playing a card game with the general and other officers.
A knock at the barrack door had paused the game, and he himself had opened the door. He glanced to the horizon. The storm raged on just like it had done the night Delfinnia went to shit.
A young woman had been the caller; her face had been hidden by a cloak. She had specifically asked for Rason. As men often do they wolf whistled and leered and even congratulated the general on his good fortune. He hadn’t seen Rason again until the legion was ordered onto the streets to hunt for the assassins. It was after that woman’s visit that his old comrade had changed.
He closed his eyes, wishing he could shake the horror of the following night out of his mind. The Night of Tears they called it. It had been the night that Rason lost his mind and the legion their sense of honour. They had butchered men, women and children until the capital’s streets had run red with blood.
A distant thunder clap made him open his eyes.
“Riders incoming,” yelled a legionary scout galloping up the column.
Odrin looked down the column of marching men. Sure enough, four cloaked riders thundered past him to head towards the front of the column.
“Scout!” he bellowed causing the rider to turn his horse and trot back down the line to his captain.
“Sir!” the scout greeted with a smart salute.
“Who are those riders? Why didn’t the rearguard hold them?” Odrin demanded. The men were tired but they weren’t stupid.
“The rider gave the password sir. It was a pretty lady and three blokes. Their faces were hidden by their hoods. She said that she was a friend of the general,” the scout explained in an oddly monotone voice. The man’s eyes were strangely vacant, as though his mind were someplace else.
Odrin narrowed his eyes.
“Are you alright soldier?” he asked.
The scout simply smiled dumbly.
“Her voice is like music,” the man said in a sing song tone.
That was it. Something was definitely afoot. With a salute he dismissed the scout, turned his horse and shot off up the line to see the general.
*
As he approached the head of the column he noticed the legionary’s throwing him looks of concern. Some of the grim faced veterans were muttering to themselves, others made the sign of Niveren as though warding off evil.
Up ahead he could hear a woman laughing in delight, the general’s deep laughter accompanying it. He scowled deeper, his hand reaching for his sword. He rode closer to the general.
Sure enough a young blonde haired woman was giggling; she was a beauty and no mistake. He would have dismissed her as just one of Rason’s many mistresses but the silent crimson cloaked figures riding at her side emanated menace.
“Ah captain. The lovely Cl...err I mean Alira here has just told me some fantastic news,” Rason smiled happily.
Odrin saluted smartly, throwing the woman a cautious look.
“What news is that sire?” he asked, careful to use the title Rason enjoyed. His pledge to earn the crown may have worn the support of Sunguard and the Legion but in secret most resented his use of it.
“The Baron of Balnor is dead; apparently a beast of the void or something got into the city and killed the bastard, happened not but three days past.” Rason chuckled. “A shame, I had hoped to whip his hide again like at the battle of the Golden Hills,”
Odrin’s mouth opened at the news. One of the most powerful men in the realm was dead. A claimant was dead. The war was one step closer to being over.
“That’s...that’s great news milord. Sire, could I have a word in private,” he asked, flashing the strange woman a pleasant smile.
Rason looked aghast at the request.
“Whatever you have to say you can say in front of my lady here,” he snapped. The lady laughed placing a dainty hand upon the general’s arm.
“Do you not trust me captain?” she said gazing deep into Odrin’s eyes.
Odrin stared back unable to look away. He could feel sweat breaking out on his forehead. For some reason he wanted to run, to scream. The young woman’s blue eyes bore into his very being. He tried to scream as her eyes turned black, her skin wrinkled and her hair turned black like the veins on her twisted face and limbs.
‘You are mine captain, just like your general, you are mine. And I have a very special mission for you,’ a rasping female voice boomed inside his head.
Odrin tried to scream. In his mind he was, but his body...well he nodded his head and smiled instead.
“I will do all you command my lady,” he heard himself say, his voice was monotone like the scout’s had been. In his mind he was screaming. He was a prisoner in his own body.
‘Ahead lies the city of Eclin and beyond that the mountains. You will lead a cohort of your best men into those mountains and find a place called the sigils caves. Within you will find a key which you will then bring to me’ the voice in his head rasped.
“So general...Or should I say, my King?” giggled Alira. Odrin shook his head. She looked young and beautiful again, her voice soft and ladylike once more. “You will lead your army to Eclin and there what will you do? I have a friend...shall we say who is already at the city’s walls. I do hope you will aid him in his quest to massacre every living soul inside and of course kill the Prince hiding there,” she said sweetly.
Rason took her hand in his.
“For you, I would burn the entire world,” he replied smiling.
*
Woven parried the claws of a snarling werewolf deflecting the iron like talons just as they were about to plunge deep into a Knight’s back. The beast roared in frustration as the knight jumped backwards a look of thanks on his face. Sweat poured into Woven’s eyes, all day long the monsters had been assaulting the city walls. He’d lost count of the number of men who had fallen in the desperate defence.
He feinted low with his blade causing the wolf to flinch and raised its thick arms. It was the move he wanted it to make. Rotating his wrists he lashed out with his sword to stab deeply into its underbelly. The wolf roared staggering backwards. The Knight stepped in, dispatching the foul creature with a savage blow to its neck. With a mewling howl the wolf crashed to the blood stained ground.
Woven placed his hand on his knees, he was exhausted. They all were. The siege was now into its second week and still the Lich’s forces attacked. It seemed hell-bent on taking the city. He sighed in relief as the all-clear horn blew. The monsters had retreated yet again.
He had been fighting on the east wall as that was where the combat had been thickest. A small boy ran along the wall, careful not to slip in the blood or trip on the bodies. Over his shoulder was a large bucket sloshing with water.
Woven stood and gratefully ruffled the boy’s hair before drinking. His throat was parched from the smoke caused by the fires burning inside the city walls. Thatched houses were ablaze, the victims of the Lich’s latest magical assault.
“We can’t take many more days like today,” Master Thondril said tiredly as he walked along the wall bloody sword in hand. “We’re down to just a few hundred men. It won’t be long before disease does for us what the Lich cannot. We’re running out of kindling to burn all the bodies.”
The old warriors face was streaked with dirt and blood. A livid wound ran across his right cheek down to his jaw line. A ghouls axe the cause.
“Now that the ghouls are being sent against us we’re getting a pasting. Even our silver weapons are having a hard time killing them. It took six knights working together and the use of fire to just kill the one that did this,” he said gesturing to the wound.
Woven leant wearily against the wall his sword now back in his sheath. He put his forehead upon the cold stone. He was so tired.
“I give us another day or two before we have to abandon the walls. Then it will be a last stand at the baron’s castle,” he groaned. Tiredly he stretched his limbs, grunting as his shoulders clicked.
Thondril leaned in close.
“I trust the prince is safe?” the Knight Master whispered.
“Aye, he’s safe. I moved him and his nanny to my private rooms in the castle. I assigned Briden to be their bodyguard. If the city falls then I told him to try his luck in the underground caverns.”
Thondril leant heavily against the wall. The man appeared as though he was older than his already advanced years.
“We’ve held our own these past weeks. If only we had known of the Lich before we arrived...I would have summoned every warrior in Delfinnina to the march,” he said despairingly.
“Word would have reached the rest of the kingdom. A whole barony going silent is sure to have drawn attention. There might be an army already on its way here...” before Woven could finish his reply a horn blast wailed from the direction of the south gate. Both men looked to the walls to see Eclin soldiers waving frantically.
A few moments later a red faced young squire came bounding up the steps leading to the top of the wall.
“Commander Thondril! I have word from Sir Grandir on the South wall,’ the lad panted breathlessly.
Thondril threw a cautious glance to Woven. The ranger shrugged his shoulders in reply.
“Whenever you’re ready lad,” Woven said impatiently.
The squire shot him a frown before facing his commander.
“Sir. Sir Grandir says that an army is approaching from the south. He spied a sizeable force of men advancing through the mountain pass.”
Throndil smiled at the news.
“It looks like my prayers have been answered,” he laughed clapping his gauntleted hands.
Woven shook his head in caution.
“I’ll share your joy once we know if they are friendly or not. In case you had forgotten Commander the realm is still in the midst of civil war. If it’s an army from Retbit or one of the other claimants...”
Thondril’s smile faded as the truth of the rangers words sank in.
“Surely they would not abandon us to the Lich. Even a claimant would not tolerate a force of evil such as this...” he said gesturing to the horde snarling at the walls.
“Let us hope you’re right.”
*
Rason crested the small hill which overlooked the city of Eclin. His legion marched through the pass to form up ranks. They were still a mile from the city walls but all could clearly see the army already besieging it.
“By Niveren...that’s an army of undead!” cried out one of the legionaries stood in the front ranks. A ripple of concern spread down the lines.
“We have to aid them,” cried another soldier. Soon much of the army was bristling to advance and save Eclin from the ancient foe.
Rason rode his horse along the front rank. He raised his voice; “We are not here to destroy the un-dead, we are here to destroy Eclin my foe for the crown,”
The Legion roared in protest.
“Are you mad? The old foe is there, what about those poor people. Our oath is to defend Delfinnia from all foes, especially the old enemy!” shouted one of the centurions.
Rason scowled in annoyance at his men. Why were they so eager to save his enemy? Why didn’t they share his desire to end the war and win the crown?
“They will not follow me...” he muttered to Cliria who trotted her horse next to his. “They swore oaths to me, their general and king and yet they will not follow.”
Cliria smiled.
“They will follow you. You have a glorious task to perform,”
She slid from her horse to stand in front of the legion. One of the centurions too stepped forward his hand reaching for his sword.
“I knew he was bedevilled. You’ve put him under some spell,” the big man turned to face his men. “She is a witch!”
Angry yells came from the ranks. Others had noticed their general’s strange behaviour.
“The Rason I bled with on the Marble Shore would never have allowed a witch to march with the legion, and he would not leave a ci
ty full of innocent women and children at the mercy of monsters!” the centurion continued. Other legionaries drew swords, some raised their spears.
The centurion charged at Cliria. She stood still an amused smile on her face. Just as the centurion got within striking distance she casually flicked her wrist. The big man was sent flying backwards by a burst of magic to crash heavily into his comrades.
Cliria raised her hands into the air. An unnatural wind began to swirl about the now terrified legion. Then to their horror they watched as the witch rose into the air. Her long hair radiated around her, her eyes were black and her face was hideous as black veins spread across her skin.
“YOU ARE MINE. YOU WILL SERVE RASON UNTIL YOUR LAST BREATH. YOU WILL SERVE ME!” Cliria screamed.
The unnatural wind grew in strength a dark energy crackled and fizzed as the legion was engulfed by it.
*
“What was that?” Woven cried as he watched the distant army being engulfed in the black wind. The other knights and warriors stood in stunned silence.
Thondril leant heavily against the wall his earlier smile replaced with a look of horror. The black wind faded to reveal the distant army once more. The legion began to chant and stamp their armoured feet.
“Magic... Help has not come. Instead it is our doom,” the grandmaster uttered under his breath.
Woven stared at the now advancing army a fresh knot of fear worming its way into his guts.
***
39.
The tower of Danon stood black and menacing over the ravaged plain. The bones of mighty fell beasts and the twisted dead hulk of an ancient forest spread for miles around.
Luxon and Aljeron quickly but carefully made their way through. The old wizard moved quickly, sure of the path through the maze of death. Amongst the dead forest were razor leaves which they avoided.
Somewhere behind them the dragon Umbaroth waited, ready to come to their aid if he could. Aljeron slowed as they came to the edge of the dead forest. A large clearing lay between them and the tower. Outside were the three dragons which Luxon had seen the last time he had set his sights upon the place.
Heir to the Sundered Crown (The Sundered Crown Saga) Page 25
