by Jordan Baker
The scout steadied her breathing and looked up at him and the others.
"That may not be necessary," she said. "It appears that they intend to move directly through the cuts and draws rather than finding another route."
"It must be arrogance or stupidity," Quenta said, but he was not going to argue when the enemy was committing such a terrible mistake. "If we can catch the soldiers while they are still hemmed in, then we may be able to take out a good number of them all at once."
"The enemy soldiers are weak," one of the elven war leaders commented. "We can deal with them once we have successfully countered the Darga."
"Those soldiers, the ones with the grey faces, they do not die," Quenta told him. "They proved a hindrance during the battle at Kandara, and if we are to focus on fighting these lizards, it would not do to have thousands of half dead soldiers nipping at our heels or worse, roaming free in our forest." He turned to the scout once more. "Is there any indication that this might be a trap to lure us into that particular area?"
"No, my lord," she said. "There are several dozen human archers that have taken up position on the high ground to protect the movement of the main force, but that is all."
"Then it is a gift of foolishness on the part of the enemy," Quenta said. "Let us hope it is not a trick." He looked at two of the war leaders whose elves were known for their speed of movement, and he nodded to them both. "Move your forces into that area and take out as many of the enemy as possible. Have your archers aim for the head, and try to trap the soldiers among the rocks, then use the trees against them."
"As you command, Lord Quenta," one of them replied, then the two of them turned and leapt from the branch.
"What about the Darga?" asked one of the remaining war leaders, the green painted markings on her arms and legs showing her to be of the southern clans. "They are proving far more tenacious than we anticipated. I am concerned that some of them may breach our defenses. If the winged ones break away from the battle, we would be hard pressed to stop them."
"Return to the city with your warriors and inform the queen and the council of this," Quenta said. "They must be told the truth of things."
"As you command, Lord Quenta," she said, sliding her mask over her face. She leapt from the branch and a dozen elves, painted with similar markings appeared from the trees and followed her.
Quenta cursed the Darga for the loss of so many elves, who had died valiantly against their treacherous foes. While most of the lizard men were simple, brutish creatures, similar to those he had faced at Kandara, there were many of them that were very different. They were more powerful and they fought with weapons, and some of them even wore armor. The winged ones were the greatest threat, for their strength outstripped that of the others by far and they were able to attack from above without warning. It was curious, he thought, that they also looked different from the others, more serpent like in their physical shape, some of them almost resembling dragons. Quenta had learned the story of the Darga, and what had happened to their kind, ages ago, but it did not make sense that they should be so powerful and seeming to become more so as the battle progressed, and he wondered if some magic was at work among them.
He saw a group of three elves appear from behind a thick tree trunk, retreating along a nearby branch, just below where he stood. They were being attacked by six Darga and it appeared that the elves were outmatched by the much larger creatures, several of which were armed with weapons. Quenta cursed the fact that his people were having such trouble with the lizard creatures and he slid his mask over his face as he gathered energy from the tree and drew his sword, then he set off at a run, leaping across the open gap between the branches. One of the Darga turned and saw him flying through the air toward him, but Quenta was already upon him with his blade, cutting deep gash in the creature's neck.
Dark, acidic blood sizzled upon his clothing and began to mark his sword, and Quenta quickly wiped the blade on the creature's rough cloth loincloth, then turned to face the others, drawing two of them away from the three elves, who were finally able to fight back now that the odds were no longer tilted so far against them. From his previous battles, Quenta was far more aware of the tricks of the flying Darga and he managed to dodge a bolt from a crossbow that was fired from above. Luckily, the tree upon which they were fighting still lived, though Quenta could feel it weakening, and he felt a pang of regret as he gathered some of its energy and used it to leap up toward the flying Darga.
Steel clashed upon wood as the creature blocked his sword with its crossbow, the impact splintering the weapon. Quenta allowed his momentum to carry him up and over the Darga and he grabbed hold of its wing, then he fell over its other side, forcing the creature into a spiraling dive. The Darga was much larger than he had thought, and the powerful muscles that supported its wings flexed against his weight, tossing him around as it tried to maintain loft. Quenta twisted in the air and landed on the creature's back as it snarled at him and drew a jeweled sword that hung from a rude, leather belt at its waist. He slashed at the Darga's shoulders, where the thick scales blended into reptilian skin and the creature bellowed in pain, tucking its wings against its side and rolling over as it dove fast toward the ground. Quenta leapt free at the last second and rolled across the forest floor, skidding to his feet as he turned around. The Darga managed to land, using its wings to slow its descent, and the creature growled as it flexed its wings, obviously angered from the cuts it had received.
"Now, you die, elf," the winged Darga snarled and it ran toward him, with its sword raised.
Quenta dodged the blade as it swung down toward him, and he moved to counterattack, but a powerful, clawed hand slammed into him, knocking him to the ground. He rolled as the tip of the sword stabbed the ground, and he spun around, slashing at the inside of creature's sword arm, cutting a deep gash in its leathery skin. Dark blood gushed from an open vein, and the Darga roared, infuriated as it yanked the sword free from the ground and grasped its arm with its other hand. Quenta stepped in for another attack and noticed that his sword was smoking and steaming as the Darga blood ate away at the steel. The edge of the blade, now dull from the acid blood, glanced off the Darga's scaled shoulder and the creature leapt toward him, throwing its entire weight into him. Quenta tumbled backwards and barely scrambled out of the way as the Darga hacked at him roughly with its sword, still holding its other hand on the inside of its arm.
Quenta pulled a dagger from his belt and used his sword to block the next attack, and he slashed at the creature's neck. It snarled as he danced back, out of its reach, and acid spit from the Darga's mouth, burning his leather armor and splashing across his mask. Quenta had instinctively turned aside at the last moment and luckily the acid did not splash into his eyes, but that moment and the opening he left was all the Darga needed, and it attacked him again. Quenta barely blocked the creature's blade, then he ducked low as it tried to swipe at him again with its free hand, and he saw that the deep cut on its inner arm had stopped bleeding. He cursed the Darga ability to heal, and redoubled his attacks, knowing that he would have to kill the creature soon.
Quenta gathered what energy he could from the roots of the trees beneath his feet and his sword rang out as the hammered at the Darga, which clumsily blocked his attacks instead of parrying or dodging. Quenta's sword was already ruined by the creature's acid, so he was not concerned about the blade, but the jeweled sword did not appear to take any damage from his powerful swings. Finally, with the Darga on the defensive, Quenta saw an opportunity and he held back for a moment, feinting with his sword as though he would attack from a different angle. The creature took the bait and stepped to the side, raising its sword and Quenta slid back and stabbed with the point of his blade, driving his sword hard, up under the Darga's chin and through its skull. The creature froze, its reptilian eyes blinking twice, then the jeweled sword fell from its clawed grip. Quenta yanked his sword free and the Darga fell to the ground in a pool of dark, acid blood.
&
nbsp; As the forest around him began to fill with Darga, and with his sword now useless, Quenta dropped the ruined blade on the dead creature and picked up the sword it had dropped. The blade was well balanced, its edge surprisingly sharp after the abuse it had taken and now that he took a closer look at it, he saw that the sword was beautifully crafted, with simple yet subtle engravings upon its hilt and crosspiece, which was encrusted with jewels of a milky blue grey color, and a much larger one embedded in its pommel. Quenta swung the sword, getting a feel for it and he noticed a strange sensation, as though it had a kind of sound to it, almost like music, when it cut through the air. He wondered where such a creature would have acquired such a fine blade, and surmised that it was likely stolen, or spoils from another battle.
Whatever the case, it would cut and stab well enough, and he ran toward the nearest tree and leapt up onto a thick branch and raced after the Darga that had broken through the first line of defenders, hoping to cut down as many as he could before they reached the next line of defense, which consisted of far fewer numbers than were fighting at the front. He was just about to attack one of the Darga that was running across a thick branch, when a long, thick arrow shot through the air, punching a hole through its neck. The rest of the Darga turned in the direction from which it had come as another arrow hit one of them under the shoulder. Quenta scanned the trees and saw two figures standing on a thick branch, in the distance, pointing at the Darga, and he cursed when he realized who they were, though a part of him was actually glad to see them.
The group of Darga, almost two dozen of them, changed direction and leapt to another tree branch that ran toward the two who were shooting at them. Another Darga took an arrow in the eye and smashed into the branch, dead, then plummeted to the ground.
"The trick is to keep your breathing perfectly steady and time the shot," Borrican told Storm. "If you let yourself get worked up and change your aim, even the slightest amount, the shot will go wide of your aim."
"I will kill another of these Darga," Storm said and he nocked another long, Kandaran arrow in the large bow and followed one of the lizard men running toward them. He let the arrow fly, and even though the Darga tried to dodge, it caught the creature directly in the throat. Storm turned to Borrican and leaned casually on the end of the bow. "I see how the distance can affect the aim. There is a slight breeze as well."
"Excellent shot," Borrican said as he took aim, using his dragon sight, and let fly with another arrow, then he spotted a familiar looking elf, chasing after the Darga. "It looks like we've been found out. If I am not mistaken, that would be Prince Quenta, coming to berate us for helping him."
The Darga were almost upon them now, and Borrican and Storm leaned their long, heavy bows against the trunk of the tree and drew their swords.
"Let us kill these Darga first," Storm said.
"We might as well," Borrican said with a grin. "Hopefully his elven highness won't mind too much."
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
"Lexi," Ehlena said, sensing movement far ahead of them. "There is a group of Darga flying toward us."
"Where?" Lexi asked. "I do not see them."
"They are too far away for you to see," Ehlena said. "I can feel them on the wind."
"What should we do?" Lexi asked, not sure how she felt about the creatures. She hated her brother and her mother, and she did not like the way the Darga were such stupid beasts, but she remembered her brief moment with Razak, the Darga that had fathered her, and she was not sure how she felt about the lizard people. She also remembered when they had attacked her in the forest, when she was traveling with Aaron and Tash and the others.
"These Darga are in the service of the dark god who has become one with Calexis," Ehlena said, sensing Lexi's hesitation. "I do not know their purpose, for my ability to hear things on the wind isn't as strong as it was."
"Since Stroma took your essence with the sword," Lexi said.
"Luckily he did not take all of my essence," Ehlena told her. "He did take much of my power, which is slowly returning but is far less than it was."
"Then I have some of your power," Lexi said.
"I suppose you do," Ehlena replied with a tired smile.
"I can give it back to you," Lexi said. "Is there a way to do it? It feels like too much."
"There might be a way," Ehlena told her. "But first, we should decide what to do about the Darga."
"If they fight for my mother, then we must stop them," Lexi said. "All of them."
"There are many such Darga, Lexi," Ehlena replied.
"They have chosen to fight for her, so I will kill them."
"Will you kill them all?"
"If I have to, yes," Lexi said, and she caught sight of a handful of shapes appearing against the sun that shone brightly as it neared the horizon to the west. Lexi glanced over her shoulder. "Can you fly on your own?"
"Yes, I can do that," Ehlena said and she stood upon the edge of Lexi's wing and her form began to shift and waver, becoming the wind itself. "I can even help you move faster if you like."
"I can move fast enough," Lexi said, then she called up the lightning power she had taken from Stroma and she shot forward, toward the Darga.
Ehlena drifted through the air a distance behind her as Lexi curled and spiraled around, fighting the Darga, her powerful jaws crushing them and her claws knocking them from the sky. The last remaining Darga drew a sword and tried to attack her with it, but Lexi took a deep breath and blasted it with a ball of crackling energy that was like a mixture of fire and lightning, and the creature was almost completely incinerated. As the sword fell from its clawed grip, Ehlena appeared and caught the blade, and it was as she expected, another godsword. She turned to Lexi, who hovered in place, flapping her great wings.
"That is like the sword Aaron gave me," Lexi said. "The one I used to take Stroma's power."
"It is," Ehlena said, testing its weight, and executing several strokes she remembered from a time long forgotten, when she had used such a blade. She looked down at the foothills below. "The other Darga each had swords like these. It would be best if such weapons were not left lying around, and they might prove useful."
"I can see where they fell," Lexi said, her eyesight shifting strangely again, now that she was searching the ground for the bodies of the fallen Darga. Ehlena grasped hold of her wing and the two of them began to circle down toward the ground, but Lexi kept blinking, not sure about her vision. "Something is wrong with my eyes."
"What is wrong about them?" Ehlena asked.
"I can see in different colors," she said. "And I can see much farther too."
"That is one of the benefits of being a dragon," Ehlena said. "They are fighters and once, long ago, they were hunters."
"So there isn't anything wrong with me?"
"I do not think so," Ehlena said. "Of course, I am not a dragon, and I don't see through your eyes, so I do not know exactly what it is that is different."
"I guess that's true," Lexi said.
"I believe it is true of every person and every living thing," Ehlena said. "No one sees everything exactly the same."
"I never thought of that," Lexi replied as she landed on the ground next to where one of the Darga had fallen.
Ehlena picked up the sword and realized that she would need more hands if she was to carry the other four weapons that the Darga had carried. She pulled the sword belt the creature wore, a simple leather piece, then she buckled it around her waist and carefully slid the sword beneath it, then she did the same with the other one. Lexi sniffed the air and nodded her head in the direction of the scent of Darga blood.
"There is another one close to here," she said, and she lumbered forward, with Ehlena following along close behind.
After a short while, they managed to collect all six blades and Ehlena's belt was a veritable armory.
"I don't know if I can fly with all these swords," she said. "One or two, maybe."
Lexi shifted to her other form and looked
down at the sword at her waist, curiously.
"How is it that when I change, the sword disappears?" she asked.
"I don't exactly know," Ehlena replied, and she looked for an answer in her oldest memories. "I think it has something to do with the metal and the gemstones being akin to your dragon form."
"Oh," Lexi said. "I still don't know much about it. Ashan says that dragons live in the north, where there is a lot of fire."
"That is true," Ehlena said. "The fire is the blood of the earth, stone so hot that it is molten and it bubbles up from deep below the ground. The blood of the earth has metals and the substance of gems within it and, as I understand it, dragons like to swim in it."
"If it is so hot, does it burn?"
"Not dragons," Ehlena said. "It sustains them, like eating and drinking, and I think they quite enjoy the heat."
"I wish I knew more about dragons," Lexi said. "I always wanted to not be a Darga anymore, but then Ashan said the Darga were once dragons, and he said I should be that instead."
"Did Ashan tell you that the dragons were once Ansari?"
"He said that," Lexi told her, remembering what Ashan had told Tash. "And he said Ansari could take dragon form, but that it was very dangerous."
"Yes, it is, unless you are a dragon," Ehlena said.
"I don't understand," Lexi said with a frown.
"Dragons chose to be dragons, and that meant no longer being able to change to whatever they want, like Ansari," Ehlena explained as best she could from her older memories. "Dragons became their own race, separate from the Ansari. They are more powerful in some ways, but they also sacrificed much for that power."
