The War of Stardeon (The Bowl of Souls)

by Cooley, Trevor H.

  He looked back towards the front gates. His father was speaking with Oz the Dagger and Hugh the Shadow while people poured out of the gate in a steady stream. To the west Justan could see the rest of Faldon’s army coming up the road towards them. Fist and Jhonate were somewhere near the back of the group.

  They are finished, said Deathclaw. The people who cannot fight have gone through the portal. Only the warriors and wizards stay.

  That’s good to hear. Justan smiled. It looked like everything was going to work out just fine.

  What do you wish me to do now? Deathclaw asked.

  Keep an eye on the perimeter of the area. Make sure that the mother of the moonrats doesn’t see what we’re up to, he said.

  Very well, Deathclaw replied.

  Now they just had to get to the portal themselves. Justan ran to his father, dodging through the citizens of Reneul to get to him.

  Hugh the Shadow was speaking as he arrived. “ . . . The fall of the portcullis will seal the traps. As soon as it is raised or broken, the magic that reinforces these walls will be broken and they will all go off.”

  Faldon shook his head solemnly. “Such a waste.”

  “We have no choice,” Oz said. “We can’t just leave it here for them to use against us.”

  “I agree with you. It’s just . . . the history here.” Faldon said. He noticed Justan standing there. “Any news, son?”

  “Yes. The people of Sampo have gone through. They’re ready for us.” Justan said, though his enthusiasm had been trampled by the conversation he had overheard. “Are we burning the academy behind us?”

  “It’s more than that,” Hugh said. A grin split his face. “By the gods you have grown! You’ve been named I hear?”

  Hugh shook Justan’s hand and turned it over to look at the rune. He gave Justan an appraising stare and Justan felt that familiar twinge of unworthiness return. How could he stand in front of this legend and pretend to be worthy of his runes? Justan pushed the guilt away. The bowl chose him. That was a fact whether he understood its reasons or not. “Yes sir. I am Edge.”

  Hugh the Shadow nodded. “It’s a good name, Edge. And you don’t need to call me sir. Just Hugh.”

  “I knew you were special the day you beat me in the Strategic Games,” said Oz the Dagger, leaning forward to shake his hand as well. “I’m glad you’re here with us.”

  “Thank you,” Justan said. “So what’s the current situation?”

  “The orcs have been routed,” Faldon replied. “Captain Demetrius’ charge broke their lines and with their commanders dead and no way to hear the witch’s commands, they’ve scattered.”

  “Sir Hilt’s wife must have a long reach with that magic of hers,” Hugh added. “Our scouts atop the walls say that the goblins are milling about, unsure what to do, while the gorcs are dealing with the trolls and fires that have spread to the training grounds.”

  “The only ones that seem to be able to hear her orders are the giants. They keep throwing their rocks but their movements are so hampered by our caltrops . . .” Oz shook his head. “I tell you, if not for the prophet’s warning I would think we had this war won.”

  The reminder gave Justan a chill. He watched as the dwarf troops, led by Lenny in shining armor, followed the citizens of Reneul through his mother’s flame corridor. “How long is it going to take us all to get away?”

  “It shouldn’t be long. Faldon’s retiree army goes through next,” Oz said. “The trainees and students will follow and the academy graduates will be the last to leave. We plan to keep fighting from atop the walls until the last possible second to keep the mother of the moonrats confused and give us the best chance to get away.”

  A messenger ran up from inside the academy. “Sirs, there’s a problem. Stout Harley is refusing to leave the wall. He says he’s going to stay behind.”

  Oz pointed at Hugh. “I told you he was going to do that.”

  “I guess that means I have to talk him down?” Hugh said with a tired roll of his eyes. “I’m of half a mind to leave him.”

  “I’ll go talk to him,” Faldon said. “He won’t be expecting me.”

  As Faldon jogged through the gates, Jhonate arrived. She ran up and kissed Justan quickly. “Fist said that you made it through unharmed.”

  Justan smiled. “You know you just kissed me in front of everyone.”

  Her face colored and she took a step back. “Many things happen in the heat of battle, Edge.”

  Fist ran up to them followed by Zambon, Bettie, and a hundred of Tamboor’s berserker troops. The ogre held a large bloody form in his arms, his worry flooding through the bond.

  “Father is hurt badly,” Zambon said.

  Tamboor hung limp in the ogre’s arms, his eyes rolling and his mouth moving but no sound came out. His sword was still clenched in his fist, the tip dragging along the ground. The man was so covered in gore he was almost unrecognizable and it was hard to tell how much of it was his own.

  “Is that Tamboor the Fearless?” asked Hugh in surprise. “What happened?”

  “He gave in to the rage,” said one of the berserkers, a short gray-haired man who was heavily scarred and covered in almost as much blood as Tamboor was.

  “He was amazing,” said Bettie with a look of admiration on her face, her long handled hammer resting over her shoulder. “He must have killed a hundred orcs on his own.”

  “I don’t know what to do.” Zambon said. “Even in this state he refuses to hold my sword and won’t let go of Meredith.”

  Beth says to take him to Coal, Gwyrtha sent. Sir Hilt was at her side with his arm around Beth, whispering in her ear.

  Justan scanned the crowd of people leaving the academy and found the wizard not too far away tending to a warrior with a broken arm. “Bring him over here.”

  They brought Tamboor to the wizard and Coal whistled in surprise.

  The wizard ran his hands over Tamboor and shook his head. “It’s pretty amazing, He has a dozen wounds, but each one stops just short of a major vein.”

  “That’s berserker training for you,” said Hugh with a chuckle. “Tamboor always knew how to take a hit.”

  “We may have to carry him out after I’m finished,” Coal said. “This is going to take a lot out of him.”

  “I’ve got something for that.” Hugh pulled a small stoppered vial from under his leather armor. He tossed it to Zambon. “Here. Have him drink this when the wizard’s done.”

  “Thanks.” Zambon turned it over in his hands and Justan saw that it glowed black and blue.

  Justan felt a tap on his shoulder.

  “Have you seen Lenui?” Betty asked, looking around anxiously.

  “I saw him go through with the rest of the dwarves a little while ago.”

  “Idiot didn’t wait for me?” She scowled and climbed up on Stanza, then took off after him.

  Justan and Jhonate and kept an eye out for attackers as they watched the steady stream of people entering the flame corridor. The last of the retirees went through, followed by the trainees in quick succession.

  “Wait. Wait, I’m not done!” Coal protested. Tamboor pushed himself free of Fist’s arms and stood. Tamboor looked as if he had regained some control of himself. His eyes were focused and his face calm. The wizard gripped the berserker’s shoulder and began closing a deep gash.

  The berserker nodded at the wizard in thanks and pulled the vial from Zambon’s hands. He downed its contents in one gulp and strode over to Hugh, who was giving instructions to some of his guild members who were working on something at the base of the portcullis track. Tamboor tapped Hugh’s shoulder and held out his hand expectantly.

  “Tamboor! That was fast. Oh-.” Hugh’s smile faltered and he reached into his armor to pull out another flask. “Fine, but you know what that’s going to do to you at the end of the day.”

  Tamboor swallowed the vial’s contents, smacked Hugh’s back, and ran towards Darlan’s flame corridor, the rest of the berserkers at his heel
s.

  “Justan can I go with them?” Fist asked and Justan felt the ogre’s concern.

  “Yes, go ahead. Make sure Tamboor gets to the portal safely,” Justan said and the ogre ran off after them, one hand on the pommel of his mace.

  “That man is lucky I was done with the major tissue repair or he could have done himself serious damage. I-!” Master Coal frowned. “Stubborn boy.”

  “What is it?” Justan asked.

  “Willum doesn’t want to leave yet. He’s back up on the wall.”

  Willum stood next to Swen on the center of the north wall and fired an arrow at an ogre far below. The stupid thing had sat down in full range of his bow to pull caltrops out of its feet. The arrow plunged into its back and the ogre fell over, clawing at the arrow and howling as it rolled over more caltrops.

  “Ho-ho! Good one!”

  Willum nodded in satisfaction. As much as he knew his father would rather have him by his side, it felt good to be back up on the wall with the others and helping. He glanced back into the empty academy grounds behind him and his mood faded a bit. This could be his last chance to protect the school. No one knew what the academy was going to be like when the war was over.

  “Gods on fire,” said Swen beside him. “Look at that.”

  A large figure walked around the edge of the nearest hill. The giant was enormous and gray, naked but for a loincloth and its body had been tattooed all over in strange patterns. Its eye sockets were empty, but a single orange orb had somehow been stitched to the center of its forehead.

  “It’s that same gray giant,” Willum said.

  “Ho! And that’s a moonrat eye, sure enough.” The imp sounded impressed. “I can feel her presence from here.”

  A large group of giant leaders followed behind him, stooping and bobbing their heads, only whimpering softly as they stepped on the pieces of sharpened iron. The gray giant’s feet were clustered black with embedded caltrops but he didn’t seem to care. He stood just outside of the bowmen’s range and raised his hands to his mouth.

  “The mother can’t see the front walls, but she can see you!” the gray giant shouted. The giants around him chanted and stomped.

  “Ballistae!” Sabre Vlad commanded.

  “He’s square in the middle, sir!” said one of the men. The ballistae had been mounted at each corner and the giant had picked the perfect place to stand to stay out of their range.

  “Can you hit it, Swen?” asked Sabre Vlad.

  “Just,” Swen said and cocked an arrow. He pulled it back until the wood creaked.

  “The mother knows you are up to something in there!” the giant yelled.

  “Whose mother?” Sabre Vlad yelled back. “Yours?” The men laughed.

  “The mother is the wife of the Barldag and she demands your death!” the gray giant boomed. The giants howled.

  “That’s enough from him.” Swen said and fired. The arrow whistled through the air and plunged into the giant’s chest. The chanters flinched but the gray giant didn’t seem to notice.

  “The mother says that your plans don’t matter!” The arrow had to have pierced a lung, but his voice didn’t falter. “Whatever you are doing in there, today is your end!”

  “Ho-ho she sounds scared!” said the imp. “Do you wish to start your twelve hours now, Willy?”

  Why? Can you do something from here?

  “Perhaps,” it said.

  “Hit him again,” said Sabre Vlad.

  “This one’s going right through his new orange eye,” Swen promised and notched another arrow.

  Willum hesitated, wondering what the axe could do at this range. Fine. The battle should be over in twelve hours one way or the other anyway.

  The imp giggled. “Good! Done! It begins now! Rub me on that arrow.”

  “Just a second, Swen,” Willum said and stuck the axe out in front of the man’s enormous bow.

  “What are you doing, Willum?” asked Sabre Vlad.

  “Trying something,” Willum replied. He rubbed the axe’s edge against the tip of the arrow and Swen’s eyes widened as the arrowhead began to glow with an orange heat. “There. Fire now!”

  “They come! They come! The destructors come!” the giant boomed. “Your death is nigh! The destructors come!” The others took up the chant.

  Swen fired and the arrow hurtled through the air, fire blooming around the tip as it went.

  “Ho-Ho! Burner burner burner!” laughed the imp.

  “They come! They’re he-!” Swen was good to his word and the giant didn’t finish his sentence. The fiery arrow burst through the orange moonrat eye in the giant’s forehead, the magic in the arrow burning through to the back of its skull. The giant stood there for a moment longer its mouth still hanging open. Then steam poured from its eye sockets, nose, and mouth. The grey giant fell.

  The chanting stopped as the other giants stared at the corpse in disbelief. A victory shout echoed along the north wall and Vlad laughed, pounding Swen’s broad back.

  “Sabre Vlad, sir!” said a messenger from the top of the stairs. “The students have gone through. It’s time for the graduates.”

  Vlad nodded. “The front and side walls will be evacuated first. We’ll be the last ones out.”

  Willum looked behind him and saw the walls emptying as the graduates left through the front gate.

  “Huh-oh,” said the imp, panic in its voice. “Something bad comes! Bad bad! Ooh, I can feel it!”

  The giants at the back of the hills began to shout in excitement. The others turned and pointed and the chanting began again. “They come! They come! The destructors come! Your death is nigh! The destructors come!”

  “We need to fall back,” Willum said. “Something’s coming.”

  “We stay until everyone else is through!” Sabre Vlad said. “Don’t let their chanting scare you.”

  “Look,” said Swen and Willum saw them. Dark forms came over the far hills, various shapes and sizes but all moving fast.

  “It’s Vriil’s army,” Willum said. “Just like the prophet said.”

  Sabre Vlad swallowed and grabbed two messengers. “Make sure this place is cleared out. Tell everyone its time to go. No more pretenses. We’ll hold them off as long as we can.”

  “That won’t be long,” the imp warned. “Best go, Willy Yam!”

  I’m not leaving just yet. He watched the oncoming army and sent his father exactly what he saw.

  There were smaller figures, green-armored orcs and hairy man-shaped things that ran on all fours, mixed with gargantuan monsters; snake-like behemoths with red-glowing lines on their backs and spinning teeth and giant spiders with turtle shells. All of them rushed forward toward the north wall.

  “They have eyes!” said the imp. “Ho-ho. All of them have moonrat eyes and moonrat mommy feels angry!”

  Get out, Willum! Coal sent.

  Not until everyone else is out of the academy, he said

  Almost everyone is out already. There’s just you and a few stragglers.

  “Sabre Vlad! Father says that nearly everyone is clear,” he said.

  “Then we’ll give them a few volleys before we go,” he replied and raised his arm. “Fire as soon as they get in range!”

  “Can you do that magic thing again?” Swen asked, pulling an arrow back. Willum nodded and reached out with the axe. Do it.

  “You are crazy, Willy!” said the imp as it enchanted the arrow. “Go or you’ll be dead.”

  Then you’ll just have to protect me however you can, he replied.

  The creatures streaked over the final hill, unaffected by the iron spikes that littered the ground. The graduates fired but the arrows bounced off of them ineffectively. The snakes with the glowing backs began to burrow at the base of the wall while the turtle-spiders started to climb. Armored orcs jumped and clung to their shells. Huge deformed mixes of ape and crab stood at the top of the hill and tore great boulders out of the ground and flung them.

  While the graduates fired down at t
he beasts climbing towards them, the boulders crashed into the academy behind them, destroying buildings and crushing siege equipment. If the place hadn’t already been emptied, hundreds of people would have been crushed by that opening attack alone.

  “Fall back! Make for the gate!” Sabre Vlad yelled. More boulders crashed into the interior of the academy and he added, “Keep to the top of the walls!”

  Swen fired the burning arrow right into one of the eyes of the turtle-spider that had neared the top of the wall closest to them. Steam shot from the wound and it reared back, screeching. It fell, taking several armored orcs down with it.