“Let us hope they hold into the darkness,” Animir agreed.
Most of the elves who came in contact with them recognized their protections quickly and moved on, preferring the soft, delicate blue and lavender skin of the trolls. Many of the Crimson Cave’s inhabitants had fallen, but they had not lost their heart or the desire to rid the land of the elven hoard that threatened them all.
The dwarves a much tougher breed, they had quickly adapted to the fight, and the clanging of sword and axe echoed across the top of their mountain. The group had risen with the sun, taking a small breakfast before they climbed the incline behind the statues that heralded their past kings, and they were eager for the fight with blood-lust in their eyes.
Almost at the precise moment the ball of fire hung directly above, they ran into the back of the elf forces as they pushed their way across the rocky mountains. Slamming into them from behind, they began cutting them down with haste. The elves fell quickly, but those ahead were alerted to their presence, and the battle was begun.
The soldiers of Cilithrand were not the tall, magnificent elves that had been abundant in Jerranyth. Instead, they were smaller, only matching the height and build of Rey and Piers on occasion, as most were a few inches shorter and lighter. The trolls killed them easily, as did the dwarves, and it was only by sheer numbers that they had held out this long.
Pausing his swing, Animir stared at the last sliver of the sun as it disappeared in the west. His gaze swinging the arch of the sky, he gasped, “The dark moon. We can still win this.”
Holding his sword as well, Rey wasn’t looking at the sky. Below them, the side of the mountain was covered with bodies, corpses of the fallen, as well as the writhing masses as both sides engaged their battle. “How,” he grunted. “There are so many, and our numbers will be exhausted before the moon rises.”
“There is no moon,” Animir repeated. “It is the night of the new moon, and the world will lie in darkness until the sun appears again on the other side of the sky. It is a sign, Reynard. We must unleash the dark elf.”
“Are you mad?” Piers joined them. “I told you we have no guarantee she will kill them. She would destroy our forces in a matter of minutes.”
“Amicia has secured this ally for us,” Animir pushed, his chest heaving. Wiping at the side of his mouth with the back of his hand, his mind raced. “If you ever believed in her ability to be our queen,” he panted, licking his lips. “If you ever believed in her, then you must trust that Kedoria will be our savior.”
Staring at him with cold brown orbs, the Mate breathed in heavy strokes. His chest ached, and his lungs burned from the fight. They had been at it for hours, and in the last light of day, it appeared all hope was lost. “Then do it, and may God have mercy upon us.”
Pulling the hamar gem from his pouch, the elf did not hesitate in the task. Holding the stone before him, he waited until the last of the light had gone and pure darkness remained. His lips moving slightly, he whispered the charm that would free their prisoner, and she sprang from the dark crystal to stand before him.
Turning slowly, her black gown hung around her, limp against her frame. Her gaze wandering, she looked across the field of bodies, her vision better in the darkness than most have in the brightest of lights. “This is no fireside,” she growled, her glare reaching the three friends. “Where is the dragoness who commands me?”
“Amicia has been detained,” Animir informed her curtly, “but you recall who I am, I am certain.”
“I know you,” she replied in a gravelly voice, tilting her head as if to consider the choice before her. Deciding to let him live, at least for the moment, she awaited his explanation as to the reason for her release.
“Good,” the elf spat, his tone one of authority. “Then we have need of your dark arts. Call forth your minions and take up your vow of service.”
A fierce wind slammed against them, carrying the stench of blood and carnage. Her grey eyes shifting between the three who stood before her, she recognized the other two as mortals of the rim. “Do you fear me?” she hissed.
“No,” Piers clipped, his eyes squinted against the haze and dust. “My mistress, Kaliwyn, has assured me of your loyalty, and my faith in her is strong. You will remove the elves from this battlefield before this night is ended, I am certain.”
Her smile an evil twist to her lips, she agreed, “The dragoness has chosen her company well. We will complete the task before us.” Spreading her arms, smoke billowed from her slender form, and the four minions who served her fell off of her. Landing on the ground, they writhed as if in agony before finding their feet and standing next to her.
Their bodies short and black, as if they were small children charred by the fires of hell, their limbs burned with faint yellow and orange flame. Her command a subtle hiss, she swung her arm to indicate the sea of elves before them and the feast that awaited her servants.
Running across the loose stones, the creatures squealed and shrieked in terrifying voices. The sound echoing through the night, many paused in mid swing, their weapons suspended in the air as they listened to the noises of the daemons.
Reaching their first victims, they laid not a hand or mouth upon the dwarves and trolls; their intent set upon their former masters. Catching them, even those who tried to flee, they pulled at their robes and searched out the soft, pale flesh underneath.
Their mouths gaping holes in their smoldering forms, they sank invisible teeth into their prey, the venom within them coursing into their trembling forms. Within minutes of being bitten, the elf would be paralyzed, soon to draw his last breath.
Standing atop the mountain with the three of them, Kedoria never moved. Her beady eyes watching the carnage, she breathed deeply, enjoying the power she wielded through her miniature servants.
Next to her, the trio did not resume the fight. Engulfed in the horror that transpired before them, they could not tear their eyes away. The four daemons parted the sea of soldiers, the battle on both sides still roiling; oblivious to their presence. Their victims claimed, they moved on to the next, on and on in a narrow path of devastation that weaved back and forth, a spindle of destruction across the wide living cloth.
The trolls and dwarves, though amazed at the removal of their enemies, were not thwarted from the fight. Instead, they turned from their suffering adversary to find another elf in need of butchering.
The field of their carnage long and wide, the spectacle continued until the hours had passed and the sun had made the journey around the world to peek at the field of battle from the other side. As soon as the golden rays broke the surface, Kedoria and her four minions vanished into ashen nothingness, and what remained of the elves were left to the defending army to dispose of.
Amicia awoke with the sun, her strength more than it was but far short of what she had hoped for. Rolling away from Uscan’s slumbering form, she pushed herself onto her knees, sitting up to have a look around.
Still in the clearing, she sighed, weary of being there. The magical luster of the place had grown stale, and she longed to flee that she might return to her friends.
Thinking of the group, she located her orb. Opening her hand, she stared into it, seeing that the battle continued but on a much smaller scale. “They didn’t give up,” she croaked, happy in the knowledge they still might prevail.
Darkening the orb, she forced her legs beneath her, stumbling the few feet to her father’s side. He awoke the moment she touched him, lifting his massive head as he groaned, “Kaliwyn, you should be resting.”
“I have rested,” she countered, indicating the ball of fire to the east. “The sun is rising, and you have promised to carry me to my friends.”
“You still lack the strength to go by transposition?”
“I have not tried,” she confessed. “I shall if you refuse to take me, but if I may ride upon the strength of your wings, I can preserve mine in case it is needed when we arrive.”
“Then I shall carry you, m
y dragoness,” he agreed, lumbering to his feet. “Uscan!” he bellowed, awakening the pack.
Rolling over to stretch, the alpha detected the missing lump of human flesh that he had cradled through the night. Placing his paws flat on the ground, he stood, ready to follow her command. “What would you have of us, my queen?”
“I’m glad to see your allegiance has returned,” she scowled, snatching up the flask and finishing off the water. “I want you to go to the glen as quickly as you are able. The elves there must be crushed, and perhaps with you and the dragons I have sent, the nymphs and satyrs can finally turn the tide.”
“As you wish, princess,” he replied, barking to the others to follow.
Watching them disappear through the trail at the southern end of the clearing, she sighed. “What really happened after I was bitten?” she asked, turning her green orbs to glare at Ziradon.
“You were saved, and that is all that matters,” he replied, lying upon the ground before her. “Will you be strong enough to hold as I fly?”
“Yes,” she agreed. “Lamwen has carried me in such a manner, and I do not fear the fall.”
Hoisting herself up, she settled into the grooves of his back, where the wings met his body and she could get her grip. The scales rough beneath her flesh, she smiled at the feel of him, alive and there with her. “I have not spoken of my love for you,” she plied as he took to the air.
“You need not speak of such things, Kaliwyn,” he replied. “Through the years and distance between us, I never doubted your devotion.”
Tears dripped onto her cheeks, adding a cold sting as the air rushed by. They flew north, tracing the path the group had taken on their quest to cross the sand. Arriving at the savannah that separated the mountain from the desert, the carpet of elves was gone.
“This holds my concern,” Ziradon informed her.
“What does?” she asked, leaning forward and caressing him as his wings pumped beneath her.
“The elves had a garrison here, waiting at the edge of the sands. I noticed them when I searched for you, on my journey south.”
“How long ago was this?” she asked, her fear heightening her need to breathe.
“Days, two at least. Maybe three.”
“Dear God,” she whispered.
Ahead, a dark shadow lay over the shifting dunes. Increasing his angle, Ziradon climbed as they approached, that they could inspect the troops without being observed themselves. From the greater height, he turned and made a circle, the girl leaning over the side and gaping at the ground below.
“There are thousands of them,” she remarked airily.
“Yes. Enough to make the wizards beg for their lives, rest assured. They will reach the northern woods by way of the desert, I am assured.”
“We must stop them,” she panted. “Take me now to the others, atop the dwarf cliffs. The battle there was all but won from what I saw before we left. We must rally our forces and make for Whitefair before it’s too late.”
The Face of Danger
“Well, it was close, but I believe we have won the day,” Piers observed. “It was a miracle, to be certain, and one I hope we do not have to repeat.” Yaodus stood with him, as did Baeweth, while Lamwen circled above. Looking up at the massive beast, he inhaled deeply, noting the smell of death and awaiting the captain’s report.
Completing his assessment, the dragon landed nearby and picked his way towards them while taking care not to desecrate the corpses. “This is the bloodiest battlefield my eyes have ever seen,” he growled. Turning with his wings spread wide, he observed the scene from their point of view. Walking on two legs during his days as a human had changed him and seeing the carnage through the lens of their eyes saddened him in a way he feared it would not have should he never have lived as one of them.
Across the field to the north, the dwarves worked their way through, killing any elves who had managed to survive and hide among the bodies. On the eastern edge, a triage had been assembled, and the injured dwarves and trolls were treated or transported to the Crimson Caves or Rhong if their wounds were severe.
Following his gaze, Baeweth agreed, “We have taken this battle, but the cost was great.”
Each member of their group busy with the aftermath, Animir and Meena conducted the transports as Hayt and Zaendra nursed the fallen. Clomping across the bloody mud, the leaders joined them, as they each feared there would be little time to rest once Cilithrand learned of their victory.
No sooner had they gathered to converse about their intentions, when a dragon’s shadow glided over the top of them. Looking up, they gasped to find Ziradon making a landing a few feet away.
“Oh my God, Ami!” Rey screamed, running up to the beast to help his wife to the ground.
“Rey,” she replied, matching his enthusiasm as she collapsed against him.
The wound to her shoulder obvious through her torn and stained clothing, he ran his palm over it, seeing that it had been healed. “This is no ordinary wound,” he observed, scooping her into his arms and carrying her to the others. Placing her feet upon the ground, she stood next to him as her father joined them.
“We must make haste,” she announced. “The elves are on the move, and Whitefair will fall if we are not there to stand against them.”
“Stand against them,” Piers muttered. “Look around, princess. We have fought since yesterday noon without a break, and the battle here was scarcely won. We are exhausted and in need of food and rest before we even consider the next fight.”
“The elves will be upon you whether you are rested or not,” Ziradon informed him in his grating growl.
“You did not remain at the caves,” Yaodus observed, glaring at the blonde in their midst. “It is good that you have found her, but we could have used your help in this battle if you were strong enough to fight.”
“I’ll make it up to you on the next one,” the old dragon replied curtly. “For now, we must assemble at Whitefair if we are to have any hope of holding it.”
“It is the oasis, the center of the desert,” Amicia added. “If we allow the elves to take it, then the rest of the wizard communities will surely fall,” she insisted.
Still tending to the wounded, her friends did not seem greatly moved by her words. Turning to the Mate, she urged, “Piers, please. This is vital, even more so than preserving the dwarf mountain. They will hold much of Eriden if they take the wizards, in population and land.”
“We see the importance,” he sneered. “We really do. But besides our exhaustion, we have no way to get there. It’s over a week’s march if we could find a way through this mountain range and then the desert besides.”
“We must teleport,” Ami agreed eagerly. “We can get there by magical means,” she insisted, her eyes scanning the ruin for the ossci who could accomplish the task easily.
“I have ported people to the trolls and dwarves for hours,” Meena complained. “My powers are spent.”
“As are mine,” Animir agreed.
“The gnomes can help,” the girl pushed, unwilling to give up so easily. “But I don’t see our small friends. Do they wait for us at the camp?”
“The gnomes are gone,” the Mate informed her flatly. “Thirac has taken them back, as actually fighting goes against their principals.”
Staring at him with large green eyes, Ami blinked a few times. “They have abandoned us,” she breathed.
“Aye,” he nodded, “before the battle even started. We tried to march to the dwarf mountain, but the wolves jumped us. We lost a few of the trolls then.”
“Seventeen,” Rey interjected.
“Yes, thank you,” Piers spat sarcastically. “The point is, we were forced to spend hours and massive amounts of energy transpositioning everyone closer to get away from them. It cost us dearly in resources.”
“How did you get up here?” Amicia demanded in a frustrated tone, his story falling short of explaining it all.
“Through Asomanee,” Meena explaine
d. “Baeweth agreed to join us in the fight, and we swept through the tunnels and reclaimed the halls. We spent the night at the camp in the valley and took on the elves here yesterday.”
“I saw,” the girl agreed. “I used my orb while the battle raged. I was not able to join you in my injured state.”
“How were you healed so quickly?” Rey asked, his fingers tracing the remains of the bite.
“That I do not know,” she sighed, cutting a cool stare at the old dragon. “Uscan and my father have declined to explain. I only know that I was mended during my delirium and made to rest until my thoughts had cleared. Ziradon has brought me here just now, and the discovery of the elves in the desert was made during our journey to this place.”
“Then we are all understanding what has transpired, but that does not change the fact we have no way to get there, even if we were ready for the fight,” Hayt observed.
“The gnomes can take us,” Amicia declared. Her passion firm, she slapped her fist against an open palm to add strength to her claim.
“I just told you they have refused us further assistance,” the Mate scowled at her obstinance, “and besides, the three of them would hardly be an improvement over what we have. It would still take us a full day to move our forces to the oasis.”
“Three of them,” she scoffed, her mind made up. “They are all capable of the task,” she pointed out. “The ossci are their great and powerful ministers, but all of the gnomes have the ability as you may recall. I will go to Thirac and convince him they must do this.”
“I doubt you would be able, my lady,” Animir replied with a shake of his tired head.
“Doubt all you wish,” she laughed. “I only require that you prepare. Assemble the men, any and all who can still hold a blade. I will go and convince the gnomes of their duty to our kingdom while you do,” she informed them boldly before she disappeared.
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