by Levi Samuel
Turning on heel, Demetrix led the way, stepping onto the densely packed road. The light layer of snow on top of ice made it dangerously slick. Rounding the bend, he felt it decline slightly, wrapping its way around the steep cliff face.
They followed the road for many hours. The snow had ceased and the humidity was beginning to rise with the heat, though it was still far from comfortable. Reaching a bend, Demetrix came to a stop, looking through the lower hanging clouds to the land below. He could nearly see Shadgull from this distance, though the large capital city was likely much different than he knew it.
Ravion stood beside him, taking in the sight. “She’s different than I remember.”
“That she is. This is where we need to leave the road. Any further down and we risk being seen.”
“Do you think Trendal’s waiting for us?” Ravion asked, stealing a glance at the dalari behind him.
“I’m sure he is. He’s not a fool. Attacking the fortress without someone on the inside could take days. I’m sure he knows that.”
“Ravion, I was wondering. Why’d you stay in Irayth?” Morena asked, stepping between the two.
“How do you know that name?” Re snapped, caught off guard hearing the simple question. He knew these dalari were linked to him but he had no idea to what extent.
“It’s a vision. Like a memory, but not my own. I see you in a chamber. You told Gareth to take Demetrix home. Then you shattered the tunnel behind you.”
“You have my memories? Why didn’t you say something about that sooner?”
“I didn’t know. It just popped into my head.”
He had no idea how to process the discovery. His life was none of their business, but it seemed there was much that no longer remained solely to him.
Taking a deep breath, Ravion regarded the young dalari woman before answering. “I stayed because I had to. Rezerik wanted me to take his place so he could leave. But the only way he could do that was to make me the new nightking. While we killed him, his mantle had to remain and I was the only one to take it.”
Shifting uncomfortably, he turned away from her, staring at the narrow trail Demetrix had pointed out. “This way?”
Refusing to wait for a response, he stepped past Demetrix and on to the rocky ledge.
Chapter XV
Defining Fears
Stars twinkled far above the vast wasteland spanning the glistening sea. Dalari soldiers stood patiently behind their fortifications, hands clutched tightly around their weapons. They stared into the darkness, searching for the source of the thundering drum beat.
Kashien scanned his troops one last time, ensuring everyone was in place. The archers stood in position to his left, arrows drawn and awaiting command. The magi were to the right, spells primed and ready. At the spiked wall, the infantry stood behind the support beams, hiding their numbers from the advancing army. A collection of shieldsmen and swordsmen made up the bulk of their number. He was torn as to whether he should implement a shield wall, but the battlements would serve that purpose, at least until the enemy was beyond them.
The pikesmen composed the second wave, their longer pole weapons were able to reach beyond the first group. This gave them the advantage of reach in such tight quarters. Of course, he expected the dreualfar to have a similar formation. That was basic warfare tactics.
Glancing to the south, he could faintly make out the silhouettes of the cavalry in the distance. They were mounted and awaiting need behind the only hill within range. Kashien wanted them out of sight, but close enough to arrive quickly if need arose. They were the secret weapon in this battle. If placed carefully, they could flank the enemy and attack on two fronts. And if the wall fell, it would be the cavalry to pick up the slack and force them back long enough to form a traditional shield wall.
The drum beats got closer, shaking the ground to its core. Tensions were high. Everyone was on edge, unable to see what approached. In all of it they knew one thing. The enemy was close.
“Light fires!” Kashien ordered, gesturing to the torchbearers.
Sparks flared in his peripheral vision. The ground to his left erupted in large, orange and yellow flames. It traveled along the line of oil they’d poured in the sand shortly after the drums sounded. Another flame erupted to his right, not far behind the magi. Stealing a glance, he saw the thick ball of twine, string, and grass they’d crafted earlier in the day ignite.
The multiple flames dulled his vision, but it was just bright enough to see the edge of the enemy forces.
“Prepare arrows!”
The archers dipped their cloth-wrapped arrowheads into the flame, watching them flare up.
“Archers, catapult— Fire!”
Thousands of flaming arrows took to the sky, shooting like little meteorites in the darkness above. The popping of rope and wood echoed through the formations and a large flaming ball took to the sky. Together, they soared into the distance and crashed to the earth.
Kashien watched the arrows strike, taking out a number of the dreualfar forces. Suddenly, the field ignited, exploding in a massive ball of flame. He watched the flame jump across the tracks of oil they’d poured earlier in the day. It was enough to see where and what the enemy was doing. If things continued to go this smooth, the battle would be over before morning.
Hearing a whistle amidst the echoing screams he looked to the sky, seeing only the briefest reflection of light.
“Night arrows, take cover!” Kashien threw his hands over head, forming a shield out of the arcane magics within him.
Watching the sharpened heads hit and glance off, he searched the damage to his men. They hadn’t been so lucky. At minimum, a few hundred were hit. He knew the dreualfar were without honor, but to fire night arrows? That was cowardly, even for them.
“Prepare for another volley! Archers, fire at will!”
Another round of flaming arrows speckled the sky, raining down upon the charging dreualfar. Shouts echoed along the battlefield as they drew closer. The first wave collided against the battlements and the dalari spilled out to combat them.
Thick patches of moss clung to the jagged, stone wall. The air was warm and moist. The scent of dirt and smoke filled the air.
Demetrix peered down from his perch, seeing the backside of the wooden fortress, hidden among the trees. Two dreualfar wandered along the forest floor, aimlessly patrolling the fortifications. Glancing at Ravion and the other dalari obscured behind the protruding rocks, he gestured, relaying his findings without word.
Ravion leaded over, whispering the message to Stot. “Thirty yards away, two dreualfar. We move in three minutes.”
Stot nodded, relaying the message to the others.
Morena drew an arrow and nocked it on her bowstring. It was going to be difficult to climb with the weapon, but if she could find a decent position she could pick them off from afar. At least until it was time to breech the wall.
Bingham crouched down and made his way closer to the scout. “I have a spell that could allow you to fire while descending.”
“Oh?”
“It’ll make you fall at a slow rate until your feet hit the ground.”
“Okay.”
The dalari mage contorted his fingers, silently reciting the incantation. A blue glow formed between hands. It floated from his grasp, settling on her brown, leather boots. They shimmered a brief moment before returning to their dull and weathered state.
“You have but to jump. The spell will do the rest. But only once, so don’t waste it.”
“Understood.”
Demetrix saw his chance rapidly approaching. The dreualfar were farthest apart, one disappearing in the northern trees, while the other headed south. Now was the time. Jumping from his perch, he threw his arm around the tapered rock and kicked out. Letting a freefall claim him, his feet impacted the steep terrain and began to slide beneath the loose pebbles. Balancing himself, he slapped the rocks as he passed, maintaining balance and slowing his speed.
S
eeing the next ledge, he unlocked his knees and landed on the hard stone. The pressure was jarring, but he was able to absorb it, though he felt the magic in his right leg strain to keep its hold. Searching the ground, he saw the dreualfar were advancing slowly back toward him. Content they hadn’t seen him, he pulled his refurbished bow from his back, stringing it faster than most could nock an arrow. Taking aim, he aligned the shaft with the southern dreualfar. Feeling the wind with every fiber of his being, he adjusted for the mild breeze and released.
The arrow flexed from the pressure and launched into the sky. It arched upward, twisting against the crosswinds. Reaching peak height it advanced onward, angling slightly.
Demetrix watched the wooden shaft plunge into the dreualfar’s throat, knocking the creature from its feet. Jumping from the landing, he hit the ground, allowing his body to buckle. He rolled, redirecting the impact and sprang back to his feet, another arrow nocked and ready to fire.
Ravion jumped from rock to rock, balancing himself. He needed to close the gap, but hadn’t found a path he could safely jump or slide from.
The dreualfar scout froze, seeing the archer in the distance. The trained shot protruding from his compadre’s corpse told him there was little time. He’d never reach the archer before an arrow found him.
Catching movement from the rocks above, he stole a glance seeing a few others racing down the jagged stones.
The archer was trained on him. He had to do something quick or his death wound be imminent. Breaking into a sprint, he dove into the rocks, hearing the arrow plink near his head. He’d bought himself some time. Now he needed to get reinforcements.
Grabbing the horn strapped to his waist, he brought it to his lips and blew as hard as he could. An ear-splitting tone escaped briefly, cut short. A sharp pain erupted in the back of his throat. His mouth filled with blood. Staring at the wooden shaft protruding from the horn, panic began to set in. He was dying. Strength waning, he grabbed the arrow and tried to pluck it from him. It was buried too deep. He could feel the iron head tearing his esophagus. Choking on his own blood, he collapsed, seeing the trespassers move ever closer in his final sights.
Demetrix glanced up the mountain, seeing Morena’s bowstring reverberating from the discharge. She grabbed another arrow and jumped, nocking it to the string. Her boots glowed a faint blue as she slowly fell to the ground. Seeing Ravion and the others reach the dirt and rock covered floor, he joggled toward them. “Someone had to have heard that horn before it was silenced. We need to get to the wall now!” A sharp pain shot through his chest. His hands impacted the rocky earth, tearing against the sharp mineral. He slammed to the ground, panting heavily. Stealing a glance toward the wall, he noticed a third dreualfar preparing another spell.
Ravion looked from his collapsed brother to the dreualfar. Stepping toward the creature, he extended his hand, pulling at the power within it. The dreualfar mage hissed in pain, struggling against the unseen hook. Realizing what he was doing, Ravion dropped the mage. His heart pounded within his chest. Out of breath, he broke contact with the mage and locked eyes on Demetrix.
Free of the vice like grip, the dreualfar mage went to work creating his spell a second time. His fingers contorting as rapidly as possible, he released the massive spell hoping to cripple them all in one shot.
Seeing the large fireball headed toward him, Demetrix rolled to his back. It was as if his death was happening in slow motion. He was helpless to stop it. Seeing no other options, he glanced to Ravion. The look of defeat was heavy on his face. He wasn’t wrong. He failed to kill the dreualfar. And that failure was going to result in their deaths. It was nearly upon him when someone blocked its view.
Bingham charged in front of the flaming ball, using his own magics to protect him. The spell impacted, exploding against the magical shield. Scorching flame domed around him, igniting the ground on all sides. He strained against the brunt of the blast, hoping it wouldn’t reach the others. Feeling the spell reach its end, he released the shield. Lowering his arms, he noticed the blackened, charred flesh clinging to him. His hands were useless, little more than jagged nubs. Looking down, he could see his heart beating inside his chest, covered in black soot. The meat and organs were damaged beyond repair. He knew then he was already dead, he just hadn’t felt it yet. Turning to face his companions, he collapsed and fell face first into the dirt.
“No!” Morena shouted, releasing her bowstring. The arrow flew true, imbedding itself in the dreualfar’s face. The mage tumbled over the wall, landing roughly on the ground.
Landing softly, Morena ran to the still form of Bingham and rolled him over. A tear fell from her cheek, seeing another friend fall.
Picking herself up, she knelt down beside Demetrix, hoping he was going to be okay. “Is anything permanently damaged?”
“No. It just hurt—a lot.” Demetrix said, chuckling to himself. He could still feel where the bolt had impacted but he’d be okay. Extending his hand, Morena pulled him to his feet. Rubbing his chest, he turned to Ravion, “What the hell happened? You had him. Then you just stopped?”
Ravion refused to look at his brother. He’d made a mistake. Another mistake. They seemed to be piling up lately. “I’m sorry. I was afraid I was going to lose control. I couldn’t risk it.”
“Well, your fear resulted in the death of one of our own. You wouldn’t have stood for that back home. I won’t stand for it here. Get your head right or wait here until Trendal’s men show up!”
Demetrix shook his head, hating he had to say such things to his brother. But this was too important to leave to chance. They nearly died because of his hesitation. Such a thing could not happen again. Turning away, he marched toward the fortress. He spanned the distance in no time, reaching the carved trees comprising the outer wall. Pulling a coiled rope from the side of his pack, Demetrix quickly unwrapped it and looped the end. Slinging it around, he released, watching the wide loop launch over the wall snag on the top of the wooden structure. It caught one of the sharpened points, lassoing the thick beam. He pulled as hard as he could, ensuring it was secure. Demetrix lifted himself and kicked off the wall, carrying himself up. He reached the top with ease, peering into the fortified base. It was as if this was his first time here. Nothing looked as he remembered it. This Baron’s Fall was not the place he knew as home. Instead it was a human structure made out of wood and iron.
The fort stood three stories tall and had a collection of smaller buildings along the outer wall. The yard was cluttered and piled high with broken furniture and dead bodies. Humans as far as the young dalari could tell. A fire burned in the center, sending an array of glowing embers and spent ash into the sky. But there was one detail that stood odd among all others. The dreualfar were nowhere to be seen.
Demetrix glanced over the wall at his companions, patiently awaiting his signal. Gesturing them to follow, he turned and carefully made his way along the allure, just inside the sharpened posts. Finding a wooden walkway, he skipped down the steps, two at a time. Stepping onto the bare, dirt floor, he looked around. Gareth had to be here, as did the dreualfar. They wouldn’t have been guarding an empty fort. The question remained, where were they?
Ravion made his way down the steps and took position beside his brother. He couldn’t blame the younger dalari for his words. Were their roles reversed, he would have said something similar. Forcing it from his mind, he swallowed and spoke. “Do you think it’s a trap? To lure us here with false promise of Gareth?”
“It’s possible, though I doubt it. We got here quicker than most would expect. According to Jorin’otth’s message, we still have three days until time’s up. They wouldn’t lay in wait that long in advance. I’d imagine they went into hiding when they heard the horn. Be on your guard.” Demetrix said to himself as much as the others.
“Guys!” James shouted from one of the smaller buildings on the left.
Ravion and Demetrix turned to see what the swordsman was looking at. Inside the wooden structure,
what appeared to be a stable at one point, the straw floor was coated in soupy, red gore. At least thirty horses were strung to the rafters, dangling from their hindquarters. Their hide had been stripped and chunks of rotten meat clung to the bone. A sweet scent filled the air. They approached to get a better look.
“This makes no sense. Why would they butcher the horses and leave them to rot? There has to be something more here.” Stot offered, taken back by the finding.
Ravion stepped inside, feeling the ground squish beneath his boots. Looking down, the soupy straw bubbled around his feet. Only now did he see the other bodies hanging like the horses.
Hundreds of humans had been stripped of their flesh and strung up to bleed out. A dark alter had been crudely constructed at the center of the stable, drenched in blood. Ravion recognized the dark sigil marking the stone as that of Izaryle. It seemed the dreualfar had learned the secret of the dark god and were attempting to summon his grace. “There’s nothing more to see in here.” Wiping the stench from his nose, he smashed the alter and made for the door, hoping to never have to look upon such a massacre again.
The dalari made their way toward the large fire at the center of the fortress. The flames danced wildly, but it seemed it wasn’t nearly as large as it had been hours before. A large mass of spent wood and bone lingered in the coals, but there was plenty more, waiting to be consumed. A steady pillar of white smoke drifted into the air, disappearing beyond the overhanging trees.
Demetrix watched it fade away, shifting its path in the breeze. An unnatural form caught his attention, hiding among the tree tops. Squinting into the distance, he could faintly make out the details of armor.
Realizing it had been found, the dark form shifted and disappeared.
“It’s a trap. Ready your weapons!”
A single arrow flew through the air, striking James in the chest and knocking him from his feet. He hit the ground, snapping the protruding arrowhead beneath him. Gurgling on his own blood he struggled to pull himself up, growing weaker by the moment.
