by J C Maynard
Looking back at Eston, the Prince pointed into the dark forest. “Go . . . now.”
“Where?” asked Tayben. “I can’t fight for them any longer. I can’t go home . . . my family thinks I’m dead . . . I can’t go to Ferramoor or Cerebria . . . I was never meant to be a part of this.”
A soft voice inside his head whispered, “I’ll lead you.”
Looking once more at the icy, dragon-like beast, Tayben hurtled through the forest, running over roots and logs. He was abandoning the Phantoms, Cerebria, the war. Tayben ran through a thicket of trees and sprung over a brook, not knowing exactly where he was going. But a feeling somewhere deep in his mind guided where his feet landed. Only one image remained in his mind — a bright glowing flower leading him toward sanctuary.
Darkness Falls
Chapter Thirty
~Afternoon, January 25th
Eston’s regiment of soldiers had finally advanced through enough forest to reach the Ferramish Camp Stoneheart. Although he had seen Endlebarr from Tayben’s perspective, Eston could still not believe the endlessness of the wild forest and the sheer scale of every plant that towered over him. He felt like an insect, with ferns towering ten feet above his head. One fifth of the entire Ferramish army rested in his command as they trudged through the autumn vegetation, and day after day had been filled with miles of walking, interrupted by occasional skirmishes with Cerebrian platoons. But after five separate battles, the regiment finally reached at Stoneheart and rested there for a week of peace.
“Prince Eston,” said a commander in the room. “I’m begging you to push forward from Camp Stoneheart now, we can’t wait any longer.” The officer’s quarters were large and adorned with scarlet tapestries like the banners of the Palace in Aunestauna, with three tables in the middle covered in maps. Six generals and the prince stood in a circle with arms folded. “The time to push farther is now. We already have control over what remains of the Great Cerebrian Gate; we control this pass. In two months, the southern pass through the Taurbeirs will open up and the Cerebrians could get through. We won’t have enough defenses to keep them out . . . Prince Eston . . . Your Majesty . . . Prince Eston, are you listening?”
Leaning against a pole supporting the room, Eston rubbed his hand on the light, scruffy beard he had begun to grow. Images of the battle with the Phantoms that would come that night flashed in his head as he thought up ways to prepare the camp without revealing he knew about the approaching attack — the attack that would be his last day of fighting for Xandria and the Phantoms in the body of Tayben. “We’re spreading ourselves too thin.” said Eston to the others in the room. “We need to consolidate our troops in this area. We took a hard hit last month when the Cerebrians nearly destroyed Aunestauna. Moving forward will do us no immediate good.”
“I disagree.” said General Tuf from across the circle. “We can’t just stay here. We have the beasts, and I don’t think that . . .”
“We have three beasts here and one in Aunestauna, but we don’t know what the fifth one who nested here is up to. We need to stay at Stoneheart until I’ve figured out how to make the last beast loyal to us so we can use it. Silverbrook never—”
General Tuf pointed his finger at Eston. “You don’t know what Silverbrook’s intentions were! You were barely born when she fled Aunestauna!”
Eston remained calm. “Even so, I may know things that even you may not and so I—”
“I’m sorry?” said the General. The rest of the room was silent. He continued, offended. “What do you know that we don’t?”
“Movements of Cerebrian platoons.”
“Of course.” scoffed General Tuf as he shook his head. “You know that all the reports go to us as well as you. You’re just trying to prove your worth to your father. And by doing so you’re endangering my people!”
Eston leaned forward and whispered, “You mean to say my people. I still am Prince of Ferramoor.”
General Tuf whispered through his clenched jaw. “And an arrogant—”
Eston raised his eyes, stopping the General mid-sentence. Eston paused and took in the silence of the other generals around him while locking close eye contact with Tuf. “Well then pray I die in battle — because I join my troops on the battlefield, unlike you. You’re lucky I’m not my father, he would’ve had your head.” The room was silent, and hooves of horses clicked outside. Without addressing the generals again, Eston walked out the door onto the forest floor of Endlebarr.
The forest wasn’t as foggy as it usually was, and more sunlight filtered down to the forest floor due to the golden orange canopy of autumn leaves. The training grounds rang with the clash of swords, and horses left and right carried supplies from barracks to barracks.
Eston walked across camp passing soldiers as he went who would stop and salute him, until finally reaching a large stone structure built into the side of a massive tree that rested as far to the edge of the camp as it could. Far away from the center of Camp Stoneheart, the yelling and laughing of men was replaced by the songs of birds high up in the canopy, and the babbling of a nearby brook. Five Ferramish guards stood in front of the doorway to an enormous stone building that was shaped like a barnhouse, and they raised their swords up to salute the Prince as he approached. “Good afternoon soldiers.” Eston greeted.
“Your Majesty.” they said in unison.
“How are they?” said Eston.
“Restless as always.” said one of the guards. “But they’ve been acting quite strange now that they’re close to their brother — the fifth one.”
Eston raised an eyebrow. “Strange?”
The guard nodded. “Their eyes . . .”
Eston folded his arms. “Let me see them.”
The guards opened the door to the massive building and let Eston through. It was a huge, pitch black room, and the echo of the door around him was slowly replaced by a metallic growl. Suddenly, the floor of the chamber emitted a pale white light from the hundreds of glowing flowers that had grown there since the beasts arrived. Out of the darkness moved three massive shapes, three massive beasts. One glistened like a thousand tiny icicles; one looked like a demon of hell with fire and molten metal glowing from cracks in its rocky limbs; and one appeared to be made of trees itself.
“Halt!” said Eston, raising his hand. The figures stopped and emitted strange, brass-like rumbles. Each of the beasts had two eyes that glistened with a sparkling light. Looking into their eyes, he felt his body transported back into a memory of when he had first seen Silverbrook’s creations, just a few days after the battle of Aunestauna when he accompanied his brother and father into Silverbrook’s chamber beneath the Palace.
Eston reached his hand forward to the wall of glowing Taurimous. The low rumblings of the monsters could be heard inside of the barrier. King Tronum and Prince Fillian stood back in fear, not knowing what would happen.
Eston continued reaching forward with a trembling hand until he touched the wall of light with the tip of his finger. With the contact, and electric shock ran through his body, and in an instant, all of the walls of Taurimous in the room cracked and shattered, sending shards falling forty feet down on Eston, Tronum, and Fillian.
From the light still glowing on the floor, the three of them could see four enormous shapes moving out of their chambers. The room filled with rumbling roars that shook the walls of stone. Eston stumbled back and put his hands up, and the terrible beasts before them stopped.
Tronum looked to Eston. “How did you do that?”
Eston shook his head. “I don’t know . . . but-”
“What?” said Fillian.
Eston stared deep into the monsters. “I- I can hear their thoughts . . . they- they’re asking what I wish them to do.”
Fillian stepped back from the enormous figures. “They must be loyal to the one who sets them free.”
Tronum nodded. “Three of them will go with Eston to Endlebarr to meet the fifth that escaped. The fourth will stay with me to prot
ect Aunestauna.”
Eston jumped as he felt thrown back into reality. Remarkable, he thought every time that the beasts used their eyes to show him memories. He spoke to the three beasts, who could not answer him. “Why did you show that memory to me again?” There was silence. “Why!” Eston yelled and got nothing but a low rumble in return. Each of the beast’s eyes seemed to be able to infiltrate his mind and transport him into a memory, but he did not know why. Eston’s mind flashed to a summer forest canopy, when he first saw the fifth monster as Tayben. Big black claws tearing through a log he hid in was all he remembered, followed by the feeling of near paralysis. Why was I the only Phantom not completely paralyzed by the beast?
A knock on the door of the chamber made him jump. A guard from outside asked if Eston was alright. Eston kept his eyes on the three beasts. “Yes, I’m just taking my time.” he said, still wondering how they were going to use these three to get the fifth one whose nest was right outside Camp Stoneheart, the reason for the camp’s location. Some years ago, a Ferramish general had encountered the beast in the forest and reported the experience back to King Tronum, who knew exactly what it was and authorized the construction of Camp Stoneheart to watch over it.
Trying to come up with a rational plan to prepare the camp for an attack tonight that only he knew would come, Eston settled on the only thing that wouldn’t prompt further questioning from the generals. Eston raised his hand and commanded the beasts to retreat back into the darkness of the chamber as he exited through the door and back out in the dark, autumn forest.
“Your Majesty,” said one of the guards outside the door, “how are the beasts?”
Eston sighed. “They’re trying to tell me something . . .” Eston looked around at the dark and unnerving forest that felt like it was hiding something in its fog. Eston turned to all the guards. “Do you each swear your loyalty to me?”
“Of course, Your Majesty.” they all said.
Eston looked out into the forest. “The camp is going to be attacked tonight by elite Cerebrian forces. I cannot yet explain how I know this; but I am asking you to report to the generals that you have seen Cerebrian troops in the area, preparing to attack. This will allow me to prepare the camp for battle.” The guards stood silently. “You will do this for me, yes?” Eston commanded.
The guards all spoke up. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
“Say you saw Cerebrians but that they got away on their horses before we could apprehend them. In twenty minutes’ time, sprint to the Generals’ Quarters and warn them.”
The guards bowed, a little nervous. “Yes, Your Majesty.”
One guard remained standing and spoke, “Your Majesty, I don’t know if I can lie to my generals.”
Eston walked forward. “What’s your name, sir?”
“Evlent, Your Majesty.” said the guard.
Eston placed his hand on the man’s shoulder and nodded. “I know it’s hard . . . but you have to trust me. It’s the only way we’re going to win this war.”
The guard nodded and bowed, and Eston walked the long way back to the camp and to the Generals’ Quarters, where he waited to see if the guards did as he told them to.
Eston sat in the large room with the generals, discussing supplies. Just when Eston began to think the guards had failed him, a knock sounded on the door, and four of the guards came bursting in. Eston tried to act surprised and worried, but could barely stop himself from smiling. The guards’ faces were perfectly scared. All the generals in the room stood up.
“What’s the meaning of this soldiers?” yelled a general. “Barging in here!”
The guards all began to talk over each other, breathlessly explaining their lie about Cerebrian troops.
Once they finished, the officers stood still and Eston spoke up. “We must prepare Camp Stoneheart for battle at once.” The generals looked to each other and agreed. Eston raised his hand, “Soldiers, you are dismissed.” he smiled at them as they left and turned to the generals. “Tell your men to prepare for war.” He turned to a messenger in the corner of the room. “Sound the bells.”
~Later that Night
A man with a bright red war sash ran up to Eston. “Your Majesty! Cavalry on the northern flank is armed and ready!” Night had fallen, and the camp of thousands of soldiers was illuminated by torchlight. The camp rang out with the sheathing of swords and saddle buckles being clipped around horses.
Eston nodded. “Thank you. How many archers do we have on the northern gate?”
“Somewhere around fifty.”
Eston dismissed the man and nodded again, but to himself, trying to think about how to best prepare the camp. Every soldier thought that a Cerebrian battalion was coming with horses and swords. Nobody but Eston knew that the attack would come from Xandria’s Phantoms. How can we even try to beat the Phantoms? His mind flashed to his memory of the battle to come that he witnessed through the eyes of Tayben. He remembered fighting himself — seeing Eston rip off his helmet after stabbing him the foot. Can I avoid it? His mind flashed back to the battle at the Great Gate, when he fought himself as Calleneck and Tayben. I couldn’t stop it from happening then . . . can I now?
“Prince Eston!” a call from his side grabbed his attention. A general beckoned him, and Eston walked over. “They’re ready for you by the east training grounds.” Eston thanked the general and walked to meet the battalion that was waiting for him.
Eston stood in his scarlet armor and helmet before hundreds of troops in formation. The cold, wet fog around them threatened to put out the fires of the torches that illuminated the camp. Eston looked at the faces of the men, most around his age. “Ferrs!” Eston projected his voice across the grounds where the troops stood. “Your country needs you to make a stand today . . . a stand against tyranny.” The troops remained silent. Eston raised his voice louder. “Most of you know what it’s like to stand by your brothers and watch them die. Most of you know the pain and, most importantly, the fear of being surrounded by death.” Eston paused and looked at the faces of his men again. “But the only thing stopping us from marching through this forest and onto the steps of Xandria’s fortress in Seirnkov is that fear . . . When we conquer the fear, we will defeat Xandria!”
Far above him, a branch snapped and went falling a hundred feet down to the forest not two feet behind Eston. Immediately, he remembered stepping on that branch as Tayben up in the canopy. Eston picked up the branch and looked to the canopy just in time to see the black blurr of the Phantoms before they disappeared into the night.
Eston turned to his men, who were all looking up to see where the branch had fallen from. The Prince shouted out, “Defense formation!”
In unison, the hundreds of soldiers unsheathed their swords and held them to their chests. Eston’s heart began to beat uncontrollably. Clear your mind, damn it! Eston lifted his word. “Third rank surround the stables! Fifth rank face north! Men in the center of the blocks, I want your eyes on the trees! They’ll be attacking from above if they can!” Eston ran to the front of another section of the battalion. “First rank, Parusean formation!” The troops all responded by creating a semicircle facing outward to bend with the stream that coursed through the grounds.
Eston looked around. “Where is my courier!?” A boy not older than sixteen ran up to Eston and saluted. Eston put a hand on the boy’s shoulder. “South barracks, I want General Noppton to order forty more archers on the watchtower. Have him cut the ropes that help hold the watchtower steady. The enemy could try and climb them to shoot at us from the towers. Go!” The boy saluted again and sprinted off into the camp.
The forest grew quiet, and soon, the only sound came from the occasional insect chirp and the crackle of the torches. Another young boy brought a black horse over to Eston and handed him the reins. Eston thanked him and mounted the horse, feeling her strong back muscles twitch in anticipation. The temperature of the air dropped slightly, and horses in the distance began to kick and whinny. “Hold formation!” The fog aro
und them began to swirl and Eston unsheathed his glistening royal sword engraved with an E. “Weapons at the ready!” he shouted. “Soldiers in the middle keep your eyes up! Eyes up! Eyes up!” The nearest torches all went out. “Eyes up, men!” Sixteen black shadows shot out of the trees from all directions. “Archers fire!”
A volley of two dozen arrows shot through the air at the Phantoms. The shadows landed on the ground throughout the platoon and a deafening sound of sword clashes and yelling broke out. An arrow whizzed past Eston’s ear and he snapped the reins of the horse, rocketing toward another courier. “The distress horn! Now!” The courier sprinted to the nearest horn, signaling where the fight had begun. Another arrow whizzed past Eston and barely missed the young courier. Eston drove his horse into the fray, jumping over the corpses of some of his troops.
A shadow blurred past Eston, who could barely make out the face of the Phantom General Lekshane. Eston slashed his glimmering sword and missed him. The Phantom General sprang up and over Eston, who ducked right below his sword. Eston yanked sideways on his horse’s reins; the horse kicked the Phantom as he landed on the other side of him and tumbled to the ground. A Ferramish soldier stabbed down at the Phantom General, but the General caught his arm and ripped the sword out of the soldier’s hand. Jumping up, Lekshane stabbed the soldier and threw the sword like a spear at Eston, who raised his shield. The sword embedded itself in the shield and an inch into Eston’s arm. He cried out in pain from the blow as Lekshane pounced on Eston and his horse with a dagger. Eston swung the shield with the sword still in it and rammed the handle into the side of the Phantom’s head, knocking him down.
Eston frantically looked around at the battle and tore the sword out of his shield. His battalion was being obliterated. The distress bells were ringing. Eston scanned what troops he had left and spotted a large cluster of about fifty men to his left. “Form a Parusean, Parusean!” he screamed, and the men fought their way into a tighter formation. Off in the distance, Eston heard the rumble of hooves pounding toward them. “Clear the center!” Eston yelled as a hundred Ferramish cavalry emerged out of the fog, headed full speed toward the Phantoms.
