by J C Maynard
Lekshane looked like a hawk into Gallien’s eyes. “The damage is done? . . . yes, by you who refused to track him down.”
Gallien’s face turned purple as he tried to breathe.
General Lekshane whispered to Gallien, “Our forces will meet the Ferrs in no more than an hour . . . by the time the night has fallen, either you or Tayben will be dead. Understand?”
Gallien frantically nodded and Lekshane released his grip on Gallien’s throat. Gallien fell to his knees and gasped on the branch. A battle horn blared . . . the Ferrs.
◆◆◆
Tayben stood beside Prince Fillian as their army’s horn sounded, followed by a higher pitched Cerebrian horn not far in the distance. Fernox stood with his wings out behind Prince Fillian. Thousands of Ferramish footmen, archers, calvary, and pikemen stood in ranks beneath the red and brown forest canopy, unable to see far into the ever-present fog of the forest. Tayben had told Prince Fillian everything about the last month — Silverbrook, Fernox, the beasts, the Phantoms, everything except for the fact that he was indeed Fillian’s brother.
Prince Fillian took a deep breath. “Tayben,” he said. “Can I trust you?”
Tayben nodded. “Like you’d trust a brother.” His heart felt heavy for Fillian. He couldn’t tell him that his brother was still here, still alive inside him. I’m Eston, Fillian. I’m Eston.
Prince Fillian nodded and looked far behind them, where three of Silverbrook’s giant beasts stood — a glistening winged dragon of ice, a giant with enormous limbs and body of roots, vines, and leaves, and a monster of fire and stone seeminging to spawn straight from hell itself. “These soldiers, Phantoms, they’re disabled by Silverbrook’s monsters?”
Tayben nodded. “Correct. I believe the monsters could kill them too. But Phantoms are nearly impossible to locate or fight.”
Prince Fillian looked concerned. “Then how are we supposed to set our beasts on them?”
Tayben took a deep breath in as another Ferramish horn sounded, and a Cerebrian horn responded, getting close. “The Phantoms will try and find me. Once they do, that’s when you’ll set them loose. Silverbrook said her beasts would be drawn to the Phantoms and fight them. They can sense the magic the Phantom’s hold.”
Prince Fillian nodded and thanked Tayben. The Ferramish horn sounded once more, but there was no response. The whole of the Ferramish army went silent, listening. The forest was quiet, save for the whinnying of horses. Tayben’s heart raced when a flock of black birds in the distance took off, screeching.
Prince Fillian spoke. “They’re here . . . this is it.” He turned to his generals and nodded. The generals gave signals to their platoons, who silently raised their swords and bows.
From the canopy above, a soft pattering grew louder, as frozen rain began to drizzle down, clinking against the armor of the soldiers. In the fog, a deep rumbling noise grew. Tayben’s heart pounded . . . cavalry.
The thundering of Cerebrian horses shook the forest floor. Prince Fillian climbed up onto his horse and yelled out, “Pikemen! Form in front! Archers at the ready! Soldiers of this kingdom, this is your day! This is Ferramoor’s day! May the Great Mother preserve our nation!”
The rumbling grew closer, and the horses with Cerebrian soldiers appeared out of the fog — two hundred across. Tayben turned to Fernox, whose white fur glistened in the drizzling rain. Tayben put his hand on Fernox’s head, “Don’t come after me unless I call for you.”
Prince Fillian called out, “Pikemen defense position! Shields up! Archers string your bows! Hold!” The Cerebrian cavalry charged forward. “HOLD!” The archers’ bows were strung. “FIRE!” Three hundred arrows were loosed over the pikemen and into the cavalry ahead, knocking dozens of horses to the ground. The Cerebrian cavalry covered the remaining ground and slammed into the front line of pikemen, and the Ferrs sprang forward into the Cerebrians, shooting, slashing, stabbing. From the fog ahead, hundreds of Cerebrian archers shot at the Ferrs.
Tayben grabbed his shield and held it over his head. An arrow punched itself an inch into the shield just over Tayben’s hand. Tayben ran forward into the bloody spray of soldiers and horses. Slashing up at Cerebrian men on horses and jabbing his spear into Cerebrian foot soldiers, Tayben jumped over the corpses of Ferrs. An arrow whizzed past his ear through the frozen rain as he blocked a sword swipe from a young Cerebrian. Tayben yelled and kicked the Cerebrian to the ground, stabbing him. Tayben threw his spear into a Cerebrian on a horse and knocked him off. Jumping onto the horse and grabbing the reins, he kicked the horse forward, stomping on a row of infantry. Tayben raised his shield to block another volley of arrows. Tayben snapped the reins and rode the horse through the endless mass of Cerebrian and Ferramish soldiers, bashing in the helmet of a Cerebrian he passed. A pikeman stabbed Tayben’s horse, and he flew forward into a tree, knocking the wind out of him.
Tayben struggled to get up, and rolled away before a screaming soldier missed Tayben by inches. Tayben reached for his sword and his stomach dropped — it was ten feet away. The Cerebrian lunged again at Tayben, who grabbed the Cerebrian’s spear and held it above his chest. With his renewed strength from Silverbrook, he snapped the spear in half and drove the splintered piece into the soldier. Running to grab his sword, he ducked below another arrow. As he grabbed his sword and looked up into the freezing rain, he saw a flash of shadow in the trees above him. Phantoms.
Tayben looked back in the direction of Prince Fillian. “Fernox!” he called out. A few seconds after, the winged lion emerged, flying beneath the canopy of trees hundreds of feet up. Fernox dove down to Tayben and landed beside him. Tayben climbed on Fernox’s back. “The Phantoms are here, send a message to Miss Silverbrook’s beasts. Fly me up to the trees.”
Fernox roared and sprung up, carrying Tayben up and over the battle to a massive branch a hundred feet up. Fernox landed and Tayben hopped off. “Are the beasts on their way?”
Fernox pulled Tayben’s soul into his eyes and mind, where Tayben felt the presence of an answer, Yes. Tayben jolted back into the real world. “Are the Phantom’s ne-”
Before Tayben needed an answer, he felt the uncomfortable chilling presence that he did in the forest so many months ago as part of the Cerebrian army. Tayben turned around to see fifteen Phantoms throughout the canopy with swords raised and bows drawn. General Lekshane stepped forward. “Mr. Shae.” he called out to Tayben, who stepped closer to Fernox. General Lekshane raised his arms. “I’m glad we meet again.”
Tayben stood silently with his hand on his sword. Fernox grumbled, and Tayben felt the presence of three more creatures in the canopy. Tayben looked behind him to see three of Silverbrook’s bone chilling monsters waiting in the canopy, ready to pounce on the shadows. The Phantoms felt their senses dulled by the power of the beasts.
Lekshane stepped forward on the branch the size of a bridge, and hesitated when he saw Fernox. “That’s the wretched animal that stopped me from delivering the final blow to King Tronum . . . I could’ve stopped this war altogether right then.”
Tayben realized that Lekshane was the Phantom who failed to kill his real father — King Tronum.
“But I see you have also brought the creatures of hell to fight alongside you.” said General Lekshane.
Tayben turned to Fernox. “Go, protect yourself.”
Fernox nodded his massive head, and sprang off the tree branch, and glided out of sight into the soft, drizzling rain.
Tayben turned to Lekshane, who continued to walk toward Tayben. “All of you to fight us?” Tayben said, feeling reassured by Silverbrook’s beasts behind him.
Lekshane shook his head. “One on one will suffice.”
Tayben raised his sword. “Then what are you waiting for?”
Lekshane laughed. “You misunderstand.” Lekshane turned toward the Phantoms and signaled one forward. The Phantom removed his hood, and Tayben stared into the eyes of Gallien.
Tayben’s stomach twisted. “Gallien.” he said.
&n
bsp; “Tayben.” responded Gallien, the color drained from his face.
Lekshane smiled and walked back, allowing Gallien to walk up to Tayben.
A tear streamed down Gallien’s face as he stood in front of Tayben. “Tayben- I- They’ll kill me . . . I have to.”
Tayben whispered, “I know.”
Gallien raised his sword to meet Tayben’s. Neither of them moved, but stood there in silence. Tayben’s mind flashed back to fighting alongside Gallien. I can’t do this.
Lekshane screamed out, “NOW!”
Gallien lunged forward and Tayben swiped his sword away. The sound of metal clashing rang out, and three monstrous growls thundered behind Tayben. In a flash, the monsters sprang at the other Phantoms. Tayben swiped at Gallien’s side, who ducked below the blade and stabbed at Tayben’s feet. Tayben lunged aside across the branch as a monster flew past him tearing its claws at another Phantom. Gallien jumped up and brought his sword down on Tayben, who dodged to the side. Gallien’s sword embedded itself into the branch and Tayben kicked Gallien back, grabbing Gallien’s sword. Tayben held up the two swords, and Gallien dove at Tayben’s legs, knocking him down. Tayebn could tell that Gallien had lost some of the nymphs’ power, he wasn’t as fast and strong as before.
The monsters roared around them as they tore at the Phantoms. Gallien flipped and wrenched his sword out of Tayben’s hands and bashed it into Tayben’s side. Tayben yelled out and threw Gallien over him, stood to his feet, and slashed at Gallien, who knocked aside the blow and kicked Tayben in the chest.
Tayben stumbled back and slipped off the wet bark, falling twenty feet down to another branch below. Landing with a thud, Tayben used all his strength to stand as Gallien jumped down. Their clothes and armor were soaked from the freezing rain.
Gallien lunged at Tayben, who knocked his sword to the side. Tayben bashed the hilt of his sword into Gallien’s head, knocking him over. Gallien cried out in pain and grabbed Tayben’s cloak, pulling him to the branch beside him, and elbowed his ribs. Gallien sprang over Tayben and swung down his sword, but Tayben diverted the blow and jumped up, meeting Gallien’s blade again. Tayben slashed again and again, pushing Gallien back. But Gallien locked his sword with Tayben’s and held it there.
Tayben leaned into the locked swords, his face inches from Gallien’s. He looked into Gallien’s eyes and pushed his sword into his, but neither could push harder. A tear slid down Tayben’s grimacing face. Gallien’s feet began to slip on the wet branch. Tayben leaned further, and Gallien’s feet slipped more.
Gallien looked Tayben in the eye and said the words that Tayben knew were coming. “I should’ve followed you when you left the Phantoms . . .”
In a last hope movement, Gallien twisted his blade, knocking Tayben’s aside and jabbed the blade through Tayben’s abdomen.
Shock spread through Tayben, as he looked down to see Gallien’s sword stabbed through his body. Blood began to soak through his cloak and armor. Gallien stood in horror, pale-faced at the sight of his best friend’s gushing blood.
Tayben fell to the branch and lay there coughing up spurts of blood. Gallien fell to his knees beside Tayben and began to cry. “I’m sorry.”
Tayben lost all feeling and convulsed coughing up more blood. Gallien put his hand on Tayben’s face and screamed out curses.
Fear spread through Tayben as he grabbed onto Gallien’s arm. Tayben tried to speak through the blood that bubbled in his throat, but he just coughed up more blood onto Gallien’s hand and began to shake horribly. A pool of blood formed around him, and rain fell onto his pale face.
Gallien shook his head. “You had the courage to do what I couldn’t . . . I should have followed you . . .”
As his vision began to close and his body began to shut down, Tayben summoned the remaining strength left in his body to push out just a few words. “Gallien . . . have the courage to be loyal to your heart . . . nothing else matters.”
Slowly, his mind went blank as he stared up into the forest canopy. Tayben convulsed again and struggled to breathe. His body was shutting down. The red and gold leaves overhead became blurry and bright as freezing rain drizzled down on his body. The sound of birds and drops of water pattering on leaves calmed him as he felt his soul slipping out of his body. Light filled his vision and covered Gallien’s face and the leaves overhead until every single one disappeared. Distant swords clashed out, and then there was silence.
The Last Days of War
Chapter Forty Two
~Afternoon, February 24th
Calleneck and Dalah walked side by side on a dirt pathway through the tall pine forests of central Cerebria. After the battle at Port Dellock, Sir Beshk and Sir Borius had completely sealed the entrances to the Network throughout Cerebria — except for Seirnkov — afraid that the soldiers who saw the Evertauri escape had notified the government. If Xandria had a sorcerer — or sorceress — the Network could be breached. So the Bernoils had made their way up through Cerebria without the benefit of the Network, stopping by an Evertauri-loyal farmer near the fjords for packs and supplies.
Dalah stepped over a puddle of sloshy mud and dirt, but her boots were already wet with snow and speckled with mud. Calleneck looked around the evergreen forest as they walked, trying to match the streams he saw with the streams on his map.
Dalah adjusted the leather straps over her shoulders. “Do you think the Evertauri have sent anyone to look for us?” she asked Calleneck. “Aunika is probably worried.”
“I think it’s more likely that we’re on our own.” said Calleneck. The two of them walked up a slope on the forest trail. Patches of snow lined the sides, but some of the plants were still green. “We should be coming up to a junction between this trail and the main road.” said Calleneck.
“Which do you want to take?” asked Dalah.
“I’m not sure yet . . .” Calleneck’s stomach grumbled, but he knew he had to ration the food. “Will you be fine waiting for dusk till we finish off the bread?” he asked Dalah.
She nodded. “I’ll be alright.”
At the same moment, Calleneck and Dalah stopped in their tracks. Just twenty yards ahead was the main road, but stopped on it sat a series of carts and carriages — a Cerebrian war supply train. Dozens of Cerebrian Guards in dark green and silver armor loaded huge boxes from one train to another.
The Bernoils ducked behind a fallen tree trunk and listened intently to the Guards.
“These crates are all going to Seirnkov . . .” said one.
“Nothin’ else is getting in.” said another. “Whole city is blocked off to civilians trying to get in. They’re only lettin’ people out.”
Calleneck looked at Dalah, who had the same idea as him. This could be their only way into the city. Calleneck quickly whispered a plan to Dalah, and then they quietly made their way towards the main road. Before jumping out into the open dirt road, they hid beneath the cover of the bushes that lined it. Needing a distraction, Calleneck raised his hand a shot a little burst of sparks across the road behind the soldiers, breaking a large branch off a tree.
The Guards all turned to the other side. One ordered, “Go check out what that was.”
While the Guards’ attention was focused on the sound, Calleneck and Dalah ran up next to the crate being loaded, and used their Taurimous to create an illusion around them of a large wooden box. Surrounding themselves with fake planks of wood, they sat silently, listening to the muffled sound of the soldiers around them.
Before long, a soldier tapped on their box, shouting to another. “We’ve got one more right here!”
Several troops walked over and heaved the crate carrying the Bernoils up onto a wagon. On the inside, Calleneck and Dalah held their breath, hoping for their success. After another minute, they felt the wagon lurch forward carrying them in their crate toward Seirnkov.
◆◆◆
King Tronum sat silently at a great oak desk in his dark study. A fireplace lit the room, illuminating the hundreds of books
and scrolls along the walls, and the overcast, snowy sky filtered in a soft gray light through the window. The faint crackling and popping of the burning wood in the fireplace was the only sound.
Tronum’s eyes were focused down at his shaking hands, where he held a silver and gold ring, vainly trying to roll it across the tops of his fingertips like he used to. A knock on the door caused his heart to jump and the ring to drop onto his lap.
The King slid the perfectly crafted ring back onto his left hand. “Come in.” he called out.
Slowly, a Guard opened the door and Qerru-Mai An’drui stepped through. Her eyes looked heavy and tired, but her chestnut skin glowed bright in the firelight. “Your Majesty,” she said and gave a slight bow.
King Tronum nodded in return. “Have you news of the campaign in Endlebarr?”
Qerru-Mai stepped forward, taking out a letter from her coat pocket. “I received this from your son.” She walked up to Tronum’s desk and extended the letter.
“Just put it on the desk.” said Tronum, whose hands still slightly shook.
Qerru-Mai placed down the letter and continued. “Fillian says that four of our regiments — tens of thousands of troops — engaged with a Cerebrian force of roughly the same size. We won and drove them back, but we also suffered heavy casualties.”
“How many?” asked Tronum.
“Between ten and fifteen thousand.”
Tronum’s stomach lurched, and a wave of cold rushed through his blood. He shook his head without words. So much death . . . thousands of young men’s corpses on the far side of the mountains. The King thought for a moment. “The beasts?”
“They’re in good condition.” said Qerru-Mai. “They engaged with Xandria’s special forces unit and caused its retreat, but there were no Cerebrian casualties there.”
King Tronum stared over at the crackling fireplace. The sound of popping wood filled otherwise silent room.
