Fortress of Radiance

by Marc Alan Edelheit

  Karus looked up and saw that the wyrm that had been working its way down the tree was on fire, and burning fiercely. There was a flash of red above the tree canopy, following after the second wyrm that was attempting to flee and flapping its wings madly. A jet of flame blasted over it. The wyrm trailed fire as it flew out of view, with Cyln’phax following close behind.

  Karus saw Kordem hovering overhead, just above the burning wyrm. The dragon breathed another long jet of fire down upon the wyrm, which screamed horribly in reply. Burning, the wyrm extended its wings in the tree canopy and began to beat at the air, knocking branches and leaves and bits of wood down to the ground below, which landed amongst the combatants. A large branch, the width of a full-grown oak, slammed down on top of an orc.

  The wyrm was trying to gain altitude, to free itself from the thick branches it had climbed down into. The wyrm was succeeding, but at the same time it was burning fiercely. Karus could smell the stench of burning flesh strong on the air. The tree above them was on fire as well. Then the wyrm cleared the tree, but just as it did, Kordem struck with claws and teeth. He tore into the stricken wyrm with a fury. The wyrm gave an agonized cry as one of Kordem’s claws ripped apart its right wing.

  Stuck in Kordem’s grip, the wyrm snaked its head around and opened its mouth with the clear intention to breathe fire upon the other dragon. Before it could, Kordem’s jaws clamped firmly down upon its neck and bit deeply. He shook the wyrm’s neck, like a dog with a rat. Down below, Karus could hear the rending of flesh and snapping of bones as the neck broke. It sounded like a tree cracking in two. The wyrm went limp. Kordem carried his kill away, up into the air and out of sight. A few moments later, Karus could hear the wyrm’s body crashing through the trees, somewhere out of view.

  It was suddenly quiet. Karus glanced around. The fighting was over. All of the orcs were dead. Two of the elven warriors in black approached, their swords out and coated both in red and green blood. One of them held up a hand, as if he meant no harm.

  “We are friends,” the elf said in Common. “Sword-Bearer, we are here to protect you.”

  The elf made a show of slowly sheathing his bloodied sword. The other did the same, but did not look happy about doing it. He clearly did not want to dirty his scabbard with blood.

  “You bear Rarokan,” the same elf said, gesturing toward Karus’s sword. He took a step nearer and held up his palms toward Karus. “We mean you no harm.”

  Karus gave a weary nod of understanding, and the two elves turned their gazes outward toward where the remainder of the elves were checking the wounded, including the orcs. They moved amongst them, searching for the living and swiftly killing any enemy that still breathed. In the distance, Karus heard the cry of dragons and knew that Kordem and Cyln’phax were chasing after the last remaining wyrms. He hoped they caught and killed them.

  Karus suddenly felt extremely weary, a deep tiredness coming over him. The fighting was over. He had once again beaten the odds. Fortuna had been kind. He heard a sob behind him. A few feet away, Amarra was hovering over Tal’Thor, Si’Cara at his side. Well, Fortuna had been kind to some. He stepped over to them. Tal’Thor did not look good. He bled from multiple places and one of his legs was twisted at an unnatural angle.

  “How is he?” Karus asked.

  “His injuries are grave,” Amarra said, “but I sense he can be healed.”

  “Please, mistress,” Si’Cara begged, tears running down her cheeks. “Please heal him.”

  “After what he did to you,” Amarra asked, “you still want him?”

  “We both had sworn soul oaths to the warden,” Si’Cara said. “It is no small thing. Still, never did I think she would order something so foul.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I might have done to him what he did to me … had the warden ordered it. The thought of it makes me cringe.” Si’Cara gave a sob. “The warden betrayed the blood oath that day, freeing us both to offer our services, to go with you as companions.”

  Amarra said nothing, but continued to stare at Si’Cara, searching her face. Tears rolled down the elf’s cheeks, falling onto the ground.

  “I love him.” Si’Cara gave another wrenching sob. “I love him terribly. Doesn’t the High Father teach forgiveness?”

  “He does,” Amarra said softly.

  “Do you think he can forgive us both?”

  “I do,” Amarra whispered and held a hand out to Si’Cara’s cheek. “And he will.”

  “You can save him, then?” Karus asked hopefully.

  Amarra looked up at him and gave a nod. “I believe so. This will take time. Do not disturb me.”

  “Thank you, mistress,” Si’Cara said.

  “Thank the High Father.”

  “I will, mistress.”

  “High Father.” Amarra bent her head over Tal’Thor and laid her hand upon his chest. “This one has sinned terribly. Despite all that he has done, I feel he is worthy of your blessing and redemption. Guide him along the path of forgiveness and rebirth in faith. I ask that you show him your love. Kindly share your healing touch, for I sense he is good at heart.”

  The staff flared with light, driving back the gloom of the forest. Karus stood there and watched. Nothing immediately happened. Si’Cara was kneeling beside Tal’Thor, holding his hand, her head bowed and seemingly in prayer. She looked up after a time and gasped, staring at the elf standing next to Karus.

  “Kol …” Her mouth opened and closed, but nothing more came out.

  The black-clad elf who had spoken to Karus earlier gave his sister a pleased nod. He said something to her in their own language. Fresh tears sprang to her eyes as she replied before reluctantly turning back to her husband.

  Kol’Cara was tall, blond-haired, and whipcord thin. His face would have been fair, had it not been marred by an ugly scar running from his temple to his jaw on the left side of his face. He had what seemed like an easy manner and a swagger that marked him as a natural and confident leader.

  “I guess we found the Warriors of Anagradoom.”

  Karus looked over to find Dennig. The dwarf’s tunic was coated in both green and red blood. His wild beard was stained green and he had a chunk of hair missing. The bald patch bled. It had been ripped out. He also had a shallow cut upon his left cheek but beyond that seemed whole and well. He was leaning upon his axe.

  “I guess so,” Karus said and glanced around. To his surprise, he found most of the elves gathered around them, watching Amarra heal Tal’Thor.

  “It is an honor to finally meet you,” Kol’Cara said to Karus. “Perhaps we should step away to talk, for I would not want to disturb the healing process.”

  The crowd of elves parted, drawing back. As he passed, most bowed respectfully, which was a surprise. Whether it was for him or Kol’Cara, Karus did not know.

  “My warriors and I have dedicated ourselves to your protection,” Kol’Cara said, once they had passed through the crowd and stepped beyond several yards.

  Karus glanced over the remains of the fight. Bodies were seemingly everywhere, elves and orcs. The dead wyrm lay limp, a lifeless mound. The corpse still burned, as did part of the great tree next to it. Shattered limbs and branches lay all around the dread creature.

  Kol’Cara gazed upon the remains of the field of battle with a saddened expression. “So many elves lost for a dark and unholy ambition. This day will be remembered amongst our kind with terrible sadness. It pains me that I was involved in the death of my kin.”

  “I thought your job was to guard the sword,” Karus said.

  “No,” Kol’Cara replied. “You have that wrong. Long before you came to this world, we swore an oath to serve you.”

  “Serve me?” Karus said. “What does that mean exactly?”

  “We have been waiting for you, Lucius Grackus Lisidius Karus,” Kol’Cara said and fell to a knee.

  Karus wondered how Kol’Cara knew his full name.

  “The High Master of Obsidian asked of us to put aside our lives,” Kol’C
ara continued, “and leave our families for a greater purpose. We sacrificed for the common good, to wait until the sword was claimed by its rightful heir.” The elf pointed at Karus. “That is you. We are here to serve you to the best of our ability, to protect and help you discharge the mission our god gave you.” Kol’Cara paused. “Karus, revered son of the High Father, will you accept the Warriors of Anagradoom into your service?”

  Karus glanced around. Dennig had come up, as had several of the other elves. Those who had recently supported the warden looked on impassively. Karus counted twelve elven warriors clad in black, like Kol’Cara.

  “You wanted allies?” Dennig said. “This is an extraordinary offer. Were I in your position, I’d not pass this up.”

  Karus rubbed his jaw. As Dennig had said, it was indeed too good an offer to pass up. He’d be a fool to do so. Still, something was bothering Karus, warning him to tread carefully. It was his gut again, and the feeling was incredibly strong. It took him a moment to realize what it was that bothered him.

  Karus had never much cared for servants and slaves, though he had once owned one. He recalled Amarra accepting Si’Cara and Tal’Thor as companions, instead of taking them into her service. That had happened in the warden’s hall. Then it had occurred again on the hill before the fortress’s gate. Amarra had accepted Si’Cara’s offer of service on the condition that she serve only as long as she desired. No, that was not quite right. Now that he thought about it, the acceptance of service had been conditional … until Si’Cara felt called to do something else. In essence, Amarra had made the ranger a willing ally instead of a sworn servant. He turned his gaze back to Kol’Cara.

  Elves were a proud people. They also considered themselves superior to all other beings. If Karus took Kol’Cara and the rest of the Anagradoom into his service, they might ultimately resent having to serve a lowly human. It might also create hard feelings amongst the rest of the elves. Karus badly needed allies. The arrival of the Horde only reinforced his feeling. He made his decision.

  “I will accept you as an ally,” Karus said, stepping forward and pulling the elf back to his feet by an arm, “but never as a servant. I also do not require you to kneel to me, ever. We Romans don’t kneel, even for our emperor. Will you join me as an ally? Will you fight by my side against the Horde and in the name of the High Father? I would count it a great honor.”

  Kol’Cara flashed him a broad grin that was tinged with what Karus thought might be relief.

  “And so, you pass the final test set by the High Master,” Kol’Cara said. “It was one that could not be overcome by magic, but by character … just as was intended. You have freed the Anagradoom to fight alongside you … as allies.”

  Karus offered his arm, which Kol’Cara clasped firmly. The Warriors of Anagradoom gave up a cheer.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Karus and Dennig stood side by side. It was morning on the day following the battle in the forest. They were a short way up the slope of the hill that climbed to the fortress, forty yards above the camp. Their departure from this cursed place had been delayed to give Tal’Thor and two other elves the opportunity to rest after the healing they had received from Amarra. Karus had not wanted to stay, but she had insisted, before falling into a deep sleep herself. And so, despite Karus’s better judgment, they had remained the night.

  Amarra and the healed elves had finally stirred and awoken with the rising of the first sun. Again, Karus was frustrated by another delay. Amarra had wanted to speak with all of the elves. She had stated it was important that they be given the opportunity to return to the High Father. And so, they had yet to leave.

  The two dragons were below, resting for the journey to come. They also had been impatient to leave. Cyln’phax had a number of slashing injuries that raked along her right side. A great many of her armored scales had been torn away. Reddish black blood seeped down her flank and into the long grass.

  Cyln’phax had assured Amarra the injuries were not as serious as they appeared and would heal soon enough. Apparently, the dragons possessed some natural ability that allowed them to heal rapidly. As if in proof of that assertion, overnight some of her wounds had ceased bleeding and grown a fresh membrane of pink skin. Kordem had told Karus the skin would quickly harden and in a few days new scales would replace the ones that had been ripped away.

  He glanced over at Dennig. Karus had climbed up to this spot because he had initially wanted some space, and it was something to do while he waited. Dennig had joined him a few minutes later. Since then, perhaps half an hour had passed. No words other than a nod had been exchanged. The two silently watched the activity below.

  The surviving rangers and guards had selected a spot one hundred yards to the left, near the base of the hill and just beyond the tree line. They were busy preparing the warden’s body and those of the elves who had fallen. The dead would be cremated. The elves had worked through the evening and into the night, gathering and stacking wood for the funeral fires.

  “Elves believe that once the soul has left the body, all that remains is a shell,” Dennig said, breaking the silence.

  “A shell?” Karus asked.

  “The shell, an empty husk,” Dennig said. “Whatever you want to call it.”

  “I see,” Karus said.

  “They don’t honor the body, but the person who once inhabited it, the soul, if you will,” Dennig continued. “Hence the reason they burn their dead. The soul spark, as they call it, has already traveled onward toward the next plane of existence. They see no need to bury their dead in the ground, constructing a crypt for remembrance or fashioning statues of the recently departed. They honor their dead through memory alone.”

  It made sense in a way, he thought and gave an absent nod as he scratched an itch on his arm. Thankfully, he was free of the blood and grime from the battle. With the Anagradoom as guides, he and Dennig had made a trip to the nearby river before sunset. There they had bathed, washing away the dust from the fortress, along with the blood, dirt, and grime.

  The river had been large and slow-moving, the water ice cold. In a way, it had felt like he had been washing away all that had happened the day before—the killing, the stress, everything. When he’d emerged from the frigid water, skin pink and shivering, Karus felt thoroughly renewed. It also helped that he’d been able to change into his spare tunic. The only thing that would have been better was a Roman bathhouse, a true taste of civilization, and he’d not seen one of those since Eboracum. The baths they had found in Carthum just did not compare to the quality he had known.

  Karus had also managed to clean his armor. The tedious nature of the work had afforded him time to think and relax. Dennig had even found a comb. His hair, for the first time since Karus had met him, was brushed, his beard neatly braided. The dwarf looked presentable and perhaps even a little dignified.

  Refreshed or not, Karus was tired. He had slept well enough, but the last few days had been hard, both physically and mentally. His body ached something fierce. His side was bruised from where the orc had bashed him with the shield. He walked a little gingerly as a result. Bending over to grab something was a chore and needed to be done carefully. The bruise left him feeling sore and reminded him he did not bounce back as quickly as he once had in his youth. Fifteen years ago, he was sure such would not have slowed him down in the slightest.

  “I wish I had been the one to kill that evil witch,” Dennig said regretfully. “What was done to me and my boys …” The dwarf paused. “If anyone ever deserved to die, she did.”

  “I agree with you there,” Karus said with a glance over at Dennig, whose cheeks had flushed. “The warden earned what was coming, that’s for sure.”

  “She murdered my legend guard,” Dennig said. “Six good dvergr. They were fine boys.”

  “I’m sorry,” Karus said, and truly he was, for good soldiers deserved a better end.

  “So am I.” Dennig kicked at a small bush and did nothing more than disturb its branches. �
��When I return, I will owe an explanation to their kin. I fear they will find it lacking.” Dennig expelled a hot breath. “It never gets any easier.”

  “No, it doesn’t. We’re in a profession that sees many fine boys die before their time.”

  “Aye,” Dennig agreed sourly.

  They fell into a silence once again. Karus’s gaze drifted over to the fire. Tal’Thor and Si’Cara sat side by side. They were alone. Si’Cara was leaning her head against his shoulder. With the exception of Kol’Cara, the other elves appeared to be avoiding her. At first, Karus that had thought nothing of it. But then he began noticing how the elves went out of their way to avert their gazes when she passed near. This troubled him somewhat, for in his mind she had done a great service to this world in ending the warden. Apparently, the elves did not see it that way.

  Thunder rumbled off in the distance. Though they had been spared rain overnight, the air had turned even more humid, almost uncomfortably sticky. Karus knew that it was only a matter of time until it began raining in earnest. There was nothing better than rain to drench one’s spirits. Well, that and some mud if you were marching.

  “I don’t suppose”—Dennig looked up at the menacing rain clouds above them—“that you’d consider delaying until the rain passed us by?”

  “I would prefer not,” Karus said. “I’ve been away too long from my legion. Also, the enemy knows that we are here. I fear we have delayed too much as it is …” Karus blew out a stream of air. “No, I do not wish to linger in this place any longer than we have to.”

  Dennig gave a grunt and then a slight shake of his head. “I would never have thought they’d come by flying.”

  “I should have thought of such a possibility,” Karus said.

  “Well, we both didn’t think of it,” Dennig said. “There is one thing I’ve learned over my long years of military service. Do you want to hear it?”

  Karus gave a reluctant nod, wondering what the dwarf was going to say.

  “A leader cannot think of everything. You do your best and then wing it from there. Something’s always bound to cock up your plans.”