Legends Lost Tesnayr

by Nova Rose

  Chapter XIV

  An End to All Things

  King Shealayr held his sword above his head as he trekked up the flowing stream in the aqueduct. Elves and men trailed after him. The strong current impeded their efforts as they waded through the waist deep water.

  His arms tingled as they tired from holding his sword. King Shealayr ignored it. Focused on his goal, he trudged onward against the liquid force. His soaked clothes weighed him down forcing him to summon his reserve strength to move onward.

  Slowly, they moved up the aqueduct and across the city. Above them orcs were unaware of their presence. They trod carefully making certain to not slosh the water and give away their position. Everything depended upon the element of surprise.

  Jenel and her group crept to the abandoned wall. Satisfied no sentry stood guard, she ordered the ladders set up. Men rushed forward leaning the ladders against the stone without making any sound.

  “Quickly,” said Jenel.

  One by one, men climbed the wooden ladders heaving themselves over the top of the wall. Jenel glanced about her keeping careful watch. “Go,” she told Max when he paused momentarily. Once everyone had gone, Jenel pushed her way up the ladder and into the city. She scrambled over the rough stone and looked about her.

  The city seemed strangely quiet despite the chaos at the front gate. Where are the people? Before she had time to dwell on the matter a group of orcs burst from hiding. Jenel lunged to the ground just in time to avoid being struck by an arrow. She rolled over on her back and sat up quickly plunging her sword into the belly of an orc. Mercilessly, she pushed him over the wall.

  Another came straight for her. Jenel readied herself. She sidestepped to her left clipping the orc in the back. The beast whirled around as though it felt no pain. Its red eyes bore into her instilling fear. She stood, frozen. Its red eyes continued to overpower her will as the orc crept toward her.

  Jenel desperately tried to move her limbs. They disobeyed. Closer the red eyed orc came. A wicked sneer crossed its lips as it sensed victory.

  A whoosh swept past Jenel’s ear as a brown blur whapped the orc on the shoulder. Another brown blur struck the beast in the neck. The spell broken, Jenel jumped from her spot in time to see Max whip the orc with his staff again. Repeatedly, the wizard jabbed the beast in the stomach before knocking it to the ground.

  Another red eyed orc approached. It stared into Max’s eyes, but its magic had no effect on the wizard. With a flurry of movement, Max rammed his staff into the creature’s face.

  Another orc charged Jenel from behind. A soldier grasped her and pushed her out of the way before the beast could strike. The man sliced with his blade before thrusting a dagger into the orc’s neck.

  A bloodcurdling cry rose up from below. They looked about them. A swarm of red eyed orcs surrounded them and rushed toward them in a frenzy.

  “Everyone jump!” yelled Max.

  Without question Jenel and her cadre of men plunged the fifteen feet from the top of the wall to the ground below. Pebbles dug into her skin as she crashed onto the hard earth. Max jammed his staff into the ground. A dazzling silver light burst from it spreading over their area of the city destroying everything in its path.

  The light slowly dissipated. Max stood alone surrounded by a pile of dead orcs. “Not bad for an old drunk,” he said.

  Disbelieving what had just happened, Jenel stared at the wizard. She had never witnessed such power. “What were those things?” asked Jenel.

  “The Nὅk’ta,” replied Max. “Tesnayr told me about them before this battle began. They are Galbrok’s reserve forces. They can overpower you by instilling fear. According to Tesnayr, if he is using them, then he must be desperate.”

  “Princess,” said a soldier.

  Jenel turned toward the man.

  “They have locked many of our people in the town hall. The orcs plan to burn them alive.”

  “Follow me,” ordered Jenel as she ran off toward the city square where the town hall was.

  The clinking and clanking of metal tools beat against the stone exterior of the city walls as the dwarves picked the stones apart. The slippery mud made the process difficult. They worked steadily. Bit by bit the bricks came loose.

  “Hurry,” urged King Nalim as the hole in the wall slowly grew.

  They froze as the stamping of feet above them walked past. They watched as a lone man crossed the wall. Nalim nodded his head. A dwarf took careful aim and flung a knife at the guard. The dagger struck the man in the chest.

  “Quickly,” said King Nalim.

  His dwarves returned to their work scraping away the mortar that held the bricks. The more they picked at it, the more easily the stones broke away. Pleased that the hole was wide enough, King Nalim ushered his dwarves through.

  “You know where to go,” he told them.

  Turyn slunk through the dimly lit corridor, his belly gently brushing the floor. He found the door to the prison cell slightly ajar. The cat slipped through the narrow crack squirting under the table. The orc standing guard noticed nothing. Carefully, Turyn crept to a broom in the room. He jumped at it pushing it over before darting back under the table.

  The loud clatter attracted the guard’s attention. Grunting, the orc went over to it. He stooped down and picked up the broom eyeing it with curiosity.

  Seizing his chance, Turyn floated to the top of the table and snatched the key. He pushed himself with his powerful hind legs soaring across the room. Turyn landed with a soft thump. Quickly, the cat ran for the cell Tesnayr was locked in. He pushed the key through uttering a short mrrrp before darting away. Turyn found the guard seated at the table again. He stayed in the shadows as he moved toward the door and into the abandoned hallway.

  Tesnayr heard the mrrrp. He glanced over smiling broadly as his eyes rested upon the key. Silently, he praised Turyn’s ingenuity. Tesnayr scooped up the key. He reached for the pile of lard that sat upon an abandoned plate. Galbrok’s idea of a last meal. Tesnayr rubbed the fat onto the hinges of the cell door. Quietly, he inserted the key into the lock and turned.

  Click!

  Tesnayr pushed the door open and slunk against the wall. Cautiously, he stepped toward the orc standing guard. Tesnayr peeked around the corner. The orc sat in a chair facing him, but had not noticed him. Tesnayr rushed toward the orc tackling him. They rolled across the floor as they struggled.

  Tesnayr landed several punches on the orc’s bloodied face. He hauled the orc to his feet and thrust the beast into the slimy wall. Without wasting a moment, Tesnayr bashed the orc’s face into the stone before finally twisting its neck. The familiar crunch signaled that the orc was dead. He let the body flop to the ground.

  Quickly, Tesnayr snatched his weapons and the horn. He darted into the corridor heading for the stairs. Time to deal with Galbrok.

  Ernayn and the two fairies strode onto the field. They placed themselves in front of the gate ignoring the fighting mass behind them and spread themselves evenly. Ernayn stood in the middle with Serein on one side and Sarwyn on another.

  They chanted in an ancient language. The ground vibrated under their feet as the intensity of their chant grew in volume. With each word they spoke the ground trembled even more violently. Wind swirled around the three women whipping their hair and clothes in every direction. More and more they chanted until the roar of the wind practically hurt their ears.

  All went still. Suddenly, a violent force shot from the three women crashing into front gate of Drynelle. The impact silenced those on the battlefield as they all turned in the direction of the blast.

  Ernayn, Serein, and Sarwyn remained where they were taking stock at what they had done. The gate was gone, disintegrated. Much of the city walls had disappeared. Bits and pieces crumbled to the ground.

  Silence reigned over the field. Men and orcs alike stared at the sorceress and the two fairies with wonderment and fear.

  “I’m sure that got Galbrok’s attention,” said Ernayn.
/>   From his vantage point, Arnin studied the newly made hole in the city wall. He viewed it as an opportunity. “Retreat,” he yelled, remembering the plan.

  A roar went up on the field. It grew with each passing minute. Men ran away from the city entrance over a small rise. They scrambled over the hill as the orcs and niht’anda chased after them sensing victory. The beasts cheered as they crested the small hill only to have their victory ripped away. A line of dragons awaited them.

  Arnin gave the signal. Instantly, his men hugged the ground as waves of flame soared above them slamming into the orcs. Agonized screams filled the area as the orcs floundered helplessly, burning alive. More fire from the dragons caught the orcs in the second charge.

  “Fire!” yelled one orc.

  Spears and arrows flew toward the dragons bouncing off of their bodies. One by one the dragons spread their massive wings. Winds pounded the ground as they beat their strong wings and ascended into the air.

  Hoards of niht’anda escaped to the sky. Selexia was ready for them. She released a deafening cry. Instantly, her dragons shot toward the escaping niht’anda plucking them from the sky with ease.

  “To the city,” yelled Arnin.

  His men jumped to their feet and charged for the gaping hole in the wall. They dashed over the field with renewed fervor. Within minutes they had closed the distance and joined King Telinin and his men as they swarmed into Drynelle.

  King Telinin had watched from his place of concealment as Arnin gave the signal. He hadn’t expected Ernayn or the fairies to do what they did, but did not question it. As the field emptied over the hill, Telinin gave the order. “Now!”

  He and his men burst from their hiding place and raced to the opening. Orcs poured out of the hole toward them. King Telinin had expected this. He snatched a pike from the earth and threw it with all its strength. It poked through an orc’s neck.

  Sarwyn sent an orc flying through the air with the force of her power. Suddenly, a stabbing pain pierced through her back. She reached behind her and felt a wet spot forming. Blood dripped from her hand. Sarwyn collapsed to the ground as her strength left her.

  Serein immediately knelt by her side. Gently, the fairy lifted her sister cradling her. Fear etched her face as the realization that Sarwyn was dying filled her. A shadow surrounded Serein as a change took place within her.

  “Serein,” said Sarwyn, “No.” The fairy’s last words barely escaped her lips before she died.

  The shadow around Serein intensified. Her face changed to a hardened expression as her skin darkened. Within moments, the anger at losing her sister took over. He skin turned grey as her clothes turned black.

  Instantly, Serein leapt to her feet. She forced her hand before her as an immense blast escaped from it tearing through anything in its path. Determinedly, Serein stomped through the fighting mass of people. She grabbed an orc by the neck and twisted its head off. The fairy snatched another and chucked him over the city wall.

  The darkened fairy no longer cared who was friend or foe. Another forceful blast from her hand ripped men and orcs to pieces. One of Telinin’s men tried to stop her. Serein snatched a sword from the ground and rammed it into his middle. She spotted King Telinin. Serein headed straight for him disposing any who got in her way.

  A gold blur raced through the crowd toward the fairy. It stopped directly in front of her spreading its wings wide forcing Serein to stop. She stared at the phoenix blankly as she returned to herself. Slowly, her skin returned to its normal color.

  Serein glanced about at what she had done. She spotted Sarwyn’s dead form on the ground. Stretching her hand toward her sister, Serein uttered words in her language as grass covered Sarwyn’s body. It grew tall, twisting and stretching until it formed a giant tree with luscious green leaves.

  Jenel peeked around a corner to make sure the way was open. Her face bumped into King Nalim who was doing the same thing. “Nalim,” she said startled. “What are you doing here?”

  “Following orders,” said the dwarf king. “Tesnayr knew that Galbrok would have the people rounded up and executed. It is our job to save them.”

  “Good,” said Jenel, “Then you can follow us. That is where we are headed.”

  “I should have known,” muttered King Nalim. He motioned for his dwarves to follow.

  Quietly and swiftly, the combined cadre of men and dwarves raced through the city streets to the town hall. Their boots made barely a sound on the cobbled streets. Jenel held up her hand halting everyone. They hunkered low behind crates of food and half full wagons.

  Orcs stood guard outside the locked building. Jenel spied several of the red eyed orcs as well. She silently cursed. Only Max was able to withstand their hypnotizing magic. “Max,” she said, “They have more of those red eyed creatures.”

  Max peeked around her. He took a quick note of how many there were. Quickly, Max took a cloak from one of the soldiers and wrapped it around himself. “Wait here,” he said.

  The wizard walked toward the building and the orcs guarding it. They allowed him to approach thinking him to be nothing more than an old man. One of them said something in their harsh language. Max hunched over in response. A red eyed orc approached him staring straight into Max’s eyes. It soon became apparent that their magic had no effect on him.

  Max cast off the cloak and jabbed his staff into one of the orcs. He swung around as lighting shot from its ends and sent a red eyed orc flying. He threw his hand in the direction of another. White light escaped his hand destroying the beast.

  Jenel signaled for the others to follow her. She blocked an attack from an orc disarming it quickly before dispatching the creature. Jenel tore through the chaos heading straight for the door of the building.

  “Quickly,” she said.

  King Nalim grasped the timber across the locked door, pried it away, and flung it aside. Jenel opened the doors to revel a mass of frightened people. She stepped through the opening and wasted no time. “Out! All of You!”

  Quickly, the terrified people within the building scrambled over each other to escape their prison. They rushed out into the daylight overwhelming their orc captors. Scattering in all directions, they ran away from their nightmare.

  Jenel plunged her weapon into an orc that tried to sneak up on Max. She looked up and immediately found herself facing a red eyed orc. She felt its magic overpower her will. Max saw her plight. He whacked the beast with his staff before slicing its throat open.

  Gradually, the excitement died down as all of the orcs were killed. Jenel surveyed the carnage. “To the castle,” she said, “All of you.”

  An orc on the watchtower took careful aim with his bow targeting Jenel. He pulled the bowstring back preparing for its release. Suddenly, Quesha appeared before him. She snatched the bow from the orc’s hands and shoved him over the side. Quesha noticed another orc in the second tower aiming at Jenel. She raised the bow, aimed, and fired. Her arrow struck the orc in the neck. She watched dispassionately as the orc clutched its wound and tumbled over the side.

  Galbrok rushed down the corridor with Rybnik by his side. The battle continued to draw closer to where he was. His assured victory had been ripped from him as flying reptilian beasts swooped through the city streets. How did he get such creatures? Disbelief filled Galbrok.

  “Galbrok,” said a messenger running toward him, “They have taken the city.”

  “They are only at the front gate you fool,” spat Galbrok.

  “No,” said the messenger, “They are within the city. Some broke through the wall near the mudflats. Others snuck in through the aqueducts.”

  Galbrok glared at Rybnik. They eyed each other for a moment. A flurry of movement followed as Galbrok ripped out his crooked blade and plunged it into Rybnik’s side before he could react. Rybnik crumpled to the ground.

  “You told me no one could come through there.”

  “I lied,” spat Rybnik.

  “Galbrok,” began the messenger.


  Galbrok silenced him by stabbing the man in the chest. “Out of my way, filth,” he hissed.

  Galbrok tore into the throne room of the castle. Fury guided his movements. How could it have come to this? He stared out the window as the forces of Tesnayr poured into Drynelle destroying his orcs. They even managed to overcome his Nὅk’ta. How could I lose? Tesnayr had never once managed to beat him. And Rybnik. The betrayal cut deep within Galbrok. Never had anyone dared such an act against him.

  He whirled around and stopped cold. A single chess piece sat upon the armrest of the throne; the black knight. Galbrok walked over to it. Carefully, he picked it up studying it. Only one man in the world would put it here. He touched the nick within the chess piece.

  “Maybe I underestimated your understanding of the game,” said Galbrok. He placed the chess piece back on the throne. “It never occurred to me that you meant to be captured.”

  Tesnayr stepped out from behind the tapestry, “Are you admitting a weakness?”

  Galbrok laughed. “You, Tesnayr, were always interesting to me. I killed your family and yet you never succumbed to the grief. Even when I had your brother killed, you managed to escape. I must admit that I was surprised to find you here and fighting for these people.”

  Tesnayr circled Galbrok maintaining his distance.

  “This land is diverse and has proven a challenge to conquer.”

  “Has it now?”

  “You humans are easily taken,” Galbrok continued, “You’re easily swayed. One little whisper casts doubt within your minds. That is why your home is nothing more than a blackened and barren wasteland.”

  “The niht’anda,” said Tesnayr, “How is it you control them?”

  “They are mine,” said Galbrok.

  “They never ravaged your lands?”

  “Oh they did,” replied Galbrok, “But I managed to work out a deal with them. They were created from darkness, and their hearts are as black as my own. They love destruction. As do I. How do you think I managed to destroy your homeland?”

  Tesnayr’s grip tightened on his sword.

  “Did you really think that you and your king were helping me? The land of the orcs has always been dark and barren. I simply used the niht’anda to start a panic in your land. A simple plea from me and your human compassion did the rest.”

  Tesnayr’s face flushed red.

  “Did I anger you? All those times we drank together. All those times we played the game of chess. Not once did you or your king realize that you were being backed into a corner.

  “And now here we are again. Your little rebellion will soon be squashed. You cannot defeat my army. We are too many.”

  “You remember what the first rule of chess is?” Tesnayr eyed Galbrok betraying no emotion. “Dismiss your pride. It is the same in war. The second rule is to never underestimate your opponent. The third: do not become predictable. You have failed on all counts.”

  Galbrok’s smug expression faded.

  “All this,” said Tesnayr, signaling the battle raging outside, “Had nothing to do with taking the city. It was merely my way of getting to you. Despite all your knowledge, you still failed to realize that it was you being backed into a corner.”

  “You have not defeated me.”

  “Where are your guards, Galbrok? Where is the man you trusted most?”

  Enraged, Galbrok charged Tesnayr. Tesnayr dodged. He whirled around in time to block an attack by Galbrok. Sparks flew from their swords as they locked. Galbrok head butted Tesnayr. Momentarily stunned, Tesnayr stepped back losing his grip on his weapon.

  Galbrok seized his chance and stabbed at Tesnayr. His sword sliced through the man’s armor, but did not pierce the skin. Tesnayr grasped Galbrok’s sword arm and bent the wrist backwards while jamming his elbow into Galbrok’s throat. Galbrok staggered backward gasping for air as he clutched his throat.

  Tesnayr charged. He raised his fist and punched Galbrok repeatedly until blood poured from his nose. Tesnayr grabbed his sword again and swung with all his might. Galbrok blocked, punching him in the stomach. Doubled over, Tesnayr dropped his weapon once more. Galbrok kicked it across the room.

  “Did you honestly think that you could beat me,” sneered Galbrok.

  He swung at Tesnayr. Tesnayr caught Galbrok’s hand and flipped him over onto the hard floor. Instantly, he rammed his foot into Galbrok’s armpit and twisted it until he felt Galbrok’s shoulder pop out of its socket. Galbrok roared in agony. He swiped his sword at Tesnayr nicking him in the leg.

  Galbrok pulled himself to his feet as Tesnayr clutched his bleeding leg. “You have no weapon,” spat Galbrok.

  He attacked. Tesnayr dodged. They moved around the chamber as Galbrok chased Tesnayr with his sword. With his mind darting around, Tesnayr found it difficult to think of a plan. Galbrok pounced from behind. He kicked Tesnayr’s feet out from under him. Pain seared through Tesnayr as he hit the stone floor with a thud. His stomach burned as Galbrok kicked him.

  Why do you fight him?

  The words flowed through Tesnayr’s mind as he remembered his first meeting with the phoenix. His mind jumped to memories of the people he led across the Ársa Mountains. He thought of Jenel. He remembered Jarown and Nelyn. Even the triplets, Nedis, Nylin, and Nular popped into his mind. In that second of clarity Tesnayr realized that he had gone beyond wanting Galbrok’s head. He longed to help those affected by the orcs’ destruction and no longer used them as an excuse for revenge.

  Galbrok rammed his foot into Tesnayr’s stomach again. He leered over the man poised for the killing stroke. Suddenly, a scream of pain escaped Galbrok as Rybnik plunged a knife into his back. Galbrok backhanded the wounded man sending him sprawling on the floor.

  Tesnayr noticed a ray of light shining upon him. His sword lay several feet away from him, glowing. Summoning his resolve, Tesnayr hauled himself to his feet. He stared determinedly into Galbrok’s eyes.

  Galbrok charged. Tesnayr snatched a dagger from his belt ducking low as he rammed it into Galbrok’s hip. Quickly, Tesnayr rolled across the floor toward his weapon.

  He wrapped his fingers around the hilt of his sword. His arm tingled as the power of his weapon flowed through it. Warmth encompassed his body as he allowed the magic to possess him. The light of his sword shone brightly filling the entire room.

  Galbrok gaped at him disbelieving. “That blade. Where did you get it?”

  Curiosity got the better of Tesnayr. “What do you mean?”

  “I’ve dreamt of it,” replied Galbrok. “All my life. It’s just a dream. And you…how did you come by it?”

  Taken aback, Tesnayr replied, “It was given to me.”

  “Never,” shouted Galbrok. “Never!”

  A crazed look crossed Galbrok’s face as he charged toward Tesnayr. Tesnayr strengthened his grip on his sword. He sidestepped allowing the weapon to dictate his movements. In a swift move, Tesnayr brought his sword down and cleaved Galbrok’s weapon in two. A loud clatter echoed off the walls as the broken blade hit the stone floor.

  Galbrok stared at his sword blankly before raising his eyes toward Tesnayr. Tesnayr lifted his weapon and plunged the cool steel into Galbrok’s chest until it poked through his back.

  “How?” whispered Galbrok with his last breath.

  Tesnayr shoved him off of his sword allowing Galbrok’s body to thump on the cold floor. Blood pooled around the dead leader of the orcs.

  Running footsteps forced Tesnayr to turn around. Jenel stood in the entrance way with King Nalim. She looked at Galbrok’s dead form and then back at Tesnayr. A cough drew her attention and for the first time Jenel noticed Rybnik. She ran to him.