Authors: Adam Blade,Adam Blade
Call to War (4 page)
I
soar into the air, away from the hill, over a valley of shadowy pastures and rock beds. A moment later, Gulkien and his Chosen Rider are flying beside me, and Nera leaps and dashes below.
My strength has returned â but for how long? I dare not worry Tanner; I must shield these thoughts from him. There is too much we have to do. Each time I beat my wings harder, dull pain throbs in my old wound. Tanner's strength has returned, for now, but my scar still hurts.
We fly over farmlands marked by stone walls and tree hedges. We follow a stream teeming with pink salmon and crabs until it joins with the Winding River and loops farther south. The clouds are low and cast long shadows over the hills below. Wild horses roam in the grass amid the ruins of a trading post that has been burned to a blackened outline. There are bodies on pikes at the crest of a nearby hill. I have never seen Avantians relish one another's death in this way.
Tanner shouts to the others over the powerful beating of my wings. I see it, too: a column of ten soldiers moving up a hillside. Below, they are leaving the wreckage of a merchant caravan. Slaughtered horses and oxen lie with the overturned, smoking wagons. The fires are still fresh, and the body of a bearded man lies with those of a woman and two children.
Beyond these bodies lies another â a man, blood spilling from his throat. A woman is being dragged away, kicking her heels against the soldier who carries her over his shoulder. My heart squeezes tight with pain and a memory of Tanner's parents comes flooding back. This is like a mirror image of the day his father and mother were torn from him. The moment I think this, I feel a response come from Tanner â I feel his pain and fury:
I see it, too, Firepos.
There are more bodies of men in the surrounding field â guards, hired to protect the caravan.
The ten soldiers wear black armor and ride varkules â ugly, hyena-like animals with a stripe of black fur running up their spines, grimacing and slavering. We have met these animals of evil before.
Tanner tells the others that they must intercept. They look reluctant, but do as my companion says. We descend. If this is what Tanner wants, I shall join his fight.
Castor has already drawn his sword. Nera bounds faster.
The taste of smoke and ash makes my blood rise. I hear Tanner draw his sword, and I scream a war cry that makes two of the soldiers glance into the sky. Their varkules howl.
I draw my wings close and angle my body forward to dive. The ground speeds up toward me, and I clear the wrecked caravan with Gulkien beside me. As Nera leaps over the burning wagons, the soldiers spin and regroup. The soldiers at the back ready their throwing spears, while the ones at the front aim crossbows. The varkules wheeze and snap as we close on them.
A soldier cries out something and crossbow bolts streak at us.
Tanner shouts, “Now, Firepos!” I can feel the fury throbbing through him, out of control.
Heat rushes out of me, catching in my talons: I conjure a fireball and hurl it at the soldiers. Arrows incinerate in its path, and the ball of flame explodes in their center. Soldiers wheel in every direction, varkules shriek, and Nera and Gulkien crash into them from either side. I am a Beast of flame and speed. I dive, my talons open and grasping. I hook a soldier through his visor, grab another's varkule, and Tanner stabs the rider in the gap between his breast-plate and helmet. Nera bites a soldier's head, shaking him like a rodent, while Castor twists his sword to disarm another soldier and parries a third.
On the other side, Gulkien tears a varkule in half with his jaws, and when another leaps at him, he swats it out of the air, crushing the rider as they fall. When a soldier runs, Gwen hits him in the back with an ax. She ducks an incoming spear, and, as Gulkien snarls and leaps at the thrower, Gwen whips her second ax into his chest plate, killing him instantly. Here, a varkule snarls â I split its skull with my beak â there, Tanner cuts down another soldier who is aiming a crossbow at Gwen. Soon, it is over.
Tanner wiped blood from his face as Gwen walked through the carnage to recover her axes. She planted her foot on one soldier's body and yanked an ax free.
“Whoa!” Castor shouted, and Nera bounded beside Firepos. “Well done!”
But Gwen didn't join in with the congratulations; her face was clouded with unhappiness.
“What are you doing?” she asked, gazing into Tanner's face. “We cannot afford to help everyone we see. We're on our way to the Southern Caves, remember â for the mask? This type of thing is happening all over Avantia and we can't stop what we're doing every time we see a battle.”
Castor hid his dagger back in his belt. “She has a point, Tanner,” he said. “You know me, I love a good battle, but it's the mask we're after, and Derthsin.”
Tanner turned to gaze back over the field where he'd spotted the slain man. The woman was nowhere to be seen now; dragged away â to where? Was she still alive?
“There was a soldier over there,” he said, casting a hand out. He felt foolish now that he had to explain. “What he was doing ⦠it was like the day my father was killed and my mother taken. I can't explain it, I just didn't want history to keep repeating itself. I had to step in.” He hung his head. Why did he feel so full of shame when he'd just helped defeat another section of Derthsin's army? Wasn't that what this was all about?
Clouds scudded across the lead-gray sky. Firepos was making gentle noises in her throat and the other Beasts watched the three friends carefully. Castor was frowning and Gwen reached out to place a hand on Tanner's arm.
“I'm sorry for what happened to your parents,” she said, “but this fight is no longer about them.”
Tanner caught his breath and looked into Gwen's face. “How can you say that?” The blood was still slick on his hands and he bent to tear up a handful of grass to wipe the stains away.
“We have to be strategic!” interrupted Castor, his eyes glowing. “Isn't that what being a fighter is all about? Brains as well as brawn?”
Tanner laughed with shock. “I don't need
you
to tell
me
that!” he snapped.
Castor folded his arms. “Well, it looks as though you do,” he said, his tone mocking.
“Enough!” Gwen didn't even bother coming to stand between them â she was already striding over to her Beast. “Come on. From now on, we focus on Derthsin and the Mask of Death. Agreed?”
Tanner and Castor shared a long glance, neither willing to give way first. Then they reluctantly spoke as one: “Agreed.” Gwen was right; she was always right.
“This must have been a scouting party for the main army,” Tanner said, as he climbed back on Firepos. “General Gor may not be far away.”
“So let's get going,” said Castor, astride Nera. The Beasts let out grunts of agreement.
Firepos took off, followed by Gulkien. Nera ran up the hillside, picking up speed, and leaped off the other side. Tanner tightened his grip on Firepos's feathers. Blood still covered his hands. Tanner's arms trembled as he wiped the blood from his skin.
Gwen gestured to the ground, her eyes wide and uncertain. “Tanner, can you see ⦔
He followed the direction of her gaze through the Looking Crystal. The milky glass cleared. Below, on the bank of the Winding River, was a crowd of people dressed in the blue tunics of Hartwell. They were surrounding someone near the water. Varlot: another of Derthsin's creatures. Each time they met him, Varlot grew larger. His face was different; it looked more human.
“It looks like we were right to stop here, after all,” he called to the others. Firepos shrieked and dove, with Gulkien right behind. Nera was closing on the crowd, and Tanner saw Castor smiling, both hands on his sword.
Tanner spotted something and pulled back on Firepos's neck feathers. As she slowed, he called out loudly, “Wait, Castor!”
The people were moving toward the river. Gwen called, “They have a prisoner! Castor, stop.”
Nera slowed, and Firepos landed beside her. Gulkien hit the ground at a run, his fangs bared and bloody. Varlot pushed to the front of the crowd. Through the press of people Tanner saw a circle of men in blue robes holding a girl with a rope around her neck.
They're Hartwell villagers
, Tanner realized. The girl's hands were tied behind her back. With swollen eyes, she looked from the fast-moving river to Tanner and the Beasts.
“They must think she's a witch,” Tanner muttered. “They've brought her here to be drowned. They've all grown so frightened, they'll attack one of their own!” Nausea squirmed in Tanner's stomach. “We saw how paranoid they all are.”
Varlot's armor clicked and scratched as he stepped out of the crowd. He was larger than when Tanner had last met him, standing two heads taller. Would he grow any bigger? A flickering intelligence seemed to burn in his eyes that Tanner hadn't seen before.
Is he thriving on Derthsin's evil?
Tanner wondered. General Gor was nowhere to be seen. Had he sent Varlot ahead? Is that how much the Beast was growing and changing? Could he be trusted to dish out destruction alone now?
Turning on heavy hooves, Varlot swung a whip around slowly.
Castor said, “We should kill him.”
Nera coiled, ready to spring, her tail flicking the air.
“They could hurt the girl,” Tanner said. “Varlot is a powerful enemy. It isn't that simple.”
“I think it is,” Castor said.
Varlot made a low gurgling noise that became scratchy, disjointed words: “You,” Varlot said, looking directly at Tanner. “I know you.”
His voice was a rumble of uneven sounds, but Tanner understood it. The last time he had seen Varlot, the noises had been growls and grunts, not words. Varlot was changing.
Gwen paled. “I understand him.”
Castor nodded, frowning. “Me, too.”
“You hear?” Varlot said, and he stomped his hind leg impatiently. “Yes? Then I tell you. Go away, fools.” Tanner could see hard muscle in the spaces between the joints in Varlot's armor. “Go!”
Tanner braced himself before replying. “No.”
Varlot waved the whip toward the crowd, dragging crisscross lines in the dirt. “They find evil in her,” he said. He gestured to the bound, frightened girl.
A murmur went through the crowd. The villagers watched Tanner with angry, dangerous eyes. He heard the words “kill ⦠bleed ⦠punish.”
Gwen's eyes were wide with horror. “They're going to kill that poor girl.”
Varlot erupted into a rumbling laugh.
Castor muttered, “I've heard enough.” He jumped off Nera and stalked closer.
“No,” Tanner said, putting a hand on Castor's shoulder. He turned to the crowd and raised his voice. “There are no witches here! The only evil here is that of Derthsin. Don't you see that his lies have made you turn against innocent people? Look around you â this is madness!”
But the words “lies ⦠outsider ⦠kill” floated on the wind.
Two men grabbed the tied girl and she screamed. “No, please! I'm innocent! Don't â” With an angry shove, she was pushed into the river. She kicked and flailed, and the men wrestled her facedown into the frantic spray. The crowd pressed close, readying swords and spears. “Come closer!” a man shouted at Tanner. “You are next!”
With a roar, Castor shoved past Tanner. He drew his sword and advanced on Varlot.
Tanner gave chase. “Castor!”
“Varlot?” Castor shouted. He aimed his sword point at Varlot's face. “This is for you.” Varlot cracked his whip â Castor jumped past â and Varlot yanked the whip back, snaring Castor's ankle. The whip swept Castor's feet up, knocking him onto his back. Nera snarled and charged, but she was too far away.
Tanner was already running.
You're going to get yourself killed, you brash, unthinking â¦
The people beside the river had started to back away, frightened by the viciousness of the fight. Varlot raised a hoof to crush Castor's rib cage, and as he began to stomp, Tanner dove with his sword. He stabbed between the armor pieces on Varlot's thigh and twisted in midair, dragging the sword all the way around. Varlot screamed and bucked.
Tanner's sword severed tendons and muscle in a bloody spray. Varlot slumped, his leg bleeding and useless. Nera crouched beside Castor, growling. Her eyes flashed angrily and a huge, clawed paw raked the air, warning Varlot to keep his distance. But the evil Beast was bent over his own injury, chest heaving as he held a fist to the flow of blood.
Gwen approached behind them, an ax in each hand.
“I think you cut his muscle,” Castor said to Tanner, panting. Blood streaked down Varlot's armor. “I don't think he can ⦔
But as Tanner watched, the torn skin on Varlot's bloody thigh closed together, until the wound was a narrow gash, then a line, then gone. His breathing had calmed and he lifted his fist away, stretching his leg to test it.
“I don't believe it,” Castor muttered, pushing a golden lock out of his eyes.
“Just like Firepos,” Tanner said. He turned to look from Gwen's face to Castor's. “How can we stop a Beast that can heal himself?”
“It's more than that,” Gwen said in a shaking voice. She pointed over Tanner's shoulder, and he swirled around on the spot as faint cries of alarm sounded from the crowd beside the river. “Varlot's growing.”