The Trees And The Night (Book 3) (42 page)

Kael’s eyes widened. The boy fumbled with the arrow in his shaky hand, trying desperately to notch it properly. He glanced to the Elf. Eidyn no longer held his bow and engaged the remaining pair of Hackles on his side of the path with dual sabers. Kael’s mind screamed for him to calm, to act. He looked back to Ader. The Seraph’s heavy eyes glanced to the red flame sparking across the Ulrog priest’s hands. A frown of acceptance crept across his face. He was exposed and could do nothing to counter the priest’s attack.

Desperation exploded in Kael’s mind. He jerked the bow up, trying to level it at the priest. His sweaty hand slipped from the fletching about the shaft and the arrow clattered to the rocky ground. The priest smiled wickedly and red flame burst from his hands, arching toward the Seraph.

“Ader!” shouted Kael as his hand reached out.

Instantly, a brilliant ring of blue light encased Ader. The light stretched from Kael’s extended hand and cradled the old man. The red flame of Chaos poured down as the blue light lifted Ader and ripped him through the air toward Kael.

The old man dropped breathlessly to the ground next to the wide-eyed boy. The priest roared in anger and immediately shifted his attack. Eidyn dodged a cleaver strike and plunged a curved saber deep into the belly of the last of his Ulrog.

“Kael, how did you...,” began Ader.

The boy couldn’t respond. He saw his power clearly now and forced his control upon it. He put a firm hand on Ader’s shoulder, shoving the Seraph behind him as a wall of red slammed down.

A dome of blue light encased them and the flame of Chaos diverted just inches above their heads. Kael continued as if in a trance. He opened his hand and raised it slowly above his head. The dome grew.

The priest chanted and rocked, calling upon Chaos to deliver all it could offer. Finally exhausted, the creature hunched forward, his black eyes darting across the scene before him.

Eidyn stalked forward and the crazed Ulrog caught the motion.

“The Elf,” shouted the priest to his Hackles.

The three Ulrog whom Ader nearly toppled from the cliff scrambled toward Eidyn. Kael marched forward, the blue light shimmering about his body. The priest spun to his large attendant, motioning with a black claw toward the cliff just a few yards from their position.

“Kill the prisoner!”

The massive Hackle grunted and ran toward the ledge. The bundle upon his stony shoulder thrashed and the legs kicked within their bindings. Kael heard the order and saw the movement but neither raised alarm. He was detached, acting, not thinking. His hands rose and extended before him as he marched on.

The large Hackle reached the ledge and launched the sack out and over the chasm below. Kael’s right hand extended toward Lilywynn palm upward. The priest regained his strength and red sparks flared before him. Kael’s left hand extended toward the priest palm down. Lilywynn’s body hovered in the air for a moment then plunged downward. The priest cursed at Kael and sent a plume of flame up and out toward the boy.

Another flash of blue erupted from Kael and split before him. One stream of light shot toward the falling body of the Sprite. The other created a dome similar to that which protected Kael and Ader moments before. However, this dome extended out and over the priest of Amird. The dome slammed down upon the priest, cupping the fire of Chaos beneath it.

The priest howled in pain as the fire meant for Kael became entrapped inside the dome and consumed him. The half circle of blue light flared then faded. The body of the priest lay lifeless upon the charred shale of the Mnim.

The sack fell twisting and kicking into a cradle of blue light beneath it. Kael drew his hand toward his body and the sack shot across the space separating it from the boy and fell at his feet. Kael stood motionless, encased in a rippling aura of blue. The three remaining Hackles raced past Eidyn not bothering to raise their cleavers. They fled down the valley of Mnim. Lilywynn’s bearer took a final look at the smoldering remains of his master then he too fled, running back up the ridgeline path.

CHAPTER 25: THE PRECIPICE

Greeb was upon the Eru line in a moment. One great claw lashed out severing the throat of a stallion and dropping its rider to the ground. The Malveel’s eye washed all within its sight with the molten flame of Chaos. Horses reared in terror and riders tried to protect themselves with their shields. His second claw raked a rider from the saddle and quickly the beast’s massive jaws locked on the man, extinguishing the rider’s life with rows of six inch sharpened daggers.

Those riders within the Malveel’s reach attacked with vigor. However, blade and arrow bounced from the nearly impenetrable scales of the beast. The Ulrog host quickly followed Greeb. Stone rained down upon the Eru. Rocky fist and heel pummeled their mounts and hammered the bodies of those Eru unlucky enough to be unseated.

The Malveel slashed and stabbed, spinning wildly to pin a rider beneath a massive claw then engulf the trapped enemy in flame. While he battled, Greeb kept the Mnim foremost in his mind. The boldness of the Seraph astounded him. Ader De Hartstron stood in Greeb’s stronghold, trying to disrupt the plans of his master. The Malveel spun back toward the Mnim to face the onslaught of seven riders. Behind them he noted the top of the valley in the distance. It exploded in a flare of blue light.

Greeb nearly faltered from the shock of it. De Hartstron was in league with another of great power. The tingle Greeb felt earlier in the evening ran like a shock through his system. The new Seraph walked with the old. The pair stood in his valley!

The seven riders closed on the Malveel, their sabers held high. Greeb locked his claws in the earth. The great black wings tipped with razor sharp scales flashed outward. The beast launched himself forward into the riders. The wings knocked the sabers harmlessly aside then swept through the seated horsemen. Each man ripped from the saddle and plunged to the ground as the claws of the Malveel trod over them.

Nothing stood between Amird’s chosen and the Mnim. He tore at the ground racing toward the mountain valley. The battle receded as Greeb charged up the foothills of the Scythtar. The Hackles must fend for themselves. Greeb wanted the hearts of the Seraphim.

“Something stirred the Malveel,” thought Temujen.

Greeb retained no support, unusual for a Malveel. Typically the Chosen of Amird surrounded themselves with guards and retainers. The Eru held a rare opportunity. Temujen knew more riders would lose their lives to the beast but they required just one fortuitous stab. The more Greeb engaged the Eru, the more likely one of Temujen’s men might deliver such a deathblow.

Temujen turned his midnight mare and the Malveel vanished within the darkness shrouding the Mnim Valley. The chieftain groaned. Opportunity lost. A sudden roar behind Temujen called him back to the battle. Hundreds of Ulrog assaulted the Eru line. Temujen took a last look at the valley in the distance and turned to the matter at hand.

“Fare you well, Giftgiver,” prayed Temujen. “The beast is on the prowl.”

Eidyn leapt to the sack in a moment, drawing a curved dagger from his belt. The girl groaned in pain as the Elf prince tenderly cut the bindings from about her swollen, purple ankles. He slipped the sack from over her head and slowly cut similar cords from her wrists.

Lilywynn blinked and squinted in the moonlight. Its illumination seemed blinding compared to the darkness from which she emerged. When the cords dropped to the ground, Eidyn tenderly drew her close. Their eyes met and the Elf prince nodded reassuringly. The girl remained expressionless, too exhausted to react. A tear streamed down her cheek.

“Kael, let it go,” came the feeble voice of Ader. “You waste yourself.”

The boy stood staring at the Scythtar path. His body remained encased in blue flame. He felt like a dam, holding back the torrents of the Frizgard.

“Kael, let the power still,” continued Ader. “Allow it to subside.”

Kael took a deep breath and tried to calm himself. Slowly the power dissipated. The blue aura flickered and vanished.

The Ulrog formed a massive throng and charged north across the Tre. The Mnim was their destination. It would be a long, bloody march, but the Ulrog held the numbers to achieve their goal.

Temujen formed a gigantic war ring and his riders galloped about the Ulrog army harassing every step. Rocks flew into the ranks of the riders. Ulrog packs tore at mounts that strayed too close. Cleavers cut man and animal. Hackles dragged several riders to their death.

The Eru remained conservative in their attack. Horsemen rode down Ulrog that mistakenly separated from the Horde. Small skirmishes broke out behind the main body as Ulrog stragglers encountered roaming Eru support riders.  Arrows rained upon the center of the Ulrog army, skipping from the stony hides of the lucky and skewering those who were not.

Temujen ground his teeth in anger. This battle would harm the Eru numbers far greater than the Ulrog, but he held a duty. The chieftain promised to occupy the Hackles for as long as he could. He would be forced to press the attack all the way to the Mnim opening but still the Ulrog advanced too quickly. Temujen turned to an attendant.

“Take a dozen riders and lay flame to the grassland two hundred yards in advance of the lead Ulrog,” ordered the Chieftain. “Let us see if we can hamper the enemies flight.”

The rider nodded and sped north, calling comrades to his side.

The blue glow from the top of the valley disappeared, but Greeb marked its location. The Malveel raced past broken boulders and mountains of shattered rock as he sped toward the Scythtar path. His stride spanned twice that of a stallion and the valley flew beneath his outstretched wings.

Anger fed Greeb’s speed. De Hartstron lay behind the manipulation all along. The Seraph must have slipped into the valley at the beginning of Greeb’s encounter with the steward of Astel. The old man and his raiding party hiked to the heights of the ridgeline path and lie in wait for those transporting the new Seraph.

It was obvious to Greeb now. Reports from the Frizgard crossing spoke of an Elven girl who killed a priest of Amird in a daring raid across the river. She was taken by multiple packs and immediately sent toward Kel Izgra. Perhaps her earlier successes weakened her and allowed her capture, or perhaps the girl held back and built her strength for just such an escape attempt. Whatever the reason, all was now clear. Ader De Hartstron rescued a being with power. Possibly not great power, but power nonetheless.

Blame grew in abundant supply in the halls of Kel Izgra and one thing was certain, blame always found its way toward those in disfavor. Greeb would be given quite a large share of that blame if the new Seraph were to escape. He abandoned his post. He vacated the Mnim on a foolish quest for personal revenge.

It was all too clear. The Malveel could not deny it. The cursed Eru and their Derolian allies dangled a chance for power and glory in front of him and Greeb chased that glory. Now he possessed but one means to redeem himself. His Hackles would be severely tested by the Eru below but they would survive. The Mnim would once again fall under Ulrog control. Greeb must kill the Seraphim. It would be his only means of retaining Kel Izgra’s favor.

Movement three hundred yards up slope caught his attention. His black tongue flicked outward and tested the air. Although the wind blew from the south gaining power as it funneled up the valley, the rocks and hollows created enough eddies to turn portions of the flow back against the main rush. The faint scent of frightened Ulrog lay upon those eddies.

Greeb continued his race up the slope. The beast’s ears rose and turned toward the stumbling figures now only two hundred yards distant. Amird had crafted the Malveel as a hunter of superior ability. Greeb heard the thump of heavy footfalls and the labored breathing of Ulrog. The Malveel could even hear their oversized hearts pounding black blood through their chests.

Ader stumbled toward Kael.

“Do you have it under control?” asked the Seraph.

The boy blinked in confusion.

“I ... think so,” stammered Kael, still in a daze.

Ader turned to the Elf prince and Lilywynn. Eidyn cradled the girl in his arms and softly spoke to her. She stared into the starry night seemingly unaware of his words.

“Physically, no one appears to be harmed,” stated Ader, “but it may be some time before she is over the shock of it all.”

The Seraph turned his attention to the valley below. In the distance, fire swept across the Tre. The southern wind pushed the blaze north toward the Mnim’s opening. A hazy smoke tumbled up the valley floor.

“What now?” asked an exhausted Eidyn.

Ader did not respond. He stared at a tiny figure that dashed from rock to rock, rapidly ascending the Mnim. Lilywynn followed Ader’s eyes and with unsteady feet the girl rose and stumbled toward the figure. Eidyn followed closely behind.

Sprig rushed forward and embraced the girl burying his head against her chest. Lilywynn’s lifeless expression cracked and tears flowed uncontrollably down her face. The pair remained locked in embrace for a moment longer then Sprig drew himself away holding her hands. The diminutive Sprite smiled at his cousin and she returned it with a weak smile of her own. Sprig turned to Eidyn and laid Lilywynn’s hands in those of the Elf prince. He spun and dashed to Ader’s side. Briefly he communicated with the Seraph then disappeared behind some boulders on the west side of the valley.