“Well, what do you propose, now, Elf?” she asked, ever the warrior, observing their precarious situation, though her heart was heavy with grief.
The enemy had recovered from the shock of the surprise attack and was now coming at the two of them en masse. They stood there with both of their swords raised before them, knowing that their circumstances were perilous.
“What choice have we my Lady, but to fight until the end?” he said, reconciled to his fate.
Filaree stood up tall and strong, and prepared herself for the onslaught.
No sooner had they readied themselves for the assault, when the ground beneath their feet began to rumble and shake as if a wave of water had rolled under them, causing them to almost lose their balance. They watched, eyes wide, as it cascaded across the plain. The battlefield, littered with dead Trolls and living ones, lined with archers and beasts of all kinds, erupted violently from below.
About one hundred yards out from the walls, a formidable row of spiked trees sprouted from the ground and just as instantly shot up at least forty feet into the air. Dense and impenetrable, the trees spread out from one end of the gorge to the other, fencing the Trolls and archers in and separating them from Colton and the rest of his army. The new growth burst forth with such incredible speed that it defied the very limits of belief. The broad branches and solid trunks were tipped with lance-like leaves, pointed and sharp, and covered with thorns, honed and barbed, creating a solid wall against which the enemy was pinned.
Meanwhile under foot, great mounds of new earth heaved and pitched, raising the ground in spots and creating deep chasms in others, sending the archers sprawling and the Trolls running in terror. In their haste, many fell to their deaths in the seemingly endless depths of the newly formed pits, while others impaled themselves upon the sharp spikes of the trees during their frantic efforts to escape, bows and burnished shields strewn everywhere. The branches drew them in once they were snagged upon the spiny barbs, and many disappeared into the dense shrubbery, struggling and screaming in panic and disarray until their voices were muffled by their captors’ deadly embrace. The once level battlefield had quickly become a cavernous arena riddled with danger, and the razor sharp tree branches prohibited any from entering or leaving.
The giants backed away from the walls one by one after realizing that the Valkor were no longer moving, and they threw their shields to the ground, swinging their clubs in violent, wide arcs, toppling the Trolls that gathered nearby. They were trying desperately with their limited intelligence, to adapt to the unexpected turn of fortune. The ground was heaving severely, while vines were bursting from the disrupted soil, twisting and thrashing about, latching on to the Trolls, binding them tightly and dragging them to the ground.
The giant’s massive legs were becoming entangled in the brambles as well, and they stomped their great feet in an effort to break free, seemingly dancing a comical yet macabre dance upon the uneven battlefield. One of them spotted Filaree and Elion standing by the prone body of a dead beast, and it began to slowly move in their direction, ripping the vines from the ground as it trudged toward them, yanking its mired feet one by one out of the encumbering soil.
The city’s defenders continued to heave whatever they could over the walls, careful now not to harm their own two valiant fighters below whose position was becoming more and more imperiled with each passing moment. The other four grotesque titans shortly discovered the woman and the Elf as well, and they too fought to break free of their living shackles in an effort to reach them, driven by the desire for revenge for the death of the Valkor, the ones they were sent to protect.
They moved toward them slowly, dragging the roots and vines behind them as they made their way forward. Elion and Filaree tried to run to the small portal in the wall, hoping that someone would be able to let them in if they could reach it quickly, but their paths were blocked by a red robed wizard. His eyes were hollow and black, and he raped them with his soulless stare, saying to them wordlessly that they now belonged to him, his pale lips twisting into a vicious, depraved smile. His two evil brethren soon joined him before the gates, and together they prepared to attack the human and the Elf.
As the first one raised his sickly arms to prepare a spell, Filaree thought she must be dreaming. She was certain that she could hear a trumpet in the distance. With her sword raised before her, her ears caught the sound of a shouting voice, though the words were not yet discernible.
Elion too had noticed the noise a moment before she had, his Elfin ears sharper than Filaree’s, and he sidled next to her and said quietly, “My Lady, move slowly and carefully. Do not provoke them. We must stall for time.”
Filaree caught his meaning and acted upon his request. “You do not really want to kill us now, do you?” she asked of the enemy, in a sweet, helpless voice.
He hesitated for a moment, unaccustomed to being spoken to rather than at.
“How will you ever get out of here now? Look around you. You are smart, you can see for yourself. If you spare us, we can help you,” she said, appealing to his instinct for self preservation.
“Help me?” the skeletal figure asked, mocking her. “No one can help me!” he hissed through blackened teeth, his voice sending a chill down Filaree’s spine.
The horn sounding in the distance was clearer now, distracting the crimson sorcerers momentarily, and within an instant they could distinctly hear voices as well. Something was approaching.
“Has no one ever expressed their concern for you?” she asked the cadaverous nightmare before her with as much sincerity as she could muster, trying desperately to prevent him from conjuring.
He was not inured to being addressed in such a gentle manner, and for just a moment he listened. He looked upon her quizzically, trying to discern her meaning, though he was a bit confused by the words and the kind tone. The other two demons feared to act alone and they waited for their leader’s signal. All the while, the noise around them grew louder, and Filaree could distinctly make out words being shouted in the distance.
From atop the Ghost tower, Grogan, who had been joined by Baladar, perused the horizon. They had witnessed the results of the power as it swept across the field of battle, disrupting the enemy and cutting it in two as Robyn had predicted. They watched helplessly as Cameron met his death and as Filaree and Elion battled the Valkor. Now too, they watched as the magicians approached the two brave fighters, clearly preparing to kill them.
From the east, above the plain, Baladar noticed movement. He looked closely and he saw what looked like riders coming rapidly toward the city. From atop the height of the wall he heard a horn, and he could swear that he heard someone shout, “Avalain! For Avalain!”
Suddenly as both he and Grogan watched, an imposing legion of armored warriors swept down out of the eastern hills, and they could hear their words being shouted clearly now upon the wind, “The Lady Filaree!”, “Avalain!”, and “For the Queen, for the Queen!” causing their very skin to prickle in response.
These riders roared across the fields, and the ground leveled itself before them in response, the power spontaneously recognizing an approaching ally. Hundreds of them furiously charged the enemy lines with their lances pointed and their swords drawn. They ravished the remaining, unsuspecting and disoriented Trolls easily, killing them to the last and chasing them across the gorge in every direction.
There was no place for the frenzied Trolls to hide, and they fell beneath the weapons of the formidable knights of Avalain by the hundreds. A group of lancers espied the giants circling before the gates of Pardatha and they moved purposefully toward them. Their great war horses covered in silver plated armor charged into the entangled legs of the huge monsters, and they jabbed them with their long spears and slashed them repeatedly with their swords.
“For the Lady Filaree!” they shouted passionately, as they hacked away at the legs of the brutes, running in circles around them, confusing them and making it impossible for them to strike back accurately.
The giants swung their clubs in frustration, missing their mark, and they turned from left to right, yelling in pain, as the riders jabbed them first from this side and then from that. Their huge legs were covered by green vines that reestablished their holds each and every time the massive beasts broke them, pinning them down and preventing them from maneuvering.
Surrounded by the ever-moving knights, the giants fell one by one, crashing to the ground. As quickly as they lost their footing, the soldiers were upon them, their mighty horses trampling the giants as the riders struck them relentlessly with their weapons. A great cheer arose from the battlements, and it echoed throughout the entire city, its crescendo building as each of the monsters collapsed.
Filaree and Elion stared in disbelief at what was happening around them, but they were not safe from danger yet. The sorcerers’ heads jerked from one end of the field to the other, watching closely what was transpiring, realizing how quickly the tide of battle had turned, and they hesitated for just a moment too long, caught up in the Lady’s words and the distractions of the struggle. The leader realized his mistake too late, as Filaree and Elion dove left and right respectively, just in time to avoid the blue fire that spurted from his fingers. The other two joined in immediately, preparing to send their deadly discharge into the two unprotected warriors as well. Righting themselves with amazing dexterity, Filaree and Elion raised their swords, and the Princess of Avalain and the Prince of Lormarion readied themselves for the inevitable attack.
Before the leader had an opportunity to send forth another burst of his hellish fire, black blood started to spurt in pulsating streams from his neck and body. He had been pierced by a dozen arrows that rained down upon him from above and by a single spear imbedded deep within his chest, bearing the distinct sigil of Parsifal of Avalain. The other two red robed monsters collapsed to the ground as well, also riddled with arrows and spears, and no longer protected by the Valkor or the Giants. Their powers alone were not great enough to shield them from the multifaceted assaults. Their black blood pooled around them on the hard earth, and as they drew their final breaths, their bodies turned to dust, leaving behind only their crimson capes floating in an inky morass of blood and gore.
The riders from Avalain were sweeping the battlefield now, killing all the enemies in sight, as Filaree and Elion clasped hands and watched with jubilation mounting in their souls. Parsifal, the most honored knight of Avalain and leader of the Queen’s forces, leapt from his war horse and knelt before Filaree, his Princess. Another two of his men moved over to the lifeless body of Cameron, now covered by a soft, downy blanket of green, and respectfully carried it to the still closed gates of Pardatha.
“I must gather my men and move them into the city, my Lady,” Parsifal said, his eyes still on the ground before Filaree. “The danger is far from past,” he commented, his eyes dark with concern.
“Rise, dear Parsifal, your timing could not have been better. We owe you our lives,” Filaree said, extending her hand to him.
As he rose, he looked upon the fair maiden, and then said with heartfelt honesty, “My life will forever be fuller knowing that I helped you in your time of need, my Princess.” His brilliant, blue eyes glowed with admiration. “The knights of Avalain live for such service, Lady Filaree,” Parsifal said humbly. “But, please, we must seek the protection of Pardatha. The mountain Trolls will be upon us shortly. They cannot be more than a half a day behind us now,” he commented. “We rode before them the entire way to Pardatha,” he explained, and Filaree and Elion looked upon one another with renewed consternation.
“Gather the troops, Sir Parsifal. I will signal the Master at Arms to allow us to enter. Quickly now, if the gates are to open for us, we cannot endanger the city,” she said, rushed, and then she turned with Elion at her side to see to the opening of the Noban gate.
Baladar and Grogan had already prepared the way for the releasing of the seals, and as Filaree and Elion approached the heavy wooden doors, the apparently seamless center gained new definition as it loosened, a long, thin line appearing down the middle, and the heavy doors slowly gave way, revealing a scorched and dirtied courtyard beyond. The Valkor had wreaked their damage upon the noble entryway, scarring it deeply, and the bottom of one gate dug far into the paved court beyond as it sluggishly moved, slightly askew. There would be time to repair, it, Grogan thought as the triumphant Elfin Prince and the beautiful Lady from Avalain approached.
The two warriors entered to the deafening cheers of the soldiers and city dwellers surrounding them. But, it was a bittersweet victory, short lived at best and overshadowed by the death of Cameron. As they walked down the broad avenue, past the rows of applauding people, they both maintained the confident smiles and walked the walk of victory, befitting their rank, but their hearts were sick with grief for their fallen comrade, and the cautious words of Parsifal resounded in their ears. Another battle was soon to begin, even before the anguish and sorrow of this one had even had a chance to dissipate.
With heads held high, Filaree and Elion made their way to the end of the avenue where Baladar, Grogan and the others waited, unaware still of the newest threat and yet jubilant therefore over the recent victory. Robyn was conspicuously absent from the group of councilors, causing their hearts to skip a beat. They were both unwilling to accept another grievous loss at this time.
Elion wasted no words, making his inquiries as soon as he reached Baladar’s side.
“What news of Robyn dar Tamarand? Is he well?” he asked, as the two exhausted fighters stared intensely at the Lord of the city, waiting on edge for his answer.
“Fear not, he is well. He is merely fatigued after his efforts. He sleeps soundly in his chambers in the castle,” Baladar answered.