The tide of unmaking, p.17
The Tide of Unmaking, page 17
part #3 of Berinfell Prophesies Series
A dozen Saer soldiers, the Shardbearers, showed their disdain for the visitor by striking the ends of their staves to the floor. The Saer dignitaries in attendance filled the room with their hissing disapproval.
Asp stood alone in the hollow surrounded by the Saer Crystal Thrones and the magistrates seated upon them. The myriad glimmers of light from all the luminous shards seemed to dim wherever Asp strode. As he drifted closer to Forlarn, Asp’s hooded robe became indistinct…less now a garment and more a shroud of living mist.
Asp stood perfectly still and said, “I have come for neither. I don’t need your help. And my army is present, not to coerce, but simply because we are in haste. No, Magistrate, I’ve come to offer opportunity. My campaign on Earth will prove to be lucrative, but it cannot wait.”
“But at the cost of Saer blood?” Forlarn asked.
The other Magistrates squirmed on their crystal seats and hissed.
“There issth risk with all such ventures,” Sardon said.
Magistrate Forlarn said, “There were those at the Conclave of Nations who believe you are a tyrant, Asp, a destroyer of cities. And still, I cast my vote—the Saer vote—to refuse action against you. But to volunteer the bulk of the Shardbearers into your service…in a world that is unknown to us is foolhardy.”
“Well said, Magistrate.” The voice came from a much older Saer sitting in the front row of the vast audience that encircled the crystal thrones. His forehead and brow were creased from a combination of age and frequent glowering. But in spite of his years, he was more bulky with muscle than most Saer. His arms and shoulders bulged from the leather vest that he wore. “This issth not our fight,” he said.
“You’re right, of course,” Asp said, nodding toward the older Saer. “Dregory, correct? I’ve heard much about you, a resolute warrior by all accounts—and wise. This fight does not belong to the Saer. This is mercenary work. I want decisive victory—and swift. And for that, I will pay generously.”
“What kind of pay?” Magistrate Forlarn asked, sneering. “The Saer care nothing for gold, silver, or vanadium.”
Asp spread his arms wide. “We’re talking about the spoils of an entire world.”
This time, Sardon himself hissed. “Shall we shy away when sssuch treasures await?”
Forlarn leaned forward, and his jaw appendages whipped wildly. “Treasures? You don’t mean—”
Asp nodded. “Crystal deposits ten times the size of those in Allyra, and—”
Forlarn’s mouth smacked wetly. “T-ten times the size…”
“Yes,” said Asp. “At least. And the libraries, this world has the most advanced archiving system I have ever seen. Not tens of thousands but rather millions of volumes of knowledge available at your fingertips.”
Forlarn’s misshapen mouth curled into a rapturous grin. “You would deliver all this over to ussth?” he asked. “All of it?”
Asp nodded. “We will take other riches, of course,” Asp said. “These humans have many things of value. But crystal is of no use to me. And their compiled wisdom doesn’t interest my people, Drefid nor Gwar. Earth would be yours to pillage.”
Red glimmered out from Forlarn’s narrowed eyes. He turned and whispered something to a magistrate on his left, and then the same to his right. The message appeared to travel the circle of magistrates. The Saer leadership exchanged knowing glances. Then they drummed their fingertips upon the crystal, filling the chamber with a melodic tinkling that sounded like windchimes.
Magistrate Forlarn stood. “It is decided, then,” he said. “We will join your crusade, Lord Asp. We will commit seventy percent of our general forcesssth to your cause in exchange for mining and archival rights to this Earth you speak of. Done and done.”
“A wise choice,” Asp said. “You will need such numbers to carry your plunder.”
“SEVENTY!” Dregory thundered. He leaped up from his seat in the audience and stormed up to Magistrate Forlarn’s throne. “That would leave usssth defenseless here. Have you all gone mad?”
The magistrates hissed. “Magistrates, esssteemed guests,” Forlarn intoned gently, “this is an unprecedented offer and may prove to be the greatest cultural advancement in Saer history.”
Sardon spoke up. “Dregory, your caution is well respected,” he said. “But perhapssth, missplaced? What enemy has Thynhold Cairn to fear? The Elves? Ha, no! Our mountain would be safe even with, ah, ten percent of our Shardbearersssth.”
“You, you all speak with poisoned tonguesssth!” Dregory growled. “And eyessth too wide with greed. What if our enemy standssth before you? Taladair is no more, thanks to his doing!”
“Again, Dregory, you prove your reputation is well-earned,” Asp said, each word clipped. “My forces are formidable. We did put down the Taladrim, but understand, it was they who provoked us. I brought the offer of riches to them. Their answer was to sneer and demean my people. You all know the contempt between the Taladrim and Drefid races. It was unfortunate.”
Whispers slithered through the chamber.
Dregory scratched at his chin. “That feud is well-known,” he said. “And yet, we have only Lord Asp’s word as proof. And what of this phantom world he speakssth of? Have any of you seen it?”
“Would you like to?” Asp asked. The room fell silent.
“I would,” Dregory said.
“Then, allow me a moment,” Asp said. “Saer Magistrates and citizens, I ask patience of you. What I am about to do will not be easy for you to comprehend. And, what we do not comprehend, we fear. I am about to create a portal for Dregory to pass through, but it will stretch your perspective to see it.”
Asp took a small bottle of liquid from his robe pocket. He spoke in whispers for several seconds. Then, he held the bottle aloft and smashed it to the stone floor. A gleaming line of liquid spattered across the floor. A bluish spark kindled at one end of the line and danced its way to the other end. Others like it followed. Asp bent down, speaking more whispers, and then reached to either end of the spilled liquid. Then, he pulled upon it, and the liquid rose from the ground like some kind of curtain or blind. Asp lifted it higher and higher, until he stood erect, and before him shimmered a door-sized sheet of…something.
The magistrates and spectators gasped and spoke in fearful whispers. They could see through the strange door, and the chamber on the other side was still clearly visible. But the bluish electricity raced in frenzied patterns across it.
“Dregory,” Asp said. “Ready to see the new world?”
The older Saer hesitated a moment, but then descended the curling stair. He approached Asp and nodded. Then, he said, “You go first.”
“Very wise,” Asp said. “As you wish.” Then Asp strode through the portal and was gone.
The Saer muttered and exclaimed. A few called for Dregory not to go. But the majority urged him on. And so, Dregory stepped through the portal.
The noise in the chamber escalated to a roar until, moments later, Asp and Dregory returned.
“Tell them, Dregory,” Asp said. “What did you see?”
Dregory blinked. “There isssth another world,” he said. “Its sky was deep blue. The land issth vast and green…and beautiful. There was a shining city on the horizon, though I do not know its name. I have no doubt there are riches in both crystal and wisdom to be had.”
“You see?” Sardon exclaimed. “It isssth ripe for the picking. Alert the Shardbearers! We will—”
“But,” Dregory said. “I do not believe we should do thisssth thing.”
Hisses filled the room but none larger than Asp’s. “You do not know what you are saying,” the Drefid replied, his voice low and blunt like a hammer.
Forlarn grumbled. “You are of a different generation, Dregory, afraid to change. Afraid to try new things. Your ambition has left you.”
“Maybe,” Dregory said. “But I am alssso wiser. That world out there…it seemsssth a quiet place. Quiet but full of life. What have they done to us? What right have we to plunder their world? What right have we to kill them all? Nay, we should not do this thing, Saer. I have seen this world, and to me it isssth innocent.”
“Perhaps you should look again,” Asp said.
His movements were almost too swift to follow. He turned and his robe whirled with him. Something came out of his hand, making it appear as a grotesque claw. He grabbed Dregory and, with one arm, shoved him halfway into the portal. Then, Asp whispered something. The portal glowed. Electricity crisscrossed its surface. And then the portal snapped closed with the sound of a whip.
Asp tossed the lower half of Dregory’s body to the ground and asked, “Is there anyone else here who doubts my word?”
17: The Vanishing Army
“DREGORY WASSSTH TOO INFLEXIBLE,” SARDON said as he clambered onto his lance cat. He seated his feet in the stirrups and wrapped one of the leather reins around his long forearm. “Inflexible and loud, yesssth. But did you, ah, have to cut him in half to make your point?”
“Object lessons are invaluable tools,” Asp said. “They will not forget what they have seen.”
“No, no, they will not forget,” Sardon replied. “But you have alienated the working classessth. Some of our generals and their Shardbearer units will remain in Thynhold Cairn. I fear we have less than seventy percent to offer you.”
Asp squeezed his toes into the upper abdomen of his Warspider, and the creature began to crawl. “It is enough,” Asp said. “Our numbers are sound.”
“What about the Nemic?” Sardon asked. “They are alwayssth good for a fight, and they thirst for many thingsssth this Earth may offer.”
“The Nemic are already in the fold,” Asp replied. “But they will not be needed on Earth.”
“Did you see that, Jast?” Shardbearer Rhystalec asked. He peered through a slightly misshapen spyglass that was wedged neatly into the crennel of his lookout position. His partner didn’t answer right away. She was nestled into her own nook, a pocket of stonework built into the mountains of Thynhold Cairn.
Jastansia changed the focus on her own spyglass. “The treesssth are moving,” she replied. “So?”
Rhystalec muttered a curse and then asked, “Do you feel any wind?”
“A bit of a breeze,” she said, “here and there.” Then Jast sat up very straight. She reached swiftly over her shoulder and pulled free her shard stave. “But a breeze would not move the trees like that.”
Rhystalec looked again. The cliffside forest was more turbulent than he had seen it, even in a gale storm. The massive canopies writhed and shook. Branches tore, and untold numbers of leaves scattered. It wasn’t just one place either. Rifts opened in the foliage all over, bending and twisting boughs.
“What do you make of it, Rhyssth?” Jastansia asked. “Should I get to the summoning bell?”
“Might be wise,” Rhystalec said, tearing himself from the spyglass momentarily. “I’ve never seen such a thing, have you?”
“No,” she replied. “Not aside of that vortex that dropped down from the storm back in 212.”
“That was a bad one,” said Rhystalec. “But then, we had the black sky, and a doomfinger we could see. This…I don’t know.” The sound of crumbling stone pulled him back to the spyglass. He watched the edge of the forest. Trees still swayed and shook, but now, rocks and gravel tumbled down the cliffside in dozens of places. A shrill screech sent a cold thrill through his body.
“What was that?” Jastansia asked, panic choking her words.
“Nothing good,” Rhystalec said, rising to his feet. “That is certain. Go now, get to the summoning—urkk!”
Right before Jastansia’s eyes, Rhystalec’s chest burst. A bloody mess opened on the right side of his chestplate, and the Shardbearer was lifted bodily into the air. His limbs wheeled uselessly. He struggled like a beetle on a pin, crying out a gurgling scream.
Jastansia ran to help her friend, but something that felt like log of timber slammed into her forearm. Her shard stave cartwheeled into the air and clattered over the edge. She screamed and clutched her forearm but only for a moment. She looked at her dying friend and took a step forward.
But Rhystalec’s eyes bulged. He held up a spasming hand and cried out, “No!” Then he was tossed backward over the wall. He plummeted out of sight, into the chasm below.
Jast spun on her heels. “Ellos, save us all!” she cried out as she loped toward the stair ridge that curled around the cliffside. She stumbled and just as she went to one knee, something incredibly hard smashed into the stone at the level her head would have been. She was showered with dust and flecks of stone, but didn’t wait until she could see clearly. She kept low and raced to the stairs.
Something brushed her leg and she teetered a moment. She glanced for a split second over the edge at the yawning abyss but threw her gangly hands at the rock face. Her Saer fingers found crevices and she kept from falling. She was steady for just a few seconds before something stabbed into her thigh.
Pain lanced up her spine. Blood soaked into the leather plate armor and dribbled down her leg. Instinctively, she reached down to the wound. By touch, she found an arrow shaft protruding from her leg, but she could not see it. “What madness isssth this? How can—”
SCREET!
The shrill cry was close enough and loud enough to make her ears ring. Jast grabbed the unseen arrow shaft and snapped it off a few inches from her flesh. Then she ran. Ducking down behind fences of stone whenever she could, she stumbled along the narrow footpath. A mad chorus of cries and screams followed her as she hit the first step of the spiral stairs that led up and around the outside of Thynhold Cairn’s bell tower.
Every time she pushed off with her right leg, pain erupted. She could feel the arrowhead grinding against bone and shredding muscle. She knew she was losing a lot of blood, maybe dying, but fear drove her on. Fear that something had come to her city—her lifetime home—something that no Saer had ever experienced before. Perhaps, something beyond their ability to defend against.
The bell tower loomed above, and she climbed. A strange, cold wind swirled. CRACK! Something struck the base of the tower beneath her. Blue fire flared below, and gray smoke plumed upward. Jast screamed, but kept running.
Just three turns remained before she could reach the platform and sound the alarm. He right leg felt numb, and she slipped once on the second turn. That’s when she heard the clicking, clattering sound. She looked behind her and down, just for a moment. And there, in the billowing smoke, a terrifying shape formed.
It seemed a monstrous spider made of shadow, and it was clambering up the tower only twenty feet below. A gust of wind chased the smoke away, and the creature was gone from view. But Jast knew better. It was still there. Still climbing.
Jast groaned in agony, slamming her feet down upon the stone, grabbing the clefts of rock with her long fingers and wrenching herself up. She dove onto the platform, rolled onto her side, and snatched the heavy hammer from its cleft under the tower rail. She rose to her knees and wheeled the hammer over her head. The massive mallet head struck the body of the huge bell. A deep chime pealed out from the tower.
An angry screech answered, and something heavy stepped up onto the tower’s platform.
The bell swung ponderously back and forth, sounding once, twice, a third time. But, before it could sound once more, it jerked to a stop in midair, colliding with something unseen.
SCREET!
Jast clutched the bell hammer and slammed herself backward against the rail. Her red eyes scanned the platform furiously. Her jaw appendages whipped to and fro, as she tried desperately to sense something, anything that would give away the creature’s position. How can I fight what I cannot see, cannot sense?
The summoning bell swayed a little to the left. Then Jast knew. She leaped forward and swept the hammer, low-to-high, into the seemingly open air right of the bell. It collided with a nauseating crunch. There was an angry screech, and a gout of black blood spurted. More blood trickled and ran along an uneven contour hanging in the air.
“I see you now!” Jast yelled. She swung for the blood and missed. Something slammed into her shoulder, but a glancing blow. She recoiled and slid a few yards left, trying to keep the summoning bell between her and the beast.
The strategy paid off. The bell moved, and so did Jast. This time, she swung the hammer like an ax. It hit home.
Crack. Screech. Blood.
Jast pivoted right and watched spots of blood spatter the platform in front of her. The summoning bell suddenly flew forward with such force that it tore free from its housing. The thing was charging her. There was no place to go but over the edge of the bell tower.
Jast gasped out what she thought might be her last breath and tried the only thing she could think of. Pain screamed from her wounded thigh as Jast dropped into a split. She held the hammer’s head out in front of her. The second the beast barreled into it, Jast planted the haft on the floor and used the weapon to lever the creature up and over her head. The hammer splintered in her hand. Something struck Jast a blow on the jaw. As darkness swarmed in on her mind, she heard the percussive snaps of evergreen limbs.
When Jast awoke, she felt like she’d been trampled by a herd of maladons. Her head pounded, her shoulder and forearm throbbed, and her thigh burned. But all the pain meant she wasn’t dead.
“Thank Ellos,” she whispered hoarsely. Clenching her teeth and groaning, Jast clambered to her feet.
Her head swam. She was dizzy and swayed. After steadying herself on the rail, Jast became aware of the clamor all around her. Crashes, cracks, screams, commands, wails, thuds, explosions and the steady rumble of many armored feet.
The sounds of war.
Jast leaned on the rail and gasped. Thynhold Cairn burned in a hundred places. Saer defenders lay dead or dying all around. All the avalanche traps had been sprung, and many enemy beasts—spiders, flying creatures, and massive wormlike monsters—lay crushed, half-visible by their own blood and gore. Several towers had been thrown down. The western ramparts were wrecked. And the living, Saer and invader, still fought on amidst it all.
