Part 3
The battle raged on. Flaming arrows pierced the darkness, streaking across the sky until they hit either their target or Kip’s magical barrier. The arrows that hit the shield burst into a shower of sparks that quickly faded as they were drained of energy. The summoned tornado gusted through the camp, tossing around whatever happened to be in its path. Anyone who happened to be near it dove for cover. Kip and Ianora tried to counter it, but so far they were unsuccessful.
Then suddenly a rock that the whirlwind had picked up hurled towards the Seer. As she started to duck, Kip saw the danger and tried to push her out of its path. But it was too late, for the rock’s destiny and Ianora’s were one and the same. It struck her in the right side of her skull. The Seer collapsed into Kip’s arms. He began chanting a healing spell, but she shook her head.
“My time here is over, Kip. This is my fate. Leave me to it.”
“No! Ianora, don’t ask me to…”
“When I was young, I had a vision. I was not supposed to be the one to lead my people to their home. Instead, I would instruct her. Aris Moondell is to be the new Seer. Do not interfere with our destinies.” She smiled. Then her eyes grew distant. “Lead Aliya into the sun, Kip. You will find a way.”
Kip had no question as to whether it would happen, but how was another matter entirely.
“Ianora!” The shout was Aris Moondell’s. The former apprentice ran towards them, clearly distraught. Tears streamed down her face as she looked at Ianora. “No! You have to stay. We need you. Kip, do something!”
“It is her choice,” he replied. “I cannot.”
Aris burst into sobs.
“Do not fear, child. It is your destiny,” Ianora whispered faintly. “Be strong. Our people will need you in the days ahead. It is my time. I must go.”
”No,” Aris sobbed, but despite her protests, the elderly woman drew her last breath.
Kip gently lay Ianora’s body onto the ground, then embraced the crying young woman. But she pushed him away.
“You could have helped her,” Aris accused him.
Slowly, Kip nodded. “Yes, but she asked me not to. I had to honor her choice.”
“Why?”
“Because she knew that it was meant to happen.”
Aris sniffed. “She was the Seer. If anyone would have known that, she would have. But that doesn’t make it fair.”
“Not all things are fair.”
The young woman nodded. “I suppose so.” She turned around to see the tornado dissipate as its magical energy vanished. The enemy sorcerer was up to something.
* * * * *
Torana looked up at the eerily dark sky, wondering why it had become night so soon. Was this part of Neteilu’s plan, or had a sorcerer on the other side summoned the stars? Either way, it was frightening to think that someone commanded so much power.
“My Lord, that is a brilliant strategy,” Torana remarked. “Confusing them with darkness. Absolutely brilliant.”
“Perhaps, but it was not my idea,” Neteilu replied.
She blinked in surprise. “Who else would command so much magic?”
“The girl we seek.”
“Surely a child cannot have so much power, and untrained at that.”
“It is written in the prophecy that she shall command the stars. Do you doubt the prophecy, Torana?” Neteilu glared at her.
“No, of course not.”
“Good. We must find the girl at all costs. She has to be in that camp, or else this darkness would not be here.”
She nodded.
Neteilu concentrated with all his might, focusing on the summoning spell as he chanted. In the darkness, black shadows writhed and came to life in response. Torana gasped as she saw them slither together like snakes, forming a giant shadowy fiend that loomed over them. The creature vaguely resembled a man, but it was more like a walking nightmare. Its golden eyes blazed like pools of molten fire. No other distinguishing features could be seen in the inky blackness of its face. The darkness twisted and coiled, alive but not alive in a strange way.
“What issss thy command?” it hissed.
Neteilu pointed towards the camp. “Destroy them.”
“Assss you wissssh.” The shadow fiend turned and crept off.
Any fighter who dared to attack the creature was frozen in place by its touch, unable to move or speak. Soon many of the Wanderers were paralyzed and unable to fight. They stood like statues on the battlefield, poised to strike or parry but incapable of doing so. It was an eerie scene.
* * * * *
General Dalrik and Tanith still faced each other warily as swords clashed and arrows flew around them.
“You will not survive, woman,” Dalrik growled. “You may have learned to fight well, but you’re outmatched.
“Perhaps,” she answered. “We shall see.”
Sirocco gleamed in starlight as Tanith wielded the scimitar with expertise. Slashing through the air, she cut the general’s arm before he could strike.
“That is the second time you have wounded me. It will be the last,” he remarked, bringing his sword up in an arc.
She blocked his blade in the downswing. The two warriors glared at each other. Suddenly Tanith caught a glimpse of the shadow fiend approaching. Whatever that thing was, she had to stop it.
*Mistress, no,* J’yar warned her as she whirled around and lunged at it.
There was a moment of shock as her blade went through the inky darkness. Then it reached out. A black tentacle lashed out from its arm, touching Tanith’s hand. It was colder than steel or ice. She shivered as the cold shot through her body. Then General Dalrik’s rough laughter slashed through the night.
“Looks like you have met your match,” the general remarked.
He brought his sword up and was about to strike when a magical arrow struck him, causing him to stumble. As Dalrik looked, he saw a dark-haired faery woman glaring at him from a distance. Trin’s hands moved as frantically as her lips. The general ducked as another magical arrow soared through the dark sky. It struck a soldier who unfortunately happened to be near him, who was then slain by his opponent.
The shadow fiend hissed, and then continued on its path towards the camp. It would not allow itself to be deterred. Fenrek saw the shadowy thing and aimed his bow, but even though his arrows hit their target, they passed straight through it. Then Dalrik turned and raised his sword, intending to strike a final blow, but the white stallion was in his way and would not let him get near Tanith.
As Fenrek cursed, he saw General Dalrik. He quickly fired off an arrow, which caught the enemy in his shoulder. Fenrek turned Bagley around as the infuriated general approached, hoping to retreat. But an enemy soldier blocked his path. He drew one of his throwing daggers and hurled it. The soldier went down. Urging his pony to hurry, Fenrek glimpsed the general. He was nearly within a sword’s reach.
Seething with fury, Dalrik shouted, “I’ll cut your head from your short, stumpy little body, Melosean!”
It wasn’t as if Fenrek had never been threatened or insulted before. He’d narrowly survived being in the gambler, thief, and assassin Shen Mallen’s hands, where he had been tortured. But for some reason, this threat made him stop and turn around. His hand gripped the hilt of another dagger.
“What makes you so sure of that?” Fenrek challenged.
The General laughed. “My years of experience. You’d rather stay out of the line of fire than be in it yourself, wouldn’t you? But that’s not possible now.” Dalrik advanced like a predatory cat, keeping his eyes on his prey.
In one smooth, fluid move, Fenrek took out his dagger and aimed it carefully. It shone as it silently sailed through the air, gleaming with reflected starlight. All Dalrik had to do was dodge to avoid it, but he didn’t. Instead, the general stared at the blade in disbelief. Then he ducked, but it was too late. The dagger caught him in the chest.
Fenrek gaped as Dalrik raised his sword, but the blow never came. The general’s sword clattered to the ground as he collapsed with shock on his face and his eyes wide in astonishment. Then the Melosean had to get out of the way as a Wanderer and a soldier parried, stepping on Dalrik’s corpse as they did so.
* * * * *
As the dark creature approached Kip’s magical barrier, it paused. Then it let loose with its tentacles. The shield shimmered as it tried to defend against this new menace. But the dragon’s magical energy was focused on stopping the fires that the tornado had caused, and eventually the shield weakened enough for the shadow fiend to slip through.
It lashed out as it skulked through the camp, paralyzing those were foolish enough to get in its way. Kip saw it and quickly conjured a blazing fireball. It exploded into a shower of crimson and gold sparks as it struck its target, but the creature appeared to be injured. Worse, he’d made it angrier. As it approached, Kip transformed into the gold dragon. The creature reached for him, but his natural defenses made him immune to its paralyzing touch.
Aris glimpsed the shadow fiend attacking Kip. She chanted hastily. A bright burst of golden light exploded from her hand and hit the monster, but it remained unharmed. She watched as the dragon let loose with a blast of fiery breath. Unfortunately, the flames also had no effect.
Aliya also saw the shadow fiend. Clutching the opal that Ianora had given her, she concentrated. The magic within her welled up like a geyser ready to burst forth. Starlight erupted from the heavens in a brilliant pillar of light surrounding the creature. Instinctively, the dragon leapt back. The shadow fiend cried out as it was exposed, incandescent beams piercing it like arrows.
As the creature began to disintegrate, it turned and glared at her. Its eyes had changed. No longer were they golden. Instead they were human. Aliya realized that the sorcerer who had summoned it was seeing from its perspective. With a haunting wail, the creature vanished. The sky above grew lighter and the stars faded.
* * * * *
Ravyn was stunned to see how many of his people had fallen. Those who had been paralyzed by the creature that the sorcerer had summoned were just now regaining the ability to move. Ianora had been slain. How many others had fallen? They were outnumbered by Neteilu’s soldiers. Surely Balen had to see that they didn’t stand a chance. The sorcerer was just too powerful. They ought to surrender while they still lived. In hopes of urging Balen to do just that, Ravyn began to search for him.
Meanwhile, the Wanderers’ leader battled the enemy commander with all his might as the day wore on. The Darkwood staff that Balen carried was not merely ceremonial. It carried strong magic ready to be released upon command. That was the legacy passed down from each generation to the next.
Firan glared at the Wanderer, attempting to provoke him into making a premature attack. The commander’s sword glowed like molten steel in sunlight, but Balen’s staff glowed red with magic. As Firan swung, his opponent raised his staff to block him. Fiery sparks flew. The sword began to glow red hot, as if it had been dipped into the furnace of the sun itself. With a yelp of pain, the commander dropped it.
“Now, will you surrender and leave my people alone?” Balen asked.
The enemy glared at him. “Not as long as I stand.”
“Then you will not be standing much longer.”
The end of Balen’s staff burst into flame as he held it up. The blazing staff became a beacon of hope for his people who still lived. The Wanderers on the battlefield were inspired by its light. Those still in the camp gained courage.
Firan scowled as he drew a spare dagger. In its hilt was a sapphire, and its serrated blade glowed with a pale blue light. “I doubt that very much.”
The commander leapt as Balen swung his staff around. It missed him by a hair. Because Balen was pulling the staff back for another strike, there was a small chance that Firan could hit him on his side. The enemy took the risk, striking with the magical dagger.
The Wanderer felt ice in his veins spreading through his body like poison. As he shivered uncontrollably, the staff’s flame began to fade.
Realizing that now was probably the best chance he was going to get, Firan struck Balen in the shoulder with his blade. The Wanderer cursed. Then the magical fire vanished completely, along with the staff’s red glow. As Balen shivered, he could see the hope in his people’s eyes fading as well.
Firan laughed. “Your magic is gone, Wanderer. Surrender, and I may be able to persuade my liege into taking you prisoner instead of killing you immediately.”
“Never!”
Seizing the moment, Ravyn stepped forward. “Balen, perhaps now is the time to make peace with the outsiders. Perhaps we should surrender. It would lessen the risk of death, and this foreign king has the ability to offer us land. Paying him taxes would not be nearly so bad as dying.”
Balen glared at him. “I will not surrender the life of one foreign girl, much less the lives of my people to a foreign king who will most likely slaughter us when our backs are turned. If you honest believe that we have a better chance of surviving if we surrender, then you are a fool, Ravyn Arrowstrider.”
“I am no fool. But you are, if you are unwilling to give peace a chance.”
“Are you challenging my leadership ability?”
Balen Talbrand was a good, strong leader, but he did not know when to back down from a fight. If challenging him was the only way to guarantee his people’s safety, then so be it. “Aye, I am,” Ravyn replied.
“Then so be it.”
Balen glanced at the commander. “This requires a duel. Whoever wins shall be the leader of my people. If I win, you have every right to continue our fight. If Ravyn bests me, then he will lead our people as he sees fit. Do you understand?”
Firan nodded, seeing the opportunity. He shouted a command for his troops to stop fighting where they stood. Balen did the same.
“Raven Arrowstrider has challenged me in the tradition of our ancestors. Let the Gods determine who is to be leader of the Wanderers. Let them decide which way our path will take us, and who shall lead us into the future,” he announced.
* * * * *
In the camp, Aliya bit her lip, wondering if she could do anything to keep this from happening. Kip studied her. He had transformed into his human form after she had defeated the shadow fiend.
“Let this play out as it must,” the dragon advised.
“But Kip, what if Balen doesn’t win?”
“Then it is the will of the Gods and the Prophecy.”
She sighed. “Why can’t the Gods do what we want them to?”
“Because then there would be nothing but chaos.”
Of course Kip was right, as usual. The girl sighed and forced herself to watch the events on the battlefield unfold.
* * * * *
