Cloudfyre Falling - a dark fairy tale (53 page)

Instantly he felt his vitality
return. Instantly he felt he were filled with the strength of gods.
He felt out of his body somehow. Felt as light as a bird. And most
curious of all, he saw the head of Hor’s mighty and legendary
hammer suddenly appear.

7

Locke were laughing, hurting but
laughing. He had heard warriors tell how they had never felt more
alive than when close to death. He were feeling it now and he were
relishing it. And hoped not to give this sensation up so readily.
Though he wished he knew where his Zebra were. For he could see
naught, lost beneath this horde as he were. Though every now and
then he heard her squeal or hiss. So he fought. He could no longer
get his blow flute to his mouth so he cut through these Bewitched
with his moonblade. He could hear it humming as it sliced through
them, as their burning “flesh” gave off a stink like molten
rubber.

He heard something new then. As of
a behemoth descending upon this mayhem. And when he managed a
chance he saw it, a brute wielding a mighty war hammer. At first he
believed it a mirage, an apparition put out by his dying mind. But
dying mind or no, he wished to watch it. For formidable it were, a
colossus, awe inspiring, a god walking amongst them.

It had no eyes but searing orbs of
yellow light. It had a horned helmet and looked clad in the Vyking
armour of old, black steel plate. And it wielded a mighty hammer
that flamed blue. And it were with this hammer, in mighty sweeping
arcs, that it were casting Bewitched aside, dozens at a time, to
the far corners of the sanctuary.

It roared as it clubbed them,
laughed wickedly in deep sonorous tones as its hammer scattered
them, spread them, dozens upon dozens hurtling through the air. It
appeared unfatigued by its actions and godlike in its
fury.

The Bewitched were undeterred
though. They did not flee, they did wane, they showed no fear. They
swarmed it. And bit into it. Clambering up its legs. Still, with
each stomp of its mighty feet it shook them free like lice. And
swiped them away in enormous clods. And those that were hit stayed
hit; they did not rise again. And for now at least, it began to
trim their numbers.

This afforded Locke more room to
fight, finally gaining his feet, slashing his moonblade at
Bewitched who still came at him, and spitting darts from his
blowflute that now cut searing, smoking holes through them. He saw
Hawkmoth arise like a resurrected soul from a pile who were still
upon him, still assailing him. Without his staff his fingers worked
like vast nets of weed, raking his offenders aside in clumps. Razor
and Grimah both battered the Bewitched, finding the fight now far
easier with the horde thinned out. Locke whistled and called Zebra
to heel, and he leapt upon her as she slithered by, blowing darts
at Bewitched as they alternatively flew at him or chased him. But
nowhere could he spot Gargaron.

Hawkmoth spotted
his staff and held his arm in its direction and to him it flew and
he snatched it up into his grip as it came at him in a blur and
waved it skywards, uttering a spell, ‘
Makus eet rayn doon wit fyrr
!’ and
beads of flame spurt by the hundreds from Lancsh’s gaping jaw into
the air, shooting out in every direction, digging into the witch
dolls before turning them into walking infernos that then blew
apart in wild explosive blasts.

Locke kept Zebra mobile and at
speed, lessening the chance of the Bewitched attaching themselves
to her. He fired darts, and slashed his blade, and the colossus
roared laughter and smashed his way through the soulless
dolls.

‘
More
coming!
’ Hawkmoth called.
‘
We must get to the
tower!
’

Locke looked and saw numbers of
Bewitched clambering still like bugs over Sanctuary’s outer
wall.

‘
How many be
there hiding in these mountains?
’ Locke
called back.

‘
More than I
imagined
,’ Hawkmoth shouted, grimacing,
bleeding. ‘
The witches must have been
amassing them for years
!’

‘
Where be
Gargaron?
’ Locke yelled.

‘
I can only surmise that be him,’
the sorcerer said, pointing quickly at the behemoth still thumping
and bashing the Bewitched. ‘For that there he wields be Drenvel’s
Bane!’

And still the great colossus dealt
with these witch dolls, grunting, and laughing, seemingly no end to
his fury. But they swarmed him again, and as Locke raced Zebra for
the tower he saw the mighty hammer glimmer in and out of
existence.

And here the mighty behemoth fell
to his knee.

1

GARGARON felt his strength falter
as he collapsed. And a weakness suddenly enveloped him. He
understood none of this. Moments prior he had stood taller than he
had ever stood, felt bigger than he had before, felt more powerful
than anything ever to have lived. He had been wielding a mighty
warhammer, he had been knocking the Bewitched hither and thither as
though clubbing naught but mere ducklings. And now this… a
momentary dulling of his rage and he had lost all of it. As he
gazed down at his hammer he saw that it were again but a shaft and
naught more.

He felt Grimah at
his side, nudging his ribs, encouraging him to stand and Gargaron
held up his hand to his steed’s noses, as if saying
Yah, I hear you, give me a
moment
.

He heard Locke at close quarters.
‘Seems you threw your blade away, giant.’

When Gargaron looked up he saw
Locke presenting Gargaron’s rescued great sword. And Hawkmoth
nearby.

‘
Oh, and let me say,’ the crabman
went on, ‘a fine show you put on just now with that wee hammer of
yours. A true spectacle to behold!’

Gargaron found not the strength to
muster a verbal reply. He grimaced and took his sword from Locke
and with Grimah’s aid he climbed to his feet. As he slotted his
sword into his scabbard he surveyed the grounds of Sanctuary.
Masses of busted, twisted Bewitched lay crumpled in the snow.
Several hundred. It seemed inconceivable that he had created such
carnage.

‘
Come now,’ Hawkmoth told them.
‘Let us not lose this advantage. More Bewitched are on their
way.’

Through the mists Gargaron saw
them, waves of these witch’s devils piling over the walls,
scrambling out toward them, their limbs clicking like
bone.

Locke pulled Zebra into motion.
Gargaron struggled into Grimah’s saddle; Hawkmoth remained close in
case the giant needed his aid. But Gargaron were soon mounted and
set off after the crabman.

From top of tower Melai watched.
Though she did not understand what she saw. More monsters rushed
for her friends but while Zebra, Grimah and Razor sped on, Hawkmoth
were not with them. He had dismounted, perhaps without Locke and
Gargaron knowing it, and were standing there amidst the snow
covered grounds, staff held at the ready as if waiting to take on
the coming hordes all on his own.

2

A chain shot out from some unknown
point so fast it struck Hawkmoth in the back, punching through his
flesh, yanking him back violently.

As he thumped heavily into the
snow, a series of spiked metal poles began to rise from the ground
in a wide circular area around him.

Hawkmoth wore a deep grimace on
his face as he pushed himself to his knee. He had had expected the
spiked poles but not the projectile. The chain protruded from his
back, effectively tethering him. It were heavy but he managed to
stand. He had to be ready. For the wardens were on their
way.

3

Hawkmoth’s predicament came to
Gargaron’s attention after he noticed Locke glance around and
suddenly pulled Zebra to a halt. ‘What be his?’ the crabman
asked.

Gargaron slowed Grimah and when he
turned he saw Hawkmoth trapped inside a pen of tall spikes, spikes
that were fifty feet from ground to tip. And spaced so close
together it would have been impossible for Hawkmoth to squeeze his
way out.

‘
Hawkmoth?’ Locke called, as Razor
trotted around the pen’s perimeter, angry, snorting, baying. ‘What
be this?’

‘
Press on!’ Hawkmoth demanded.
Bewitched were drawing closer and closer. ‘There be naught you can
do. Skitecrow’s little pets come for me now. Wardens of Sanctuary.
They shall not permit me leave here alive.’

Gargaron saw then inside
Hawkmoth’s pen, the ground open up and three separate pits appear.
And from three separate stairways down into Sanctuary’s undercrofts
they came, three silver armoured figures. Tall, ominous. They
strode out into the snow, one carrying a mace, the other a morning
star, the last a far reaching halberd. Here they advanced upon
Hawkmoth.

‘
It be a farewell reception for
any Brother who turns his back on this place and has the gall to
return,’ Hawkmoth called out, blood dripping from his chin. He
reached behind and worked the chain from his back. He cast it
aside, a pronged spike attached its end. He bled, but ignored it.
He took his staff into grip, holding it before him with two hands
like a sword. He took up a defensive stance. Carefully he watched
the three Wardens. They stood so still and so calm. ‘I have news
for them however,’ Hawkmoth said with a grin. ‘I shan’t let them
take me down without a fight.’

‘
You did not warn us of this,’
Gargaron heard himself croak.

‘
No. This one I kept to myself.
But fret not, giant, I knew this were coming thus used my time in
Skitecrow’s offices well. I have some gadgets now that might aid
me.’

‘
What can we do?’ Locke
called.

‘
You can flee!’ came Hawkmoth’s
reply. ‘Take Mama Vekh. Fly southeast to Dark Wood. If I live
through this I shall catch you up. Hurry now!’

4

Gargaron took hold of Drenvel’s
Bane once more. He would not leave the sorcerer. He gripped it
two-handed. He would bring down the wall of bars that contained
him. Yet he could not summon it.

‘
Go!
’ Hawkmoth yelled at
them.

Gargaron tried again,
concentrating his will. But he could not wake it. He were spent.
Hor’s hammer remained dormant. He slot the handle inside his pack
and took his sword into hand. ‘We’ll not leave you here!’ he
called.

‘
This be not about me,’ Hawkmoth
called back. ‘This be for the realm. Get Mama Vekh to her
daughters. Hurry now and leave, damn you!’

It were here the Wardens marched
toward him.

5

Melai watched from the top of the
tower. She saw the coming horde sweep toward her friends. She saw
Locke and Gargaron take their steeds to the base of the tower and
watched the hordes swarm them.

She could sit and watch no
longer.

She flew down tower’s stairwell
and found the lower floor doorway awash with enormous doll-like
creatures, Locke and Gargaron hard up against them.

Melai unleashed a volley of rapid
fire Loniyahd acid-tipped arrows into the dolls. On impact, the
dolls were riddled with a dozen pockmarks that melted outwards in
expanding holes; parts of them dripping away until their forms were
so compromised they crumpled inwards and dropped, twitching in the
snow, their limbs melting from them. But there were too many for
her to counter.

‘
We need hold this ground,’
Gargaron called, trying to get a glimpse through the horde of
Hawkmoth’s position. ‘We need to work out some way to help our
sorcerer.’

6

The Wardens
attacked skillfully, viciously, ferociously. But Hawkmoth knew
them, had seen them dispatch forbidden Brothers many times and thus
had an advantage over their tactics.
Grief
, who wielded its mace, were
swift of feet, and were deceptive. It made first move, as Hawkmoth
anticipated, shifting from its position almost unseen. Hawkmoth
knew it would dart behind him, as he had witnessed it do so many
times; both
Sorrow
with its morning star, and
Pain
, with its halberd, would attack
while he were distracted.

Hawkmoth also knew that he would
be caught short with many of his conventional spells. He had some
of Skitecrow’s toys to his arsenal to help him, though if they
failed, well he had been a long time away from Sanctuary and a long
time away from conventional learning; thus he had picked up an
array of tricks in his years banished that he would not have
learned had he remained here. And so simply, he went to town on
them.

Anticipating Grief’s movement to
the tee he sprung sideways and both Grief’s mace and Sorrow’s
morning star crashed together where his head had been but a
sunflare prior, giving of a shower of sparks. Thus he danced aside
and leapt high into the air as Pain’s halberd struck out at him. He
evaded it well and rolled, ducking beneath another sweeping attack
by Sorrow, and Hawkmoth threw Rashel out in an arc and she breathed
out a breath of ice air, a spell he had learnt from Eve. The
Wardens shuddered and stopped in their movements for but a
sunflare… time enough for Hawkmoth to pull one of Skitecrow’s
Ouppluids into play. He dragged it from his belt, grated it swiftly
across his forearm and speared both it and any flesh it carried
from his arm into the ground. Instantly Hawkmoth’s doppelganger
grew, and were fully formed by the time Grief, Pain and Sorrow
kicked back into movement.