First Hero (5 page)

C
ries of terror rose from the townsfolk as they pointed at the advancing forces amassed on the other side of the bridge. The enemy was chanting a war cry: “Death has come, death has come ….”

The crowd surged around Firepos, clamoring for the safety of their homes. The fair-haired twins were swallowed in a sea of panic.

I’m too late
, Tanner thought with horror.
This is all my fault.

As he watched the enemy approach the bridge, a sudden thought came to him. There
was
something he could do! Tanner scanned the riverbank and saw only the one wooden bridge. Even if he couldn’t stop Gor, he could slow him down and give the townspeople a fighting chance.

“Up, Firepos!” he cried.

The flame bird crouched, then leaped into the air. She knew what he was planning and wheeled toward the river. The first of the varkules loped onto the bridge, followed by a company of spearmen.

“Burn the bridge!” Tanner shouted.

The townspeople gasped as the glow of a fireball flickered into life beneath Firepos. Tanner felt its heat and heard it crackle. On the other side of the river, Gor’s stallion reared, its eyes rolling back in its head. Captains in the army barked orders and the men raised their shields to protect themselves from Firepos’s missile.

We’re not coming for you
, thought Tanner grimly.
Not yet.

With a shrill cry, Firepos launched her fireball. Tanner watched as it arced toward the ground, trailing a blazing stream of fire behind it. The land was suddenly bathed in a wash of orange. Everyone — Gor, his soldiers, and the townspeople — stared in horrified amazement. With an earsplitting
crack
, it collided with the center of the bridge. Wooden planks shattered and were sent spinning through the air. The bridge, varkules, and soldiers were engulfed in flames.

Those who were not incinerated threw themselves, screaming, into the water. But that didn’t save them; the fireball was so intense it heated up the water, boiling them alive.

When the smoke and steam cleared, Tanner saw the bridge was in ruins, with the remains of Gor’s army still on the other side of the river from Colweir.

In the town square, the crowd cheered.

But Tanner knew this was only the beginning. Gor had another weapon.

Varlot, still in horse form, trotted to the front of the army, in full view of the villagers in the square. It snorted louder than any normal horse could.

The crowd’s cheers died in their throats — they could tell this was no ordinary animal. They watched, fresh fear growing within them, as the horse’s rear hooves doubled, then tripled, in size, hardening to bronze blades, and its bristling coat darkened.

Tanner didn’t wait to see the rest. He had to marshal the defenses before it was too late. He steered Firepos back to the market square, landing her on a flat roof above the crowd that was backing away from the river’s edge.

“Gather your weapons!” he yelled. “Line up in the middle of the square.”

But few were listening to him. The sight of Varlot struck terror in their hearts. Cries of panic rose and the crowd surged toward the houses, away from Gor’s terrible Beast. “Flee! Save yourselves!” screamed a woman, her child clinging to her.

Among the seething mass, Tanner saw the twins again. They were being pushed down a street off the square, but every so often the girl would turn and look toward him. The square emptied. Tanner watched them and shook his head. He turned to face the river.

“It seems we are on our own, Firepos,” he said, fingering the red linen around his wrist. “If we can hold the enemy off for long enough, we might give the villagers enough time to escape into the fields.”

Firepos turned her head toward Tanner and nodded, cawing softly.

A noise alerted Tanner. He looked around in surprise, then smiled at what he saw. From the alleys and streets leading onto the square came the people of Colweir, men and women. Some hefted axes; some buckled on sword belts; others had armed themselves with pitchforks and scythes. In the windows and on the rooftops appeared archers and crossbowmen.

The defenders formed up in ranks behind a man with a serrated sword resting on his shoulder. He nodded at Tanner.

They are up for the test
, thought Tanner,
but there are too few to hold off Gor’s army.

A roar sounded from across the water. Tanner saw that Varlot’s transformation was complete. The Dark Beast pounded the ground with his hooves and his head turned from side to side. His armored chest heaved. The bronze, sharp as knives, glistened in the light. The enemy soldiers were wading into the water, testing its depth.

Gor shouted something to Varlot that Tanner couldn’t hear. The Beast stamped along the bank toward the water mill. Varlot lifted his muscular arms and punched a hole through the roof, tearing out several wooden beams as if they were twigs. He carried them toward the river. Tanner understood at once:
He’s making another bridge!

Varlot laid the timbers down over the water, reaching from one side to the other. It would allow only single-file passage, but it was enough. The soldiers were already edging along it toward Colweir.

“Up, Firepos!” Tanner said. He squeezed Firepos’s flanks. She knew what he was asking of her. Jumping from her perch, she swooped at the advancing soldiers.

Varlot was standing in the river by the mill, water swirling around his hips. He gripped two of the water buckets in his clawed hands and tore them from their mountings. He thrashed his way toward the makeshift bridge, throwing up huge waves, then stopped, watching Firepos intently. The soldiers on the bridge steadied themselves and continued their perilous task of reaching the other bank.

“Attack!” yelled Tanner.

Firepos screeched as she dove at the soldiers on the bridge. They lifted their shields as flames flickered on the Beast’s wing tips. Varlot howled, submerging both buckets under the water. With a grunt of effort, he hurled the water at the flame bird. Firepos tried to jerk aside but she wasn’t quick enough. Water cascaded over her feathers, soaking them and dousing her flames.

“Cross the river!” bellowed the Dragon Warrior. “Quickly, you dogs!”

Tanner spluttered as Firepos twisted away, gathering herself for another pass. He could see the glow of a smaller fireball reflecting off her beak.

But it was too late. Already soldiers were piling into the square and forming up into tightly packed ranks. Captains bellowed orders. Shields locked together and weapons were lowered, creating an armored wall, bristling with spears. Eyes glimmered behind helmets. They waited as their ranks swelled further.

“Advance. Half pace. Decimate them!” Gor bawled as he stepped off the bridge, followed by more of his men. Iron-shod boots echoed in perfect time on the cobbled stones. Armor clanked. “Death has come, death has come ….” they chanted.

“Loose!” the villager with the serrated sword shouted.

Arrows and crossbow bolts whickered out and clattered against the armored mass. It kept Gor’s men behind their shields, but they were advancing relentlessly, a pace at a time, and no hit was scored.

Firepos dodged a sluice of water thrown up by Varlot and released her fireball at the soldiers. It bounced off the ground and rolled through the middle of the advancing soldiers, scattering several and leaving a trail of fire across the ground.

“Hold steady!” shouted Gor. “It’s me you should fear, not that Beast!”

“Death has come, death has come ….” The soldiers continued their advance.

Tanner abandoned the attack on the bridge, and flew Firepos back over the soldiers and varkules heading for the villagers’ wavering line. General Gor’s troops were closing the gap and spreading out, ready to outflank them, cutting off their escape routes.

Firepos streaked into the square, landing with a screech between the soldiers and the defenders. Tanner leaped off her back, drawing his sword — if this was where he made his final stand, so be it. He glanced over his shoulder at the defenders. They exchanged nods, as if to say,
We’re with you
. Tanner faced Gor’s advancing soldiers.
Time to fight
, he thought determinedly.

T
ime seemed to slow down. Tanner stared at the advancing soldiers. He saw an arrow pass through a soldier’s visor. Blood spurted and the man dropped limply to the ground. The soldiers didn’t even pause as their boots trampled over the corpse.

He saw the varkules loping at the edges of the advancing mass, spines bristling, teeth dripping with foul-smelling drool.

Fear gripped his heart and his sword was slippery in his grasp. Firepos took to the skies. Her departure made Tanner feel alone and exposed. Sweat dripped into his eyes. He wiped it off with the red linen around his wrist.

Gor’s men were only ten paces away. Tanner knew that if they charged at once they would be defeated. Varlot emerged from the river, dripping wet. He seemed to be shrinking, and his hardened armor softened once more to fur. His arms were drawn back toward his body; then he fell forward onto the ground with a thump, a horse once again.

Why is he changing back?
Tanner wondered, but he didn’t have time to dwell on it.

“Ready?” he called over his shoulder. He heard grunts of encouragement and voices calling out their support. He tightened his grip on his sword hilt and brought the blade level with his face, aiming it at the line of infantry.

Tanner’s voice rang out: “Charge!” He broke into a run and heard the other men shouting behind him. Some pulled level, their cheeks red and eyes bright.

Gor’s men ran to meet them, light flashing on their leveled spears. Metal clashed as the people of Colweir threw themselves against the invaders. Death cries echoed across the square as many were skewered on the spears.

Tanner dodged between two shafts, driving his sword against the leather armor of a soldier, but his blade slipped against the polished hide. With a cry, he staggered to one side. The soldier dropped his spear and drew his sword, bringing it around in a wide arc, sending Tanner leaping out of the way, missing by no more than a finger’s breadth. A second later and Tanner’s innards would have been slithering around his feet.

Glancing up at the soldier, Tanner barreled forward, holding the blade out before him. It slid down the other man’s weapon until the hilts jammed together. The soldier grinned behind his visor and twisted his sword, throwing Tanner to the ground. Tanner rolled onto his back, held his sword out in front of him, and swept his feet into the man’s legs, making him stumble and pierce himself on Tanner’s sword. He slid down the blade, blood pouring from his gurgling mouth, eyes wide with shock.

Tanner struggled out from under him and pulled his sword free. He gazed down at the dead man, watching his life ebb away.
Another life I have taken
, he thought.
But I have no choice.

A blow from behind knocked Tanner onto his back. Instinct made him roll aside as a blade descended. It pierced into the ground where Tanner’s head had been an instant before. As his attacker tried to free his weapon, Tanner jumped up and sliced clean through his arm with his sword. The man fell screaming, clutching at his bloody stump.

A huge soldier with a double-handed sword descended on Tanner. His armor was streaked with blood, and he was laughing maniacally, battle lust burning in his eyes. He swung his sword with brute strength at chest level. Tanner managed to step back, out of its path, but nearly lost his balance.

The soldier swung again. Tanner deflected the blade with his own, throwing off sparks, but the force jolted his arm. Another swing came, this time at his head. Tanner tried to lift his sword to parry the blow but he knew he would be too late….

A shadow passed overhead. Huge claws clenched over the soldier’s head and he was lifted off the ground, muffled screams coming out of his helmet. Firepos hurled the thrashing soldier at a varkule. Startled, the beast turned on the broken soldier and tore him in half with its claws.

“Fall back! Fall back!” shouted the villager with the serrated sword, now slick with gore. His command was cut short as a crossbow bolt thudded into his chest, throwing him back against a market stall.

Tanner looked about. The defenders’ line was broken. Gor’s men filled the square, surrounding the last pockets of fighters. Bodies lay strewn and torn on the ground.

Firepos screeched from above and Tanner saw a fireball careen into the enemy, burning a group of spearmen and sending others scattering away from the flames. But still the forces closed, sensing victory. He found himself at the edge of a small band of defenders, all battered and bloodied. A contingent of spearmen surrounded them, weapons leveled.

It was almost over. He had failed.

“Cease!” bellowed Gor.

The fighting petered out. Tanner saw Gor trot forward on his stallion.

Firepos hovered overhead, a fireball spinning in her talons.

“Call off the phoenix,” said Gor. “Or everyone dies, and this whole town will burn.”

Tanner didn’t have a choice. He raised his fist. “Firepos, no!”

The fireball disappeared as the Beast tipped her wings and flew back to land on top of a storage barn behind the small group of defenders. She sent out a call across the square, ruffling her feathers.

Silence fell.

The enemy soldiers parted as Gor approached.

“Thank you for bringing us here, boy,” he said to Tanner, loud enough for everyone to hear. Tanner burned with desire to charge at the man who had killed his grandmother. But he knew the soldiers would cut him down before he made it halfway.

“You spied on me,” he shouted. “After you killed an innocent old woman in cold blood.”

General Gor laughed. “Innocence means nothing in this war.”

A young defender with dark hair, bleeding from a scalp wound, stepped forward. “We’re not at war!” he shouted. “We don’t even know who you are.”

Gor dismounted from his stallion, his armor clanking. From a bag strapped to the saddle, he took out Esme’s fragment of the mask and held it aloft. Tanner felt as though some ancient evil was watching him through the empty eye socket.

“Until I have all the pieces of the Mask of Death, Avantia will suffer!” shouted Gor. “I will not rest until my search is complete.”

“They don’t have what you’re looking for,” Tanner said.

“Oh yes, they do.” General Gor pulled off his dragon-snouted helmet. “Bring me the Mapmaker!”

A chill spread over Tanner. So Gor had even overheard that part of his grandmother’s final words. The dark-haired defender looked back at his comrades. “What shall I do?”

A few shrugged; some nodded.

“Don’t help him!” someone said.

“Why should we tell you, you murderer?” the dark-haired defender shouted at Gor.

“Ask yourself this question,” said the general, smiling and revealing a glint of teeth. “‘Do I give up the Mapmaker, or do I condemn everyone I know and care about to death?’”

“Don’t listen to him,” Tanner cried. “He’ll kill you anyway!”

The dark-haired defender looked at his feet. Then his jaw stiffened. “Very well. I’ll lead you there.”

“Traitor,” a woman in the crowd yelled. “You don’t know what —”

A bolt thudded into her chest, cutting off her words. Tanner saw one of the varkule riders with his crossbow leveled. The villager fell to her knees, choking for breath. The varkule rider clicked his tongue and the varkule leaped forward, its teeth slashing like blades. It batted the woman’s body over and lunged at her. Blood spurted.

“Good work,” said General Gor. “Call him off.” The soldier clicked his tongue again and reluctantly the varkule backed away. “Now, would anyone else like to object?”

People shook their heads; no one spoke.

The general’s eyes fell on Tanner. “You’ve outlived your usefulness.” He turned to a crossbowman. “Kill him.”