The Revenge of the Elves (34 page)

Chapter Forty-nine

A lone trumpet blew. The earth trembled and hearts stopped beating. Tens of thousands marched blindly from Sedahar across the dry plains, through the deserted forests and over the barren valleys. They didn’t stop for food or rest, yet none collapsed from fatigue or succumbed to hunger or thirst. They marched and marched. Their feet pounded the ground, shook the firmament, and raised a horrific noise, so loud it hurt to hear it.

Those in the army’s path fled if they could. The unfortunates who remained too long to escape, gathered their children, their pets and their livestock, locked their doors and shuttered their windows.

They waited for death to come.

The army passed through the villages and towns, large and small, but it stopped for nothing, engaged no one and did no more than raise a cloud of gray dust wherever it went. The soldier’s eyes remained focused ahead. No drums banged. No armor clanked. Inhuman is what they were and inhuman is how they behaved.

Sitting upon a great warhorse, a red-robed warrior led the way. The animal’s broad back and muscular legs contrasted sharply with its long, lean neck and pointed snout. Earless and eyeless, it held its head high and sniffed the air through its quivering nostrils. Surrounded by an amber aura that glowed in the afternoon sun, she walked before the multitude.

There were no siege engines in sight, no catapults accompanying the hellish army, no machinery of war amongst them. Each soldier carried a dagger in his left hand and a double edged axe in the right. They wore no armor, no headgear, no boots upon their feet. They were not clothed at all, their gray-skinned bodies unlike any other soldiers who ever marched off to war. Their featureless figures and gaunt faces defied nature. They followed a far darker plan.

A sword of black metal hung from the belt of the Possessed, concealed by the crimson cape draping her legs. A single banner atop a shaft of dark wood flapped in the windless air. Colton’s red sun on a jet black background lit up the day. Alive, it pulsed with power, and fire streaked from it in all directions.

I am full of Him.
She raised her arm and violent sorcery exploded on the far hills. Her mount’s pointed hooves splashed into the cold waters of the Sirceloc as she crossed into Tamarand. The water ran red as blood. The heavy animal waded across, unmoved by the strong currents.
His power is mine.
Thin lines of light burst from her eyes, scorching the trees on the far river bank.
Glory. Glory.
She exhaled and nature’s wards crumbled, the seams of life ripped and tore.
Glory. Glory.
She raised her chin and the sky caught fire.
Glory. Glory.
She inhaled and the leaves flew from their branches, bushes pulled out of the earth, trees crashed to the ground.
Glory. Glory.
She clasped her hands and the earth split apart.
Glory. Glory.
She breathed and the darkness sprang up around her.

The army massed behind her, unaware and unhampered by the flowing river. Their heads stayed above it no matter its depth and they clamored up the opposite bank as soon as they reached it.
I command them. My weapons.
She watched his creations as a mother would her children.
His is mine. I am full of him.
Her face contorted, her features bled into one another. Hair and skin and bone regenerated, sucking the life from everything around it. She glowed with the light of a thousand suns. And everything she looked at died.

Soon. Soon.
She trampled across the borders of Tamarand.
Soon. Soon.
She marched past the spires of Triesma.
Soon. Soon.
She stepped upon the stones of Concordia.

Chapter Fifty

Dalloway leapt to his feet, his bow drawn, arrow to quiver. The blood surged in his veins. Bending down on one knee, he followed the shaft of his arrow across the horizon.

“The beast!” Caroline whispered, short of breath. “It’s here. It’s coming.” Her eyelids fluttered, banded with blue lines. She sucked the air. “We’ve got to go.”

A streak of sunlight blinded her. She tried to stand and stumbled. The sound of rushing water drowned out her plea, drawing Dalloway’s eyes to the sea. The well was rising up at the end of the jetty as the tide ebbed. Black sand oozed from within it and slithered down the sides like snakes, while the water seethed and foamed. The setting sun struck the domed roof and lit it up like a beacon.

Caroline rubbed her eyes. “That’s it! That’s the well.” Her skin chilled. “Hurry. Whatever it is, it’s coming.” She reached for Dalloway’s hand and started to run toward the stones. Dalloway shouldered his bow and followed.

They sprinted the hundred yards, hand in hand, over the splintered beams of the ancient dock. Rickety wooden steps led down to the shoreline. They swayed and groaned under their weight as they clamored down them, pieces crashed to the beach below, but they kept running. The first of the rounded rocks was just ahead, across a small stretch of sand. A step gave way and Caroline’s leg went through. Dalloway lifted her up and carried her down the remaining few.

Ten more yards to the jetty. He set her down and they dashed across the sand.

“Is it close?” he shouted.

“I can’t tell. But it’s coming fast. I don’t want to try too hard, I might… I’m afraid,” she looked back at the city. “The sensations are getting stronger. We have to reach the well.”

“Don’t let it take you! Whatever you do, don’t let it take you,” he warned.

He jumped up on the rock and nearly lost his footing. It was covered in algae. “Let me help you.” He reached down and pulled her alongside him.

“Take off your boots,” she said. “It’s too slippery. We won’t make it.”

They pulled their boots and stockings off and tossed them on the beach. “Go! Go!” Caroline yelled and they both took off.

“Something’s different,” she said as they clamored from rock to rock. She felt the enemy. She felt the beast. “It’s not the same. The sensations are not the same.”

“Forget about it now. Concentrate on the rocks. You’re going to slip if you don’t.” He held his arms out beside him and stepped from one to the next. He turned to check on her but she was standing still, not moving. “Caroline! Come on!” he yelled.

“It’s not alone, Daly. Its master may have joined it.”

He was losing her. “Stop it. Don’t think about it. It doesn’t matter anymore. We found the well.” He jumped one stone toward her.

“It’s so strange. It is not as evil as I thought.” Her voice was dreamy.

He jumped another and grabbed her arm. “Maybe it senses you too. Shut your mind Caroline. Please.” She didn’t move. “Let’s go.” He wrapped his arm around her waist and led her to the next rock. She swayed and almost slid off the rounded edge, but he held her tight.

The domed structure at the end of the jetty was further away than it appeared from the dock. Slimy water sloshed over the boulders as they raced ahead.

“What are we going to do when we get there, Daly?” she forced the words.

The salty spray was helping. He could see it in her movements. It was cold against their skin and it stung as it hit his face. “Let’s get there. Then we’ll decide.”

“We may not have time then,” she said, her voice stronger.

“Remember Sidra’s poem?” he shouted over the din. “Lost in a moment of what he needs…”

“Yes, yes of course.” He reached out his hand and she jumped, catching up to him.

“I think it means that the Lalas who sent the sister away with the map…” he covered his eyes as a wave broke against the jetty, “was the one who was in need. If the tree is ‘lost’ in its own need, then the need isn’t real.”

Another wave broke as Caroline tried to jump and she fell. Dalloway lunged for her and caught her arm. He brought her to her feet, but blood oozed from a gash on her leg. “I’m okay. It’s nothing. Keep going,” she said. “Faster, Daly. They’re getting closer.”

He looked back and saw a horse on the beach. A large horse. She saw him staring and was about to turn herself. “Don’t look,” he warned her. “It is a horse. And there’s a rider on its back.”

“I knew it,” she said. She seemed pleased.

“Stay out of the rider’s mind! We’re almost there,” Dalloway warned. “Talk to me about the poem. Concentrate on that.”

The water was deeper now. The spray from the crashing waves drenched their clothes and the salt stung their eyes.

“If the sisters ‘know not what they do’ and we’re supposed to forgive them for trying to destroy the map, then we shouldn’t destroy it either,” Caroline said.

“Why couldn’t Sidra have just told us what to do?” he pulled her across another boulder. They were almost there.

“Then it wouldn’t be our choice,” Caroline replied, clutching his hand. Blood streamed down her leg. “I think we should keep it.”

“So do I. I always did.” They weren’t far. “I see the building. There’s an opening in the side of it.”

“They’re right behind us. I feel them.” She pushed her wet hair off of her forehead and looked into his eyes. “If we keep the map and they capture us, that might be worse.”

“We have to make them think we threw it down the well, that we destroyed it. I have the case in my shirt. When we reach the building, I’ll give you the map. Hide it in your cape, then I’ll throw the case down the well,” Dalloway instructed her. “They won’t know.” One more rock. “Can you swim?” He’d never asked her before.

“I can,” she replied.

“If you have to, Caroline, jump.”

“Without you? Don’t ask me to do that.” She recoiled.

“You must, after I throw the case down the well. If the enemy’s near and we can’t escape together, I’ll stay and fight. You jump. Swim to the shore and hide until it’s safe to leave. Then find your way back to your father.”

She shook her head, protesting. “Maybe we’ll both be able to escape. Maybe the rider can’t swim! We could jump together,” she pleaded.

“If you have to…” he repeated.

The opening was right in front of them.

“The horse has reached the jetty,” Dalloway said. “Hurry.”

Carved runes encircled the entranceway and there was no door on the portal. Water trickled out from inside onto a slab of glistening stone and fell from it into the sea below.

Dalloway saw the horse navigating the slippery rocks. Sorcery. It was no common horse. The beast and its rider were already halfway down the jetty.

“Don’t look back,” he warned her. “They’re coming.”

Dalloway helped Caroline up and they stood before the building. The slab settled under their weight about six inches and clicked to a stop. The dome of the building began to unfold from the middle out. It collapsed upon itself and underneath it was the well. Only the rune covered arch remained erect, encircling the doorway.

He slipped the map out of the case with his back to the enemy and handed it to Caroline. She folded it, stuffed it in a pocket inside her cape and pressed the closure shut. It was designed for foul weather. It would keep the map dry.

Dalloway held the case by his side so they could see it from behind, and hand in hand they stepped inside the archway to the edge of the well.

“I can see them, Maringar!” Beolan pressed his heels hard into the side of the frightened animal. It lurched down the path and onto the soft sand, stumbling as the surface changed. “Faster. Faster,” he urged in its ear as they raced toward the stone jetty. “Two people. There are two of them!” he shouted. The wind lashed their faces and the sea spray stung their eyes. “Their backs are to us! They’re all the way at the end.”

Maringar clung to the saddle’s cantle and kept his head low. “Yell to them. Warn them! Don’t let them throw the map before we get there.” But in this wind Maringar could hardly hear himself speak. He didn’t need Beolan to tell him they’d never hear them.

Beolan leaned forward and took his weight off the horse’s back. “Go, boy,” he whispered to the horse and stroked its neck underneath its mane. It navigated the slippery rocks like no horse he’d ever ridden. “Amazing luck to have found this animal,” he yelled back at Maringar. “Any other would have fallen in the sea by now,”

There were just fifty yards to go. The sun hovered on the horizon and the water glistened black and fearsome. The domed structure stood out against the light, silhouetted by the dying rays. The stone drank what was left of the evening sun.

The air erupted with a terrible sound. Maringar whisked his axe from his belt and turned half way around toward the noise. Something was dropping from the sky. Something horrible. High above Odelot, from the east, a long-necked monster with a tail twice its length was diving toward them faster than he could imagine.

Beolan saw it too. He knew what it was. The Possessed astride the beast’s horny back shrieked with its mouth agape. He could hear the hatred in her voice. He could see her wild eyes as they dropped from the sky. He could feel her hot breath on their backs. He could taste the blood in his throat.

Their horse panicked. Its hooves skidded as it tried to escape from the sound, not knowing where to turn. Even the water didn’t frighten it as much as the noise in the sky. Beolan spoke in its ear, gripped it with his knees and kept it from losing its mind. The sound of more horses whinnying in fear rose up from the distance. Beolan gripped the reins with one hand and reached for the key with the other.

“There are others following us too,” Maringar heard the sounds.

“They’re riderless,” he said, craning his neck and narrowing his eyes.

A hot rush of air blew across their backs. The monster swooped over the domed structure. It rushed out into the sea and banked steeply, then shot up high in the sky.

“She saw us,” Beolan said. Her eyes were like glowing coals, spitting fire. Stretching one arm back over his shoulder, he freed his bow. “Hand me an arrow,” he shouted to Maringar who pulled it from the quiver. Beolan loosed one shaft as the monster descended, striking it on its underbelly. It screeched in pain and veered to the side.

Their own horse was in a frenzy. Beolan slung the bow across his shoulder and held the reins tight. “It’s okay, boy. It’s okay. Easy, easy,” he whispered above the din. They clattered over the rocks, one to the next, as the entrance grew near.

The roof moved. It unfolded upon itself like a fan, leaving only an archway ringing the structure.

“We’re almost there. Easy now.”

Dalloway stepped up and hoisted Caroline behind him. She winced from the ragged gash in her leg. The edge of the well was right in front of them, almost as wide as the arch surrounding it. It was unmistakable. Two more steps and they were beside it.

Dalloway peered down into the hole. A light glittered far below. It pulsed and then burst against his eyes, blinding him.

“Damn! I can’t see,” Dalloway grumbled. “How far down does it go? Drop something down there.” The words of the poem repeated in his head.
Upon the daemon’s chest to land, upon the daemon’s chest to land, upon the daemon’s chest….
He turned his ear to the well.

Caroline pulled the first thing her fingers touched out of the pouch on her waist, a token her father had given her for luck. She tossed the small charm over the edge.

Silence…. Silence…. Silence….
Claaaapppp.
The clatter echoed from below.

Dalloway let his breath out. It’s there.

“Throw the case, Daly. Now. They’re here,” she warned.

He raised it high over his head and pitched it into the well.

They didn’t wait for it to hit the bottom. They had no time. The horse was almost upon them as they ran for the archway.

A roar cracked the air open and a great shadow obscured everything.

“Jump!” Dalloway yelled to Caroline, his eyes pleading. She looked at him and leapt into the water.

Beolan flew from the horse to the rocky surface before the entryway. Two figures stood beside the well, one with his arm high in the air. He watched as he threw something over the side. “Wait!” he shouted, but it was too late. One of them had already jumped into the water and the other one was nowhere to be seen. Maringar slid from the saddle and grabbed the horse’s reins. Beolan ran through the archway of the roofless building.

The silver key was in his hand but he didn’t know what to do with it. The chamber was bright, illuminated by something shining up from the bottom of the well, along with the few remaining rays of sunlight that streaked through the arch. He dashed to the edge, searching for the keyhole.
Nothing! Nowhere!
Dropping to his knees, he ran his fingers over the well’s wall, up and down.
Still nothing!

Where? Where?
He was crazed. Frantically, he searched left and right.
Got to find it. Got to.

Only the archway remained. He searched the edging down to the surface stone.
Nothing. Where? Where?
He took a step through it toward the well’s lip.
Got to be here. Somewhere! Must have missed it.

The stones disappeared in the shadow. A shrill rushing of wind battered his eardrums and the monster plummeted down out of the darkening sky. Maringar stood by the platform fighting with the horse’s reins, trying to keep it from leaping into the sea. Beolan’s eyes went to him, appealing for advice, when he noticed it. The back of the archway!
There! Smooth. Unadorned. Different from the front. His eyes traced it from top to bottom. No runes. No… wait!
Something sparkled. What’s that? One small indentation close to the bottom on the left side only. If not for the shadows he would have missed it. The darkness helped it stand out.

Beolan lunged for it.
The keyhole!
He thrust the silver key inside and turned it.
Click.
The dome began to close all around him.

Moira spotted the elf inside the structure.
The map bearer. Ahhhh.
Her eyes rolled in her head. The timing was perfect.