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Less familiar with the furniture in his room in the castle, Adam misjudged his arrival point, landing with a clatter on the floor at the foot of the bed. Picking himself up, he looked about, noticing that it was still dark. The question was, which day was it, had he arrived back as he intended on the same night as he had left? He didn't have long to wait for the answer. Concealed by the darkness of the room, he hadn't seen the figure dozing in a chair in the far corner, and only noticed it when it stirred and struggled to stand up.
“Is that you Adam?” a familiar voice asked.
“Yes it's me Ichabod, am I in time?”
“In time for what?”
“The battle, for goodness sake you can't have forgotten,” he snapped.
“No of course I haven't forgotten, it's you who has forgotten, you've only been gone a short time, it's not yet morning.”
So he had returned the same night in which he had left, which meant he'd have no need to explain his absence, or face awkward questions after all, and he still hadn't missed anything.
“Since you were gone such a short time, I presume everything was in order?” enquired the sorcerer.
“Fine thank you; I was able to speak with my parents and clear up some of the things that were bothering me. It's so strange travelling between the two worlds, the time differences, moving backwards and forwards, it makes it very confusing.”
“I'm sure it does, but you're here now, and nothing has changed since your departure. I suggest you take what rest you can before morning so that you might start the new day refreshed.”
Not feeling the least bit tired, yet recognizing the wisdom of the old man's words he said, “I will, and thank you for waiting for me.”
Once the magician had left the room, Adam quickly climbed into bed, although he didn't expect to get much sleep with his mind full of thoughts of what he still had to do. Perversely, the moment his head touched the pillow, he fell into a deep sleep, only waking when a knock sounded on his door. Opening his eyes to a room filled with the brightness of a sunny morning, and the sound of birds twittering on the ledge outside his window, he called out, “Come in,” and moments later Quilvar entered the room.
“Good morning Master Adam, did you sleep well?”
“Better than I have for a long time, thanks, how about you?”
“I too slept well. Ruanne and I talked long into the night about our lives and families, by the time I got to bed I was so tired I fell asleep immediately and only woke a short time ago.”
Strange thought Adam, that he and the elf had endured much together, Quilvar ready to follow without question wherever he went, and yet he knew so little about his diminutive companion. “You know Quilvar, you and I should spend some time talking together. There's so much that's different between us, yet we've never taken the time to tell one another of our lives before we met.”
“I'd like that Master Adam, truly I would.”
Sitting up in bed and stretching his arms above his head, Adam mused, “Well I wonder what today holds for us, I'm going back out with Keshi to see if we can't get the Glomer's fire working, will you join us?”
“If you wouldn't mind the company?”
“Now why should I mind?” Dressing rapidly, he turned to the elf to ask about breakfast.
“Ruanne is waiting for us now Master.”
“Great, I could do justice to one of her meals this morning, I'm starving. Oh and Quilvar.”
“Yes Master.”
“One small favour, please just call me Adam, I cannot get used to people addressing me as Master, especially not my friends.”
Beaming from ear to ear the little man replied, “Yes Ma...Adam.”
“That's better, now let's find Ruanne.”
Having eaten their fill from a huge spread, and offered profuse thanks to the cook, Quilvar and Adam went in search of Keshi and his comrades. They found the Glomers in the courtyard giving the Caregoron carpenters the benefit of their experience in building the arrow launchers. For the most part it was superfluous as by now the carpenters had constructed well over a hundred of the machines, but they were reluctant to offend their guests. Seeing Adam approach, they broke off their chatter and hurried to meet him.
“Master Adam, do you still wish us to try to make the flames?” asked Keshi.
Not keen to give up, yet recognizing the futility of continuous failure he decided to impose a time limit. “One more day Keshi, and if that fails we'll try and think of something else.”
By now all seven Glomers were assisting in the task, and rather than have them ride out individually, Adam had procured a small horse drawn wagon in which they all rode. It was a tight squeeze with the addition of Quilvar, but they all managed to climb aboard, much to the amusement of the Glomers who took delight in jostling one another for position. During their attempts to find a place where the Glomers could light their fires, they had always kept within sight of the city walls. Today Adam had decided to go further afield. He was reluctant to do so because he had hoped always to have the site in view, but better to have the fires if possible.
Adam had discovered that all of the fertile land surrounding the city belonged to the Crown Estates, being divided into parcels, to be farmed according to needs. Controlled by estate managers, the fields provided the various food crops for the city, livestock grazing and feed for the animals. It wasn't until they had cleared these fields and started across the rocky terrain beyond, that Adam had a thought. Reining the horses in, he helped Keshi down from the cart and making sure he had his Mildar with him, walked off until he was several yards away from the track.
“Try here, Keshi.”
“Yes Master, but why here?”
“I'm not sure, but I think it might work here. You see all the places you have tried so far have been either fields or grassland; here it's rocky like the cave floor in Kaldshard.”
No sooner said than done. Keshi paced up and down for a moment grasping a Glomer gas finding rod then stopped to point it at the ground to be rewarded by the end glowing brightly. Cheering loudly, the remaining Glomers, closely followed by Quilvar had leapt from the wagon to rush across to where Adam and Keshi stood. In moments the other Glomers had struck similar sources, and swapping the finding rods for those needed to control the flames soon had them roaring along a twenty foot front. All that remained was to determine how far they could spread the front to the north and south to impose a barrier between the oncoming army and its target, Meriandor.
“How did you know it would work here?” asked Quilvar.
“I didn't know it would work, but it suddenly occurred to me it might. You see where the Glomers have their maze, the floor was all rocky, and it was through fissures in the rock that the flames were produced. I hoped that they might be able to free the gases if they had a similar rocky surface to work with. It seems I was right.”
It took them the rest of the day to secure a front over a distance of what Adam judged to be about eight miles. In several places they created openings that formed paths that twisted and turned, always ending in a fiery wall. It wouldn't stop the army, but it would delay it, and possibly even split it as it marched one way or the other to circumvent the flames.
Once they had finished for the day and were riding back to the castle, one of the Glomers was telling Adam how they could cause the flames to close in on one another to form a sort of blanket. When he explained in detail what he meant, Adam could see tremendous possibilities in the idea. If they could lure the attackers between two lines of fire, they could close the lines and seal the fate of those within. It was a gruesome prospect, but one he was unwilling to forego if they could make it work. The real problem with the plan was that it required the Glomers to be present at the site to manipulate the flames; something he wasn't keen to allow.
The days seemed to blur one into the other as the final preparations were being made in Meriandor. Conscripting every able-bodied man, the military command armed them with either sword or bow, and assigned them a post to attend once the battle commenced. From the northern gate, east in a vast semi-circle to that in the south, hundreds of men cut defensive trenches beyond the city walls. Manned constantly, and equipped with the second line of arrow launchers, the first line having been sited a few hundred yards inside the Glomers' fire walls.
Of necessity, the defences on the western side of the city had to be kept to a minimum, since the threat was marching from the east. Lookouts placed on the western perimeter were each accompanied by a horse rider who would carry word of any attack to the commanders on the other side of the city. Evacuating all housing on the outskirts of the city to garrison the massive influx of soldiers, the displaced inhabitants had to be housed in the inner-city barracks.
Huge siege engines hurriedly modified so that their catapults could be quickly loaded with baskets of small rocks were strategically placed. Although useless against the walls of a city, they would be devastating when their loads rained down on the heads of foot soldiers. Providing sufficient ammunition for these ravenous beasts of war had required hundreds of men to fill and stack the baskets. Armed, and with sufficient spare ammunition for two additional salvos, the arrow launchers were also in place. Adam had decided that there would be too little time to rearm the launchers for a fourth round, before the positions were overrun, despite the ingenious invention by one of the carpenters, of a frame that loaded the four rows of five arrows at one time.
With everything done that could be done, idle minds fell to speculating when the attacking force would arrive. Although never previously involved in a battle of any sort in his life, Adam found it odd that they had so much time in which to prepare. Back home, if one side of the world declared war, it would only be bare minutes before the other side of the globe felt the consequences. What he was about to face here, would, he had no illusions, be a bloody and frightening experience, mostly fought at close quarters. But at least he didn't face the prospect of total annihilation, nuclear fallout and all that that entailed. It was of little consequence however, when he remembered the limited medical resource of this world, and the terrible injuries that they would be facing.
When Adam overheard a discussion between Kawuhl and a couple of his lieutenants about sending out scouts to check on the progress of Shegrimoth's army, he asked the Jelvoan General if he might offer an alternative. Eager to hear what he had in mind Kawuhl was somewhat less enthusiastic than he expected, but agreed to accompany Adam on his proposed reconnaissance. Summoning Vorcan, and helping a suddenly timorous Kawuhl onto the dragon's back, they set off. Whatever reservations the Jelvoan might have had, he quickly lost them once he accepted that they were quite safe, and was soon lecturing Adam on the various features of the landscape as they passed.
It was remarkable the amount of information the soldier absorbed from their aerial viewpoint, and on a number of occasions he asked if they could circle a particular spot. Adam soon grasped what was going through Kawuhl's mind as he checked the lie of land below, matching areas of cover to those of greatest exposure. The soldier was planning battle tactics with a new-found source of information. After reviewing the siting of the front rank of arrow launchers, Kawuhl was desperately searching his tunic for a scrap of paper and something to write with.
It fascinated Adam. He'd seen that paper wasn't scarce, although the quality was a little rough, but apart from the lines drawn on the map he had taken from Beorhtán, which he had presumed to have been done in a black ink of some kind, he hadn't seen any form of writing implement. Kawuhl had found a crumpled piece of paper, and after a moment or two of further rummaging, came up with a stubby stick. Moistening the end with his tongue he proceeded to draw lines and notes on the paper.
Not wanting to interrupt his companion's concentration, Adam waited until Kawuhl had finished then asked if he could see. Misunderstanding his request, Kawuhl handed over the paper. Interested though he might have been had he understood the scratchy lines, Adam nodded, then repeated his request, pointing to the writing stick. For a second, Kawuhl looked quizzical, then simply handed it across. Taking the stick, Adam examined it to find he was looking at a nothing more than what it had first appeared, a stick.
When he asked the Jelvoan how it worked, the explanation was quite extraordinary, in that it wasn't a pencil he was describing, more a fountain pen. The young twigs of the Pirgar tree have a central vein of sap, which, when the wood dries, form a black sticky substance. By sharpening the twig to a point, and then moistening the sap, so that it became liquid, it became a crude fountain pen with which to write. It did however require a prodigious amount of spittle for even the shortest period of use.
When he asked Kawuhl what it was he had been so intent on conveying to paper, the soldier explained that having seen the layout of their defences, he could now see that certain changes needed making.
It was shortly after they'd moved away from the outermost defence, the Glomer's fire wall, that they spotted the oncoming army on the horizon. Circling high above, what they saw horrified both men. Although Adam had admitted that his original estimate of its size at fifty thousand men, had been little more than a guess, he couldn't believe the way the army had increased in strength.
The column stretched as far as the eye could see, and was advancing on a front that extended over an enormous distance. Flying lower to give Kawuhl chance to assess its strength, they circled back and forth, then down the length of the column. Had it not been for the threat that they represented, the marching ranks looked impressive, as the bright uniforms of the Royal Mandax Guards, now heavily interspersed with those of the lesser armies, marched cheek by jowl with the motley clad common men. Only the leading squads were identically clad, their attire being totally black.
The look of despair on the Jelvoan's face when they reached the far end of the sea of men, as they marched implacably onward, said more than words could ever convey. Strangely there were very few on horseback, although there were dozens of horse-drawn artillery pieces, consisting of huge catapults and giant crossbows. Wheeling back the way they had come they headed towards Meriandor.
As they flew over the leading ranks a second time, Adam had Vorcan fly lower so that he could get a closer look. Something about the way the black clad figures moved with an uncoordinated gait disturbed him, making him determined to examine them more closely. Because of the black cowls they all wore, pulled forward over their heads, it was difficult to see their faces, but a sudden downdraft from the dragon's wings blew several of them back, exposing them.
Almost entirely eaten away, the faces had pieces of greyish green putrefied flesh still adhering to the white bony skulls, but the eye sockets gleamed empty and sightless. With jerky movements, skeletal hands grabbed at the displaced cowls, hauling them back again to hide the gruesome heads. Both he and Kawuhl caught sight of them simultaneously, and both reacted to the grisly visages beneath. Nausea swept over the two as they looked down on the squads of marching dead. Whatever fears Adam may have felt in the past, it was nothing compared to the terror that now held him in its grip.
They completed the remaining minutes of the journey in silence, neither trusting himself to make comment on what they had seen. Once they had descended from the dragon's back, and watched the magnificent beast climb skyward, as he headed away to hunt, the pair faced one another, each willing the other to speak first. It fell to Kawuhl to break the silence.
“It would seem that we have to reappraise our first assessment of the strength of the force headed this way. There must have been a hundred thousand or more of them. I will have to reposition some of our defences.”
Adam broached the subject of the black-clad squads, sensing that the warrior was avoiding the question, “Before you do, what in the name of God were those things leading them?”
“I wish I knew,” came the reply, “whatever they were, I sense they represent the biggest threat of all.”
“I suspect that could well be the greatest understatement of all time; we'd better get back so that I can ask Ichabod what he thinks about it.”
Whilst Kawuhl set about making whatever changes he felt necessary to the positions of his men and their equipment, Adam hurried to find the old sorcerer. He located him deep below the castle in the very room in which he had arrived on his first visit to Meriandor.
“Ichabod, I must talk with you.”
“Of course Adam, what troubles you?”
“Kawuhl and I have just returned from spying on the approaching armies. We took Vorcan and flew over them; they're less than a day's march from the city.”
“So the waiting's almost over, but you expected they'd be here soon.”
“It's not that. Well that's part of it. I mean, the size, it's almost doubled, but that's not all that's worrying me.”
“So what is?”
“When we flew back across I noticed something odd about the leading group. They marched strangely, as though they had trouble moving, all jerky and unbalanced. Anyway I asked Vorcan to fly low over them, but at first we couldn't see anything because they all wore black hoods; they were clothed completely in black.”
“That's hardly reason for concern, the colour of their uniform,” commented Ichabod.
By now Adam had become agitated with the old man, as his temper began to fray. “No,” he almost shouted, “you don't understand, it wasn't their uniforms that bothered me. As we flew past, the wind from the dragon's wings threw some of the hoods back so we could see their faces; they looked as though they were all dead. The flesh had sort of rotted away, they had no eyes, and their hands were just bare bones.” He shuddered at the recollection.
Although Ichabod respected Adam's judgement in most things, he wasn't ready to concede the truth of the young man's claim, “But that's not possible, the dead don't march,” he stated unequivocally.
“I'm telling you, they do now, they're out there and they're headed this way. Ask Kawuhl he saw them as well.”
Ichabod tugged at his beard as he tried to think. He could hardly deny the evidence if both of them had seen these walking skeletons. Finally, he muttered, “The legions of the Phyrith.”
“What...what did you say,” demanded Adam, because he hadn't been able to catch the old man's words.
“What I said was the legions of the Phyrith, the walking dead, the soulless evil.”
“But is that possible, why should they march, who could send them against us?”
“There are stories of the walking dead, sent to gather souls for the Phyrith at times of mass killing.”
“But that wouldn't explain them leading the army.”
“No. I suspect their purpose is more active than that. You cheated the ghoul when you robbed it of Murran's soul, it would seem it seeks its revenge by joining its forces with those of Shegrimoth.”
“You mean I could be the reason those creatures are out there?” said Adam, frightened by the implication.
“Possibly, but you cannot blame yourself for that. You only did what you had to do.”
Adam pondered that thought for a moment, but found no comfort in it. “If they're dead then how do we fight them?”
“Only magic could hope to prevail against such monsters, we must find the right spell. Come, we must hurry if we are to do so before it's too late.”
Following the magician as he ran from the room, Adam found himself entering a dim passage that led to a small chamber, its walls covered in shelves crammed full of ancient and dusty volumes. Dragging a huge leather-bound tome from one of the shelves, Ichabod blew a cloud of dust from its cover, nodding to himself as he recognized it as the volume he sought. Placing the book on a small reading table, he opened its metal clasp, and turned back the cover. Looking around the old man, all Adam could see were rows of indecipherable characters.
In response to Adam's inquisitive stare, Ichabod explained, “This is the Xeraphix, the greatest work of its kind, and sadly the only one in existence.”
Catching the almost reverential tone that the old man used to describe the book, Adam's curiosity was roused. “What makes it so special,” he asked.
Ichabod had almost gone into a trance as he slowly turned the pages of the great volume, causing Adam to repeat his question.
Without looking up the sorcerer said, “It's unique, because it contains the greatest collection of spells and incantations ever to be contained in one work. It was written by a great magician, Elkadre, over two thousand years ago, in the language of ancient Falgorin, and has never been bettered since. If the spell we need exists, then we should find it in the pages of this book.”
Running his finger down the timeworn vellum, he shook his head and turned to the second page. Soon the second became the third, the third became the fourth, and on and on, each time a shake of the head and a new page, until finally he was on the last one, and still he had found nothing. Scratching his head, he turned and looked round the room, spying another volume high up on one of the top shelves. A few mumbled words and he drifted upward, grabbing the book as soon as it was within reach, and returning to the floor with a bump. Straightening his robe, he placed the second book on top of the first and began the whole process again, but alas to no avail.
“There has to be something,” he muttered, but doubt lent an edge to his words.
“I'm not helping by standing around here; I'll let you continue your search, whilst I go and see if I can help Kawuhl.” He got no reply, because Ichabod, deep in thought, was again scouring his shelves for the answer to the problem.
The atmosphere in the castle courtyard was electric. Warriors marched in purposeful squads, guiding groups of conscripts as they strode to take up their various posts, whilst the heavily armed regulars now manning all the entrances, stopped and challenged every individual before allowing them to pass. At the first guard post that he came to, Adam inquired the whereabouts of General Kawuhl. Informed that the Jelvoan could be found at the city's eastern gate, he grabbed a horse from a startled groom, and, mounting the beast, rode swiftly in that direction.
When he arrived, the level of activity astonished him, as men seemed to be dashing in all directions, every face fixed with the same look of grim intent. He couldn't see Kawuhl at first; but jumping from the saddle of his horse, he tied the beast up to one of the rings fixed to the side of the guard house and went in search of the Jelvoan. He knew he wasn't far away, as he could hear his strident tones bellowing orders. It sounded as though he was beyond the securely closed and barred gates, with the small Judas the only means of entry or exit.
Hurrying over, two rugged looking Jelvoan Warriors barred his way with their halberds, demanding to know where he thought he was going.
“I have to see the General,” he replied, but the Warriors maintained their positions, still not allowing him to proceed.
“You'll have to wait here,” one of the guards told him. “General Kawuhl's too busy to see anyone right now.”
Frustrated by their attitude he tried again, “He'll see me if you'll just tell him I'm here.”
“And who might you be that you can command the General?” came the riposte.
“Tell him Adam Goodchild wants to see him.”
The effect was immediate and startling, “My apologies Sire, forgive me, I should have recognized you. Open the gate and let Master Adam proceed,” he bellowed at his companion.
“No need for apologies Warrior, you have your job to do, and do it well; I should have explained.”
“Thank you Sire,” replied the soldier, clearly grateful at not receiving the expected reprimand.
Once outside the city walls, Adam saw Kawuhl standing a short distance away giving orders to a group of men who were struggling to comply, although judging by the results their efforts had so far proven ineffective. Dozens of men, stripped to the waist were hauling on great ropes attached to massive balks of timber. They were endeavouring to pull them upright so that one end of each dropped into a series of pits already dug in a semicircle around the gate. Once in place these timbers would create an impenetrable barrier, thus reinforcing the weakness that the gates represented. No battering ram would get past these.
The men were relying on brute force to right the timbers, but strength alone wasn't sufficient to overcome the downward force that the weight of each beam created. Spotting the solution, Adam ran across to where the commander stood on top of a small rise.
“Kawuhl, might I offer a suggestion to overcome your difficulty?”
Hot, tired, and more than a little frustrated at the failure of his men, Kawuhl was more than willing to have someone else try his luck.
“By all means Master Adam, but I don't think you'll have much success. The beams are too long and heavy; they can't raise one end sufficiently for the other to fall into the holes.”
“Have you got any sort of a pulley, and I'll need rope and three strong timbers each about the height of two men?” He prayed that a pulley was not beyond local technology, as his idea would be far more difficult without it.
Within minutes he had what he needed to make a sheer-legs. By binding the three lengths of timber together about a third of the way from one end, he formed a tripod. From this he suspended the pulley, a rudimentary affair, but able to cope with what he had in mind, then he had two men help him to position the whole thing above the nearest beam. Securing one end of the heaving rope to the timber, the other he passed through the pulley, and signalling for several men to take the strain, began heaving the balk upright.
The first attempt failed, because he had positioned the sheer-legs badly, but after adjusting it, they heaved again, and after much grunting and swearing had the beam in place. For the next beam, he had a guiding rope attached to its lower end to help position it, and using a further spar to lever it into place, speeded up the process considerably. Once Kawuhl had seen what was going on, he yelled orders at a group of men to fetch more timber and pulleys, and before long they had four hoists in operation.
Clapping Adam hard on the back, the General was beside himself with the success of the operation. “I've never seen the like before, it's truly amazing.”
“Hardly that my friend, although I can see that on this world, to be a Warrior it isn't necessary to be a builder.” Adam quipped in reply.
Kawuhl grinned, abruptly changing the subject, “What news have you of the black-clad soldiers?”
“None that's good. Ichabod thinks they're the army of the Phyrith, the living dead. He's trying to find magical spells that we can use against them, but when I left him he hadn't had any success. I haven't seen King Randufil or the Princes of late, are they still at the castle?”
“The King and Prince Caslan are, Prince Feldric commands a regiment of Warriors guarding the southern gate. Had I had my way he would have been sent to the west, but the King insisted he should take his chance with the rest of us. I sent him to the furthest and hopefully the safest place I could.”
“You're a good man Kawuhl, I'm sure he'll be all right there.”
“How soon do you expect the first attack?”
“It should be me asking you that, after all you're the professional soldier,” he grinned. “I don't really know, but I suspect they'll make camp somewhere beyond our sight to wait until they're grouped together. I'm just guessing, but wouldn't you send some sort of raiding party out to test the defences?”
The general considered the idea before agreeing, “Probably, and under cover of darkness.”
“Then perhaps tonight will see the start of it.”
“In that case I should get our little friends to light their fires,” suggested Kawuhl, referring to the Glomers.
“Good idea; it'll make no difference that our attackers can see the defence, and it will help light up any movement.”
Adam's appraisal of the situation proved to be remarkably accurate regarding the timing of the first attack, although less so in its manner. He had positioned himself alongside the little Glomers where they waited behind a hurriedly erected barrier of rocks, just a few yards inside the flaming wall. Keshi and his companions had insisted on remaining close to the flames so that they might use their skills to trap the unwary if they wandered into the pathways.
For some time they had watched the advancing forces, their vision distorted by the flames, yet sufficient to enable them to see what took place just beyond. A few individuals had tried their luck at running the gauntlet of the paths only to be turned back when faced with a dead end. The one or two they caught by the fires died horrible deaths in the fierce heat.
Without warning, a line of men suddenly advanced on the flames, passing straight through them as if untouched by the heat. Onward they came, their clothes burning fiercely, yet undeterred they marched forward. For a moment Adam couldn't believe his eyes, until he saw that where their garments had burned away, what remained was nothing more than a walking skeleton. The Phyrith's hordes had nothing to fear from the flames, as they jerkily advanced to where he and the Glomers waited.
Signalling to Keshi and his fellows to return to the next line of defence, Adam drew his sword and waited. It was a grand and foolish gesture, yet he could think of nothing else. There was no way of halting the advance; the arrows and swords of Kawuhl's men would have no effect on these creatures. Suddenly there was a tremendous rush of wind, and a great darkness blotted out the scene before him, as Vorcan the dragon landed.
“Quickly Master, there's no time to lose.”
Jumping out from behind the rocks, Adam rushed forward and leapt onto the dragon's back, as he flapped his mighty wings and took off. He wasn't a moment too soon, as the first of the walking skeletons had cleared the flames and was swinging its sword in scything sweeps.
“We've got to stop them Vorcan, I can't just let them go.”
“Use your sword Master,” urged the dragon, “the sword.”
“What use is the blade of a sword up here?” he cried, as he swung it in an arc aimed at the shambling monstrosities below. But he need not have asked. As the blade swept the air, the writings on its surface glowed red, and a torrent of crimson flame hurled from its tip, scattering to the wind all it touched. As the fire lanced over them, earth, rocks and skeletal fragments flew in all directions. With a whoop of manic glee, Adam repeated the stroke and dozens of the black clad figures disintegrated.
Pushing his advantage, Adam called to Vorcan to fly beyond the Glomers barrier where repeatedly he cut down the surging masses of the Phyrith's army. Soon there were only the living soldiers of Shegrimoth below, who, witnessing the destruction of the first wave of their comrades now began to push forward. By virtue of their numbers, many were forced into the hungry flames before them, devoured in flashes of brilliance as the intense heat ignited their flesh.
Turning away, the dragon flew toward the city walls, with Adam still shouting his joy, perched high on his back. They landed behind the first line of arrow launchers in time to see them release their first barrage. Apparently, the flames had only delayed part of the advance; men had been pouring round either side and now marched forward again. As the arrows cut down the leading men, more hurried to take their places. Again, the launchers fired, and again hundreds fell; but for every man down, three seemed to be there to take his place.
Telling Vorcan to seek refuge away from the battle, Adam hurried to find Kawuhl. The General was directing his men to fire the first salvos from the great catapults. Rocks whistled through the air, falling with sickening crunches on the unprotected heads of the invaders, but still they advanced. The last barrage from the forward launchers sent arrows lancing into the attackers, but it was too late for their crews to reach safety, hacked down where they stood by the advancing army.
Recalling and regrouping his men behind the second line of defences, the Jelvoan watched as the catapults did their work, but it wasn't going to be enough, the attacking force was too great. Suddenly the air filled with a high pitched shrieking, closely followed by a bombardment of missiles, blue flaming orbs that burst on impact with the ground. Adam knew instantly that these were the weapons used to destroy Kóren, that powerful magic was being wielded against them and only magic could prevent its success.
He watched in horror as the fighting eased, the attackers holding their positions, no longer advancing, content to let the fiery assault do its work. One after another the blue missiles burst amongst the defenders, hurling bodies and weapons into the air, blasting flesh into bloody pulp. He gripped the hilt of his sword and wept as he saw two of the little Glomers vanish in the explosion from one of the missiles. There was nothing he could do, he was powerless without something against which to pit his skills, and whilst the globes fell from the sky, their creators remained hidden deep behind the enemy's lines.
Screaming his torment, he let loose the power of the crystal so that its brilliant white light flew from his outstretched arms, flaying everything in its path and turning all to dust. But it was no good; he couldn't see the makers of evil who visited their wrath from above. Terrible was the destruction he let loose, its awesome power lay waste the earth before him, until the very ground heaved in response to its violence. Great cracks opened up swallowing the enemy forces, to close in an instant, leaving huge scars in the soil. Gouts of flame belched from fissures newly opened whilst it felt as if the world rumbled and shook to the onslaught as lightning filled the sky. But despite killing many of the invaders, it was all in vain as the missiles continued to fall.
With the tears rolling down his cheeks, he ceased his attack, and turned away, numb from the visions of horror that lay before him. He barely felt the firm grip on his shoulder propelling him back towards the city gate, no more aware of the General's words as he guided him away. He'd failed was all he could think of, failed his friends and Vilsagoth.
“Hear me Adam, did I not tell you that the right motive isn't always sufficient. It doesn't only apply to making the right choice, sometimes you need the help of others to succeed. Remember Ichabod.” Once more in his time of greatest need, Vilsagoth had spoken to him.
Recovering his wits he looked about trying to see where he was. It was so dark, he had difficulty in seeing anything, but holding his sword aloft the glow from the Manifex lit up the scene. He was back inside the city gate, and by the look of it so too were what remained of the defensive forces. There was no sign of the General, nor of the five Glomers, which worried him as he desperately hoped they had survived.
Several soldiers cried out to him to bring his light to where they were trying to help their injured companions, but much as he wanted to help, he had to find the old sorcerer. Healers were hurrying from one casualty to another, offering what little help they could to ease the pain of shattered limbs, but they needed light and help if they were to accomplish anything. Calling to a group of dazed warriors who stood near him, Adam urged them to go and find handcarts or stretchers to move the injured inside the nearest houses so that the Healers could work on them.
Organizing several groups to move the injured men, and others to provide torches to enable them to carry out the work, Adam moved away, still looking for Kawuhl, but now intent on finding Ichabod. He had to get to the magician to see what could be done to halt the bombardment that still raged beyond the city walls, and moved ever closer.
Of the horses that had been near the gate at the start of the battle, all but one had bolted. This poor beast held secure by its tether, pawed at the ground, trembling in fear of the sounds that raged all around.
Whispering calmly to the frightened animal, Adam stroked its head, as he untied the reins. Once he had pulled them free of the ring to which they had been secured, he swung up onto the horse's back, and set off for the castle. Although there was no less activity within the castle walls, here it was more orderly. Squads of men marched to reinforce those at the east gate, as Healers hurried to tend the injured, some of whom were already being brought in for their attention. Without bothering to secure the horse, Adam leapt from its back and ran into the castle, heading for the old man's rooms.
He found the mage still in his library, seated at the reading table, his head in his hands, with books piled high in every direction.
“Ichabod...Ichabod” he yelled, as he ran into the room. “Ichabod you must help me.”
The sorcerer looked up and shook his head, “Master Adam, it's no use I cannot find anything to defeat them.” Referring to the Phyrith's army.
“Not them, they're already done for, it's the fireballs, like the ones used to destroy Kóren, they're being sent to destroy Meriandor, and I need your help to stop them.”
“But how can I help?”
“Because whoever is sending them is using magic to do it. I can't attack them because I can't see them, they're behind the advancing army, but between us we must be able to get to them.”
It was as if a heavy burden was suddenly lifted from the old man's shoulders, at last a way in which he could do something to fight back. Straightening up, he grabbed one of his books and hurried along the passage, calling over his shoulder for Adam to follow. Back in his laboratory, he began to gather up bottles of brightly coloured liquids, flasks of grey and white powders and a twisted little stick that lay on one of the benches. Thrusting all but the stick into Adam's arms, he dashed out, heading for the castle battlements, and shouting as he went, “Is Vorcan near?”
“Yes, I can call him if you want.”
“Not yet, but soon,” as he hurried upward.
Amazed at the stamina of the old fellow, Adam found himself puffing up the flights of stairs, until he noticed that Ichabod wasn't moving his feet. So that was his game; muttering the words, Adam found progress using the moving spell a whole lot less tiring. From the battlements, the city lay spread out before them, although little could be seen in the darkness, except to the east where the night sky was punctuated by the brilliant flashes of the fireballs as they rained down.
“Last time we were attacked it ended with me up here,” commented the sorcerer.
“Let's hope tonight will be as successful as then,” came Adam's reply. “What do you want me to do?”
“Nothing for the moment, except provide me with a little light.”
Doing as he was asked, he held the Manifex up so that its light bathed the sorcerer in its glow. Quickly Ichabod emptied the powders from the flasks into a small square of linen that he produced from the pouch at his waist. Tying the four corners of the cloth to make a little bundle, he began chanting as he poured the contents of first one bottle then another onto the cloth. When he had finished and all the empty bottles lay at his feet, he hurled the bundle high in the air.
“Now we shall see what we shall see, summon Vorcan if you would.”
Calling the dragon, Adam wondered what the old man had in mind, but he wasn't given chance to ask him. With a great fluttering of wings the mighty dragon descended, cursing the confined space as he tried to land. Seeing his difficulty, Adam urged him to take care, and as soon as he could get close enough he leaped onto his back. Ichabod, lacking Adam's agility, jumped and landed in a heap, only prevented from falling by the power of the crystal, yet still clutching his little stick. As the dragon rose high above the castle, Ichabod began waving the stick, chanting loudly as he did so.
Suddenly he held the stick aloft and light burst from its tip to strike the little bundle that still hung in the air where he had thrown it. Instantaneously there was a brilliant incandescence as the cloth split sending streamers of fire lancing across the blackness of the sky towards the invading army. As Vorcan raced forward, Adam could see each ribbon of fire strike a figure far back behind the massed ranks of soldiers, bathing them in glowing light.
“There Adam, there's the magicians who send the fireballs.”
He didn't need a second telling, in a trice Vorcan was above them, and holding his sword aloft, Adam again unleashed the power of the crystal, this time with his targets clearly defined. There were thirteen figures illumined by Ichabod's spell, and one by one Adam blasted them with his white fire, until none remained. The bombardment was over; now at least the men of Caregoron had a chance, and Meriandor could fight on.
