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Lotari chose to arm himself with two ogre-made swords. The blades were long and deadly. The hilts circled his hands, providing a bit of protection along with his elf-made breastplate.
All around him, creatures and men surged forward to meet the Racans head-on. Lotari charged with them. The clanking of metal-to-metal filled the valley at the foot of the mountain. As the fog cleared, he saw the city of Racah towering high over them like a massive stone giant. Unmoving and impenetrable.
His blade hacked into the leather armor of his enemy. He tried not to wonder how many were simply unwilling slaves, forced into this battle.
Then, the demented creatures were unleashed. Those Lotari did worry about. He swung each blade side to side as he forced his way into the throng. The turned ones needed to be killed and swiftly.
Go for their heads, were the last words he’d heard from Jerin before his friend charged into the fight with his men. Some of the beasts, those turned from trolls or giants were much too large even for his swords.
Stop thinking about what you can’t do, and focus on what you can!
Lotari spotted his mate and two others from their clan battling with weapons and hooves. Bodies lay around them. He headed in her direction, cutting down anything that got in his way.
He ran into a troop of dwarfs that aimed their axes at his legs. Rearing back, he landed a kick in one’s face, then with his rear legs, sent another flying in the opposite direction. His sword warded off a blow to his flank. A bellowing cry sent the rest running away in different directions. Lotari’s heart faltered to find a gray unicorn, its eyes red as coals, charging him, horn aimed for his heart.
Dodging to the left, Lotari swung the blade downward. The tip of the horn tore into his shoulder. His sword landed on the back of the beast’s neck with a sickening crunch. Blackness poured out, it’s golden blood turned along with its mind. Lotari tasted bile. He brought up the second sword, finishing the job and ending the poor creature’s suffering.
Several shouts of his name made him look around at his surroundings. Esdra was waving frantically and pointing toward his left. Behind her, Jerin, still on his horse, and Carah both were whistling and shouting his name. Jerin clutched his slingshot in his hand which was also gesturing wildly.
Lotari turned and gasped. His back legs gave out, his rump sinking into the sticky mud. A massive troll-like beast that looked as if it were carved out of stone barreled down on him. On its back rode two dwarves. Lotari was sure they probably once served the dwarf king, Lucien, but now had turned their allegiance to Darnel.
They urged the demented monster toward him.
Lotari dropped his sword and scrambled for his bow. The swords wouldn’t stand against such a force. He held little hope that his tiny arrows would either.
His hands shook as he fumbled with the arrow, hoping he’d pick one of the white ones over the extras he’d packed. The distance between him and his opponent closed faster than a slammed door.
Esdra screamed and threw her spear at the beast. It swiped its hand in her direction, narrowly missing her head before she jumped out of reach.
Blast, he’d grabbed a normal arrow. He shot it anyway, aiming for one of the dwarfs on its back. The arrow bounced off its helmet. The dwarf laughed. The beast was on him. Lotari leaped to the left, trying to stay out of its reach. He turned and bolted to the other side. It smacked the ground with its iron-like fist in the spot he was moments before.
Lotari grabbed another arrow. A white one, praise Shaydon. He nocked it and aimed for the troll’s neck. Aim true.
Before he released, the troll swung around, its fists swatting at Lotari’s head. He ducked. Air swooshed past his long ears. Then his front legs caught on something. A body! He tumbled forward, landing hard on his side. Kicking his four legs, he tried to find purchase but was like a beetle knocked on its back. His legs thrashed pointlessly.
“Thrash ‘im!” The dwarves chanted. “Stomp ‘im!”
Trying one more time, Lotari aimed from where he lay. His hands shook, but he released the arrow anyway. It landed on the neck of the dwarf on the right shoulder. Flames burst from the wound, consuming the little wretch. The troll lumbered forward, paying little attention to the distraught second dwarf perched like a parrot on his back.
Lotari threw his arms over his face, not wanting to watch the death blow coming.
“For my King!” Jerin shouted. Lotari peered between his arms to see his friend draw back a stone in his little slingshot. The rock smacked against the troll’s chest with a mighty popping explosion. For a second, the beast looked startled as his chest began to burn into ash. In minutes, the flames consumed him and his parrot companion.
Jerin jumped from his horse and rushed to Lotari’s side. “Are you hurt?”
“No. I just fell and couldn’t get back up.” If the lad hadn’t just saved his life, he might have shot off a smart retort but decided this wasn’t the time. “Thank you. I’ll never tease you about your slingshot again. That was amazing.”
Jerin held up one of the stones, and Lotari blinked as it sparkled in the faint light. “Never go into battle without a bagful of white stones.” Jerin got behind him and started to lift. It took two more men, along with Egan the elf to get Lotari back onto his four legs.
“How are we doing?” Lotari asked, shaking the wetness from his horsehide.
“Don’t ask,” Jerin answered. “Just keep going. And use your most powerful tools on the turned ones.” He looked around at his men standing beside him, then pointed to a handful of them. “I want you men to stick with me and Lot. We’re going after the turned creatures.” He glanced at Lotari. “They also have a stock of white stones to fight with.”
Lotari wished he’d thought of that. He knew they were powerful, but figured only for an Illuminate. Jerin must have seen his questioning look because he quickly explained as he mounted his horse. “The rocks only work against the turned beasts and the Baycocks. More of the Racans are turning back.”
Lotari retrieved the swords he’d dropped. “Let’s hope they’ll all retreat soon.”
Unfortunately, Lotari’s wish went unfulfilled. They battled on for what felt like endless hours. Exhaustion wore on Lotari until the act of swinging his sword took every last bit of energy he contained. He’d suffered several blows, but with Jerin and his troop of white-stone-wielding men, they’d diminished the numbers of turned significantly.
Esdra and Talos caught up to him. His mate’s right arm was wrapped in a bloody bandage. Before he could question her, she told him to never mind as she slipped a petal that tasted like sweet apples into his mouth.
“Chew on that, my heart. I’m saving the fruit for the severely wounded.” She passed out more to Jerin and his men, promising the petals of the flowers would strengthen them. While they regrouped, she quickly tended to a couple of Lotari’s worst wounds with a bit of her healing cream.
Jerin had so far come out of their fights unharmed, but she found a nasty cut on his horse’s back leg which she set to work on.
“Where did the turned go?” Jerin asked, his gaze scanning the scene before them.
They stood on a slight rise. The battle continued, but the Racans no longer seemed intent on pushing them back. Rather, they stood their ground, not allowing any of the Tree People to pass their line of defense. Bodies lay scattered in the valley, the ground torn like a shredded garment. Jerin was right, Lotari couldn’t find any more of the monsters, as he’d taken to calling them.
“It’s almost as if...” Jerin started, slowly shaking his head. He dismounted so Esdra could continue aiding his horse. “But it makes no sense. It’s as if they’re just trying to hold us off. As if they’re buying time.”
“I don’t like that thought, Jerin.” Lotari bit his bottom lip. For the millionth time, he wished Stitch had stayed put and was fighting beside him. He didn’t realize how valuable his young charge had become in battle. Though Jerin had proved himself a worthy comrade.
“Well, I don’t care to find out if they’re waiting for something. I think we need to rally everyone who’s still able to fight and make one more attempt to push through.”
Lotari glanced at Esdra who met his gaze with a nod. “Are there many wounded, Es? Maybe we should assign a group to gather the injured. The Healers can begin tending to them while the rest of us keep fighting.”
She looked as if she were about to argue when Jerin said that was a good idea. He turned to Carah. “Will you head up a rescue squad? I’ll need your archers to stand toward the back. You can keep an eye out for any Racan’s trying to sneak through, or if things get worse, you’ll be there to protect those who can’t keep fighting.”
“Very well,” Carah gave a quick nod. Blowing out a loud whistle, she called in her troop. While she gave her orders, Jerin turned to his horse, patting his neck and checking for more injuries. “Lot, can you communicate with Stitcher? Find out if he needs to rest or if he can keep going?”
Lotari fought back a smile that formed at hearing the name. The beast was strong of heart, like his namesake, and seemed willing to continue. But as he ran his hands over the horse’s mane, he could feel the pain the poor animal was in. He moved on to the next mount, dividing up the animals from those that needed to stay behind. Carah traded with her husband. As she patted Stitcher’s neck, she blinked and glanced at Lotari. “I sure hope Stitch and the others are safe. I can’t explain why, but there’s such an evil feel to this place.”
Once Jerin was on the new stallion, he waved his hand over his head. “Forward men! We will push through.”
The men let out a loud battle cry, calling out King Shaydon’s name and causing the enemy soldiers to draw back a few feet. Lotari took up the chant as he barreled into the mass of fighters, drawing on the bit of energy the White Tree petal had offered him.
They’d run out of white stones and Lotari only had a few white arrows left in his quiver. He’d not been able to search for his used ones.
As they reengaged with the opposing forces, the Racans swarmed around them like a nest of angry bees protecting their queen. Jerin was pulled from his horse. His men rushed to his aid. Lotari tried his best to cut a path to his friend, but the enemy seemed to sprout up around them like shoots on a vine, tightening around Lotari’s warriors to the point he feared being suffocated.
“For Shaydon,” the men shouted. “For freedom!”
A blast of fiery pain tore up Lotari’s front leg. He looked down to find a silver-hilted dagger lodged just above his hip. He stumbled, glancing around when he spotted the Baycock headed toward him. Two more appeared, each flanking the first one.
Lotari’s front leg started to give out. He grabbed an arrow. At least he’d take down one before the other two finished him off. If Shaydon saved him for this moment before he was finally able to join his ancestors, then so be it. He’d pass by his King’s throne with his head held high.
Loading the bow, he aimed for the nearest Baycock just as Egan raced forward shouting, “Tazar! Is it—? Noooo!” He stumbled to a halt, covering his eyes with his graceful hands. “No!” He cried over and over.
Lotari released the bow, piercing the Baycock’s chest. He went up in flames. Egan collapsed as the other two turned their attention to their clansman. One drew a broadsword. Egan would never see the blow coming. Lotari hurried to reload when another sound echoed across the valley. His head jerked back as he searched the skies. Lotari was reminded of the night when Alyra had come to their aid on the backs of two dragons.
Directly above, a black dragon cast a huge shadow over the battle. Five followed behind its tail, swooping down with blasts of fire.
The Baycock screamed, bringing his sword down on Egan. Lotari released his last white arrow, but not fast enough. He closed his eyes, unable to watch his elf friend fall to the ground. The arrow sank into the mutated elf’s shoulder, turning him to ash. The last one charged toward Lotari, but not before a blast of flames threw the enemy off his feet.
Lotari tried to get back on his hooves, but the dagger kept him from moving. He grasped the hilt to pull it free. Blood poured from the wound. A wave of pain made his head swim. He turned his face toward the sky. The black dragon banked, and as he tilted, Lotari clearly saw the rider.
Issah! He’d finally come.
Lotari’s legs gave out and he fell hard against the ground.
* * * *
Was Jerin seeing what he thought he was seeing? The man straddling a dragon with scales as dark as ebony looked like the prince, but why wasn’t he marching toward Racah with Alyra’s unit? The other dragons had riders, as well, each dressed in silvery gear, their long golden hair whipping behind them. One aimed an arrow at a troll with red eyes that headed toward the archers. Jerin barely had time to shout a warning to Carah before the beast turned to dust.
Not only had the dragons come to help, but a new group of centaurs, led by a chestnut-colored buck galloped into the clearing. Behind the clan came a hoard of small winged creatures that buzzed around the enemy’s heads like a nest of angry wasps. They threw down sparkling dust on their opponents causing them to drop into a deep sleep.
Were those... pixies? He’d heard a large number of them had followed Lotari to Many Rivers. Was this the Rivers’ clan finally joining them?
Jerin searched for Lotari to see if he’d recognize them. He gasped, his heart stopping when he found his dear friend laying in a bloody heap on the ground. His blood?
“No!” Jerin tore across the field, knocking anything aside that got in his way. Most of the Racans seemed to be retreating, much to his relief.
He finally reached his friend’s side to find him unconscious, but still breathing, thank Shaydon.
“Lot!” He patted his bearded cheek, then checked for wounds. Aside from a couple of cuts and an arrow stuck in his rump, he seemed good. Nothing like he’d suffered the first time they fought together. “Wake up, you ol’ mule. You’re missing all the fun, old man.” That should get him.
A shadow fell across them. Jerin whipped out his dagger to find Esdra approaching, her Healer’s bag in hand.
“He’s breathing, Esdra. Maybe he was knocked out? I don’t know.”
Her almond brown eyes widened. “That knife?” She picked it up holding it for Jerin to see. “There is a wound to his leg. I fear they tainted it, as they did the arrows that struck down my father. We don’t have much time.” She gave Jerin a hard shove. “Go see if you can bring Issah here. Quick, human. I will do what I can with my herbs.”
Jerin was on his feet and running, though he wasn’t sure which way to go. He forced himself to stop and look around. The enemy was indeed retreating.
Praise Shaydon. And praise Issah for his unexpected arrival. Jerin found Carah first. She was giving orders for the wounded to be collected. They had no shelter here and would need to work fast to get them tended to.
“Have you seen Issah?” He grabbed her elbow to get her attention.
She threw her arms around his neck. “I’m so glad you’re safe. I lost sight of you.”
“I’m perfectly fine, Carah. I’m grateful to find you the same. But Lotari is hurt. Esdra said something about a tainted dagger. She wants me to find Issah. He was flying over, I hope they didn’t leave....”
“I’m here, Son.” Issah, wearing his glowing silver and gold battle gear approached. “I’m here to help the wounded. I will go to Lotari if you’ll show me the way.”
Before they left, he turned to his guard, the Logorians that had accompanied him on the dragons. “Set up a line of defense, Aros.” In a louder voice, he said, “Bring all the wounded that can be moved to this spot. My warriors will shelter you while we set to healing. Anyone able to still fight please stand guard while we tend to the fallen.
“Wyndham,” Issah addressed the chestnut buck that had just arrived. “Thank you for coming my dear friend. Can I count on your clansmen to help protect those who’ve fought bravely while they regather their strength?”
Wyndham placed his hand on his breast and bowed his head. “As you wish, Sire.”
“Wyndham?” Called out the albino centaur, Talos. “Is it truly you? My, it’s been ages.”
Jerin didn’t care to stick around for their reunion. He brushed a kiss on his wife’s cheek, promising to be back soon, then turned to lead Issah out onto the battlefield. When they reached his friend’s side, Esdra was trying to pour a bit of sweet-scented liquid into Lotari’s mouth from a wooden flask. “He does not respond, Issah. Please tell me they did not dip that blade into—”
Issah placed his hand on Lotari’s chest, then pulled his eyelid up. “No. It was only a sleeping drought, like what the pixies were using. For all we know, some of their dust may have drifted to him by accident.” He placed his hand over the wound. A ball of glowing light filled his palm, and to Jerin’s amazement, the wound disappeared. He then cupped Lotari’s head in his hands. “Wake up, Lotari of Wilderland. Wake up now!” Issah shouted, and Jerin felt his heart stir, pounding faster at the prince’s words.
Esdra cried out when Lotari stirred, his eyes blinking as he came to.
“Praise Shaydon.” Jerin gasped.
“Praise him, indeed.” Issah agreed. “For he sends aid where it’s needed when it’s needed.”
Jerin patted his shoulder. “You came in the nick of time, Issah. I feared we might falter here before we ever reached your side. And here you were.”
Issah’s face brightened with a grin. “Here I am, indeed. Now let us check on the others. Esdra, I believe you will find your mate responsive now. Soon as he’s able, get him on his hooves, and both of you join the others. I don’t wish anyone to be left outside of our protection when night falls.”
“I’m fine.” Lotari rose to a sitting position, folding his long legs beneath his body. “Give me a few minutes and I’ll—” He winced and clutched his head. “Esdra, do you have anything for a headache, my heart?”
Jerin could have hugged his friend but resisted. Instead, he stood and followed his ruler to check on the other fallen.
By the time the sun set and darkness claimed the skies, they’d collected all that were still alive and brought them into the shelter of the Logorians. The dead were gathered into a quickly dug grave. Many mourned the loss of the Elf Egan, but no tears were shed over the causalities. Everyone knew at that moment they were passing by Shaydon’s throne into the beautiful land of Everlasting.
Jerin looked around for more dragons, but only the six that had arrived still patrolled the edges of their camp. No enemy would dare try to approach with such guardsmen keeping watch.
Cooking fires blazed, even though they were out in the open. Soon, everyone’s bowls were filled to the brim with the heartiest stew Jerin had tasted since leaving Denovo. Prepared by the Logorians, of course.
Lotari was nearly back to his old self and spent most of the evening talking to the other clan leaders.
“He looks like he’s better,” Jerin observed to Esdra who remained near Carah. They seemed to have formed a sound friendship over the past couple of weeks.
“We feared Wyndham would abandon the kingdom because of his pride,” Esdra answered. “For him to be here is an extraordinary development. Lotari worried about his former clan leader. Worried his heart had turned away from Shaydon.”
“Well,” Jerin wiped his bowl with the last chunk of his bread. “I for one am grateful he showed up, along with Issah. We can use—”
Lotari galloped toward them, his Ledge-o-graph opened in his hand. “Did you read it?”
“What?” Jerin asked, wondering where he’d set his bag. Carah hurried to a pile of their gear they’d laid aside when they’d settled down to eat. She handed his pack to him.
“I love how well you take care of me.” He winked, and she answered with an exasperated shake of her head.
Jerin eventually found his journal on the very bottom. “You could have read it to me by now, you know.” Finally, he found a long note signed by Stitch and heaved a deep sigh of relief. “That little hoofed rat is still alive. So much to be thankful for tonight, Lot.”
“Read it,” his friend ordered in a deadpan voice. “I better go find Issah. He may want to hear this news.”
Lotari’s tone sent a chill through Jerin. At his wife’s coaxing, he read the letter out loud. By the time he came to the end, his throat burned as the sound of rushing water filled Jerin’s ears. Could Darnel really do such a thing? Issah stood at his side. Jerin looked up, the question unasked, but evidently heard anyway.
“Yes, Jerin, Darsiderus can. I fear if we do not break through his defenses, then he will accomplish this plan.” He turned and placing his fingers to his mouth, blew out a long whistle. The black dragon halted his walk around the camp. “Ebone, we must depart my friend. Once again, I ask you to aid me in reaching my destiny. Are you willing?”
“Of course, my Prince.” Ebone’s deep voice sounded like rocks grating together. I am completely willing.”
Issah turned back to Lotari and Jerin. “Allow your troops to rest another couple of hours, then continue on your march. General Marcel will meet you at Racah’s gate. I’ll leave most of my guard here with you and two of the dragons as protectors. The rest I will need to come with me. If Darnel indeed plans to release a greater pit demon, I fear he will try to deter the other troops, as well.”
Jerin reached for his graphite stick intending to write Alyra and let her know Issah was on his way. She’d not reported any trouble, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t right in the middle of it.
