That next morning as the sun rose in the east, the war horns of the Scartan horde sounded.
Fifty-some siege towers were arrayed on the greenway before Brystyn. Between every set of towers sat a catapult.
Reinforcements had ridden in, and more than twenty thousand Scartan Dark Elves sat their horses on the greenway in preparation for the coming battle. Will sat before this large company of horsemen. He was dressed now in a full suit of dazzling red leather armor, his fine white hair braided.
Will glanced back at the Scart riders in long, even rows. The last war horn of the Scartans was winded, and Will rode his dark steed forward, just out of arrow-shot of the front wall of Brystyn.
“Before we begin,” he shouted to King Mandan standing there above the front gate, “know this entire battle could be avoided if only you agreed to hand over the Jewel of Sorrow to me, Viper King! All the lives that will soon be lost will be upon your head, Mandan!”
On the front wall, King Mandan simmered with rage. His queen, Lendra, and his Chief Marshall, Morgan, had urged him to simply turn the Jewel over to Will. Upon returning to the city, Chan Linn gone to Morgan Rivers and reported that the threat of the dragon Kaden was real. Morgan had taken this information to King Mandan, but it had done little to sway him. Now that Prince Daggan lay abed, suffering from his wound, Mandan seemed determined to defeat this horde before his gates.
At the end of five long minutes, Will peered up at Mandan. “So then, it shall be war between us?” asked the Elven wizard.
King Mandan shouted from atop the wall, “It shall be war, you greedy Elven bastard!”
Will raised one hand as he glanced back at the catapults arrayed behind him. “Tear down these walls!” he snapped at the captains in charge of the giant machines of war.
“Hold!” A voice came from the gatehouse on the front wall of Brystyn. “Hold!” It echoed across the wide field of the greenway.
Will sat his horse, his right hand frozen in the air. The captains up and down the line of catapults stood there, awaiting the command to fire.
At the gatehouse, Morgan Rivers gestured down at the slowly opening front gate and said, “Hold, until he removes the body of his fallen friend from the field of what is soon to be the place of a long, bloody battle! Grant him the few moments it will take for him to remove the fallen Elven Prince so that his body is not disgracefully trampled when you order your horsemen forward, Wizard!”
Will watched as Rian Blackthorn rode out through the open gates of Brystyn mounted on Brindle. Although he was fully recovered from his bout with the venom and was now infused with health and vigor due to the additional magical ministrations of Thane Red Branch, Rian rode slumped in his saddle, bearing a great grief due to his loss of Prince Tannen. He was dressed in his usual black leathers and was unarmed, his red, swollen eyes fixed on the body of Tannen sprawled between the city walls and the massive horde of enemies.
Behind him, holding aloft a white flag attached to a spear, Chan rode his own brown mare. He peered at the thousands of Scartans before them. As terrified as he was of the face-painted, white-haired Dark Elf warlords, his loyalty to his beloved master would not allow him to remain safe behind the walls while Rian placed himself in danger.
Will watched the two riders moving slowly toward the center of the tourney field. “He was your lover, Blackthorn?” he asked, quite curious. “Had I known that you and Prince Tannen were fondly acquainted, I might have spared his life, but as things stand, we all have little time to make amends for our mistakes. There is a dragon coming here soon. And unless someone comes to their senses in regard to this cursed Jewel of Sorrow, we may all die.”
Rian rode up to Tannen, tears streaming down his face. Chan rode up beside him and drove the spear into the soft earth, the white flag rippling in the breeze.
Trembling with fear, Chan dismounted. He kneeled down beside the fallen Elven Prince and placed one hand around the haft of the red-feathered arrow sticking up from Tannen’s breast.
At a sad nod from Rian, Chan plucked the arrow out and tossed it aside.
Rian dismounted and kneeled beside the still, prone body of his lover. “It should have been me,” he said. “I should have been here championing Corey’s cause, yet you stood so valiantly in my place. This arrow should have pierced my heart, not yours, my love.”
“Master?” Chan said. “The wizard comes. We should be swiftly returning to the city lest he use treachery on us.”
Rian did not bother to look up at Will riding across the tourney field toward them. “Yes, Chan, you are right. Help me lift Tannen onto your mare’s back. Once we have him secured in place there, you shall mount up behind me on Brindle and we will head back to the city.”
Together they lifted Tannen between them and slumped his body over the saddle of Chan’s mare. They had just finished tying Tannen to the saddle when Will reached them.
“I am sorry for your loss, Blackthorn,” he said sincerely. “And yet many more will die if I am forced to sound the advance on the city of Brystyn. Perhaps there is a way to prevent this.”
Rian did not glance in Will’s direction. He bent and scooped up the reins of Chan’s mare and handed them to him. “According to the ways of the Fairis,” he told his young servant, “we shall burn his body and cremate him. I will then ride to the Vale to present his ashes to his father. He deserves to have the remains of his beloved son. He and I can scatter Tannen’s ashes on the winds of the Vale in the ceremony of Wind Riding to the Beyond.”
Chan took the reins and stood waiting for Rian to mount Brindle. As Rian turned to his stallion, Will said, “I must have the Jewel of Sorrow, Rian. And either I can send the warlords who follow me into war, one that will prove to be long and bloody but will eventually result in my claiming of the gem, or else this matter can be settled here and now in a one-on-one challenge. If you win, this horde of Scarts shall leave Brystyn and return to the Winterwoods. If I win, I shall be given the Jewel. Would you accept my challenge?”
One foot in Brindle’s stirrup, Rian paused, still refusing to acknowledge the slayer of the love of his life. Chan peered up at Will and said, “We came here unarmed following the protocol of riding under a flag of truce. He has no sword, so the challenge cannot be accepted. Besides, my master is grieving and still recovering from the wound you gave him. Do you really think he is in any condition to duel with you, Wizard of Winterwood?”
Will slid from his saddle and snatched up Tannen’s glowing green blade where it had fallen when the Elven Prince had been slain. “A remedy,” he said, swinging the shimmering blade around, then offering it up hilt first to Rian. “Slaying me with your fallen lover’s sword does not appeal to you, Blackthorn?”
Rian glanced once at the luminous green blade. “Come, Chan,” he said, holding one arm down to assist the boy in mounting up behind him.
Chan took hold of his extended hand, and yet hesitated to swing up behind him. “Who is to say that once my master killed you in this one-on-one challenge, your Scart followers would honor such an agreement? Do your words bind them to such an arrangement? I have no doubt Rian could defeat you, but once he does, how long will we have before your horde launches a full-scale war on the defenders of Brystyn, Wizard?”
“Chan?” Rian softly said. “It is time we leave here.”
Will lowered Tannen’s sword, glancing back at the walls of the city. “I sent a carrier bird into the city earlier this morn. King Mandan has already accepted my challenge, and vows have been pledged so the agreement cannot be negated. Rules are rules when it comes to war, so rest assured if I am defeated, this horde rides away, and although Kaden will murder our king, it will be left to your king how to deal with a raging dragon. The Jewel of Sorrow will simply cause more sorrow when Kaden comes here to take what he demands.”
He turned and said, “Oh, look, here comes my opponent now. Never mind, Blackthorn, the Viper King has met my earlier demands and has sent me a challenger. Too bad, however, that this will be quick sword work resulting in a victory for me and my people. It will be hardly a challenge at all.”
The three of them looked then to the lone, armor-clad rider swaying in his saddle as his black charger crossed the drawbridge leading away from the city’s open gates. Prince Daggan’s face was pale as death. Sweat ran in rivulets down his brow. His eyes appeared to be glazed, and with every step that his horse took, the big prince was forced to grab onto his saddle horn to keep from toppling to the ground.
“He’s in no condition to fight,” Rian said, shaking his head in dismay. “You leave me no choice in this. Know, however, that once I accept your challenge, there will be only one outcome. Is that clearly understood, Will?”
“Yes,” Will replied. “One of us going to die. Understood. Shall we begin?”
He moved forward, offering Tannen’s sword hilt first up to Rian.
“Now,” he said, grinning, “try to slay me with your fallen lover’s sword, Blackthorn.”