A Facet for the Gem (24 page)

“Ready… be ready…” Morlen’s voice rose while they bolted vertically down toward the tide of horns, feeling cold as the nearing creature sucked in all wind around them.

“Kill them!” bellowed Felkoth from above. “Kill them at once!”

Hearing the storm at their heels, Morlen gripped hard to Roftome’s sides. “Now!” he yelled, and Roftome’s wings spread wide to level them out in a parallel run just over the charging line of ferotaurs, while the jet of flame struck exactly upon their abandoned path of descent, pulverizing hundreds of foes on impact. Skimming above as many as possible while the conflagration followed closely at their backs, they created a fiery blockade between the city’s defenders and all invading ground forces.

Feeling the dragon’s wayward assault subside in their wake, Morlen and Roftome deftly rose out of view as it turned with a clumsy jolt to follow, slowly curling away from the battered legions below.

“We have to keep them on us,” Morlen declared, looking over his shoulder while Roftome slowed enough to draw their enemy upward, and it rattled them again with another scream as the sealed gate remained beyond its attention.

Watching the tumultuous chase from below, Valeine was warmed by more than the flaming wall that rose ahead, barring those that would have destroyed her force. On all sides of her, men cheered for the eagle and rider who manipulated the city’s would-be captor so easily.

Soon, many ferotaurs plunged desperately through the burning divide, stomping toward them drenched in fire with blades melting over their hands. Most collapsed in smoke while others sprinted wildly into the defenders’ awaiting spears, swinging limbs of hot sludge against every parrying blow.

Her battalion could no longer serve any purpose within the gates, when all their enemies that continued to charge would suffer the same fate as those that smoldered here. Surely Felkoth would give them a path to circumvent this lethal obstruction, letting them spill out into the wide fields through which her people still retreated.

“Open the gates,” she ordered, and a soldier returned to the central winch, retracting its bars. She grabbed her share of the long chains linked with the left gate’s hefty iron rings, and pulled it narrowly open with dozens of her men while the rest squeezed through, two at a time.

Hearing the renewed efforts of other beasts that stumbled closer, she hastily turned and hammered the nearest between its scorched horns, letting her troops find safe passage as more steamed forward on blistered legs. After all her men had escaped, she stayed back, casting contempt on the swamp of stained metal and inhuman flesh, and looked up at the one who held their destruction at bay under great hazard to himself. Then, the last standing within her beloved city, she turned and left, striding outside to guard the fields with her remaining contingent.

She watched with apprehension, hoping her people had gotten far enough north to find protection as Felkoth circled back to release his impeded troops. Bloodsong’s tail shattered the city’s side wall, peppering nearby fields with rubble and dust, and the enemy flood poured out, rushing around the bend directly toward them with no obstacles in between.

Felkoth was on course to disintegrate her line before the trampling rabble even arrived, his dragon enveloping them in a wave of silence while it drew in another breath. But just as the white-hot stream belted forth, Morlen and Roftome crashed talons-first into the left side of its face, making it veer hard off course with spouts of flame spiraling into air and snow.

Digging with all his might to stay latched upon Bloodsong’s head, barely keeping Morlen astride, Roftome etched shallow scars into its jagged, rocky brow. “You will remember this eagle!” he declared. The dragon bucked relentlessly, finally hurling them off, but not before Roftome released a thick puddle of excrement into its red eyes, which clamped shut amid indignant, earsplitting wails. A burning rain erupted all around as Bloodsong lashed out in temporary blindness, swerving away erratically with them in its wake.

Tempted to give chase, though the creature was doubly lethal in its semi-impaired state, Morlen looked to Valeine and her men, who held their position against the charge that would overrun them in seconds.

“Ready spears!” Valeine repeated with pride, unafraid of the dense wave bent on consuming them. They had cheated death many times this night, and might yet again before the end. The ferotaurs pounded closer, shaking the snowy earth as impact was imminent. Then suddenly, a volley of arrows stormed down over her battalion’s steady shoulders, dropping entire ranks of their attackers as she looked back in thrilled disbelief. Her brother Verald hovered at the head of at least two hundred Eaglemasters, swooping down to extract them from danger.

“Come on!” Verald called, beckoning her to his lowered eagle while those beside him did the same for others, his eyes only widening when she shook her head.

“Not before them!” she answered, gesturing for all of her men to find rescue first, with many still remaining on the ground. Huddles of foes began to penetrate their suppressing fire while more Eaglemasters busied themselves with gathering as many troops as possible. But Valeine allowed herself no relief, cracking one horned skull after another with diligent strokes of the Crystal Spear.

Then, in a splintering strike, Morlen and Roftome dove from high overhead to smash two nearby ferotaurs flat into the snow, joining her with sword and talons lashing out at the herd as Verald and his followers looked on in perplexity.

Almost all soldiers were now accounted for, Valeine saw, but the remaining few beside her would occupy every last ounce of space that the prince himself could transport. She refused to withdraw, until finally Morlen reached down to her.

“Quickly,” he said, voice calm though he sat as a single rock in rising swells, and, after all others were lifted away, she clasped his extended arm and let it pull her up to sit behind him on Roftome’s back. Spinning to deliver a deadly farewell, Roftome scattered many with a final swipe while Morlen and Valeine beat down any within grasp. All below stared fearfully at the blade and spear of crystal that moved together against them, both sparkling brightly when the eagle and riders pulled up, departing the fallen city with those above.

Morlen turned to catch up with the others, who slowed to see him more clearly. “They won’t hold your city for long,” he assured Valeine.

Had it not been for her brother’s proximity, she might have kept her tight hold at Morlen’s side. “My people?” she asked Verald, whose expression stifled her worry.

“Safe,” he answered, though his attention seemed mainly on Morlen. “We flew with two hundred others who stayed behind to escort them upriver, along with your eagle.”

She breathed a joyful sigh that felt cool on Morlen’s neck, leading him to hope she heard equally good tidings before the flight’s end, and he returned the prince’s studying gaze, seeing gratitude over unease.

“Morlen,” he said in reply to the inquisitive silence that Verald appeared more than content to prolong.

Trying to relieve Verald’s obvious tension, Valeine’s eyes asked him to show trust. “The fight would have been finished long before you arrived, brother, if it hadn’t been for these two.” She gave Roftome an affectionate pat as well, keeping her other hand tucked under Morlen’s arm, which did not go unnoticed.

Morlen knew he had proven himself a useful ally, but more would have to be convinced, and immediately, if they were to divert Felkoth’s advance before he struck again. “I have an idea,” he began. “One that I believe may be our best chance of preventing what happened here from spreading farther. I’d like to discuss this before your king.”

Verald continued to hold him with scrutiny, and gave no ready acknowledgment. “Never has there been an Eaglemaster from beyond our realm, nor any king, I trust, who would give one such an open welcome.”

Glancing down at Roftome, who flew more gallantly, fiercely, than any eagle present, Morlen met the prince’s suspicion, unthreatened. “I’m not master,” he answered, “but friend.”

The prince let his rigid, battle-ready posture slacken a bit at this, though not disarmed in the slightest. “Well, Morlen Eaglefriend,” he replied, “I doubt my father has much desire to hear any man, let alone talk of action. But, I will ensure that you have an audience with him nonetheless, along with me, and any other who wishes to listen. You have earned that much, at least, from the Eaglemasters.”

The capital rose before them now, its grayish-white walls projecting from the mountains. They glistened sleekly even in the dead of night, and hundreds of metallic glints illuminated the host that stood watch above, some aiming arrows until the identities of those approaching could be better discerned.

“You’d do well to hold your fire, gentlemen,” Valeine called out to them. “Here arrive those who stood against the first waves of this plague within our realm, when you would not come to our defense. Hand them your provisions, and they’ll go this very night into the mountains to claim carriers for themselves, though they are already more Eaglemasters than you.”

Verald and his allegiant band settled to the walls, letting the now-seasoned youths disembark. They walked with scarred heads held humbly toward the open peaks ahead, to find eagles of their own.

Standing aside, the guards then turned all skepticism upon Morlen, who sat atop the eagle that had harshly cast most of them away, while their beloved Lady seemed so uncharacteristically content in his presence.

“Rouse the king,” she bade them. “Though I doubt he enjoyed much sleep under the sounds of our distress.”

Verald slowly turned a stiff face to her. “He sits below, unmoving since you left.”

Her expression soured, as anticipated, and Morlen enjoyed the way she clenched his ribs. She soon became aware of it herself, and carefully eased her hand.

“Come,” said Verald with little enthusiasm, his attention shifting mainly to Morlen. “This idea of yours had better be worth hearing, or I suspect he’ll hold his silence till the very end.”

Morlen nodded in return, and followed the group’s descent toward the castle. He dismounted in the moonlit courtyard, seeing Valeine become caught in its silver glow as she stepped lightly down beside him, and proceeded with her through the open entrance, which was lined on either side by grim-faced guards.

Striding between the men who averted eyes in shame from the battle-stained Lady and her brother, they gathered in the great hall around a lone pale figure seated in its rear center. “He is not the king you seek,” whispered Valeine. “Not anymore.”

All present parted to allow Morlen a clear path, at the end of which slumped a sorry figure on the stout throne. King Valdis seemed to look past them toward the open archway, acknowledging no one, even as Morlen came to stand directly before him.

He was not old or feeble by any means, Morlen observed. In fact, if this man had a mind to harshly reject his entreaty and toss him out personally as nothing more than an intruder, such an action might prove no easy feat to repel.

“I come to you, as a ready and willing ally,” Morlen began. “The only one you have tonight. And tomorrow will decide whether we succeed or fail to stop what is coming, if you join me, and face him.”

Valdis’s weary, colorless hands wrung tensely against one another, grinding dust to the marble floor at his feet while his gaze remained dedicated along a course just beside Morlen. “He is coming,” he whispered, as though in a trance that no plea could lift.

“He has already come, Father!” Valeine hotly interjected. “He perches on the very seat you entrusted to me, looking to our remaining strongholds like each would give him only an hour’s sport. There is no time, no tomorrow, but what we use to act, and act quickly, to show that slime what we truly think of him!”

Morlen watched her long after she spoke her piece, and lacked any compulsion to withdraw his attention. The king gave no stir, though, only holding an unblinking gaze in place as Morlen focused on him again.

“We have a chance to save this kingdom,
your
kingdom,” he said. “Before it is swallowed whole by what has already taken your southernmost city, despite the men sacrificed there, despite those of your own flesh and blood who stood, when you wouldn’t. There is still time to stand with them, and you can show them that there is a fight worth making. Because, sometimes we need our fathers to remind us what can be done.”

Valdis’s eyes shifted their focus, and found Morlen. They were awake, alert, and light still burned far within, even through anguish and indecision. “What can… be done…” his gravelly voice repeated.

Morlen, heart hammering at this opportunity, stood tall and drew in a calm breath with which to deliver his plan.

“I will attack Korindelf,” he answered, glad to receive ringing silence instead of outward dissent. “I have strong allies in the East. The shriekers still hold many thousands there, numbers that dwindle each day under their guard. They keep the city ready for Felkoth’s return, because they feel his presence strongly, as he feels their hunger, their obedience, their distress.

“He will feel their distress tomorrow at first light, and its severe sting will be enough to draw him and his fire-breather away from your lands, leaving you free to drive out the invaders he brought tonight and meet him at Korindelf, with me.”

All eyes in the hall held to Morlen firmly, knowing any flinch could topple the fragile promise of hope in his proposal, so fragile that none could immediately take it to heart.

“You speak as if this were the Battle of Korindelf,” said Prince Verald. “Only now the scales are tipped much more considerably in the enemy’s favor. And how are we to gain the upper hand over the Tyrant Prince and his dragon when we arrive to spring this trap, since they had no trouble shattering hundreds of Eaglemasters in a matter of minutes?”

The king grumbled achingly, dragging stiff arms up the throne’s broad sides to support himself, and stared at Morlen with far greater intensity while the rest observed them closely.

“Would you have me watch again?” Valdis asked, his voice smoother now, though just as grave. “Would you have us fly headlong to our destruction while you stand below?”