The Dragon's Test (Book 3) (19 page)

Orres rubbed the bridge of his nose between his thumb and forefinger. “The fact remains that we cannot see in the dark,” he said.

“
You can’t
,” Lady Arkyn said. “I can.” Orres looked to her for a moment and then back to Erik.

“Do you have a plan?”

Erik shrugged. “Find the warlock and kill him.”

All four of them remained silent for a few moments.

“Is that all?” Orres questioned. “You wake me up and tell me that we should pick our way in the dark, through the enemy camp to locate and kill the warlock as if it is that simple. This is madness.”

“It could work,” Wendal said. The others looked at him. “I mean, at least we would have the element of surprise
like he said. The dark will conceal us as well.”

“I know the
se lands,” Erik said.

“
I know you have come here a few times to visit Erik, but have you walked Lokton lands while they lay burned and scattered with corpses, broken bits of weapons, and sentries ready to kill you for coming close?” Orres asked pointedly.

“We could create a diversion,” Wendal said to Orres. “You and I could distrac
t the enemy. Lady Arkyn and Master Lepkin could go through the camp.”

“What’s going on?” Braun’s voice demanded from the doorway.

Erik turned around and only briefly met Braun’s stern stare before looking to the floor. “Were you awake?” he asked.

“Your door guard summoned me,” he answered. “I told him to wake me if you left your room.”

“We are going to kill the warlock,” Erik said with as much courage as he could muster. Braun frowned and folded his arms. “A raven tapped three times on my window tonight, just like what happened to Erik the night the Blacktongues came for him.” He watched the words sink in as Braun let out a heavy sigh. Erik shook his head. “I am not going to sit and wait here. I am going to end this now.”

Braun stepped forward and placed a hand on Erik’s shoulder.
“Tell me what you want me to do.”

Erik paused, thinking about each of the others in the room. Then he smiled. “Can you and Demetrius work the catapults by yourselves?”

“I can take a few of the others with me,” Braun said.

Erik nodded. “Wendal, can you cover the moon?”

“I can summon clouds,” he said. “If I do anything else it might be obvious to the warlock if he is watching.”

“Orres, you help with the catapults,” Erik said.

Orres nodded slowly.

“And me?” Lady Arkyn asked.

“You will come with me through the forest,” Erik said. “Can you see even without the moonlight?”

“I have elf eyes,” she said with a smile. “I can see as well as an owl in the night.”

“Then, once we find his tent, you will perch with your bow and cover me. I will pick my way through to the warlock.”

“And then you will use your
flaming sword to battle a warlock?” Orres scoffed. “This is hardly a foolproof strategy.”

“Are you offering to go in his stead?” Braun asked harshly. Orres bristled, but said nothing in response. “What do you want us to do with the catapults?” Braun asked Erik.

“Fill them with tar pots. Lady Arkyn will fire a flaming arrow once I am clear and the warlock is dead. Then you will fire the catapults at the enemy position.”

“I can also rouse the mages,” Wendal offered. “
We can add our magic to the catapults.”

Erik thought for a moment and then nodded. “Ok, but they have to wait for Lady Arkyn’s signal.”

“What if something goes wrong?” Lady Arkyn asked. “I can cover you well, but I will not likely be able to protect you should you cause alarm or if the warlock catches you coming.”

“That is a chance I will have to take,” Erik said.

“Gallantry is good in poems,” Orres said. “But it hardly serves any other purpose.”

“If you have a better idea I am open to hearing it,” Erik said.

Orres snorted and rose to his feet. “I do,” he said. “Why not go with Wendal’s notion of causing a distraction? We could fire the catapults first, cause the enemy to scramble about in chaos and then while they mount a counter offensive you could slip in and take the warlock.”

“No,” Braun argued. “Rousing the enemy too early could destroy our chances of catching him. We need him to be completely unaware.”

Orres shrugged. “It’s your funeral,” he said. “Just don’t make me come in after you.”

Erik gave a half smile and walked to the door. “I’ll try to keep that in mind.” Lady Arkyn was quick to follow him as he went back to his room, grabbed Lepkin’s sword and put his boots on. He left his armor lying on the floor, he didn’t want to be bogged down with the noisy metal. Lady Arkyn retrieved her bow and a full quiver of arrows. Then the two left and made their way around the back of the house. They crouched near the wall until a thick, dark cloud covered the moon.

“Are you ready?” Lady Arkyn asked.

Erik nodded and he led the way to the forest south of the house. They slowly picked their way through the trees, pausing periodically to listen to the night sounds and ensure they hadn’t made too much noise.
As they got closer to the enemy, Lady Arkyn took the lead. She pulled an arrow from her quiver. She held her hand up and motioned for Erik to hide near a large oak tree.

Lady Arkyn knelt and put the arrow to her string and quietly pulled the arrow back. A single guard patrolled the forest about sixty yards in front of her. He held a spear in one hand and a bugle in the other. The ranger watched him as his body passed behind trees and then stopped in a small clearing filled with ferns. The soldier stopped and stuck his spear in the ground, then he hooked the bugle strap back over his neck and pushed the bugle behind him. His hands went down to undo his trousers and he shuffled closer to the ferns. Lady Arkyn waited for just a moment, until she heard the pittering stream of urine striking the ground.

She took in a breath and let her arrow fly. The missile flew straight and true, piercing the soldier’s neck in the gap between his leather hauberk and helmet. He slumped down to the ground with a soft
thud
. The ranger put another arrow to the string and waited for several moments, scanning the area nearby for any sign of others. When she was sure that there were no witnesses, she snapped her fingers and Erik came away from the tree.

“Let’s go,” she said.

They carefully traversed the forest until Lady Arkyn spied a large, round topped canvas tent. “There,” she said pointing in the tent’s direction. “It’s a round topped tent, like the kind commanders use on the battlefield. That has to be his.”

Erik nodded and took
and a deep breath. “Alright,” he said.

She put her hand on his shoulder
. “You don’t have to do this,” she said. “I could go.”

“No,” Erik said. “I will go.”

Lady Arkyn nodded. “Good luck,” she said. Then she leapt up into the tree above and took a perch from where she could see the field.

Erik stood motionless for a few moments, scanning the camp
. His heart was pounding and his stomach was churning into knots. He crept out from the cover of the trees, keeping low to the ground. He went slowly, trying to discern his path in the darkness. He spied a large mound straight ahead of him and made his way to it. The live grass bent under his weight, but he made no sound as he crawled. When he neared the mound, he smelled a sour, metallic odor. At first he thought it might be the ground, as it was burned and scorched in some areas nearby, but when he pressed up against the mound he realized how wrong he was. The mound gave under the pressure of his weight and he felt matted fur under his fingers. He didn’t recognize the beast, but at least it wasn’t breathing anymore. Judging by its size and shape, it was something he would not care to meet. He quickly skirted around a hooked arm and pressed forward.

He stopped when he heard laughter coming from one of the small fires off to his left. He slowly raised his head and spied a trio of men laughing and making obsce
ne gestures amongst themselves. They did not wear the same kind of armor as the men he had fought earlier in the day. His heart sank when he realized that somehow the warlock had been able to get reinforcements. He watched them for a few seconds, deciding whether they might catch him if he moved forward. He noticed that each of them held a tin cup in their hands and there were several bottles around them on the ground.

Likely too drunk to notice me as long as I stay low.

Forward he crawled until he reached the side of a small tent. He pulled himself up into a crouch and gauged the distance to the warlock’s tent. There were a few tents in between, but there was no movement. It appeared that the soldiers in this section of the camp were asleep. Slowly he rose up and peered around the side of the tent. Suddenly the flap opened and a large man came out wearing nothing but an old pair of ragged leggings. Erik ducked back around the tent. Something whizzed by, just a hand’s breadth away from Erik’s head and then the man groaned low. Erik heard something slump onto the ground. He knew then that Lady Arkyn had seen the man too. He stepped around the tent and found the man lying on his back with an arrow embedded deeply in his chest. Erik grabbed his ankles and pulled his body into the tent. Then he waited for what seemed like an eternity as he strained his ears, listening for any sign of commotion outside.

He felt his father’s ring against his chest and he whispered a silent prayer. “Guide my blade,” he asked his father.
Then he emerged from the tent and went as quickly as he dared to the round topped tent. He checked around the front and spied a pair of guards standing there. Silently he backed away and snuck around to the back of the tent. He knelt down and grabbed the bottom of the canvas and sucked in a breath. From inside he heard a slow, rhythmic snore. He tugged the canvas up and slithered underneath.

The inside of the tent was darker than Erik expected. He sat on the dirt, completely motionless, almost afraid to breath
e until his eyes adjusted well enough for him to see the snoring lump on a cot just a few paces away. Erik rose to his feet and slowly walked to the warlock. He drew his sword slowly, careful not to let the metal scrape against the scabbard and wake his foe. He gripped the sword so that he could bring the point straight down. He raised it up in front of him with both hands. Thoughts of his father in chains came to his mind then. The anger inside poured into the blade and the sword burst into white flames. The warlock opened his eyes, but Erik brought the blade down before the man could move. It pierced him through the chest and the fire engulfed the warlock.

“No!” the warlock screamed out. Erik removed the blade and backed away. His adrenaline surged through him, causing him to tremble slightly as his heart raced in his chest. To his horror, the warlock tried to stand. Erik rushed forward again and slashed down diagonally, severing the man in twain.
An emerald amulet fell from the warlock’s hand and bounced along the ground. The flames grew brighter and hotter, turning blue and then green. The canvas tent all at once burst into flame and suddenly Erik found himself surrounded by blinding flames. He turned for the front flaps just as the guards outside parted the burning flaps with their halberds.

Erik somersaulted between them and ran for all he was worth toward the forest. A flaming arrow went up into the sky. Shouts and bugles sounded through the air and all at once the camp came alive
like a trampled ant-mound. Erik heard arrows zing by him and
thunk
into anyone foolish enough to chase him. A few moments later the ground shook as the tar-pots slammed into the camp, exploding furiously and wreaking havoc in the camp.

He almost made it to the forest when a sudden gust of wind knocked him to the ground. A maelstrom of green fireballs rained down from the sky above him. Erik looked on, petrified and breathless. He squirmed out of the way and did his best to dodge the magic missiles. One of them landed near enough that the explosion tossed him into the air, spinning him round as if he were cart-wheeling above the ground. He landed hard and felt a sting in his head. He struggled to move, but his eyelids grew heavy and then everything became dark.

*****

“Fire again!” Orres bellowed from atop the horse. From his vantage point, and
with the added help of the tar-pots, he could see Lepkin running from the camp. He felt a surge of elation swell within him as the camp began to burn. “Well done,” he said. Then his glee turned sour as he watched green fireballs streak down from the sky. “What is that?” he shouted to Wendal.

“Either the warlock lives, or they have others that can wield magic
!” Wendal shouted. “We’ll try to shield him!” Wendal and the other mages quickly weaved wards and shields around Lepkin as he jumped up and ran for the forest. Most of the green balls were deflected, but one managed to explode near him, sending him flying through the air.

“The enemy is upon him!” Orres shouted. He could see a throng of what looked to be at least fifty sword
smen running for Lepkin. He drew his sword and spurred his horse forward.

“Wait!” Wendal shouted, but Orres would not.