The Elf King (57 page)

Ern turned away so his
tears would not be noticed. He had assumed Lon’s fate once he put
the pieces together, once realizing why Lon had abandoned his duty
and his men to go back to Cillitran, why Lon’s eyes were so cold,
why Lon had smiled at him the way he had. It was the same cruel
smile the Queen had given in the secret tunnel. The same dead eyes.
The same monster beneath the skin.

“
He will be avenged,” Ern
promised.

Ankar had been standing
close enough to him to feel his thoughts without having to read the
other’s mind. The troubled look Ern wore was laced with guilt and
remorse. “You cannot blame yourself, Ern.”

But he did. As his fingers
squeezed hard around his sword’s handle, Ern Dwull forced away the
tears still forming. “I have many deaths to avenge.”

“
You’ll have your chances,”
Dornawee said. “The darkest night is here. Tomorrow is not promised
to anyone.”

They were quiet then. They
stood with their army facing the north, facing the sheet of
blackness lined up in the night’s gloom at the edge of what they
could see. The night was quiet behind them. The Men and Elves stood
prepared for another attack. Their eyes peered through the
non-light to guard against anything moving towards them. An hour
passed, still nothing. Men began to grumble quietly, anxiously,
worriedly, nervous that something was happening that they could not
see. Fears produced whispers then, as many began to worry that the
enemy was circling them, that they would be trapped. Terill tried
to quiet their worries, hushing along that his Elves had the enemy
flanked on both sides, and if something were to happen to them,
then his people would send a messenger along. For now, their enemy
stood out in the darkness before them.

As a second hour passed,
Terill Estrial caught sight of something. He held one hand up over
the horizon, one finger extending. “There.”

Seconds later they saw it.
A red line in the air, hovering over the Plains.

“
What is it?” Ern asked. He
brought his sword up, ready to strike.

No one answered. Then they
realized it was moving.

“
It’s heading for us!”
Ankar Rie shouted. “Shields!”

The red light advanced
quickly, streaming through the dark sky towards them, cris-cross
lines becoming visible now as it descended. Ankar Rie threw up his
magic in a blue shield over himself and over most of the army
around him. But it wasn’t enough.

The red webbing landed
over those exposed and shredded through them as though they were
made of dust. Screams filled the Plains then, loud and terrible, as
Men and Elf alike exploded in bloodbaths. Hundreds died instantly,
bodies separated to pieces. They panicked, looking to the sky to
see another red beam cutting through the darkness, moving swiftly
towards them. Terill and a few other Elves possessing magic threw
up shields as well, protecting all that they could. But as
the
Taker’s
fire-web seared onto the army, many were caught uncovered.
Red beams sliced through skin and bone instantly, erupting bodies
with the blink of an eye. Catapults were destroyed as well. Red
magic tore through the large wooden beams without slowing, turning
the gigantic machines into roaring fires that lit the Shyl Plains
brightly.

“
Look!” Ern Dwull screamed,
pointing to the east, then west. Blankets of red mesh shot over the
Elves stationed there. Their screams were heard in echoing
waves.

“
Kateel! Ree!” Terill
yelled in fury, his hands coming to a smoldering glow.

“
We have to act!” Ankar Rie
waited no further. He stood facing the black horizon and began to
send his blue fire in smoldering bursts into the sky. Terill
Estrial and Dornawee came to his side and joined in, unleashing
their own fiery destruction through the air. As their assault
reached the ground, the bursts ignited in glowing
flames.

The blasts lit the Shyl
Plains in radiant showers. Bright enough for them to see the
Takers
crawling flat
across the grassy field, much closer to them than they had
realized.

Chapter 32

“
A
nkar!” Ern Dwull yelled,
pointing his sword ahead of them to where their enemy crawled
rapidly. The sorcerer directed his magic onto them, burning them as
they came. But there were too many to stop altogether.
Takers
pushed past the
burning wreckage of their brethren without slowing.

“
There’s too many!” Ern
turned to his bowmen, who were already shooting arrows, screaming
for his archers to fire without ceasing. But as he did so, he
noticed that their arrows were doing nothing against the oncoming
fury. “Swords ready!”

Ern Dwull stood at the
front of his soldiers, his sword up and ready, his men preparing
themselves for confrontation behind him, as red beams lashed out
from ahead of him. Men standing near him were hit, none survived.
Screams rose out from his army as they panicked, placing their
shields in front of them in hopes that the metal would be enough.
But the soul-crushing bellow from the demons howling in approach
made them believe that nothing would save them.

Suddenly blue light
appeared before Ern in a blinding glow. He turned to see Ankar Rie
standing with his arms stretched and his magic spewing from his
hands in both directions. A wall, Ern thought. A shroud to protect
them. As he turned back to face his enemy, they were at his
doorstep with glowing palms firing red fire into the shield. Ern
Dwull stepped back in fear, nearly toppling over his own feet. He
saw then that Terill, Dornawee, and several other Elves had joined
Ankar, and their shield ran a great distance, towering into the
black sky. The shield was magnifying in intensity; it was growing,
he thought. Ankar Rie shouted once, then the shield began to fall
like a tidal wave.

Ern shouted in delight. He
watched the radiant wall crash down and disintegrate the nightmares
around them. His army roared in response, momentarily letting their
guard down. They cheered in defiance, in triumph.

But their celebration was
premature.

Through the chaos, a swarm
of dark figures snaked into their midst, clawed hands ripped into
throats and chests before the threat was even realized. Men
standing at the front died in violent shrieks. Swords came up in
challenge, some too slow, some striking their mark seconds before
their arms were scratched off their bodies, then their chests
opened wide.

“
No!”
Ankar Rie’s fire spewed into the lot of them, burning what he could
catch, saving a few men from a terrible death, if only to see them
dying seconds later. Elves with magic joined him, but the enemy’s
numbers were too many and streams of demons tore through
unchallenged. Elves and Men shot waves of arrows, yet
Takers
swept in like a
flood of their own.

Ankar Rie turned his fire
blazing rapidly in all directions now. Everywhere he turned he saw
red eyes and blurry shadows streaking past. Magic flashed all
around him. Men and Elves fought for their lives behind him. The
same thing had happened to the east and west flanks, he figured.
The war animal had crawled into their home now, and it had no
intention of leaving.

Terill Estrial, Lord of the
Forest Elves, raced his way through his people, his palms shooting
his white fire in flaring bolts nonstop. It was frantic, it was
desperate. The fight for survival had such a frenzied pace to it,
that he knew they could not match through the night. In every
direction he turned, someone lay dead, someone in the process. In
the far distance, he could see giant explosions seconds before he
heard them, knowing the small number of troops on the flanks would
struggle. As they were.

Takers
lunged into his back then, tackling him to the blood-soaked
ground. He struggled to face them, to turn his hands towards them
and defend himself properly. But the
Takers
were hungry and would not let
up. Glowing red eyes smothered him, frantically trying to dig their
way past the shield he cast just before he hit the ground.
Struggling to break free, he managed to kick a few off and turn his
body enough to move his arms freely. Quickly he slammed his fists
into the faces of those closest, sending his white heat blasting
forth at once, moving on to the next face even before those demons
were obliterated. Within a few seconds he was able to sit upright,
spraying his fiery bolts into the wall of monsters coming to claim
him. Giving himself some room, he was able to stand to his
feet.
Takers
came
relentlessly.

Then he heard Dornawee
screaming.

As he turned in all
directions, he saw his friend nowhere. He ran then, using his magic
to clear a way through the monsters, heading towards the sounds of
the old elf fighting.

“
Dorn!”

And then he saw him.
Smothered by black figures that clung to his limbs, Dornawee stood
fighting for his life. His screams were being muffled now as
a
Taker
had a
firm grasp on his neck. As Terill sent his magic in an attempt to
rescue his ailing friend, he saw Dorn’s knees give out and he fell.
His face was lost in the
Taker’s
bodies. Fire burned from Terill’s fingers,
turning them to ash. Yet more joined the battle, some even turning
from the old elf to fight Terill.

“
Dorn!” He yelled again,
but no response came back.

Terill felt something hard
hit his back then. Before he could help himself, he was falling
into the dirt.

Dornawee yelped as loud as
he could, managing only to muffle an attempt to scream,
while
Takers
attempted to enter him. On the ground, he could see red,
soulless eyes looking into his own.
My
Lord! The madness!
He could feel the heat
radiating off their bodies as they smothered him. Dozens of arms
pressed against his body everywhere, frantically searching for a
way through his shield and into his skin. He struggled in vain to
push them off, to fight his way off the bottom of the pile to stand
once again valiantly. But there were too many now, and more were
joining. His sense of urgency was deepening. Screaming to deaf
ears, he thrust his magic forth from his fingers, but could not
even see the glow from his attempt.
Takers
were countering with their
own fire, he knew. They were scourging him relentlessly.

Staring into the shifting
darkness swallowing him, he was becoming light-headed. He would not
last much longer. His sight grew dimmer. Darkness was washing over
him in a dizzying sleep. He could no longer scream. He could no
longer breathe. They would have him, he thought.

No!

Then he could feel his legs
again, or rather the ability to move them. Then his hands and arms.
He fought the dizziness with hope and in a blur he could see the
dark figures remove from him. He could hear the sounds again. His
breathing began again, quickening. He wasted no time in scrambling
around to move, to regain his feet.

“
Get up, elf!” Ern Dwull
was yelling, swinging his sword faster than he could even think to
do so, all impulse and instinct, action and reaction. “Hurry! Get
up!”

Ern’s sword was black,
coated with dark liquid that ran down his blade like the sweat on
his face.
Takers
came from every angle, but nothing was stopping him from
slicing into the monsters covering Dornawee. He saw the old elf’s
body moving now, scrambling to his knees, then feet. “You
okay?”

Dornawee nodded, unsure, a
horrid look masking his pale reflection as he turned to see Ern.
His senses returned to him then quickly. Staring into Ern’s
determined eyes, he saw something rushing towards them. “Get
down!”

Ern wasted no time dropping
to the ground as Dornawee’s hands came up, glowing already, fire
starting to push past his fingers, shooting forth over Ern’s head
just as he landed on the grass. He could hear the impact, the
terrible sound of heated magic searing into the swarm of demons
only inches away. Showered by ash, Ern rose to his feet, eyes wide,
sword ready.