As Russet and the two kanga riders came back into the group, the sky opened up and a thousand or more of the stunted wyrms, some with riders, some without, came flying through. Some of them were laboring to stay aloft due to the heavy sacks and bundles they carried. Two more larger black wyrms, probably the mounts of the other two blue-cloaked wizards, came after the horde, and then the hole in the sky closed up, as if it had never been there at all.

  “Gather as many fighting men as we can take,” Russet said and looked at Quazar for a number.

  “How many?” the king asked sharply, as if Quazar had been in a daze himself.

  “Two score with provisions.” Quazar shook the feeling off, or maybe when the thing had departed them, the sensation had gone with it. “Get them in as close as you can. And hurry it up. Our Zythian friend can’t hold his spell forever, and we need what Vanx has.”

  Chapter

  Twenty-Five

  If you want to keep your gizzard,

  never trust a wizard.

  – Crimzon

  When Quazar, King Russet, and eighty or so men appeared in the clearing just outside the frozen gates, the massive doors were cranked open immediately and a bell began to toll. Darbon had been expecting them, and the city was alive with battle preparations.

  It all happened in a whirlwind for the tired old wizard. He, Darbon, and a handful of the Zythians were going to immediately teleport back to Saint Elm’s Deep. They’d gathered three huge sacks full of silver, and a gargan-sized silver statue of Nepton. Some of them would return with strands of silver-dipped Heart Tree cuttings that would hopefully make the gooey gel slung by the Trigon warriors ineffective and reduce the Trigon’s weapons to nothing more than ordinary blades.

  Quazar understood that it didn’t matter against the numbers of flying creatures he had just seen come through that hole in the sky over Andwyn. And the other two Trigon wizards were here now, too. The Deep had a chance, and nowhere else. Orendyn was nothing more than a dead rabbit about to be under a carpet of flies.

  Quazar was thankful it was the Zythians casting the teleport spells now, for moving nearly ninety people from the Parydon mainland to Orendyn had exhausted him. He was also seeing with an unusual amount of clarity, and not so much with his eyes. His core was saturated with the magic he’d used to get them there. One thing was gnawing at him, and he made King Russet listen to him, just before leaving the boy in command at Orendyn.

  “They are not coming here next,” Quazar said. “The Heart Tree’s magic defies the leader. It defies their magic, and they will have to remove it before Vanx Malic comes at them, and I think they know that now. That is why it is so powerful. It uses others to protect it, and it will hole up until our lands are safe for its return.”

  “You think Vanx will go after it?”

  “If we can defeat the wizards, yes, I do.”

  “We will leave Orendyn well defended, then, wizard, and with all the hope we can give them.” Russet nodded his understanding.

  “There is always the option to have them flee to gargan lands.” Quazar offered the only hope he could think of at the moment. “Chelda will rally the ramma riders, and you’ve a Sore-Thatch yourself.”

  “Chelda has it,” Russet interrupted. “She is speaking in my stead to gather their numbers and join us in this battle, if this is where the enemy comes. You know more than I about many things. But they will take this port and fortify it, and then try to take the Deep from a stable position.”

  “They need the Tree under their control,” Quazar argued, but the Zythian wizard was already casting his spell, and Russet was stepping away.

  “Orendyn is too easy to avoid taking. They have thousands of foot soldiers and ships.” Russet shrugged and gave Quazar a respectful nod, then the world spun, and Quazar and the others were in the sward of grass that surrounded the Heart Tree.

  Vanx arrived asking questions as fast as they came to him. Thorn poked Quazar with the Glaive of Gladiolus, and Darbon, too, who didn’t need it. Vanx was glad it revived Quazar, but then his eyes fell on the fifteen-foot-tall statue of Nepton, and he stopped and stared at it for a long time.

  “Why?” he heard himself wonder aloud.

  “We be cursed,” Yandi, one of the seamen who’d been holed in the cabin, said from behind them. He had on a dipped Heart Tree ring, and thus the Underland curse couldn’t get a hold on him or the others as it had Chelda.

  “No!” Vanx’s tone was sharp. “Get them all cutting rings, and quickly. We be blessed, for this is a sign that Nepton is on our side. Using this statue will give our weapons and charms the power of the sea, as well as the power of the Heart Tree!”

  Under his breath, he told the gnome in charge of melting all the silver to save it for the very last, then dismissed that group to their work.

  Vanx wasn’t sure he believed any of what he had just said, but it lifted the hopes of all who’d heard. Vanx thought melting it might not please the god of the sea all that much, for it was a perfect piece of art.

  Vanx saw Quazar give him a look, and he excused himself, taking Quazar by the arm. The two strolled toward the crystal palace. Gallarael, Vanx knew, was guarding over him from not so far away. The wizard was oblivious to her.

  Some time later, after hearing Quazar’s tale and telling the wizard his own, Vanx spoke.

  “Aserica Rime said he is the Paragon Dracus.” Vanx sighed.

  “The term he does not describe what we saw,” Quazar said bluntly. “That creature shifted shapes and bespelled nearly a thousand Parydonians while in the form of a huge blue dragon. That was after it killed half as many with a single blast of lightning breath. Before that, it was the size of a man, and changing faces each time it jabbed someone with that three-pointed staff.” The old wizard leaned forward and filled his cup again with honeysuckle brandy, and downed about half of it. “Paragon Dracus describes what it is just about perfectly, though. I’ll give you that.” He took another sip. “What else did the Hoar Witch tell you about it?” He didn’t wait for an answer. “And, I tell you, I don’t think it took that three-pronged sticker with it when it went. I think the Heart Tree’s magic, contained in arrow tips still stuck in them, when they reappeared, scared it. I think it sensed that power and fled.”

  The fact the wizard used terms like “it” and “creature” wasn’t lost on Vanx. The wizard’s boastfulness and down-talking of the enemy he described earlier as “All the demons in all the hells using all the magic in the world,” was no doubt due to the amount of honeysuckle brandy the old man had drunk. It was potent stuff.

  Vanx had yet to see the thing they all spoke of in the Mirror of Portent, though. But he saw tomorrow’s surprise attack on Orendyn, and had sent all the silver-dipped Heart Tree offerings and elven archers they could spare, without leaving themselves short.

  Once Quazar was rested, they would go save Russet and the elves, as Vanx saw them do over and over again in the mirror. He saw something in the new recurring vision, but he would try to change that death. He was in control of his destiny, not the Hoar Witch’s broken mirror, and he was as determined as anything to prove it. If he couldn’t, then Moonsy would die a terrible death on the morrow, after killing one of the Trigon wizards and his wyrm.

  It ached Vanx’s heart to know this, and after he excused Quazar to his nap, he found Moonsy and showed her the scene.

  “If I die killing one of them, then I’ll die a hero,” she said.

  “If you don’t go, you can’t die there,” Vanx said.

  “If I don’t go, that tingle turd might not die!” Moonsy returned. “I’m not afraid.”

  “Chelda would be devastated,” Vanx said. “I’m not sure I should allow it.”

  “You do not command me, sir,” Moonsy said defiantly. “Now, start working on a way to deflect that blow after I slice that Trigon shit. That is what you can do. And if you let General Posey-Thorn order me to stay behind this time, I will call you out, Vanx Malic. I will get you in the circle and lesson you like you have so many before. I have been wielding a blade since before a single soul was born on Zyth.”

  Vanx felt his stomach twist into a knot. He knew she was a master with her weapon, but that had nothing to do with it. He couldn’t deny her her destiny, and he’d wronged Chelda so much already that he felt he owed her. He wanted to put Moonsy in one of the dungeon cells until it was over, because that is what Chelda would do if she saw the fate that awaited the brave elven warrior.

  Vanx didn’t want Moonsy to die, but she was right. If they were going to defy destiny, they would just have to do it. It wouldn’t happen for them.

  After she left, Vanx started reading more spells from the Hoar Witch’s books, and even managed to brew two potions before it was time to go.

  “We can’t stay long,” Vanx reminded them. “We will turn the battle and come home. The other two Trigon wizards will come here at dark fall, with their real force. Which night, I cannot say, but it could be this night, so we must not dally in Orendyn.”

  Thorn nodded, and Vanx felt Poops through their link. The dog was eager and as focused and ready as Vanx was. Vanx could smell the fear and rage of their group just as Poops could. Moonsy nodded that her archers were accounted for, and a swarm of little flying folk filled the places between them. One of the Zythians cast the spell, then, and they went spinning into a whirl of glittering energy.

  Chapter

  Twenty-Six

  Ogres don’t need weapons,

  they just use rocks and sticks.

  Once a man was fool enough,

  to try and teach an ogre tricks.

  – A song from Dyntalla

  When they arrived, the battle for Orendyn looked to have just begun. Vanx followed Moonsy step for step, his mind racing for a solution to what he’d seen, what she’d also seen, in the mirror.

  Vanx used the witch’s staff to blast apart a few of the creatures over them. He could only use it four or five more times before it exhausted its usefulness and have to be replenished. The bulk of the fighting was at the harbor, and the power of the staff was limited, so he started casting less potent blasts of energy from his outstretched hand instead. He took his time to aim carefully and not waste his strength. Where they were going seemed empty in comparison to the harbor, but Moonsy was leading them to the place of the portent, Vanx had no doubt.

  Volan was there with him, along with a few of the Zyths whom Chelda had made swear to guard Vanx. Volan was holding a shielding spell above them and Moonsy. As expected, the blue stuff being spewed by the smaller wyrms, and blasted down by the Trigon fighters, made whoever it contacted ill. Luckily, Volan’s shielding was enough to divert the goo away from them as they went. Those not protected began vomiting like Vanx had been back on Zyth.

  It was a devastating attack, for it didn’t kill the victim, who could later be put under the Trigon Daze and used as a weapon.

  Vanx wondered if only the Paragon Dracus could turn them, or if it was the staff itself. If Quazar was right, and it was still in Andwyn, they might consider going after it.

  Vanx looked up just in time to see the scene in the mirror unfolding before his eyes. He made ready to cast the spell he’d decided gave him the best chance to save Moonsy. There was nothing else he could do besides hope it would work.

  Coming toward him was the same dragon-riding Trigon wizard he and the fae had defied near the Deep. Vanx could tell because his blue robe was now stained from all the blood Vanx had rained down over him. He was flying straight at Moonsy, who had just run up the side of a freshly crumbled building to meet them.

  She used the upward momentum of her run and leapt into a somersault. Then, just as the creature passed over, her sword slid deep across the dragon’s underbelly. Then she was coming down.

  Vanx cast an invisible wall of force between Moonsy and the streaking smaller wyrm, whose rider had already loosed the blast of fiery hot, yellow plasma that would melt her.

  Vanx’s heart lumped in his throat, for the crackling stuff passed right through his barrier, and only the wyrm and rider were flattened against his creation.

  Then he watched as the future he had been seeing in the mirror was changed by the greatest, most selfless, hero he would ever know.

  Witnessing Foxwise Posey-Thorn leap from Poops’s back, run up, and shove Moonsy off the side of the building, thus taking the full brunt of the magical blast himself, was as heroic a deed as ever had been done, and Vanx vowed to write a ballad just for his friend.

  Thorn was no more, but Vanx saw that the Glaive was in its sheath hanging from the horn of the saddle on Poops’s back. What was left of Thorn was a runny, horrific mess of steaming gore, and Vanx felt Poops fill with sadness.

  “Fetch Moonsy and give her the Glaive,” Vanx ordered the elves around him. Some of them were flabbergasted, standing there slack-jawed in shock over what they’d just seen.

  “And DO NOT KILL that fargin’ wizard!” Vanx yelled at them, as he pointed at the crashed dragon, bringing their attention back to the task at hand.

  Thorn is no more, my friend, Vanx conveyed to his familiar, fighting back tears, but keeping his visage strong for those who’d just seen what happened to him. We will remember him fondly, and we will avenge him right now. You can have the wizard. That evil dragon is mine.

  Vanx then raged across the rubble strewn by the creature’s crash. When he was upon the beast, he blasted the dragon’s open wounds with the Hoar Witch’s wand. It was still floundering, or maybe blasts were causing its corpse to jerk and shudder as if it were doing so. Either way, by the time Vanx was finished, it was clearly dead.

  None of this had been in the mirror. In the scene they’d watched, Moonsy was destroyed, just as Thorn had been in her stead, and the dragon crashed into a neck-breaking pile against a building that was no more, where it stayed still as stone as Vanx and Thorn approached it.

  Thorn.

  Vanx sensed Poops nudging Moonsy, who was heartbroken over General Posey-Thorn’s sacrifice.

  Vanx grabbed the crystal around his neck and spoke to all of the Deep. “General Moonsy, you shall take up the Glaive of Gladiolus and come heal our Trigon prisoner. Foxwise Posey-Thorn’s brave sacrifice not only saved a champion, but delivered us a wealth of knowledge to harvest from this dazed goon. We will wait to mourn our heroes until after we’ve defeated the enemy, for they are coming for our Deep next.”

  In a matter of seconds, Poops was carrying Moonsy past Volan and the Zyths, who were trailing behind Vanx. Vanx knew the full impact of Thorn’s death hadn’t yet set in, and he wondered how Thorn had known to do such a thing. But the act, and the idea that the fate of the portent could be defied, made him eager to see what the mirror had to show him now.

  Vanx also had a feeling that this attack was all a diversion. At dusk, on this day, the other two Trigon wizards and their dragons, along with the massive horde of which Quazar had spoken, would arrive at the Deep, and this war would be waged to the end.

  Vanx knew to use Thorn’s actions as a rallying point, but right now he wanted to let his dog have his way with the Trigon wizard Moonsy was about to jab with the Glaive.

  “My brethren will take you, and the Paragon will slowly eat you alive,” the wizard spat. His eyes rolled up in his head, and he started smoldering, but Moonsy jabbed him with the Glaive, and those symptoms subsided, leaving him in a disheveled heap.

  Poops sniffed the wizard before and after she stuck him, letting Vanx understand the canine’s perception. Poops growled then, and his hackles riled. Moonsy squealed when he got hold of the man’s ear and clamped down. Poops shook his heavy head back and forth savagely, until the ear came all the way off. But Moonsy managed to stay in the saddle.

  “Enough,” she said under her breath, and Poops dropped the ear and returned to Vanx’s side.

  Two of the Zythians dragged the undazed Trigon wizard into the group, and they huddled closer.

  “They are coming tonight,” Vanx said with the crystal clenched in his hand. “These are already leaving.” He indicated the fewer numbers of smaller wyrms in the sky. There were groups of the stunted dragons winging back toward Parydon Isle like flocks of birds. “The other two wizards will be seeking vengeance. We must gather close and return those who are going.”

  “We’ve three others who can bring men with them,” one of the older Zythians said. “Go, half-man, go prepare. We will bring as many as we can and protect the rest. I will send one to Zyth for aid as well.”

  “Bring King Russet, even if you have to take him by force,” Vanx was only partly jesting. His heart was low over the loss of Thorn, and he was wondering if the statue of Nepton they’d taken from its perch over the harbor really was a curse. These humans who were cheering as if they’d just won the war had no idea what was coming, just like the fae. Before Moonsy jabbed the wizard with the Glaive, Poops had sensed true evil, not the evil of the daze, in the man. These wizards were using the power of the daze to protect themselves. They were not controlled by it like the Trigon fighters and the stunted wyrms. This meant that the object Quazar saw might even be their tool, not the other way around.

  “I’m right here, fool,” Russet said. A few familiar faces were with the blood-drenched young king: Peg, Yandi, and Captain Willie from the Sea Hawk, among them.

  A spell was quickly cast, and they were engulfed in a great whoosh. They appeared again in the sward around the Heart Tree. Vanx ordered the new sacks of silver delivered to the gnome, dipped cuttings to be given to all who didn’t have them, and for more to be readied.

 

1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17