“Why does it appear as if the light ahead is moving?” Cairn asked.
“I was thinking the same thing,” Filaree said.
“The color is odd for a sunset,” Robyn observed.
“Something approaches,” Davmiran said while staring ahead with his young head cocked to the side.
“The boy is right,” Robyn said straightaway. “We had best take shelter behind that tree. Whatever it is, it is moving very fast.”
They all gathered behind a huge Noban and ducked down, hoping that this time it would pass them by unhindered. They waited and watched in silence. The ground began to tremble as if a herd of animals was stampeding in their direction. In the distance, the edge of the forest brightened oddly and a cracking sound could be heard.
“Are the trees turning white, or is it my imagination?” Filaree whispered.
“They are, my Lady. They are,” Robyn replied, gazing out across the forest.
“It sounds like the branches are breaking, but the pitch is too high. In fact, it sounds like glass cracking,” Cairn said.
“That is it. I knew the noise was familiar. It does sound like breaking glass,” Robyn said.
The line of white was moving closer and closer to them and the trembling of the earth grew stronger.
“It is more than whiteness that is invading the forest. I think I see horses and riders, though they look as if they are frozen,” Cairn exclaimed, as they came rushing toward him out of the gloom.
“It is an army,” Robyn said. “There are thousands of them.”
Within moments, they were surrounded by a rush of ghost-like riders upon ragged, ephemeral steeds, with their weapons raised and their mouths agape. They were shouting as if from another dimension and it was difficult to make out the words. As they stepped upon the ground, it froze solid beneath them in continually widening concentric circles. The air hung heavily with a cold and freezing mist that clung to the tree limbs and leaves. The sound that they had been hearing was from the icicles that were forming everywhere, as they broke off the branches and fell to the ground.
As the army rushed by them, passing on either side of the wide Noban that they were hiding behind, they could see that the rider’’s bodies were ancient and decaying, that their weapons were rusted and their steeds were decrepit. Their beards, hair and eyebrows hung with icicles and their helms were battered and worn. As they progressed through the forest, it appeared as if they left a little part of themselves behind in the soil and upon the trees, as if they were transferring their physical presence to the woods of Lormarion. The soldiers and horses grew opaque and less corporeal with each step that they took. Occasionally, one would look at them crouched behind the tree, and it seemed as if the soldier tried to smile in acknowledgment, but none stopped and none touched them. A frozen, white ring encircled the tree behind which they hid, but the space that they stood upon remained green and untouched.
“What manner of army is this?” Filaree yelled. “They are elfin in their features, yet they look like they are from another world.”
“They seem caught ‘tween the living and the dead,” Robyn shouted back.
Three riders passed by to the left of them and they were carrying the banners of battle, ragged and torn though they were. Upon one flag rose the ice sigil of Eleutheria. Upon another was an etching of a great Lalas, its name written below it in the old script, and upon the third was the crest of Iscaron, the ancient King of the western elves.
“The Lalas they honor is Wayfair. Though the letters are no longer used, I recognize the word,” Robyn said, startled. “He abides still in the ice kingdom. But I cannot identify the crest”
“I can,” Cairn said. “In the library at Cosacteris there is an ancient book of lore. When I was a student there, I was fascinated by the tales of the Ice Kingdom and I read them all avidly. One tells the story of the lost army of Iscaron. He was the King of Eleutheria, and he went searching for a cure for his ailing daughter high in the Caves of Carloman. It is his crest that they carry. His entire army disappeared and was never heard from again.”
“Until now, you are saying?” Filaree exclaimed. “But, why would they show up here?”
“It was said that when Colton fell from the heavens, the army was swallowed up by the sea in his wake. That all occurred at around the same time. I thought it merely legend,” Cairn said.
“Legend often has its basis in fact,” Robyn replied. “It cannot be mere coincidence that the armies of Eleutheria have come to the aid of their brethren in Lormarion, and now the lost army of Iscaron follows upon their heels.”
Davmiran stood slightly apart from his companions and looked at another area of the forest. He was quiet as usual, but he seemed distracted.
“The bugs are dying,” he said.
The others spun around at his words.
“The freeze is killing them all. Look. Their shells are cracking and they are crumbling to pieces.”
In fact everywhere now, the insects were expiring and turning to piles of dust around the bases of all the trees. Nearby, they could hear the sound of their horny bodies splitting apart and breaking up. What fire failed to accomplish the ice completed, and as the army of Iscaron spread out through the forest, every corner of Lormarion turned white with frost.
“It seems Colton never anticipated that the woods of Lormarion would ever be frozen over. This is a southern region. It never gets cold here. He bred them to resist fire and heat, but not ice. A fatal oversight,” Cairn remarked.
“The fabric weaves of its own will,” Robyn said again with a broad smile on his handsome face.
“Look at them,” Filaree said pointing to the soldiers. “Their bodies are growing fainter as if they are disappearing into the air. The horses too.”
“Perhaps they are finally free,” Robyn said. “They have gotten their revenge and they have redeemed themselves. Now their souls can finally escape their earthly torment.”
A massive white steed appeared in the near distance. Its bridle was dripping with icicles and clouds of mist billowed out from its puffing nostrils. Riding high on its back could have been no one other than Iscaron himself. As he passed them by, he pulled off his silver helm and bowed to them from atop his saddle. His blue eyes gleamed with an unearthly energy. Upon his head was the glittering ringlet of Eleutheria, lost to the kingdom since his departure from the city. With his other hand, he grasped it and flung it to Robyn.
Iscaron’s long beard hung with seaweed and his skin was frozen and riddled with scars, but his eyes were still as blue and as clear as the morning sky. He cantered by as if he was riding upon the heavens themselves, and there was an unmistakable look of elation upon his ancient face. They followed him with their eyes as far as they could, and with each step that he took his image grew fainter and fainter until they could practically see the trees ahead of him shining through his almost transparent body.
With the advance of this ghostly army, the fires that the enemy had set throughout the forests of Lormarion were slowly going out. Since the lifts and funnels were still shut tight, there was no longer a source of light of any kind other than the meager sunlight that filtered in from the borders of the woods. They all knew that there was an even greater urgency to escape now before they found themselves stumbling blindly in the darkness. As the last of the ghostly stragglers passed them by, they inched their way out from behind the tree.
“Can we step safely upon the ice?” Filaree asked.
“It is thawing already,” Cairn observed, and in fact as they watched, the browns and greens that were concealed by the frost were beginning to peek through the surface once again.
“It will not harm us,” Robyn assured them. He still held the King’s crest in his hand and he now brought it up before his eyes. “Whitestar will be pleased to have this returned to his people. I hope that I have the opportunity to journey there again and give it unto his safekeeping.”
“If we could just depart these woods already, perhaps your wish can someday come true,” Filaree said smiling.
“I think we are all ready now,” Cairn said looking around him. “Let’s go.”
This prodigious group of five, tired and worn out from the travails of an incredibly long and arduous day, marched from Lormarion into the light of the waning sun. Together, they turned to gaze for the last time upon the Heights which smoked and smoldered above them. Each of the travelers was absorbed in his or her own thoughts, contemplating the fixture while still tormented by the present, remembering poignantly Treestar and Elsinestra whom they left under clouds of uncertainty, and wishing and hoping that the events that transpired in the woods below could be repeated above in Seramour. Their silhouettes cast long shadows in the light of the setting sun as they walked northward away from the city and into the encroaching darkness.
Chapter Fifty-five
Alemar was proud of her men. They had accomplished the task of ridding the woods of Caeltin’s army quite easily and with few casualties. Each and every elf that succumbed to the blade of the enemy did so valiantly, and they would be honored accordingly when the battle was over. She knew that the Dark Lord marched into the forest of Lormarion only to guarantee that no one from Seramour escaped on foot, and she was aware that his capability was far greater than his motley troops demonstrated during this encounter. What was occurring in the Heights she could only dreadfully imagine.
Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do to deter the insects from their rampage here. Though she and her army had marched to the aid of their southern cousins, their assistance was being protracted by their inability to prevent the bugs from undermining the city from below. All that they had done would be in vain if Seramour came crashing down around them.
Alemar had congratulated both Clovis and Giles after reuniting with them near their original point of entry into Lormarion, once the area had been cleared of enemy troops. They too had led their men bravely into this strange and unremitting domain, and they had performed courageously and expeditiously. The men all deserved a respite after the hours of fighting that had just terminated, and she had them blow the horn and inform them all that they could rest and refresh themselves. She wished to spend some time alone in order to contemplate the ongoing threat that they seemed so impotent to deal with. To simply stand and watch the trees be devoured was just too much to bear.
She urged her white-maned horse forward and trotted through a clearing between two large Nobans. The fires were still burning upon the ground and it disgusted her to see how little the enemy respected the beauty of the forest. In such a short time, life here had paid a terrible price, and the toll was still mounting. She recalled how close her own city came to being destroyed by Caeltin D’Are Agenathea’s evil reach. Lost in her reverie, she did not realize just how far she was wandering from her men.
As the flames of the enemy burned out, it grew darker and darker beneath the trees. She was now deep within the forest and all that she could hear was the persistent humming of the bugs as they gnawed away at the underpinnings of Seramour. She continued to walk and to think, and soon she came upon a massive tree trunk covered in a blanket of black, seething insects. It had become very difficult to see, and in order to fully understand the extent of the danger to the trees, she needed to view it more clearly. She pulled out Crea’s gift; the silver cocoon encircling the small branch.
Holding it before her, she willed it to ignite and in seconds, it flared brightly, and encircled her in a halo of brilliant light. She dropped her reins and extended her arm, illuminating the entire area with the object she held. Looking upward, she saw that she was directly beneath one of the larger of the lifts in the northern part of the forest, and she could clearly see the seals circumscribing the platform.
They are still secure.
The tiny creatures were everywhere, and in the whiteness of her light, they stood out even more menacingly than before. They did not even flinch from the brightness, ignoring it completely, so intent were they on their destructive mission.
What can we do to stop them?
she wondered desperately.
As the Princess pondered the troubling situation, a red robed woman emerged from behind a tree, careful to remain tight within the shadow cast by the elfin woman’s beaming torch. She had not expected such a fortuitous encounter, and in the wake of the despicable showing by her master’s troops, the slovenly orcs and clumsy trolls, an opportunity to redeem herself loomed before her. She stepped carefully forward.
Alemar’s senses were keen, and despite how deep she was in thought, a slight noise caused her to reel in response. The light she held instantly went out, casting the entire area into darkness. She crouched low in her saddle and sought the shelter of the neighboring tree trunk. Before she could reach it, a shaft of red light streaked over her head and crashed into the trees in the distance, where it sparked and burst into flame. It had taken Colton’s sorceress a moment to readjust to the darkness, and she cursed herself for missing the mark when she had the advantage of surprise.
It will not be so easy now.
Alemar drew her blade from its sheath as quietly as she could and slid from her saddle to the ground. She slapped her mount upon its rump and immediately dashed to the side. Another fiery red barb whizzed by, directly between her and her fleeing horse. Tucking her sword tight into her side, she did a somersault on the soft earth and came up behind another nearby tree. It was hard to see anything, even though her vision was far better than most others. A reddish glow permeated the area, but the air was murky and smoke filled.
Her horse whinnied in the distance and she could hear her stomping her hoof into the ground. But this time, no missile was fired. Alemar breathed a sigh of relief, thankful that her mare was spared, and realizing that her attacker must have known that by unloosening her magic upon the horse, she would have revealed her position. She lay perfectly still, waiting for some sign from her enemy.
I should have known that the lifts would be guarded. Errors like this could be costly.
Dexterously, she picked up a small branch without making a sound and cast it to her left. It hit something solid with a dull thud. Again, there was no response from her foe. She decided to stay put for a while and wait for her assailant to make a mistake. She slowed her breathing to a minimum and began to relax her body systematically, limb by limb, part by part. Unwilling to allow her concentration to lapse, she forced all thoughts out of her mind and heightened her senses. She placed one palm upon the surface of the ground so she could feel any movement that occurred nearby as well as possibly see it or hear it. Many minutes elapsed and still there was no indication of anyone in the vicinity.
She would not have fled. She must be here somewhere just as I am, waiting for me to make a mistake.
As she lay there, she saw a narrow beam of light panning the ground as if in search of something. She could not determine its point of origin, though she watched it closely. It seemed to terminate in a different place every time she locked her eyes upon it. Slowly, it drew nearer to her and she lay her head flat upon the surface, careful not to make a sound. She could see it now only inches away from her and there was nothing she could do to prevent it from reaching her. Hopefully, it would skim over the surface of her body and she would remain undetected.
A tiny pinpoint of light glanced off of her back, striking her armor at just the wrong angle and causing it to gleam brightly in the darkness. Realizing she was exposed, she flew into action. Leaping to her feet, she turned her side to the assault, hoping to minimize the target she presented to her adversary, but her response was too late. A burning pain shot through her left arm, leaving it dangling at her side. With her other arm, she swung her sword before her, hoping to deflect the next volley when it came. Unable to see who or what opposed her, she felt the disadvantage, knowing that her position was now marked by the enemy. Quickly, she pulled the branch from out of her chest-plate with the hand that still clenched her sword. Willing it to ignite, she lit up the entire area.
Before her stood a woman in a red cape with her arm outstretched toward her, and much to her chagrin, to her left and slightly behind her stood another in similar garb.
“Do not move a muscle or I will kill you,” the one before her said, bitterness and loathing dripping from her words.
“And if she fails, I will not,” the second Forsaken added. “Drop your weapon.”
Alemar did not doubt they’’d carry out their threats if she forced them to, but she also believed that they would show her no mercy later, regardless of how she behaved now. A Princess of Eleutheria could never be a prisoner of the Dark Lord, but she reluctantly released her sword nonetheless. It fell heavily to the ground before her.
“Push the blade forward,” her enemy demanded.
Alemar obliged and slid the sword a foot or so in front of her.
“What do you want with me?” the Princess asked, allowing her light to fade. “Your army has been vanquished and my troops are everywhere. They know where I am and they will be here momentarily. If you leave quickly, you may yet escape.”
“Oh, but what a prize you will be for our master,” one of them said. “It will be worth whatever it may cost us to bring you back to him. Even if dead you will bring us esteem.”
“Your men are nowhere near here. I have already searched the area. It seems you have been abandoned, my dear,” the other one cackled, and she walked toward Alemar slowly and cautiously.
Twirling her finger round and round, she conjured a thread of light with which she intended to bind her wrists.
“Why waste the power,” the other woman said. “Let me still her first,” she exclaimed while lifting her arms before her.
Alemar knew that if she did not do something quickly, she may not have the opportunity again. She readied herself to respond, realizing that the odds weighed heavily against her.