The Destroyer (46 page)

"Nonsense! Soon you will fall in love, be married, and have children of your own to raise. That will be the most fantastic experience of your life." He looked over at me and smiled in his kind way.

I remembered the banquet where Kaiyer had encouraged me to speak with Tanya Gettil. I wondered what would have happened if I had talked to her. She probably would have said no and brushed me away, but then I would know I possessed the bravery to ask her. Perhaps she might have engaged me in conversation, I would have impressed her with my knowledge, and maybe she could have been the person I fell in love with. I never took that risk, so I would never know. In one way my cowardice was protective, I could still cling to the fantasy that if I had spoken to her she might have fallen in love with me. In another, it was painful, because it was nothing more than a hope and never would be. If I had done it, I may have been rejected, in which case I would be no worse off than I was now, but I also could have gained the friendship, or even love, of the talented songstress. Inaction and fear were insulating, but also paralyzing.

I was miles from where I should be. My friends needed me. Perhaps I couldn't help that much in combat, but I would be there to help reload weapons, organize food, keep morale up, and document the defense of the castle. Maybe I could even get a view into the inner workings and decisions of the king and duke as they strategized with their generals. Of course it would be a huge risk, but it would be the greatest thing I ever did. I had vowed to be brave to honor the memory of Kaiyer, and riding away to the safe haven of my village was not brave, no matter how Grandfather tried to justify our flight.

Once this war was over I could come back to live with Grandfather and find someone to love. I could then write all of my memories of Kaiyer. He would have been proud of what I had done.

"Grandfather." I said firmly. He stopped his horse. I had made my decision, but I knew Grandfather would object. I knew how much this would hurt him. It might even kill him.

"No Paug."

“I don't want to grow old wondering about the hero I might have been. I don't want to live life as a spectator during a play. I want to help them. I want to see what will happen. I am going to go back." My heartbeat reverberated in my head, drowning out the sound of my voice. I sat up straight in my saddle, trying to muster the courage of my words. I felt sure in my decision, yet terrified. My body and mind fought against my heart, urging me to continue on with Grandfather to safety.

The old man looked at me. His cheerful eyes were sad and damp. It almost broke my resolve, but I knew that his face would be mine in half a century, as I looked back at my life and wondered why I didn't try to save my friends.

“I will think of you every night and pray to the Spirits of the Sea that you will return to me." He smiled, but it couldn't hide his sadness.

I got off my horse and walked to him. He dismounted and we embraced for a few moments.

"Be safe my boy. Go protect our kingdom." Tears streamed down his face.

It took me a few minutes to tie the mule to his horse and exchange items from bags so that my horse carried most of the food and he had most of the books.

"Don't worry, Grandfather. I'll be back. This isn't goodbye. When you see me next I'll be changed for the better. I'll be the man I want to be, someone you'll be proud of."

"I am already proud of you." Tears flowed down his nose and dripped onto his fluffy white beard where they clung like dew drops on a spider web. I looked at his face carefully for a moment, committing every line and plane to memory. He wiped across it with the back of his hand and sniffed. "Now be gone with you! You must ride like the wind to get back in time. Give Nadea and the duke my best. Help them however you can."

I nodded and spun my horse around. The animal sensed my excitement and was running as fast as my heart was. We raced back east toward the castle. It would still take me about four days to return, but I should get there before the Losher forces. After a mile of riding I crested a small hill and stopped on the mount. I looked back over my shoulder and saw Grandfather still watching me from the middle of the road. I raised my hand in the air in farewell and I saw his blurry shape do the same. Then I rode down the other side, to my destiny.

"Kaiyer. Message from the front lines," one of Gorbanni's lieutenants said from outside the tent flap.

"Enter," Alexia spoke from my side. My other generals were discussing the position of Thayer's flank to the Elvens’ massive force.

He walked in and looked around, slightly intimidated by the five of us, wearing our horrific armor, and speaking about the fate of our world over a chewed up table with rough etchings on it. The markings indicated our forces, their forces, and the estimated terrain. We had considered upgrading the piece of furniture many years ago, but decided that whatever luck we had experienced so far might be due to the old friend that we had spent countless hours fighting, laughing, crying, and agonizing over.

"What news?" I asked him.

"Three riders from the Elven forces have crossed the field. They are flying a white flag. They stopped in the middle of the field."

"That's unexpected," Malek said from the far corner of the room. He frowned slightly.

"They probably want to surrender! They can smell our hunger," Thayer spit on the carpeted ground. Then he seemed to realize that he was inside my tent and he winced at me.

"Do you know what they want?" Shlara asked.

"No, General. They didn't give us word but I'd guess they wish to speak to Kaiyer." The man looked at me and fidgeted. He wanted to leave.

"I'll meet them." I grabbed the heavy metal helmet from my chair. Its gruesome demon face seemed to taunt the hate from me before I donned it.

"No!" five voices shouted at once. I was glad that I had the helmet on so they couldn't see me smirk.

"Gorbanni and Malek will come. Finish the placement of Thayer's troops." Shlara's face sank, but not as much as Thayer's. I laughed and was going to comment on my selection but I didn't want the young man from Gorbanni's troops to overhear our private conversation. "I'll follow up with you three shortly."

"At least take your guards," Shlara demanded before I left the tent. Each army had one warrior assigned to be part of my personal guard. They wore armor similar to mine and managed to beat thousands of others in various contests to qualify for the position.

"I will be fine." She opened her mouth to protest but then thought better of it and turned back to the table.

My heavy war mace and shield hung from a stand by the entrance to the door. My gauntleted hands found the familiar grooves in their leather handles as I armed myself with them. The weapon and shield matched my armor, each with flanged skulls that screamed in agony like a tapestry from hell. The steel-shafted mace weighed almost twenty pounds and could crush through Elven armor and horses with ease. My shield also weighed about twenty pounds. It was in the shape of a modified triangle, with three points at the top and sides that fell in a curved slope down toward my feet. Thick leather enarmes allowed me to hoister its weight in my right arm comfortably and an even thicker gauge strap enabled me to slide it over my back or tie it to the saddle of my horse.

Almost half a million human soldiers stretched out across the endless field. We mounted our horses and cantered them carefully through the open grass paths to the front lines. Our travel created a wave of salutes amongst the masses. Most here had never seen me in person, but they knew what I looked like from the tales. There was no mistaking the massive ebony horse with the man in nightmare armor on it. My cloak was a deep red with a black skull embellishment. It was a trail of blood that showed evidence of my passing. By the time the three of us had made it to the empty field that separated the Elven army from my troops, the O'Baarni were roaring like a flame devouring a forest.

It was easy to see the white flag and the three Elvens who stood beneath the banner, gleaming in the sunlight. Even in the midst of a war for the very survival of their race, their absurd obsession with aesthetics was evident. They rode magnificent horses of pure alabaster, their coats polished to a reflective sheen and their manes were braided down their sides as if they were en route to one of their ridiculous festivals. The hooves of their mounts had an assembly of bells attached to them, as we approached they shifted them around and created a soft cascade of beautiful music. We slowed our own dark steeds to a trot once we left the safety of the army.

"This is a bad idea," Gorbanni said under his breath. The words were a whisper, but Malek and I heard them over the roar of our army and the sound of the horses. "There is nothing to gain from talking to them. We have the upper hand. We should just crush them and be done with it. Their end is near."

"Maybe they will beg for forgiveness?" Malek said. The three of us burst into a dry chuckle at the thought. There would be no mercy given for a millennium of pain, death, slavery, and hate.

We fell silent and slowed our mounts down to a walk when we came within twenty yards. We were about half a mile from the side of either camp and well out of bowshot range. I could see the Elven forces stretched out in front of me. The assembly of their forces did look impressive, but they were outnumbered, tired, and their morale was broken. We'd been carefully nipping pieces off of them for the last four years. Their leadership had become smart though, and they had begun to retaliate with strategic feints and complex break offs of troops to entice us. They had finally found a capable leader, but it was too late. Part of me actually wanted to meet their general so I would know whose head to crush with my mace when the battle started. It would be a fitting end to our legacy.

They wore impossibly brilliant golden armor that cascaded down from their shoulders in layers as thin as fabric. It wasn't as weak as cloth though; each ridge of gracefully crafted metal alloy would stop all but the most powerfully swung sword. It was one of the reasons I used a mace. It crushed their bones with each hit and ensured that I wouldn't get my weapon caught in a dying corpse while another misbegotten animal attacked me. Their armor was still tight around their bodies and I determined the shape of a man and two women. Their elegantly curved helms and painted masks hid their faces, but long hair slid down each of their backs. The man's was a pewter color, dull and lifeless, the woman in the back had hair that matched new snow, and the one in front had hair of coppery red blood. It burned in the harsh light of the morning like her back was on fire.

I had seen that hair a million times in my dreams.

My eyes watered like I had suddenly looked directly at the noonday sun after spending a month in a dark cave. We stopped our mounts ten yards from them. They were careful with their hands, keeping them on the silk braided reigns of their horses so that we wouldn't mistake their actions as aggressive. I was glad I wore my helmet. The look of shock on my face would have hindered whatever conversation we were about to have. I could still taste her lips on mine, feel myself inside of her, smell her hair as it wrapped around my body.

I concentrated on slowing my heart rate and breathing to a normal pace, I didn’t want my generals, or worse, the Elvens, sensing my unease and making any assumptions. I could smell her from across the field, her scent both familiar and intoxicating in its freshness. Seeing, feeling and smelling her in my memories was very different from actually being faced with her again. I thought my memories had been vivid, but compared to the sensory onslaught of having her here in front of me, they were like the muted sounds of voices heard underwater.

No one said anything for a few minutes as we measured each other.

"What do you want?" Gorbanni said with boredom. It wasn’t an affectation or overconfidence. We were completely sure of our victory, and they had to be as well. This was clearly a last ditch, desperate attempt at surrendering with some of their dignity and troops intact.

"We wish to speak to your leader. Alone," the white-haired female in the back said.

"We'd like for you to drop your pants so we can shove our swords up your asses. But that isn't going to happen either," Malek said without smiling.

"No need to be insolent, human. We mean him no harm now," she replied back with a careful smile.

"Oh, my apologies," Malek said, his voice thick with sarcasm. "I didn't mean to be rude. It's not like your kind have ever done anything . . . abusive to me."

"Say what you need to say and be gone. We have Elven massacres to plan for," Gorbanni said. I was surprised that he had spoken again.

"Tell your dogs to leave you," the white-haired woman said to me as she edged her mount forward. Her mask had a stylized pine tree etched over the left side and a red star over the right eye hole of the mask. Gorbanni and Malek's hands went to the hilts of their swords and I heard the metal leave the scabbards as they drew them an inch in warning.

"If your leader wishes to speak privately you can leave her company and I will ask mine to go," I said. My voice rang dead and hollow in my ears. Malek and Gorbanni grunted in annoyance.