The Wizard and the Warlord (The Wardstone Trilogy Book Three) (52 page)

“Is there nothing else you can do?”

“I have an idea,” Hyden said, pondering cause and effect. Judging how much the Tokamac crystal’s power would exaggerate spell-formed stone, versus frozen water, was impossible to say. “You’ll have to clear the level below the teleportal just in case. Better yet, two levels, immediately under where the symbols are carved.”

Cade nodded and strode off to pass the order. The guardian captain led Hyden to the battle. Hyden wasn’t surprised by the amount of damage he could see as they approached. The loud clang of steel and beast, and the yells of excited giants filled the air. What looked to have once been a floor full of walled storage rooms was now nothing more than a rubble-filled expanse.

“We need a healer, wizard,” someone yelled. “Durge has taken…”

Hyden tuned out the rest of the words. It didn’t matter who it was. Knowing that it was one of his friends could only distract him from his efforts.

More than one giant needed healing. Hyden moved around them, and Jicks came staggering up only to collapse on the floor at his feet. Through the dusty chaos, Hyden saw Corva darting gracefully among the giants. The elf loosed an arrow here and there at a massive, tentacled creature that was destroying everything it came across. After making the healing gestures and speaking the words over Jicks, Hyden stood and started toward the hellborn monster with a purpose.

Hyden’s hopes were plummeting. Not about Afdeon or the battles raging around him, but about Xwarda and the Wardstone, and the fact that his brother had found his legions. The old bone reader had told them he would. She told them a lot of things. Without the teleportals, Hyden’s hope of getting to Xwarda in time to keep the Warlord from the Wardstone seemed nonexistent.

A wave of anger passed over him and he focused the emotion on the demon beast with all he had. He held out the Tokamac crystal and unleashed a crackling bolt of energy that charred nearly half of the creature’s flailing tentacles to ash. This allowed several giants the chance to charge in and attack. A heartbeat later, the creature used its own reserves of magical power and pummeled Hyden backward through the rubble as if he were a leaf in a storm. Hyden landed well, almost cat-like. The power of the crystalized dragon tear dangling at his neck added to his agility and kept him from crashing. Then, out of nowhere, a hot, concussive blast sent all of his thoughts from his brain. The Tokamac Verge fell to the floor with a clunk as Hyden went stumbling down with it. He tried to stand up and get air back into his lungs, but stumbled back over. A pair of guardians rushed past him to divert the powerful devil’s attention. Then Jicks grabbed Hyden and the crystal from the rubble and dragged him behind a partially fallen wall.

Blackness flooded Hyden’s vision, save for a single white swirl that found the center and forced the darkness back. He heard Jicks’s voice cry out in fear, and the deep, gasping sound of someone as they suddenly sucked air. Cade’s voice spoke out, but the words spun away to the edges of Hyden’s sanity.

Slowly, a misty shape began to form. In his mind’s eye, a curvaceous woman appeared. Her arms beckoned him closer, and her eyes softened in welcome.

The goddess.

Bathed in her presence, Hyden’s thoughts regathered themselves. She was there for him; there was reason to hope, but still, something about her was changing. It was like he was with her instead of just envisioning her in his mind’s eye. For a moment, Hyden panicked. He felt his body somewhere in the distance as it slowly let go of his soul. Then all he could feel was a frigid mist and the goddess’s loving embrace.

***

The Warlord’s hordes found no easy victims in Castlemont, but that didn’t stop the slaughter. The breed giants of Locar spotted the demons from their watchtowers and came to King Jarrek’s aid in force. With tree trunk clubs, spear-launching dragon guns, and savage intent, they raged into the hellborn like the half-primal beasts they were.

King Jarrek’s soldiers had become builders. Neither they, nor the dwarves helping them, were prepared for the sudden attack. Using tools and anything else they could find, they defended themselves with all they had. Eventually, the weapons that had been cached were found and distributed, but even with their axes, swords, and crossbows they were no match for the ever-growing number of hellspawn. The breed giants’ attack brought them time, though.

The dwarves led the Red Wolf king and as many innocents as they could save into the caves and mine tunnels under the city. The Warlord’s horde turned toward Locar and the wild half-breeds’ attack. Even with the effective dragon guns, and the brute force the breed brought to battle with them, they were overrun. Dark magic, and violent acts so mindless and brutal that they could only be called evil, ripped through the breed before the sun rose to end that first night. By the next night, the whole city of Castlemont, and Locar as well, was alive and crawling with devils, demons, and skittering, slithering hellspawn.

Only the most well-hidden groups of refugees survived them. The rest were rooted out and devoured.

The Warlord felt wholly confident with his amassed army. To wait for more of his minions would only delay his conquest. There were more wingless creatures and far fewer flying ones than he had hoped. The march across the continent would be slow but pleasurable, for the huge city of Dreen was just over the mountains and directly in his path. The hellborn that hadn’t joined him yet could catch up or not. He didn’t care. Knowing he had an army that could chew through the land to Xwarda unscathed was all that mattered to the Hell Master.

Just before dawn of the third day, he gave the order to start east toward Dreen. Like a slow, oozing puddle of spilled sludge, the horde made its way over the Wilder Mountains and into Valleya.

The Red City was half empty, and those remaining were in the process of trying to flee with the horse lords. Lord Gregory had refused to allow livestock leave the city before the women and children. Now, herd masters fought each other, and their terrified horses, to win free of the city gates as the demon spawn swarmed over the walls in a hungry fury.

Cresson had heard Hyden Hawk’s warning, and Master Wizard Sholt had followed it up with news of what was happening in Westland. Other wizards from Castlemont had warned those in Dreen, as well. Lord Gregory had issued the order to evacuate as soon as he learned they were gathering in Castlemont. To him it was obvious where the horde was going. His command to flee the Red City saved thousands and thousands of lives, and almost as many horses. Those who didn’t get out were swallowed in the bloodthirsty black maw of the Warlord’s army.

Lord Gregory, with Lady Trella and her two young Westland-born handmaidens, steered their carriage toward Oktin. From there, the Lion Lord planned to cut back west and north. He was beyond his fighting days now. All he wanted was to get his wife safely home to Lakebottom Stronghold. He was no coward, by any means. In his day he had fought enough battles and brawls for any dozen men. If he and the High King somehow survived this horrendous foe, he swore to himself that he would beg Mikahl to release him from his duties. His days as a hero were done.

“Oh, Hyden,” the misty form of the goddess spoke in a voice of tinkling chimes. “Don’t you understand?”

Hyden shrugged. He was still trying to figure out why this audience with his goddess felt so different to the others.

She smiled, seeing his confusion. “You’ve died,” she said simply. “At least your mortal body has.” She put her hand on his bicep. Oddly, he noticed that her touch on his skin felt solid and cool, even though she seemed to be made out of mist. “You cannot afford to get caught up in the moment. It’s the very traits that caused the greater gods to choose you that keep drawing you from your purpose. You must weigh your loyalty to friends and family, and your sense of honor, against the balance of the whole. What are you fighting for here?”

“What does it matter, if I’ve already died?” Hyden asked.

“You’ve powerful friends, Hyden Hawk. You cannot waste your efforts battling a single demon in Afdeon when your brother is leading thousands of them toward Xwarda. What do you hope to achieve?”

Hyden dropped his gaze shamefully. “Must I kill Gerard?” he asked. “If I do, I will surely die, too.”

“The Abbadon is not Gerard,” she said a little more forcefully. “And you’ve already died, Hyden. Your brother chose his own path. He was consumed by that thing, and you should be battling it this very moment. The idea that the brother you remember is still somewhere inside the beast is foolish. Gerard is gone. If any bit of him still lingers, it is that corrupt, jealous part of him, and it must be destroyed or banished with the rest. The very people you love will fall victim if you fail.”

“But how do I get to Xwarda?” Hyden asked. “The teleportals all open into the Nethers now. I… I don’t…”

“If you had been exploring your god-given powers, instead of planning unnecessary adventures to find trinkets you could retrieve in minutes, you’d know.” her voice had a hard edge to it. She was angry. “Where did you send Talon? Your familiar’s place is with you.” Her voice softened and she touched his cheek. “Lucky for us all that you have made some mighty friends along the way. Without one of them, we’d all be doomed.” She smiled and touched his nose lovingly with a fingertip. She drew her face very near his and it seemed as if she might kiss him, but she stopped and whispered, “Always remember who your true friends are, Hyden. Never forget them.” Then her lips moved to his cheek and he was drifting.

***

“Is he dead?” Durge asked.

“I think he is,” Jicks replied with a sniffle.

A trio of roars erupted like thunder outside the walls of Afdeon, one after the other. They were angry sounds, low and guttural, and from something absolutely massive. Suddenly, Durge’s eyes glazed over and his movements became mechanical. He bent down to pick up Hyden’s limp body and carried it back to the lift. Jicks wiped away his tears and followed dutifully. A moment later they were rising up onto the cold floor where Hyden accidentally blasted away the outer wall.

“By the gods, what are you doing?” Jicks asked as the giant stalked over to the open hole.

The young swordsman suddenly froze.

“Durge!” Jicks yelled out in a loud whisper as a huge, split yellow eye the size of a wagon wheel pressed against the hole from the outside. The eye was hooded by a dark green-scaled brow. The whole orb gently rose up and down with the huge wyrm’s wing beats. A lower lid blinked up once and then the dragon’s head pulled away from the opening. Jicks’s heart was thundering. The green dragon was so big and terrible-looking that he couldn’t move his legs for fear of it. He began to tremble as his mind registered what he was seeing. Another roar sounded, this one far louder and more menacing than any of the others had been. This roar shook Jicks in the guts and vibrated the very walls of Afdeon.

Durge, seemingly oblivious to what was going on outside the castle, walked straight up to the opening and stood there. It took Jicks a few heartbeats to pull himself away from the spot he was standing in, but he finally did. He eased across the rubble-strewn room to the giants’ side and looked out. The voice of another giant speaking excitedly came from an open window or a balcony a few levels below them.

Jicks scanned the sky, looking for the giant green dragon, but he didn’t see it. He saw two blue dragons, slightly smaller than the green. They were circling high above in the open air. And there was a distant speck, no, two of them, winging closer from the east. They grew in size with every breath he took. Suddenly, the green dragon came shooting up before them out of the steam. It passed barely an arrow shot away. The green’s worn ivory-colored underscales followed its sleek horned head past the opening. Then came its long body and even longer tail. Its wicked-clawed hind legs were tucked tight against its body and its wings were spread wide. The sight was breathtaking, but Durge acted as if he had seen nothing.

“By the Heart of Arbor, it’s three times the size of the one we saw in the Wedjak,” Corva said as he came up behind them. “Its roar scared that devil back into the portal.”

Neither Durge nor Jicks replied, but Jicks glanced at Hyden still lying limp in the giant’s arms. Corva saw the tears flowing down the young swordsman’s cheeks and sucked in a breath. He started to say something, but a roar louder than all the others combined, that lasted nearly a full minute, ripped through the world around them. Afdeon shook again and pieces of stone and mortar vibrated loose.

“By the gods,” Jicks mumbled softly as the roar ended.

Corva stepped up beside him and looked out. A ruby-scaled dragon, which was easily twice the size of the green wyrm, was winging its way directly toward them. It was darting its angry head to and fro as if it expected a challenge from one of the other dragons in the sky. They stayed clear, giving it a wide berth; all save for a smaller red that was barely ten feet long and flying under the other, in her shadow.

The monstrous red let out a blasting gout of flame ahead, and downward, of its path. The raw heat of its breath evaporated the steam for at least five hundred feet in all directions. Satisfied that no threat was hiding in the mist below, it closed its maw and banked around so that it was facing the hole in the castle directly. With a thump of wings that made Jicks’s knees buckle and Corva take two steps back, it threw its wings out wide and stalled itself less than a hundred feet from them. The dragon’s body lifted and lowered in time with its massive wing strokes. Its huge head eased forth with narrow brows on a long, glittering, serpentine neck.

Durge, as if presenting a small child to its parent, held Hyden’s limp body out before him. Jicks’s heart hammered through his chest in both fear and awe. He had heard tales of how Hyden and the High King had defeated the demon wizard Pael, and he was most certain that this was the dragon that had helped save the realm.

Jicks glanced at Durge. The giant still showed no expression on his face. He was entranced, Jicks decided. The medallion on Hyden’s chest was fountaining sparks as bright as diamond chips in the sun. He swallowed hard, then looked back at the dragon. Its elongated snout scrunched up as if it were sniffing the air. Beyond it, the smaller red wyrm looped and banked around, chasing the other’s tail as a kitten chases a yarn ball. Jicks saw that the little wyrm’s wing scales were long and resembled feathers, some of them had shed, revealing a thin membrane of wing skin underneath.