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  Ravion drew his longsword and knelt down beside the dying dalari. “Don’t fight it, my friend. It’ll be over soon.”

  He gripped his hand, holding it tight. He couldn’t explain why, but it felt like a piece of him was dying, the third piece in as many days. Feeling James’ grip go slack, he stood and took a defensive stance.

  Several dreualfar roared from their hiding places, encircling the band of trespassers. A horn echoed, evoking a mass of shouts from the outnumbering dreualfar.

  An eerie silence overfell the river basin as the sun was beginning to set for the night. The rushing waters stilled, refusing to slap against rock. Crickets silenced. Birds ceased to chirp. For the briefest moment the world was still, neither lingering in the past, nor planning for the future. It was simply frozen in the now.

  Glancing at the dalari warrior lying in wait beside him, Trendal noticed the man carving a jagged trident into the left shoulder of his leather breastplate. Stealing a glance at the others, they had the same mark. Something larger than his understanding was at work here. But now was not the time for investigation. Such a thing could wait for their return to camp. Hearing a grading horn blast echoed over the land, natural order took hold again.

  The dalari awaited his command, ready to spring from their stations. The water flowed gently, eroding the rocks little by little each passing moment. The crickets resumed their choir. Feeling the breeze return to the world, he knew the time had come. Jumping from the crevice he’d wedged himself into, Trendal listened to the unsettling pitch fade away, recognizing it for what it was.

  “Prepare to battle. We march upon Baron’s Fall!”

  Dalari swarmed from every nook and cranny along the river’s edge. Shaking the stiffness from their joints, they formed into a single, solidary force and readied their weapons.

  Awaiting the last of his unit to form up, Trendal took position at their head. Drawing his sword, he thrust it into the air. “Charge!” Adrenalin rushed through him, sprinting toward the distant fortress. He ran as fast as he could, his small army at his heels.

  They roared forward, battle chants and thundering footsteps echoing against the mountain wall.

  The dreualfar patrols froze, lost in the sight of the assembled and charging army. Hearing commands barked, they grouped up as a last defense to slow the advancing attackers.

  Taking defensive positions, the dalari clashed against them.

  The closest dreualfar were little more than iron kindling beneath the force of a hammer. They washed over them with ease. Reaching the small formation at the wall, they slowed, locking their shield wall in opposition of the assembled patrols. Arrows plummeted toward them, plinking off their shields and sticking in the dirt.

  “Archers, fire!” Trendal ordered, listening to the snap of bowstrings. The dalari arrows launched into the enemy force, dropping nearly half in a single shot.

  “Fire at will. Wall, advance!”

  His archers began targeting the opposing bowmen at the top of the wall while the melee combatants closed in on the ground forces. Pinning them against the wooden gate, the shield wall opened in the center allowing the swordsmen to swarm through. They cut down the remaining dreualfar with ease, awaiting further command.

  The dalari captain scanned the flanks. Seeing no other advancing forces, he stole a glance at the archers atop the wall. They were going to have to be dealt with before they could attempt to climb over. Such an entry would take too long and wasn’t worth the dangers of taking an arrow in the back. Weighing his options, he made a decision. “Archers, provide cover. Casters, bring down the gate.”

  Demetrix plunged the tip of his arrow into one of the surrounding dreualfar. Retracting the blood coated head, he nocked and fired, dropping another. Spinning on his heel, the wooden arm of his bow swooped the legs from beneath another. There were so many, and more seemed to be spilling from every opening. Grabbing another arrow, he realized he was nearly out. Just a shot or two more and he’d have to resort to his sword.

  The sharpened longsword slashed across two dreualfar in one swipe. Carrying the dexterous weapon around, Ravion deflected a rapier, knocking the thin weapon off course. Spotting his opening, he stabbed deep into the attacking dreualfar, ripping the blade free as another pressed in.

  Morena grabbed for another arrow. Worry took hold, feeling the empty quiver. Swinging the bow, the tensile wood flexed and wrapped partially around her attacker. The string went slack for the briefest moment and the wood snapped, thundering out like the crack of a whip. The splintered wood punctured flesh and the string sliced into the black-skinned creature. Drawing her sword, a stout force slammed into her side, knocking her from her feet.

  Seeing Morena hit the ground, Stot charged, slamming his shield into the towering dreualfar. This one was taller than most, his muscular frame bulging against his stained, brown tunic. He stumbled back from the impact, finding the massive dreualfar unmoved by the blow. His sword at the ready, he prepared for the worst.

  “I’m so glad you could join me. I feared for a moment you wouldn’t.” Jorin’otth’s mellow, majestic voice carried over the sounds of battle.

  The dreualfar slowed to a stop, allowing the charismatic hydralfar his words.

  “Where’s Gareth!” Demetrix demanded. The tip of his last arrow aimed at the traitorous hydralfar’s face. He had but to release the string and this threat would be over.

  Jorin’otth snapped his fingers, gesturing to the largest building within the fort.

  Gareth came into view from the darkened door frame. He stared straight ahead, seemingly frozen. Slowly floating toward the gathering, he stopped beside his hydralfar puppeteer.

  “Don’t fret for his health. I assure you he’s still alive. I just rendered him into an easily managed state. That foolish woman put some ideas in his head and I couldn’t rightly have him attempt to escape once you arrived.” Jorin’otth turned to the stationary warrior, petting his stubbled head as if to show his dominance over the brute.

  Ravion had never seen such spellwork before. It was one of the most complex weaves he’d had the pleasure of inspecting, excluding those of the Irayth mirrors. But he hadn’t been able to fully decipher those. They were incomplete, as if the majority of the puzzle was missing. But that was a different type of magic altogether. Compared to those weaves these were simple, exceptionally advanced, but mundane by comparison. The golden threads were wrapped around one other and intertwined like those of a minor time alteration. But this was so much more than that. Studying the weave, he found a thread that hadn’t fully sealed. If he could pluck it, it was possible the entire spell would unravel and Gareth would be free. He felt his innate magics grip the thread. Pausing, doubt filled his mind. It’s too dangerous. What if I give in? What if I lose control? No, I can’t help anyone that way. Releasing the frayed thread, he closed his eyes, forcing his anxiety into the pit of his stomach.

  “What woman?” Demetrix asked, refusing to lower his aim.

  Waving it off as if it was of little concern, Jorin’otth gestured one of the dreualfar. “He was gallivanting with some devonie tramp when I found him.”

  The black-skinned creature turned and marched toward the large building. Stepping through the doorway Gareth had appeared moments before, he disappeared inside. A few moments later, he returned, carrying a woman over his shoulder. She’d been beaten and appeared unconscious. Returning to his position beside Jorin’otth, he unceremoniously flung her to the ground, watching her limp form roll to a stop.

  Demetrix couldn’t tell if she was still alive, though it didn’t make much sense to retrieve her if she wasn’t.

  “Now, if you’d be so kind, give me the eldarstone and we’ll be on our way.” Jorin’otth smiled. He knew full well they didn’t bring it. Were he in their position, he wouldn’t have. But maybe they were just stupid enough to prove him wrong. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  Lowering his aim, the young ranger let the tension off his bow, but kept the arrow ready i
f needed. “First, have your—,” Demetrix paused, selecting his word choice. “—men, stand down. I’m not going to hand you a damned thing until I’m sure we can be on our way without them attacking the moment we relinquish the only leverage we have.”

  “And if I don’t? How do I know you aren’t just buying time? If I’m to trust you, you’re going to have to trust me.” Jorin’otth smiled. He already had all the leverage, though it didn’t matter. He was finally going to crush them once and for all.

  “Not going to happen!”

  The hydralfar exhaled softly and slow. There was no need to rush things. He had all the time in the world. “Show me the stone. Once I’m convinced you have it, I’ll have them retreat so we may conclude our business.”

  “Done.” Demetrix reached into his new, perfectly fitting armor. Wrapping his fist around the large, blue stone, he brought it into sight. It pulsed in his grip, mimicking that of a beating heart.

  Staring intently at the glowing stone, Ravion felt as if he should recognize the mystical artifact. But the stone before him was anything but familiar. In fact, there was nothing special about it at all. Just a simple illusion clinging to a fist sized rock. Suddenly, he understood what Demetrix was doing.

  “Tell them to stand down and it’s yours, once we have Gareth.”

  Studying his face, Jorin’otth couldn’t find any sign of betrayal. It was a stupid play, giving the stone to him. But he’d never attributed the young ranger with much intelligence anyway. “Stand—.”

  Sounds of battle echoed outside the wall. Arrows plinked off the parapets, finding the occasional archer. Those who were hit stumbled over the railing and fell to the ground.

  “Kill them. Kill them all!” Jorin’otth bellowed, backing out of melee range.

  A massive explosion echoed through the fortress, shaking the ground. The reinforced wooden gate buckled and collapsed under the force, sending jagged bits of burning wood into the dreualfar ranks.

  Dalari spilled through the ruptured gateway, trampling the debris and wounded dreualfar among it. They clashed against the opposing force, showering the land in a spray of black and red blood.

  Seeing his chance, Demetrix drew his bow, taking aim on the cowering hydralfar. Releasing the string, the wooden shaft flexed beneath the force and launched forward.

  Jorin’otth felt panic set in. He’d underestimated them yet again. And now the dalari were out numbering his men. Tygrell certainly wouldn’t accept this failure lightly. He needed something to soften the blow. Something to evoke the general’s mercy. Seeing the glowing stone laying on the ground a few feet away, his plan began to form. He rushed toward it, silently whispering an incantation. Swirling energies wrapped around him, forming a protective shield from all nonmagical attacks. Kneeling down, he secured the pulsing artifact, pleased to have such a relic in his possession once again.

  A sharp pain erupted in the side of his face. Jorin’otth stumbled back. Writhing in agony, he extended his fingers, feeling the deep gash in his left cheek. Bright red blood clung to the tips, glossy wet from the graze. How the arrow had gotten through his shield, he’d never know. He had to get out of here. The dreualfar couldn’t hold much longer. He had the stone. That was all that mattered.

  Gareth collapsed to the trampled ground, feeling his body become his own again. Pushing himself from the dirt, he looked around, seeing the battle waging all around him. He had no memory as to how he’d gotten here, but one thing was certain. He wasn’t going to let the dalari have all the fun.

  Gritting his teeth, he charged, slamming his shoulder into one of the distracted dreualfar, launching the beast into the dalari shields.

  Ravion stared intently at the small hole in the hydralfar’s magical shield. The arrow had plunged straight through the spell. It seemed Demetrix’s bow had been altered more than he’d realized. Watching the hydralfar hit the ground. Something dark fell from his robes, landing abruptly in the dirt.

  Recognizing the loose object, a sudden purpose came over him. He had to get it. It was too powerful to leave lying around, much less in the custody of the dreu. The secrets it contained were not meant for petty disputes between races. In truth, he’d spent too much time within its pages himself. The book needed to be hidden away, some place where no one could use it for personal gain ever again.

  Demetrix reached for another arrow, seeing his first shot graze. He’d intended to kill the traitor, but something altered the trajectory. His quiver was empty, save for the arrow he’d been given by the horator. Slinging his bow, he drew the sword on his hip and marched toward the fallen hydralfar. He needed to die. He’d caused too much pain, and influenced too much in this war. Death was the only fitting answer.

  Ravion stepped ahead of him, obscuring his vision for the briefest moment.

  When it cleared, Jorin’otth was gone.

  Gareth punched, seeing his energy blade split the dreualfar long before his fist ever connected. Ripping the beast apart, he spun around, searching their dwindling number. The dreualfar that had touched him in the dungeon was just ahead. Smiling his rage, he marched toward the creature. He’d made a promise. It was time to keep it. The dreualfar never saw him coming. Gareth brought his energy weapon down, severing the arm just below the elbow. Ripping it free with his other hand, he spun around and stabbed the limp appendage into the wounded creature’s rectum.

  He wasn’t content with the lack of penetration, but it was enough to honor his promise. It had caused pain and that was enough. Bringing the psionic blade across, he severed the dreualfar’s head, catching it in the air by the stringy, brown hair. The body crashed to the earth, bleeding out.

  Carefully removing an ear, he tucked it into his waistband and kicked the severed head, watching it fly across the field. The limp form of Alonia caught his eye, lying among a number of the deceased dreualfar. He approached and scooped her into his arms. She’d been a friend in a time when he had none. The least he could do was see her to safety. And she still owed him some skin.

  Ravion stuffed the tome into his pack. Seeing Gareth up and mobile, he turned and marched toward the semi-bald warrior. “Gareth!” He shouted, stopping a few steps ahead of his old friend. Claiming his attention, Ravion took a knee and drew his sword. Flipping it around, he presented the blade to him. “No words can excuse my actions. My life is yours if you’ll have it.” Staring into the dirt, he refused to look from it.

  Gareth stared at the kneeling scout. He didn’t know what to say. Not that there was much in the first place. “Get up!” He’d already had the chance to kill him. If he was going to do it, he would have done it then. Besides, his hands were full. Taking the sword would have been pushing his limits a bit. “I’m not gonna’ say we’re good. I’ve killed for much less than what you did, but we’ve been brothers in arms longer than I care to remember. So long as you don’t pull that shit again, I’ll give you the chance to rebuild my trust.”

  Ravion peered up at his friend. It was more than he could have hoped for. Bowing his agreement, he got to his feet and wrapped his arms around the larger warrior, grateful for a second chance.

  Trendal marched through the shattered gate, observing the carnage that lay upon the other side. A number of dalari had fallen during the battle, but the casualties were few compared to those of the dreualfar.

  Seeing Gareth ahead, he marched straight toward the large warrior. “Glad to see you could join the party.”

  “I had to do something to make you get off your ass and hit the field.” Gareth chuckled. He didn’t know what it was about the dalari captain, but he liked him.

  The battle come to a halt, the opposition dead or escaped. It didn’t matter. They had what they came for. Glancing into the sky, Trendal noticed the moon through the treetops. Turning toward the bulk of his force, he spoke in a commanding tone. “Gather the dead. Prepare ours for a proper burial and burn the dreualfar outside the wall. We march for the coast tomorrow morning!”

  “Yes, Sir!” The dalari so
unded in unison, going to work.

  Directing his attention toward Gareth, Trendal reached into his pack and retrieved a small wooden box. “I’ll set up a cot in the command tent. You can see to her injuries there.”

  Gareth nodded his agreement.

  Finding a spot near the wall, Trendal opened the box and laid it in the dirt. The enchanted canvas sprung forth and formed into a large shelter.

  Gareth carried Alonia toward the tent. She was weak but still alive. With any luck, she hadn’t sustained any permanent damage.

  Seeing Ravion staring deep into the fire, Demetrix approached his brother. “Everything okay?”

  “Yeah. Just thinking.”

  “Alright. I wanted to say I was sorry for snapping at you before. You’ve been through more than I’ll ever know and I didn’t have the right.”

  “Don’t apologize. I’ve made many mistakes recently. My most recent one cost a man’s life. That’s unforgivable and you weren’t wrong. I failed, but pretty soon I’m going to beat this thing. I’m done failing.”

  Chapter XVI

  Always Present

  An orange glow appeared in the air along the trampled beach. It spread, forming into a large gateway. Several dalari spilled out, hearing the sounds of battle all around them. Finding the source, they readied their weapons and took position on the back side of the battlement.

  Trendal stepped through the gate, lost in the chaos of the siege. His men stood ready, awaiting command. “There’s no time to delay. Charge. Let’s cut these bastards down!”

  The dalari broke into a sprint, closing the distance. Falling in-line with their brethren, they cut, swiped, and carved a path into the attacking army.