Venom and Song (49 page)

Tommy eventually made his way down to the dinning area where every available kitchen hand was busy with the finishing touches for the soldiers' rations . . . thousands of them. It had to be at least three in the morning, and yet they still worked on.
No doubt Mumthers is behind this
. She always had to have things
just so
.

Tommy dodged behind a pair of women carrying a long pole between them laden with salted gessette haunches, then ducked into the kitchen. It must have been a hundred degrees, Tommy figured, more kettles and stove fires than he had ever seen in his life. And there was Mumthers, dishing out bowls of stew to . . . Jett and Kat?

“Ah! My good Tommy!” She took the fat of Tommy's cheek between her thumb and forefinger and gave it a good squeeze. Finally, the words he knew would come. “Come here, lad. You look peaked. Join the others. And have a bowl.”

“Couldn't sleep?” Jett looked up from his stew, a trail dribbling down his chin.

“No,” Tommy said.

“We couldn't, either,” said Kat. The three shared a laugh, and Tommy dug in, grateful for something to get his mind off what he knew awaited.

Before long, Johnny stumbled into the kitchen, accidently knocking into a woman carrying a full set of pots. He apologized, then made his way into Mumthers's care. Within the hour, the rest of the Seven had joined them at the table. Despite the ordered chaos that threaded around them, the lords enjoyed one another's company as much as they enjoyed Mumthers's food. For the briefest of moments, they were back in Whitehall, sitting at the board, sharing in their newfound camaraderie. And Mumthers never let their bowls show the bottom, sure to make this meal their finest.

As the sun warmed the western sky, the war horn blast filled Nightwish and summoned the Elves to begin the long march out of the caverns. Like a sleeping giant now awakened, the entire might of the Elven army stepped in line. Where once they had burrowed like mice, now they stood like conquerors. In the lead were six of the Elf Lords of Berinfell accompanied by none other than Guardmaster Grimwarden, Elle Goldarrow, and Elder Alwynn. Kiri Lee would join them later. Each of them wore an array of battle dress: black tunics tucked into loose-fitting breeches, their torsos clad in hinged armor fashioned of hardened leather, heads adorned with the gold-winged helmets of Berinfell. On their feet they wore war boots, laced up past their calves. Majestic purple cloaks slung over the shoulders hid a variety of perilous weapons: rycheswords, siege axes, hammers, polearms, maces, daggers, and bows. Most carried a shield bound to the forearm or slung over the back. And boldly displayed on their leather breastplates, each of the lords bore their tribe's medallion. It would herald to the enemy that the Lords of Berinfell lived!

Behind them came the entire host of Sentinels and Dreadnaughts, followed by the flet soldiers: longbow archers, spearmen, and men at arms. More than eight centuries of living underground had stripped them of their cavalry, but the Elves had another card to play. Sometimes airborne and sometimes resting in specially designed carts, the scarlet raptors came forward as well.

Up into the morning light the line went, shedding the subterranean haunt like an old skin. The line continued well into the morning. Hundreds, and then thousands, and then tens of thousands spilled into the forest. A haze filled the air, stretching due east as the line marched toward one locale: Vesper Crag.

Unlike the enemy's attack eight hundred years before, the Elves had no need of surprise. In fact, their victory depended in part on the enemy extending himself beyond his walls.

The march eastward took three days. If the Spider King knew of their coming, he did not react. They met no challenge, not even a single Gwar.

“The Lightning Fields,” Grimwarden noted with a pointed finger. The Elf Lords beside him looked out into the valley, remembering the scene from when they had first arrived in Allyra. Their long trek north to the Dark Veil had taken them right through here, right beneath the watchful gaze of Vesper Crag. The sky was eternally dark, casting the sun behind a dismal, overcast blanket. And from the heavy clouds came any number of lightning bolts, reaching from above and blasting into the barren landscape beneath. Rocks shattered, craters were gouged out, while lava flows meandered like silent killers, streaming down from the mountains above and then disappearing into unseen fissures.

“Think I'll opt for a summer home here,” said Jimmy, smirking. But few smiles met his attempt at humor.

Every battle plan had a transition from paper to reality. And the Elf Lords had just experienced that transition.

“This is really happening, isn't it?” asked Autumn.

“It is,” said Goldarrow. She turned to her. “Are you all right?”

She stood a little taller. “Indeed.”

“Don't worry, Autumn. I've got you covered. Bring it on,” said Johnny, hand on the pommel of his sword.

And bring it they did. Grimwarden looked to Tommy, and the leader of the Elf Lords lifted his fist, summoning a great beast to life. From where they stood, a virtual sea of Elves surged forward and wrapped around them, spreading out to the northern and southern flanks. Tommy spoke no word but thrust his fist forward, and Travin's forces charged across the Lightning Fields.

Speed was key to this phase, getting as many Elves across these dangerous plains as rapidly as possible. Blasts of lightning took six from the front lines alone and continued to strike with devastating power. Some Elves were merely stunned by nearby strikes. But they recovered quickly, filling in the gaps and surging forward, their eyes on one prize: the defeat of the Spider King.

The main fortress of Vesper Crag thrust upward out of a dark and gangly mountain, its side split open like an overripe fruit. Turrets and bastions, keeps and gatehouses grew out of this gash at odd angles. More dark architecture punctured the surface of the mountain's western face and southern flank as well. Surrounding it all and even the entire base of the mountain was an immense—and as Grimwarden described it—unconquerable wall.

Just beyond the northern section of wall, at the granite feet of the low jagged mountains, a wide red gash yawned open. Fresh molten lava vomited out from the crevasse, bathing rock and plain in blistering red. Lightning flashed there, too, blasting down from clouds burgeoning with ash. As the flet soldiers picked their way through the Lightning Fields and edged closer to the base of the mountain, Elven craftsmen busied themselves behind the line with the construction of the cannons and catapults. The cannons had been converted from shooting layadine —the substance which Manaelkin had all but hastily used up during the invasion of Nightwish—to shooting small exploding balls of iron. Still effective, but not nearly as deadly a weapon as layadine. The parts for the catapults had been freshly hewn from trees in the Thousand-League Forest based on plans the architects had drawn up long before. Tommy and the others watched with fascination as the engineers pieced them together with practiced hands and perfect accuracy. Boulders the size of a crouching man were piled up beside each of thirty catapults, while the casks of smaller black-powder-filled balls were stacked in crates beside the twenty cannons.

“I'm getting nervous about the map,” Tommy said to Grimwarden as his eyes searched the progress before them, hoping he might see Regis or Nelly pop-up somewhere in the throng.

“It will come,” Grimwarden said confidently.

Tommy eyed him. “Yeah, but what if it comes too late to be of any use?” He pointed to the war host they had assembled. “The attack's begun.”

Grimwarden turned to Tommy. “Do you trust me?”

Tommy fumbled. Of course he did. But this wasn't some test in Whitehall. Those were lives down there. Real lives that Tommy held in his hands. And it seemed to him that, despite their sizable appearance, they were marching to their deaths. Seeing Vesper Crag, he very much doubted any of their plans would succeed. Even with the map.

“Do you trust me?”

“I do,” Tommy said.

“Then let us proceed. And let us together trust that the map will come in time.”

“Lord Felheart!” came a voice. A flet soldier charged up the hill. “M'lord,” he said and bowed.

“Yes, flet soldier?” answered Tommy.

“I bear word from Guardmaster Travin. The enemy has loosed his Warspiders.”

“You see?” said Grimwarden.

Tommy looked to Kat and grinned. The enemy would never see this one coming. Turning back to the flet soldier he said, “Very good.” He said a silent prayer for Kiri Lee. Kat looked away. “Return to Travin and tell him the aerial assault will begin immediately. In fact, the raptors will likely fly over your head before you get to him!”

“Endurance and Victory.” The flet soldier crossed his forearms, bowed, and was gone.

Tommy turned to the west. Fifty yards back, Ethon Beleron and Kiri Lee stared back. Tommy held up both tightly closed fists and then sprang them open, his fingers wide. The scarlet raptors climbed into the air together, hovering for a moment like a red flag before shrieking into the sky. Each one held large rocks or thick pieces of lumber in its talons. And each one bore an Elven archer. Tommy grinned, seeing the holsters stuffed with arrows.

“I know Goldarrow has already told you so,” said Grimwarden. “But your idea to caulk each arrowhead with layadine was brilliant. It is the one way we can spread our sparse reserves.”

Tommy remembered the battle at Dalhousie in Scotland. It was then that the idea had first struck him. He even had some layadine arrows in his own quiver.

Now overhead, the raptors swept east like a storm. Tommy spotted Kiri Lee and Ethon on the lead raptors. They waved as the birds of prey climbed. Tommy could hardly believe it: the Elven air force was led by the musician girl from Paris.

The raptors screeched again as they flew over the Lightning Fields and its violent and random bolts of electricity.

The birds dipped and swerved, trying to anticipate the next bolt by watching the red-glowing buildup of electricity in the clouds. But more than one raptor succumbed to a stray white bolt that leaped sideways, connecting with the bird and then continuing on its path to the ground. The result was horrifying.

As fast as they were, it seemed as if it took the raptors an eternity to make it over Vesper Crag.

33
Death from Above

KIRI LEE'S raptor circled over Vesper Crag, empowering her with a bird's-eye view of the enemy's stronghold. The giant bird was named Serion, and he had been as easy to ride as a well-trained horse. Still, she was nervous. But with each passing minute, she had eased her death grip on the raptor's feathers and soon felt sure enough of her abilities to free her bow from his back.

Unlike those on the ground, Kiri Lee was witnessing the full power of the Spider King's minions organizing far below. Like busy ants, Gwar swarmed the fortress, setting up defenses, and distributing weaponry. It would be but moments before the wrath of the enemy rained down upon those gathered in the Lightning Fields.
Ah, if only Kat could pick up my thoughts out here!
Kiri Lee lamented.
But the distance for now is too great
.

Just then, Kiri Lee noticed a large defense just out of sight of the ground flet that was hidden behind the castle's walls. It would make a perfect first target.

She urged her raptor into a steep dive.
Perhaps a little too steep,
Kiri Lee thought. She nearly lost her bow, but managed to keep both herself and her ride on target. The great bird dove toward the turret, but it was coming up very fast. The raptor shrieked, and the surprised Gwar looked up. They were about to be dashed on the fortress ramparts. A quick stab with her heel, and the raptor released his boulder. Kiri Lee dug her legs into the bird's neck. Serion spread his wings and stopped his descent, swooping in such a deep curve that Kiri Lee was sure her stomach had been relocated to her knees. She felt the blood rush from her head and did her best not to black out. She glanced behind her left heel, fifty feet below, as the boulder crashed into the catapult. Shrapnel from the structure and Gwar bodies exploded over the fortress, the turret rupturing with a sound that could be heard for miles.