A Facet for the Gem (25 page)

Morlen shook his head, speaking to deliver comfort and courage. “Fly to me,” he said. “Have him think you mean to charge. Then, just when he prepares to meet you, drop low enough to disembark, and the eagles will pull them upward as you join me on the field.”

Again, the palpable quiet held many stifled objections all around, though the king, it appeared, still had an ear to lend. “You mean to separate us from our carriers, as a diversion?” he asked. “Merely buy ourselves time on the ground while our flock perishes above, until he returns to finish us?”

“I mean to separate him from
his
,” Morlen answered. “He controls the sky; thus, he thinks he controls you. So remove yourselves from his arena, and force him into yours. His seat within the creature’s grasp is still vulnerable, and, with enough eagles swarming him, he’s sure to seek refuge below, where he’ll find us instead.”

Glancing at all who listened, Morlen could finally see more daring in their faces now, even in the prince, whose initial resistance seemed diminished. There was almost a yearning now, to believe, trust, that this course was worth pursuing, that he was worth joining.

“An Eaglemaster is deadlier on the ground than in the sky,” said Morlen, glimpsing Valeine, whose eyes were very much on him and no one else. “Leave him no choice but to discover this for himself.”

Valdis kept very still for a long while, as though the slightest shuffle might answer the call of the one before him, whom he continued to study.

“Eaglefriend,” the prince and those beside him whispered around the king, a murmur that traveled throughout the entire crowd until finally reaching Morlen himself, who nodded to make official introduction.

“Morlen,” he said plainly to Valdis, keeping an unbroken watch on him, though it was only briefly returned before the king drifted low again.

“I… am sorry,” he replied, casting a dejected wave over all.

“Father…” Valeine urgently stepped forward, hoping to stop what she knew was coming.

Making no effort now to elevate his slouched form, Valdis looked past them once more. “I”—he began, sounding choked—“free all forces here to join this campaign, if they so choose. But…” He broke off, almost hesitantly. “I will not. I must remain here. This is my final word to all Eaglemasters, and to you, young Morlen. Go tomorrow, to Korindelf. And may you strike a true blow, before the end.”

Then, sinking again beneath a tremendous weight that had seemed momentarily to lift, the king signified for them to take their leave.

Her cheeks having lost their flush, Valeine stood beside Morlen with droplets glistening in the corners of her eyes, which bored deep into the king’s face while the crowd slowly filed out of the hall. Finally, she too left, and her brother with her.

With the sense there was nothing more to be said, believing that perhaps his call to act still resonated within the king’s mind, Morlen turned to follow those who had listened and made his way out into the courtyard, where Verald and Valeine were ready to meet him.

“The Eaglemasters are with you,” said the prince, with a nod of newfound respect. “Whether my father heard your words or not,
we
have. Tomorrow, when the Tyrant Prince departs our lost city, we’ll know that you have given your signal. And you will see us following behind him at Korindelf, to stand, and fight, at your side.” With that, he extended his arm, and, wasting no time, Morlen gladly took it.

“Captains,” Verald said in the voice none dared question, “assemble your companies, and order your men promptly rejoined with their carriers, or risk never being called Eaglemasters again!”

A satisfied clamor rang out through the capital while many took flight to spread the message, and the crowd quickly dispersed with great purpose as dawn was near. Soon, only Morlen and Valeine remained in place, and neither appeared intent on being moved, until Verald swept proudly overhead. “Come on,” he urged his sister. “The keeper of the Crystal Spear ought to be ready to lead this army, if we’re to fly to battle!”

Sending up a curt glance of acknowledgment and dismissal, she still found her feet quite fixed to the ground, her hand suddenly on a deliberate course toward Morlen’s arm when Roftome landed with a powerful flap of his great wings.

“The city men agree to fight?” he eagerly asked Morlen, who distractedly looked from Valeine through the open castle entrance, pulling himself up to Roftome’s back.

“All but one,” he replied, and sensed his regret at this to be tenfold in her, along with a mutual wish to delay their parting. Facing her again, he felt strangely relaxed in having no words, and in her willingness to prolong their silence.

Then, he finally ushered Roftome upward, skimming along the airborne ranks of many Eaglemasters, all of whom recognized him now. Rising farther above, he began to catch lyrics being sung among them, with each verse boldly passed from one man to another while the army busily prepared, and he listened.

“To their mountains long ago he came

He was Veldeam the Wise

The eagles knew him by his name

His voice, and his keen eyes

But Veldeam’s noble heart was sore

For he’d lost his dearest friend

In parted paths so long before

And he searched until the end

In the East, he answered the shriekers’ call

And his friend he never found

For the Dark Blade struck to bring his fall

And the eagles’ cries did sound

But in their mountains he still walks

He is Veldeam the Wise

The eagles know him by his name

His voice, and his keen eyes.”

Giving in to a gentle wave of hope that came with a bolstering wind, Morlen left the Eaglemasters’ capital as Roftome aimed toward Korindelf, which was now caressed by a slowly rising sun.

And, still quiet within the bustling great hall, King Valdis felt the sting of each face that hardened sorrowfully at the sight of him, limp and unmoved as they made ready to fly out.

Where was the hero with the Crystal Blade? He had played the glorious arrival so many times in his mind that it was almost solid. But why would he not come now, when it seemed the most opportune time, while his own forces rallied so eagerly? And what incentive did he have to join with this Eaglefriend—this Morlen?

After seeing what his forces would be up against, how could he go without being assured of victory, by the savior he’d so long awaited? Even if Morlen was as strong as they seemed to think—what then, if he did answer his call to fly with them? Would he give them a reason to believe that they could turn the tide? He could not even turn his own face from the archway through which no one entered, but many departed. If the one for whom he watched would only step forward now, and relieve him of his burden, he would gladly rise up with him.

But, it finally began to set in: No one was coming. No one but Felkoth, who would cover every inch of the realm in death and ash. His remaining options were clear. He could sit and let his enemy deliver him such a fate, or strike out and help the Eaglemasters determine their own.

They would be leaving shortly, with or without him, as soon as Eaglefriend made his move. If he led, they would still follow, but if he remained here, they would not look back. Time for deliberation was over; he had to decide now.

Would he stay? Or, would he go?

Chapter Fifteen

The Second Battle of Korindelf

“
A
re you sure
this scheme of yours will work?” Roftome muttered when they passed over the outskirts of Korindelf. “Meeting them on the ground seems most unwise.”

Morlen’s brows rose fondly while he looked toward the far-off Isle, its center a sprawling, blackened mass surrounded by lush forest. He still sensed his old companions safe within, even with such distance remaining in between. “I’m sure only that I’ll be there, ready,” he answered.

Now he was able to make out enemy droves massing in the fields outside the city walls. He clutched the Goldshard’s jagged outline against his chest, and they held course for the hostile response that awaited them, nearing the city as dawn began to creep up the blurred horizon.

“Bring down the intruder!” A powerful scream broke out within the underlying host, which recklessly fired hundreds of arrows that failed to cause even a stir of Roftome’s wings.

“Summon your master here, now,” Morlen bellowed down to them. “Then flee back into the South! And today, his hold over you will be broken.” Surrounding winds shook as they barked in collective opposition, and more opportunistic shots stretched higher. But Morlen would not be deterred. “This city, these people, are yours no longer, whether you choose to stay, or leave,” he called. “But leave, now, and call your master to face what he has brought upon himself, and you will not have to face it with him.”

Spiteful arrows whipped past his shoulders to deliver an unequivocal answer from the endless packs, and Morlen’s features hardened as he leaned forward while Roftome gracefully wove through the snare. “Then, if blood is what you want,” he said, unthreatened, “come and take mine.”

Swooping downward to whet their enemies’ already brimming appetite, Morlen and Roftome passed over rows of thrashing gray heads, soaring toward the Isle. The pouncing brood tirelessly hunted behind them.

“Well,” said Roftome, keeping low in plain sight, “if on the ground is where you insist on meeting them, let us hope you don’t do it alone.”

Vividly remembering his frantic escape from Korindelf a year before, Morlen looked ahead to the mystic realm that had sheltered him then and was comfortable knowing he would take no refuge there, this time. “Let’s just make sure they pursue us all the way,” he replied, and Roftome maintained his moderate speed as the scent in their wake swam to the drooling creatures.

“Pursue
you
, you mean,” retorted Roftome. “I’ll be safely watching from above, long before they close this gap.”

Laying an encouraging hand on his companion’s smooth-feathered back once more, Morlen said, “They won’t be the ones to close it.”

Miles away from the city, Morlen glanced over his shoulder, emboldened to see that they still gave chase in full force, even as the Isle’s murky borders towered a short distance ahead.

“Drop me just at the edge,” he said, as the time for their parting came near at hand.

And Roftome, still wary to deliver him to his chosen destination, inquired finally, “This is truly what you—”

“Yes,” Morlen answered, leaving no room for doubt as Roftome hovered close to the ground. Dismounting lightly on grass that protruded through thin snow, Morlen looked up at him reassuringly. “Be ready when Bloodsong arrives. Surround it with the other eagles, and force it to release its master to us.”

Roftome’s lethal gaze held him gently from above. “My watch will be on you, first and foremost,” he said stubbornly. “So give me no cause to break from the others.” Then, Roftome rose high over the glistening fields that were flooded by a sea of teeth and claws. And Morlen stood alone, unshaken as it came.

With the Isle’s familiar warmth at his back, he released all thoughts of danger and slowly came to feel its inhabitants again, one by one lighting up within his mind, which reached back toward them in greeting. Widespread embers far behind soon burned more brightly at the edge of his vision, joining beside others until tens became dozens, and dozens quickly brought numbers even greater as he drew them now like a beacon.

The ground trembled as the shriekers drew nearer, only minutes from closing in, but he kept his focus on the radiant clusters at his heels. They were coming. He could feel them more strongly now. Hundreds upon hundreds, speeding gladly to meet him, to run together, as they’d once done.

He watched the writhing gray throngs narrow the divide with claws extended and dripping fangs bared. The innumerable lights were racing closer behind him, and the gray tide ahead came screaming ever louder while he held his ground.

Brilliant rays filled his periphery, burning against the nearing shadow as the shriekers only a hundred yards off prepared to devour him, letting not even the foreboding Isle slow them from their prey. He knew they were with him now, ready to go forward into those that stamped so hungrily toward him.

He drew the Crystal Blade with a twinkling slice, and suddenly a thousand unfettered roars shattered every menacing howl as the great lions leapt hundreds at a time from the Isle’s mists to join him. They charged with tremendous force through the storming wave, whose front ranks crumbled beneath stout manes and crushing paws. And Morlen plunged ahead with them into the savage masses that splintered back across the fields they’d so furiously traversed.

He repelled all before him with each fierce swing of the Crystal Blade, batting off one after another that dared spring with knifing claws upon the lions’ broad backs. Driving them back toward the city, he knew there would soon be no doubt in Felkoth’s mind that his kingdom was in dire jeopardy. Now he would have no choice but to relinquish his foothold in the Eaglemasters’ realm and come here, to Korindelf, where all would finally meet him.

Submerged in spiked horns and blackened, gnawing teeth, the city of Veleseor sat broken in Felkoth’s shadow while he stood, uncontested, within Bloodsong’s grasp. With his minor wounds from the previous night’s affairs bandaged and concealed, he spat at thoughts of the boy who’d acted so tirelessly to stall him, aiding the Eaglemasters’ people in their northward escape. He’d bought them nothing more than a few hours before their inevitable undoing.

All four remaining cities whitened beneath this, their final dawn, and he stirred at the sound of Bloodsong’s rumbling throat, which ached to liquefy their foundations and give his new herds a long-desired feast. But… there was something sharp, digging into him like an insect’s prod, drawing his attention to the Dark Blade, which, he now realized with a start, rang with the shrill cries of ambush from Korindelf. It was being taken, right from his own clutches! And, there were many assailants, breaking through the lines he’d commanded to defend, at all costs! The city would soon fall, and his servants along with it, unless he intervened.

Looking down upon the tide ready to spread destruction throughout the Eaglemasters’ realm, he judged from Valdis’s inaction that they would be quite undisturbed if he left for a short while. And if he should come upon any Eaglemasters at Korindelf, perhaps launching this assault to lure him away from their lands, it would only speed him faster to drown every last one of Valdis’s people in fire.

“Hold the city!” he fumed harshly to the ferotaurs. “And do not stray before my return!” Then, giving them no second glance, he urged his carrier out with livid determination to reach Korindelf, anxious to crush all that he would find.

The blood-spattered creatures kept watch over their newly claimed territory in his stead, scraping every bone left to tell of their enemies’ defeat in anticipation of spoils the day would yet bring. But shortly after their leader’s abrupt departure, a strange storm cloud began to gather in the northern sky, drifting quickly in low winds, and growing significantly in size. He was long gone before they could tell that its course was deliberate, their dim minds discerning thousands of forms within, all coming for them at a speed that sought to devastate without answer.

“Take cover!” many shouted in alarm, all lifting large scraps of armor or rubble, even the corpses of their slain brothers, in preparation for what rapidly descended. Soon finding themselves under the Eaglemasters’ far-reaching shroud, they realized every defense was futile against the deluge that befell their ranks, pummeling to the ground one wave after another.

Hundreds toppled in haphazard pushes for retreat while thousands scrambled out of the city’s broken wall, overfilling scattered boats in desperate haste to cross the river, and many fell to watery graves. The riddled fleets rowed back toward their own sequestered territory, toward the vast remainder of ferotaurs that had waited to be ferried over but now only cowered at their airborne enemies.

Then, the Eaglemasters suddenly abated all efforts to pursue, as though satisfied that they would not trespass again while their forces drowned on every side. Rising above in a darting eastward flock to address more pressing matters, they flew behind the distant trail of Felkoth and his dragon, following him, unsuspected, to Korindelf.

Morlen’s sword and body became one staggering mallet against all shriekers that jumped forward, and he thinned their ranks for several arduous hours with the lions stampeding around him. Their wretched yelps did not go unnoticed by their king either, he realized, finally glimpsing an unmistakable dark shape close on the horizon.

Having anticipated the inevitable moment with great pain, he could not escape it now as it blew down like a corrosive breeze. Bloodsong announced destruction to all adversaries, seizing the sure-footed lions while his ready arms slackened as well, exposing them to more vigorous attacks that did not hesitate.

Gray swells lurched over him, slashing, pulling down against any attempt to shake free as the dreadful sound fell louder, heavier. Seeing the thick hindquarters of many beside him suddenly give way beneath the hostile surge, Morlen drew on what energy he still had to leap upward while he thrust the Crystal Blade through those sinking him. And Roftome flew down to his aid, heaving away many that wriggled and spat in his grip.

“The city men are on their way,” Roftome alerted, and Morlen soon found a great deal of hope restored, scanning out to glimpse the airborne fleet that stealthily gained. But, they would not arrive before Felkoth had a chance to land a critical blow here, where all could be lost in one breath.

Glaring with disdain at the approaching monstrosity, Roftome spread his own wings to their full span in open challenge. “It will not have satisfaction, not while I fly,” he declared, and bolted far above, undaunted, to engage Felkoth’s most threatening servant for a second time.

Morlen could only watch him go for a few short moments before returning to the wailing forces at hand, and rallied the lions from defense into a gallant attack as ripping claws and fangs clashed viciously upon one another. The Crystal Blade led them forward in his quickening hands despite the scream of death that drew so close.

Dipping beneath the foul creature’s narrow line of sight, Roftome made for its well-cradled master, sure that an assault on him would disrupt its collision with those below. It began a steep descent that abruptly halted as he shot against its clasped talons, scratching and rattling until Felkoth commanded a sharp turn upward, where he met them again. This time he latched between its eyes as he’d done before, pecking determinedly until its flailing head whipped him off and launched a spout of flame, which he easily evaded.

Its vision dulled by a veil of smoke, Bloodsong swiped hard in all directions while Roftome stabbed his talons into the center of its granite back. The colossal tail soared in a quick reflex to squash him on the spot, smashing with a terrible clatter between its own wings after its target lightly sprang off in a dodge. The dragon sank through billowing dust before it recovered from the blow, holding tightly to its irate master.

Then, as the sky finally cleared, no eye or ear could miss what came. The Eaglemasters had arrived, belting a fearsome note of defiance while aimed directly at Felkoth. At the front of their ranks, King Valdis flew with the Crystal Spear thrust out to lead a heavy charge, his son and daughter following on either side.

Bloodsong went forth to immerse them in their own flaming ruin, and the Eaglemasters held formation behind their king to meet it head-on, even as the creature’s agonizing scream enveloped them. Then, with distance closing between them and their foe, Valdis suddenly sped into a sharp dive with all Eaglemasters far beneath the dragon, which struggled to turn while it pursued them lower toward the battle.

They looked down in wonder at the valiant lions, whose ancient majesty was summoned and gathered now by one, and one alone, deep in lethal territory.

“Our ally fights bravely on the ground,” Valdis called out to all, who heard him clearly as they neared the shriekers. “Let us do the same!” With that, he lunged from the back of his eagle, rolling through their enemies to spring gracefully to his feet with the Crystal Spear battering a circle around him. Every Eaglemaster followed suit, disembarking from their bearers in a wave of red and silver that crashed through the whining gray tide. Unencumbered by their riders, the flock swarmed as one against the closing dragon, drawing it above the fray while Felkoth bellowed angrily in its grasp, backing away from the incessant prods of their attacks.

Valdis unleashed a flurry of crippling strikes against every brute within reach, bringing down two with one swing while taking another that tackled him from the side and hoisting it across his shoulders, hurling it into one more that rushed him.

Prince Verald, surrounded by six that stood taller than he, buried his spear into the first that pounced, and then silenced two more with a swift draw of his sword, which delivered a quick end to the remaining three that darted in without sinking a single claw or fang.

Morlen watched the Eaglemasters cleave through the ranks on his left, with Valdis far out in front, unscathed by the rocking swells while other men fought hard to keep up in his wake. And, he sensed
her
close also, perhaps searching for him as he now searched for her.