Awake the Cullers (History of Ondar) (17 page)

“Yes, they are quick, but I saw one of them clearly just before he blew the sand in my eyes, and I fell.”

“You were in the trees, here? The lowest branches are at least fifty feet up. It’s a wonder you survived such a fall. Here, tilt your head back.”

She did as instructed and waited as he poured water over her open eyes. When he finished she leaned her head forward, closing them again. She blinked a few times. The pain was still present, but it was manageable. She heard the rustling in the bushes and pushed Collin away. The cut meant for him sliced across her hand.
She heard him curse and draw his blade. “No, stay back.” She stood, pulling her hammer back out of its loop and closing her eyes.

“What are you doing? You can barely see.”

“These goblins are masters of confusion, overwhelming the senses with misdirection. It is all lies.” She felt one of the goblins strike and blocked his thrown dagger with her hammer. The air vibrated with his surprise and excitement. The bushes to her right rustled, but that was not the direction of danger. Swinging to the left, she knocked back two of the goblins who attempted to jump overhead. Eyes still closed, she felt the goblins, three of them, gather for a direct attack. Coming at her, they fought as one, a single entity with three heads and six arms, stabbing shots through the narrow spaces under their brothers’ arms or by their sides. A normal fighter would stab his ally as often as his foe with such a technique. Again, it was a fighting style designed to confuse and affect their opponent. “I am Mirerien, Keeper of Order, Seer of Truth,” she said, fighting their flurry of attacks with an ease she never before knew in battle. “Where I stand, there can be no lies!” She swung hard, knocking the goblins back into the depths of the forest. They rolled into the shadows, scurrying away into the darkness to look for easier prey.

Mirerien opened her eyes and dropped her hammer back into its loop. The cut on her hand was nearly healed.

“Should we go after them?” Collin asked, after a moment to register what he witnessed.

“No,” she answered. “It will be over soon. Come, there is still much to do.”

*   *   *

Rand
was a master rider. Lynnalin never truly appreciated how skilled he was before, but this battle dispelled all doubts. Expertly he weaved in and out of the fighters, striking blows and moving on before he could be hit. His strategy was simple, cause as much damage and distraction as he could to take some of the pressure off the troops on foot. Many men were able to get in a killing blow while the Culler turned after Rand. Lynnalin provided cover for their run, protecting their sides and backs as Rand took stock of threats from the front.

But
after hours of running, the hound was at its limits, and even Rand was hard pressed to push much more out of the poor beast. Lynnalin had long exhausted her trove of spells and many scrolls. Thank Venerith she still had her fire. From the look of things around the battle field, the other mages were in the same position. She felt pity for the Alerian mages unfortunate enough to get caught on the ground. They did not have the fire to fall back on, and magic users were not known for their physical combat skills. Most who tried to fight by sword fell quickly.

She had little time to contemplate their fate as the hound fell suddenly, its leg twisted by a turn it was too tired to make. Both she and Rand tumbled off, separated by ten feet and a mass of fighters. Lynnalin jumped to her feet and was instantly thrown back down. Ground at her back, she pulled up her fire to guard against her attacker, but he
did not shy from the flames. Instead he struck through them. His blade dug into her shoulder and chest. Lynnalin screamed in pain, her vision blacking out for a moment. Her fire went out, but it didn't matter. It wasn't like it stopped him the first time. He raised his blade to finish her off, but before he could complete his task a hammer covered in blue fire smashed into his jaw, sending him reeling back from the force. Rand continued swinging, giving the Culler no room to counterattack. With one last swing to the head, the Culler was dead.

Reaching down,
Rand lifted Lynnalin from the ground and carried her away from the heavy fighting. Holding her with one arm, he fought with the other. Soldiers seeing them added their own aide. After all the times he helped them during the battle, they were glad to return the favor. Lynnalin struggled to breath. The pressure on her chest was heavy. Putting her down behind the battered remains of a damaged cart, Rand bound her injuries as best he could. Given their location, it was difficult.

And so she lie,
Rand fighting beside her, protecting her and himself with his mighty hammer. When she could, she sent out her fire, but otherwise she could not move. Concentration lacking, even using the fire was not easy. She was sure she lost consciousness a few times. Then suddenly it was over. A horn blast rang through the air, and every single Culler stopped.

No matter where they were or what they were doing they stopped like students responding to a bell calling an end to the school day. One man held aloft by the Culler he fought was instantly dropped. Even those lost in the battle rush, brutally beating their opponent past the point of resistance, stopped and simply walked away. Anyone who tried to stop them or continue to fight against them was casually pushed aside and forgotten.

Rand watched their departure with a mixture of relief and shock. That was quickly replaced by concern for her. Scooping her up, he ran through the stunned crowd in search of a cleric who still had healing magic left.

"Where are they going?" she gathered the energy to ask.

Before he could answer, the first Cullers made it to the wall and learned the startling truth. They weren't going anywhere. Lynnalin activated her last spell, a simple one to allow her the ability to see magical effects, and saw the glimmer of a magical barrier around the Square. Anyone who attempted to cross the barrier was thrown back. Quickly angry at the unforeseen impediment to their departure, the Cullers grew frantic, clawing at thin air, trying to escape. Others turned on the soldiers unfortunate enough to be near them. And so the fighting began again.

Ignoring everything else,
Rand continued to search for a cleric. Lynnalin felt her magic fade, the shimmer of the wall disappearing. From Rand's worried face, she could only imagine how bad she looked. If it was half as bad as she felt, she could understand his urgency.

"Dwarf," she heard a man call.
Rand stopped, and she saw King Eirae run toward them on his way to the wall. Pausing only briefly, he handed Rand two potions. "In thanks for the light," he explained. "Sorry it's not more, but that is all I have left."

"Thank you, Your Highness,"
Rand said gratefully, but Eirae was already running toward the fighting at the wall. Putting her back down, he uncorked the bottles and helped her take the healing potions. After the second bottle was empty she still felt like a giant stepped on her chest and forgot to move, but it was an improvement. "How are you feeling?" Rand asked. His voice was laced with concern.

"Better," she answered honestly. It hurt to talk, but it was bearable. "You can go back to fighting. I'll be fine."

"Nah, I think I'd better stick around you for the time being. At least until we can get you healed a bit more. Rest now little wizard. You've done your part. I'll protect you, now."

"If you insist." She knew better than to argue with a dwarf.
Rand stood, still holding her close in his large arms as he continued to look for a healer. With the battle raging anew around them, Lynnalin rested her head against his chest. It felt good to have a dwarven protector, she decided. Very good.

*   *   *

The sound of rushing water was a relief and a concern. She was parched and tired, but in the dark the risk of somehow falling into the frigid water was great. Should that happen they would be swept away long before they even knew where they were or what happened. Her shoe slipped on another slick rock, and she stumbled to catch her footing. Instead she ended up falling into a cluster of rocks and adding to her wide assortment of bruises. “We need light,” she said to herself.

“I can help,” Jaiston said pulling out something from his pocket. There was a small snap and the tunnel filled with light. Looking at her proudly, he held up his snapper light, a dried flower enhanced by magic. They were a children’s toy, though admittedly a useful one. Each dried petal contained its own light spell. You had only to crush a petal to activate the spell. He still had three petals left on his.

“Thank you,” she said, standing. The chamber they were in was curved around a window in the stone. Through the window she could see the underground river. Lying on her side she reached her arm in, pressing her shoulder up against the low ledge, and cupped her hand in the water, bringing it to her dry lips. “I don’t suppose you have a cup in that bag of yours?” she asked.

“I have a rock that is bowled out like a cup,” he said, pulling out the stone.

Samantha took the rock and scooped up some water, handing it first to Jaiston then taking the second cup for herself. Once they had their fill, she handed him back the stone and patted his head. “Let’s get moving.”

Feeling a rush of evil, she pushed the boy back just as a hand came swinging, throwing her against the wall. The invader held her there, his arm pressed against her chest, his elbow under her chin. His other hand held her loose arm in place. His body pressed into her legs. She couldn’t move anything more than an inch before he clamped back down.

This man was far less mutilated than the invaders who sacked her home. He still possessed all his limbs, though he bore many scars. She felt his aura flicker, at first strongly evil. Then, as he looked at her, the nausea in her belly lessened. She looked in his eyes and saw a battle raging there. His aura flared back to evil, then softened again as his increased aggression caused her to flinch in pain. Whoever this poor man was, he still fought the sickness in his mind. Something of his old self remained, preventing him from finishing her off.

Concentrating, she reached out to the light spots of his soul, soothing and protecting them from the darkness surrounding them. His hold on her relaxed. Raising a hand slowly, she gently touched his arm and felt the negative influence on his m
ind wash away. His eyes cleared then filled with regret and horror. Stepping away from her he fell to his knees and doubled over, crying, “Candice,” repeatedly into his hands.

“Mother!” Jaiston called, seeing the others come rushing down the hall. Among them, much to her relief, was Kern. He walked
past the man on the floor, recognition hitting his face as he heard the man say the name. “Are you hurt?” he asked Samantha, keeping his attention focused on them both.

“I’m fine,” she answered. “I’m relieved to see you alive.”

He smiled. “What happened to him?” He asked, still eyeing the man.

“He was ill. I could feel the sickness within him. When I touched him, I was somehow able to take it away.”

Kern looked at her thoughtfully, then motioned to her sword. “That’s a Paladin’s blade you wear.”

Samantha started. Paladins were holy warriors, defenders of the weak, protectors and bastions of goodness. To be a paladin was a divine calling, not a choice. They were renowned for their ability to fight evil. Some could even cure the sick. She looked down at her hand, the one she used to touch the man’s arm. “Collin gave me the sword,” she said, speaking quickly, nervously. “He said I reminded him of its original owner.” She pulled the sword and sheath and held it out to Kern. “This doesn’t belong with me. I’m no fighter. I am definitely no warrior. If anything, you should have it.”

Kern put his hand on the sword and gently pushed it back. “Keep it.”

“I don’t even know how to use it,” she continued to argue.

“You’ll learn,” he said confidently.

Reluctantly she took back the blade, holding it in front of her chest like a security blanket. “What about him?” she asked of the man on the ground.

Taking a deep breath, Kern squatted by him and put a hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know a girl named Candice,” he said. The man looked up and fell silent. “She was a survivor from the raids on Breakeren. Her father saved her by sending her away on horseback. She is a very brave young girl.”

The man began sobbing again. “My Candice, oh, my Candice, what have I done?”

“I can bring you to her,” Kern offered.

“No!” he looked up in horror, moving away from every one in the chamber. “No, I can never face her again
. I have done . . . horrible things. No, it is better if I were dead. I should be dead.” Turning from them, he ran off down the curved hall, into the darkness.

“Should we stop him?” Samantha asked.

“No,” Kern said after a moment of thought. “There is nothing more you can do to help him. He must do the rest on his own.” 

The walls of the caves vibrated with a low hum. Everyone looked around in confusion. “I think that may be our cue to get above ground,” Kern said. With no disagreements they happily headed to the surface.

It still hurt to breathe. Lynnalin felt the scar on her chest and sighed. Looking out her window she saw a city in celebration. Despite the damage left and lives lost, the people were happy to be alive. Taking her bag, she looked back on her room one last time and closed the door. Her room at the mage academy had been her home a long time, but it was time to leave. The headmaster was shocked when she told him. Everyone assumed she would continue her studies after the Queen's assignment. She was an excellent student and one of the more powerful wizards at the school or in the city.

But her heart wasn't in it anymore. She stayed so long because it seemed important to learn as much as she could. Now, very few things seemed truly important. She couldn't sit in a classroom and discuss magical theory while so much was going on in the world. She could still learn new spells and gain power on her own. After this long at it, she didn't need a teacher to show her what to do. Not only could she learn her own spells, she was on the verge of creating a few. No, it was time to move on.

"Are you headed to the river?" Rand asked, running up to join her on the sidewalk.

Lynnalin grinned at seeing him. After the night in the Square
, he stayed by her side for three full days before he had to return to the stables and see about the remaining hounds. "No, I'm going to Bryce's tavern."

"That is quite a bag to carry to get a drink. Plan on staying awhile?" He fell into step beside her.

"Actually I plan on leaving Suriax for awhile," she confessed reluctantly.

"Need any company?"

"What about your hounds?" she reminded him, a little surprised by his question.

He waved off that argument. "I'll get my brother to watch them again. He'll hate it, but that makes it worth it right there."

Lynnalin laughed. Rand loved his twin brother, Larn, but they were dwarves and prone to rough dispositions. Rand's work with his hounds helped him learn a great deal of patience. His brother was somewhat lacking in that trait and preferred to do his own thing, avoiding the animals when possible. Rand took every opportunity he could to tease his brother about it.

"I
t may be dangerous?" she warned.

"No need to keep trying to convince me. I already said I'd go."

The cheers from the river drew their attention. Lynnalin looked at the crowd gathered to see a young guard receive accommodation and promotion into the military. His name was Camdon, a former flame guardsman, now a general. He led a group of the survivors they brought through the caves. Together, the men guaranteed the women and children made it on the last boat and then held the beach by the pier. Somehow, they survived the night with only a few loses. It was a miracle and the story was told over and over throughout the city to raise morale and give everyone something positive to focus on. Although the men were from Alerian settlements, they had the respect of all Suriaxians. A few even expressed interest in remaining in the city. The others were split between those wishing to settle in Aleria and those wishing to return to the south and rebuild. Ultimately, Lynnalin thought the women, once they returned on the boats, would have a lot to say about where they all went.

"Have you talked to Zanden and Casther?" Lynnalin asked once they were past all the commotion.

"Yeah, I heard they're giving leadership of the army to Zanden. Once it is official he's appointing Casther to a post under him, working with Sardon on training for the troops. They are both going to be busy for some time." It was a fitting reward. All three men were instrumental in organizing and leading the Suriaxian people in their resistance. Never backing down, until the last Culler stopped breathing, Zanden and Sardon fought the entire night and into the next day. Casther proved his own distinction after being separated by the magical barrier King Pielere somehow erected around the wall. Without the leadership of the men in the Square, he took charge, helping to funnel most of the fighting away from the residential areas, where many who were unable to evacuate in time remained.

"I'm surprised they didn't offer you a position."
Rand's contribution in the battle was no less significant. He deserved recognition for his actions.

"Who said they didn't?" He responded calmly.

Lynnalin nearly gasped in shock. "Then why are you leaving?"

Rand
looked out in front of them and took a deep breath. "I had my fill of politics. It was bad enough just going on one assignment. I don't need to be under the queen's thumb all the time. The simplicity of the battle in the Square made up my mind. It didn't matter if they were attacking us or the Alerians. They were our enemy, so we fought them."

"So you were already thinking about leaving?"

He gave a wink and a grin. "Have my hound saddled by the bridge. I was actually just coming to tell you 'goodbye.'"

"In that case, do we have time for a drink before we go? I'm buying."

"I never say 'no' to a free drink."

"What about your hound? Will he be okay so long without you?"

"Larn's with him," Rand informed her. "On second thought, let's make it two drinks."

*   *   *

Never had so many people crowded into Merchant’s Square. Suriaxians flooded into the Alerian side as they welcomed back the ships carrying those who evacuated prior to the fighting. It took nearly a week to find and kill every Culler who remained within the city walls. Kern worried there could still be more hiding somewhere. No one was really sure where all the rest went. In the early hours of the morning, before the sun began to lighten the sky, a horn rang out across both cities, heard even to the mountain passes where the evacuated ships sat waiting to return. It was the cause of the hum that shook the cave under the cleric’s tree. At its call, all Cullers not trapped by Pielere’s walls fled in all directions. Those trapped in the Square grew agitated to the point of absolute distraction.

Some people, especially in Suriax, continued to pursue and fight the monsters, but there were many people in need of healing and burying. Between the damage to the people and that to the buildings, there were plenty of other things to worry about. Most were simply glad it was over. Following so close to the destruction during the night of Blue Fire, Suriax was particularly hard hit, not that they would complain about it or accept any help.

The next boat let out its passengers to the cheers of the crowd. Kern watched from his perch in a tree outside the Square. The women and children he led through the mountains ran off the boat into the welcoming arms of their men, who were lucky to be alive. He still didn’t know how they managed to fight and kill so many Cullers when they possessed very few weapons and no formal training.

Kern rested back on the branches and tried to remember the last time he took a break like this. Once sure his bro
thers’ families were safe he joined the fighting again to help root out any Culler who ignored the call to leave. From the reports, he was sure at least a few had snuck out after Pielere finally dropped the wall. He never did find those goblins Mirerien claimed to fight. Sleeping on rooftops and in trees, he searched every corner of the city from morning until nightfall with little break for anything else.

“You look exhausted,” Pielere said, appearing by him in the tree.

Kern shrugged. “Just trying to make sure they’re all gone before everyone goes back to their normal lives.”

“I haven’t felt any deaths in over a day,” Pielere assured him. “And Samantha said she senses they are still near, but not in the city.”

“Well, when you put it that way,” Kern crossed his arms and closed his eyes. “I’m taking a nap. Wake me in a month.”

“Don’t you think you should talk to your friends first? They still don’t believe you are alive. They seem to think we are in some kind of denial.” He smiled.

Kern looked at his brother through one eye, the other one still half closed. “And what am I supposed to tell them?”

Pielere took a deep breath and paused. “The truth?” he offered.

“What are you guys going to do now, anyway?”

Pielere shrugged. “Continue to steward the law and see where that takes us.” He looked off thoughtfully. “I feel we still have a little time before . . .”

“Before?” Kern prompted when he fell silent.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “Come on. You are missing the celebration.” He patted Kern on the arm, his pain and fatigue melting away.

“Oh, alright, if you’re going to do all that, I guess I have no choice.”

Pielere laughed and teleported them to the gardens in the park by the large gazebo at the center of Aleria. People laughed and danced. Musicians played their songs. Despite the losses, they all knew how much worse it could have been and were grateful to be alive. Marcy and Thomas stood a few fee
t away watching the celebration from the side.

“You know, you’re a push
y god,” Kern grumbled, walking toward his friends. Pielere chuckled behind him. Catching sight of Thomas’ ears, he grinned. “Well, look at you two. I leave you alone for a week, and you go and get yourselves bonded.”

“Kern!” Marcy cried. “It’s true. You are alive. But how?”

“We saw you die,” Thomas added, equally in shock.

Kern clasped his hands down on their shoulders and leaned between them. “Well, as it turns out, Pielere, Eirae and Mirerien are gods.”

They looked at each other, not nearly as surprised as he expected. Of course, there had been many rumors floating around the city since word of their unusual involvement in the battle spread. “That explains Frex,” Thomas said, catching Kern completely off guard. Marcy nodded her agreement.

“What about Frex?”

“Take a look over there,” Marcy motioned.

Kern looked to the people celebrating in the park. He saw the girl Candice dancing with Alnerand. They seemed to be having a good time. He was glad. He had not told her what happened with her father, and as far as he knew, the man had not reemerged. Maybe someday they would be reunited, but in the mean time, Kern was happy she was moving on and making new friends.

Beside them danced a young elven couple. They looked happy and carefree. The woman wore a simple white dress, accented with blue ribbons and sleeves. Her long burgundy hair twirled around with her as they moved. The man danced with precision and skill usually only seen from older elves. Around his neck he wore a woven green scarf. Kern stared. He knew that scarf. It was his uncle’s most prized possession
, a gift from his sister, Kern’s mother. He looked at the man’s face and knew this was his uncle, and he was happy. Kern laughed, feeling more hopeful than he had in years.

*   *   *

Deep in the sanctuary of the mountains, nestled in isolated lakes separated from and fed by the Therion River by narrow tributaries, the refugee ships began their journey back up the river to the cities. They thought they were safe. If only they knew how close danger was, how close danger always was. True security was a lie. Safety and peace was a fleeting blip on the journey through pain and suffering. So was the way of the world.

Nadda watched them from her perch on the mountains, north of the river. Her long hair whipped around in the strong mountain wind.

“It’s time to go,” Ridikquelass said, joining her on the ledge and whistling at the view. “Wow, how fun would it be to dive into the water from here?”

“
It is over a thousand foot drop,
” Nadda pointed out, projecting her voice as she did, without moving her lips.

“I didn’t say I’d survive it,”
Ridikquelass clarified, “only that it would be fun.”

Nadda shook her head and pulled up her hair, tying it in a loose bun and letting t
he rest fall down. She put on her hat to cover the bun and hold it in place. With only the bottom portion of her hair peaking out, anyone who didn’t know better would think her hair was very short. That was fine by her. The less people knew about her the better. It made it easier to blend in and disappear when the need arose.

“It’s too bad we didn’t get our hands on those Alerian god children,” Ridik complained, her urge to jump off the cliff momentarily forgotten.

“
We acquired many new Suriaxian recruits,
” she reminded her.

“Yes, but half of them lost their fire trick.”

Nadda shrugged. A hand came down on her shoulder, and she looked up at the massive being towering over them. “But,” the man said in a deep powerful voice, “those who did not lose the fire will prove a valuable asset to us. And you managed to convert a Sublinate as well.” Ridikquelass beamed under his praise. Together the three of them walked back down the mountain to their waiting army.