Beyond the Edge of Dawn (18 page)

The lich passively watched the battle, waiting until the Gaimosians had expended their strength to lash out with the full majesty of his power. They, like everyone else, would soon belong to him. Panic suddenly gripped him. The lich froze, trying to scry the source of his unrest. His yellow eyes fell on the near prone female knight. Sparks of power, unseen by the mortal eye, crackled off her flesh. His gem flared warning. The lich howled, and his minions redirected their attack against Aphere. Organs and limbs littered the battlefield in gory mess. The smell of death was sickening, overpowering. Sword arms grew tired as the Gaimosians collapsed their defense to shift around Aphere.

Bodies began to pile up. The dead were desperate, knowing she posed the greatest threat. Driven by the lich’s rage, they clawed and scraped closer to Aphere.

“Blood must be paid!”

The lich aimed his staff and spoke words of power. Purple flames shot at her from the end of his staff. Aphere barely managed to glance up in time. She scrunched her eyes shut and flung an outstretched hand back at the lich. Pure energy exploded from her fingers, sending a wall of power to the reaching flames. Magic collided in a wicked explosion. The Gnomes closest exploded in a shatter of gore. The lich stumbled backwards. Pain hammered into him, and he knew fear. His staff was cracked down the length.

Pirneon caught the hesitation. “Now, Kavan! Attack. Destroy the staff, and we destroy him!”

Kavan leapt over several clawing Gnomes, sword arced high above his head. He raced through the throngs of the dead and the sucking mud of the Uelg. His eyes narrowed. He saw only the decrepit robed figure ahead. Kavan lost himself in the battle. It was a fight only one would walk away from.

The distance closed. Twenty meters. Ten. Kavan was upon him before the lich recovered. Steel flashed in the purple light. The lich threw forth his staff, seeking to rip Kavan apart, but the knight was faster. His sword ate through the mists until it bit deeply into the staff’s rod. The lich had time to scream once before his carefully hoarded power was released back into the world.

The force of the explosion flattened everything for a hundred meters. Kavan was flung face first into the muck as the lich disintegrated above him. Both halves of the staff landed at his head. One by one, the Gnome undead lost animation and sank back into their swampy tomb. Geblin cried from his knees. At last, his people were free. The mists dissolved, leaving the swamp and returning to the same unfriendly miasma it had always been. The Gaimosians recovered gradually. Eager to be free from this place of death, Pirneon lead them on. By nightfall, they had reached the northern edge of the Uelg. The night had never been so inviting.

Ambushed

The Fist struck at dawn. Black clad warriors leapt from their ambush positions along the open lane north and closed in on the Gaimosians with alarming ferocity. On foot, they were no match for the speed and strength of trained warhorses. Darts and arrows hummed through the air only to fall short. The Fist surged forward. They were eager to close with the enemy and collect their bounty, all the while avenging the deaths of so many of their own.

They moved with deliberate caution. The danger of losing their prey was slim with the flying beasts scouring the skies. Pharanx Gorge jumped upon the back of his faithful pet and raced back to the skies. He enjoyed the hunt almost as much as the art of killing. Consumed by disappointment, he vowed to kill them all, even that wretched Gnome. Only the unexpected use of sorcery troubled him. Her, he’d kill personally.

“How many this time?” Pirneon asked.

They slowed to a quick trot, fearful of exhausting the horses so far from their destination.

Kavan wiped his face. “More than a hundred is my guess.”

The Knight Marshal frowned. Odds were growing increasingly in the enemy’s favor. He was surprised to realize just how exhausted he was. They’d been on the run for almost a week now since leaving the Uelg. All were borderline ineffective, pushed to the limits of even their great endurance. The Fist, on the other hand, were rested and eager. As long as they held numbers, they had the advantage. Only death could be the outcome. Only pain.

“We have to find a way to even the odds out, or this will be a waste of trip.”

“Agreed,” Kavan replied. “But we are in no position of strength to do so. The land between here and the mountains offers little protection but will not swallow us from view of their damned flying beasts.”

“There is a forest not far from here. It runs the length of the plain all the way to the foothills of the Crags,” Geblin offered.

Pirneon swung towards the Gnome. “How far?’

He rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “A day, perhaps less. We need to find the nearby stream and follow it to the small lake in the middle of the forest. Trees are thick there. They should provide us with good cover, at least until my people discover us.”

Kavan tried to hide his grimace. More Gnomes, not exactly the position he hoped to find himself in. “Are you sure they won’t attack us? I couldn’t handle you, and now we march willingly towards an entire tribe.”

Barum started to laugh, and it quickly spread to the others. Even dour Pirneon flashed a grin. Geblin folded his arms over his chest and shot daggers, less harsh than before, at the knight before he, too, succumbed to a chuckle.

“I was merely getting you accustomed to my kind,” Geblin snorted.

“We’re wasting time. Can you lead us to this stream, Geblin?” Pirneon asked, the mirth gone from his eyes.

“Well enough, I suppose,” he replied in a hostile tone. His mistrust of Pirneon continued to grow the more he became attached to Aphere.

Pirneon gave a crisp nod. “Let us go. Even now I can feel our enemy’s breath upon our backs.”

The beleaguered group hurried on.

“How do you feel?” Barum asked as he drew alongside Aphere.

She offered a tired look. “Exhausted. This is turning out to be more than I signed on for.”

He agreed. “I’m not even a knight yet.”

“Nonsense,” she protested. “You’ve performed above the expectations of even our greatest. Titles are superficial, Barum. You are a true knight of Gaimos in every sense of the word. Would that there were more of you; perhaps our fates might be different.” She smiled before changing the subject. “What will you do after your ceremony on the Skaag?”

“I haven’t thought past tomorrow, to be honest. Malweir is a grand world. There is much I wish to see. Pirneon and I have gone through many trials, but the idea of being on my own, with the power to choose for myself, staggers my imagination.”

She reached out with a tender hand. “Keep a hold of those dreams. In the end, they are all we have.”

“I will, Lady.”

His head swooned with the relief only a troubled heart could deliver.

Geblin led them successfully to the stream, and their pace quickened. Now that they had clear direction, Pirneon decided it was time to surge ahead. The Fist were close, but he didn’t know where. He cautiously stole glances at the flanks as they rode. The terrain gradually change. The ground sloped more, becoming rocky and less forgiving. He worried that, if the mounds got too high, the Fist would have them trapped. A simple ambush to split them up, and the knights were finished.

“Faster. The forest edge is not far,” Kavan said as he doubled back. His face was etched with concern.

“What did you spy?” Pirneon asked.

“It’s what I didn’t see that bothers. There was no sign of the Fist at all. It’s almost as if they’ve given up.”

“Not likely.” Pirneon grimaced. A light breeze danced across his face. “We’re being hunted methodically. It’s only a matter of time before they strike again.”

Kavan agreed. “This is good ground for attack.”

A wicked screech shattered the air, cutting him off. The horses jerked in fright, threatening to spill the riders. Swords drawn, the knights looked about for the source of the danger. Another screech echoed the first, this one louder, closer. Their eardrums burned from the pitch.

“There! In the sky!” Geblin pointed up and cried.

The winged beast sliced through the low-level wisp of clouds. It was black as the darkest hell and bred for killing. Barum nocked an arrow and took aim. Even as he did, he knew it wouldn’t matter. The beast was too fast and agile. Worse, it was being ridden by a Fist.

Pirneon let out a harsh gasp. “Will we ever be free of these cursed people?”

Kavan wheeled around, sword uselessly pointed skyward.

“Flee! Get to the forest edge!” Pirneon barked.

All advantage lost, the knights fled at speed. Pirneon was concerned, knowing that the rider could drop any sort of munitions down upon them. Speed of horse was their only escape. Hooves kicked loose dirt and scree. Fear lanced their eyes. The sky rider screeched again and swooped down.

Pharanx Gorg grinned savagely as his prey broke and ran. The sky riders were rare, seldom ever seen in all Malweir. The Fist used them for scouting, but the Gaimosians didn’t know this. All they saw was a new threat. He swooped down again, careful to stay out of arrow range, and push them forward.

Kavan led them at full gallop. The forest edge was only a few hundred meters away, but the sky rider was closing. Wild cries suddenly sprang up from the mounds on either side of the trail. He knew what they were without bothering to look. The Fist was upon them. Kavan pushed his horse harder. The forest was so close.

Trees loomed ahead now. They were almost to safety. Sweat coated the horses in glistening sheens. Mud kicked up as the band raced on. Days of early spring rains left the ground waterlogged, dismal. Dark green moss clung to rock and tree. All around the landscape painfully reminded him of the swamp. The sky rider screeched again and circled higher. He was powerless to do anything but watch as the Gaimosians entered the forest.

Kavan heard a voice echo on the wind. “Faster dogs! Lose them, and it’s your head!”

The Fist closed on the forest.

Howls of rage, taunts, and roars echoed across the terrain behind them, forcing the beleaguered group ever on.

“Kavan, shift north,” Pirneon advised between ragged gasps. “We need to reach the mountains before the Fist catch us.”

The knights kept pushing, though the density of the forest forced them to walk. Much of the ground was slick, slightly treacherous. Thick vines hung down like nature’s executioners.

“We’re going to have to stop at some point. The horses can’t take much more,” Aphere cautioned.

Pirneon bit back on his pride. She was right, regardless of his personal dislike of her. It was time to accept facts. The reality that they might not survive long enough to reach Rantis and fulfill the oracle’s prophecy whispered in the back of his mind. He had to use all of his assets if he hoped to escape.

“Geblin, how far until we reach Gnome territory?”

“We’re already in it,” came the solemn answer.

Geblin reined his horse in and laid both hands on the pommel of his saddle.

“What are you….”

Geblin pointed ahead. Dozens of armed Gnomes emerged from behind bushes and trees. All were dressed in various animal pelts and armed to the teeth. All of them had iron tipped arrows aimed at the Gaimosians.

“Keep your hands in the open, and make no sudden move,” Geblin cautioned. “They will kill you without thought.”

The Gnomes converged. Angry looks soured their faces.

“Down, off your horses,” their leader snapped. “You are now our prisoners.”

Geblin was first to obey. Once down, he placed his hands behind his head and said, “There are others following us. We are not your foe.”

“We shall decide that for ourselves, Geblin.”

The knights exchanged confused looks. More was going on between the Gnomes than they understood. Geblin hung his head.

“Don’t worry about your friends. We’ve been watching them for some time,” the older Gnome said.

From the edge of the forest, screams and cries could be heard as battle commenced in the distance.

Creidlewein

“Why are you with these outlanders, Geblin?” the Gnome pressed.

They were alone. All of the knights were being guarded around a small cook fire. Confused, they hadn’t put up a fight and were secretly grateful for the Gnomes’ interference.

Geblin sighed. “That is a long tale. It all began in the Kergland Spine.”

“Where are the others you left with? How is it you alone managed to survive?” the older Gnome said with barely contained anger.

Geblin jabbed a finger at the other. “Don’t you dare accuse me, Flade! I did what needed to be done, as any of us would.”

Flade rose, hand dangerously close to his weapon. “You are wrong! My father never would have left his friends to die! You abandoned him, Geblin. You abandoned him and left him to die.”

“Flade, listen to me,” his voice dropped low. “I did not leave your father to die. Let me tell my tale, and you’ll see.”

Geblin returned to them as the sun started to set. He had a defeated air. Aphere moved over to him, offering a canteen of fresh stream water. He took it wordlessly and drank deeply.

“I’m sorry,” he told them all.

She gave a short smile. “For what?”

He looked into her soft eyes and felt pangs of regret. “I tried talking to him. I tried, but Flade wouldn’t listen.”

Pirneon, from atop a large boulder, looked at the Gnome and asked, “What are you talking about? Who is Flade?”

“He and I grew up together. We were never really friends, more like childhood rivals. Both of our fathers were on the council at Creidlewein. Flade never had the temperament to get along with others. When his father chose me to be his apprentice, it devastated Flade. Our friendship, what little there was, ended that day, and we’ve been rivals ever since.”

Kavan fought off a yawn. “Why should he be so accusatory towards you now? Didn’t he realize you were trying to save us?”

Pirneon shot him an angry glare.

“It goes far beyond that. Flade’s father was the head of our expedition into the east. I watched the Ogre spear him to a tree and rip him in half. Flade blames me.”

A great uproar disturbed the hasty encampment. Scores of Gnomes returned from the deepening gloom of the forest. Fists pumped in the air. Gnomes howled and shouted war cries. Logs were heaped into the fires as the last of the warriors slipped through. A celebration was in order.

The Gaimosians watched the Gnomes with inspired interest. All of those returning bore weapons too large for them to use. Swords and spears fit for Human cavalry were carried in numbers. Kavan was the first to spy the strange flag carried to the camp center. Pirneon followed the flag until he felt his mouth drop open. It belonged to the Fist.

“Geblin, can you find out what happened? That banner is the Fist. I’ve seen it once before, and if my guess is right, these Gnomes just ambushed them,” Pirneon said. His voice contained a twinge of excitement.

If the Gnomes did, indeed, beat back the mercenaries, their chances of reaching Rantis improved dramatically. Geblin rose and approached the nearest guard. They spoke in hushed tones in their native tongue.

“What are you thinking?” Kavan asked.

Pirneon explained his plan. He’d developed several courses of action, all driven towards their same goal. Unfortunately, all of them put Geblin in integral roles all the way to Aradain. The oracle had told them how important all of them were to stopping the foul power rising. If Pirneon used the Gnome like he wanted, it would turn Geblin into an outcast and leave him hated for the rest of his days. That was provided any of them actually survived the coming struggle.

“We can’t ask him to kill his own people,” Aphere said, aghast.

Pirneon’s gaze narrowed. “We may have no choice. Time is running out. How long can we truly be expected to remain their prisoners?”

“But his own people? That’s like one of us being asked to kill another,” she persisted.

“We all have difficult choices to make,” he snapped, louder than he wanted. “You spoke with the oracle. Remember his words, Aphere. We are all necessary and have but days left to us.”

Seventeen days remained until the next eclipse. Aphere dropped her argument and sat back down. An eerie premonition bothered her for reasons she couldn’t explain. Geblin returned moments later. His eyes were livid with rage.

“They caught the Fist just inside the forest. They claim they killed all twenty of our pursuers,” he told them.

Barum said, “That’s a good thing, right?”

“Not really. Now we’re being taken to Creidlewein and the council. They’ll decide what to do with us.”

Creidlewein was a quaint city nestled in a wide gorge in the northern part of the forest. The iron-grey mountains of the Crags could be seen in the distance. City streets were paved in cobblestone, adding homeliness to the stone and thatch houses. Men and women went about their business, pausing to stare at the Humans being escorted down the main boulevard. Children played in a nearby park. None of the knights expected to find a city so tranquil and organized this deep in the forest.

“This is amazing,” Aphere told Geblin.

He snorted. “You Humans are all alike. How does it feel to find your prejudices empty? You thought we’d be grubby and cave-like, didn’t you? Ha! We’re just as civilized as any other race in the east. Don’t be foolish enough to think differently.”

“Where are they taking us?” Pirneon asked. He was tired of bickering.

“To the council chambers. Pray they are reasonable.”

Kavan asked, “Will they be difficult to persuade?”

Geblin shrugged. “Depends on how much Flade tells them before we are seen. I’d say our chances are slim.”

“We can’t afford to be prisoners.”

There was no mistaking Pirneon’s tone. He’d kill as many Gnomes as necessary in order to escape. They walked on in silence until a burly Gnome in forest greens stopped them at the foot of the red stone steps leading up to the council hall.

“They’ll wait in the guard room until Flade is done speaking,” told the Gnome in charge. Then he spied Geblin and frowned.

Locked in the tiny room, the knights were fed and given the chance to sit, such as they could. Pirneon longed for a carafe of hot tea — without the desert, of course. Kavan folded his legs and sat on the floor in the corner. This was a familiar situation, and there was nothing to do but remain calm and conserve his strength. He rested his head in his hands and drifted to sleep.

The warden returned and brusquely ushered them down the hallway a short time later. More Gnomes dressed in the same livery lined the way. All were armed with daggers and ceremonial swords that Pirneon doubted were capable of cutting much. They appeared professional and impressive. None of them bothered looking the prisoners in the eye, giving the Gaimosians the feeling of already being condemned. Heads held high and marching with pride, they followed the Gnomes into the foyer.

The warden faced them just beyond a double set of doors carved from white oak. “Do not speak unless you are asked to. Make no threatening gestures, or you will be cut down. These are the elders of the Gnome people. Treat them as such.”

He jerked his head at the pair of guards flanking the doors. They pushed the massive doors open and waited for the knights to pass. The floor was marble tiled, sunlight reflecting from tall stained glass windows depicting scenes of ancient Gnome heroes and battles.

Gnomes were consummate craftsmen. This was evident in every aspect of the council chambers. They were naught but fairy creatures from book and legend to the majority of the world, but the knights were learning differently. The wood paneling was clearly done by masters, as were the chairs and half moon-shaped table dominating the room. Made from dark cherry trees, the table had served as the symbol of Gnome leadership for hundreds of years. Tonight, it would be used again. Twin fire pits added warmth on the chill spring evening. The tender flames licked up from the smoothly polished stone.

A chamberlain tapped an oak staff on the marble floor twice and stepped to the center of the chamber. On cue, the warden stopped his prisoners and arrayed them in a line facing the elders. Six wizened faces stared back at them. Each had a long, white beard. Deep lines creased their sun-darkened skin. Arthritic hands curled around scepters of office. One by one, the elders turned their attention to Geblin.

“Who speaks for you?” asked the oldest.

Pirneon eased forward half a step. The act was natural — so much so, he didn’t put thought in it. “I do.”

“You are accused of invading our lands with the intent of beginning a war.”

The Knight Marshal clenched his jaw. “We have done no such thing. Yes, we entered the forest, but it was in fear for our lives. All we wish is to be sent on our way north.”

“Lies,” accused another. Streaks of red ran through his beard. “You’ve even brought a spy.”

All heads turned to Geblin. The Gnome stood firm, refusing to give in to their brand of humiliation.

“Who is that one?” Aphere whispered from the corner of her mouth.

Geblin glared at the elder. “A relative of Flade.”

The elder continued, “We all know of Geblin’s treachery. Flade has spoken of this traitor’s deeds.”

The chamberlain tapped his staff on the floor.

“We,” emphasized the eldest, “know nothing of the kind. Geblin’s innocence or guilt remains to be determined, Tordin.”

Tordin fumed from his chair.

“How shall I address you?” the eldest asked Pirneon.

“I am Pirneon of Gaimos. Once Knight Marshal of the army.”

“Vengeance Knights!” wailed a female elder on the end. She was small, even for her kind. “No good will come of this!”

The eldest raised his hand, clearly irritated at the constant interruptions. “Be silent, Slon. There’s never been trouble between our two peoples. This is no cause to start.”

“You remember the troubles Gaimos caused the world,” Tordin hissed.

“Those days are long past.” He returned his attention to Pirneon. “What were those men doing hunting you?”

Pirneon smiled inwardly. He’d been hoping for a sign of division; now all he had to do was exploit it. “We’ve been hunted by the Fist since leaving Hresh Werd and the Oracle of Wenx.”

Pirneon went on to detail their adventures, omitting key elements that wouldn’t work in his favor. The Gnomes devoured his tale while casting suspicious glares not only at the knights but at each other as well. He deliberately avoided any discussion of Aphere’s magic, loathing the subject but was wise enough to know it might be their only tool of escape. By the time he finished, only Tordin continued to glower in hatred.

“More trouble from Gaimos,” Tordin spat once Pirneon fell silent. “Their country has been vanquished for a normal lifetime, yet even now they bring the world to the edge of ruin. Notice how they said next to nothing of Geblin and how he came to be in their service?”

“Step forward Geblin,” the eldest commanded.

Geblin did. The firm defiance he’d shown since being rescued in the Kergland Spine was all but gone.

The eldest looked down sternly. “Geblin, son of Thil, you are accused of betraying your people. What do you say to this?”

“There is no betrayal. Flade’s father led a small band east to find new trade relations with the other kingdoms. We fell into darkness crossing the mountains en route to the great desert. A Mountain Ogre ambushed us and killed all but me. I was kept in his lair while he feasted on the dead. I was to be eaten next, but these knights rescued me first. I can’t say why I chose to remain with them, but something compelled me.

“Either way, the journey led west and brought me closer to home. Only then did we learn of the dark gods and their demons. Think and do with me what you will, but do not hold them accountable,” he ended with a shrug.

Tordin asked, “And why not? You’ve brought war within our borders. Why should we trust you?”

Geblin had had enough. “I don’t care what you think of me. Your affiliation with Flade is well known by all. Keep these knights from completing their task, and none of your accusations will matter. We will all die.”

The chamberlain slammed his staff with power.

“Order!”

The eldest rose. His impassive features successfully concealed his thoughts. “You shall remain here until we decide what is to become of you.”

The Gnome elders filed from the chamber, leaving Pirneon and the others standing humbly. The warden was the last to leave. He paused at Geblin’s side and clasped his shoulder with a sympathetic look.

“Don’t you worry too hard, lad. The Eldest won’t be fooled by Tordin’s bias.”

Then he, too, was gone. The Vengeance Knights stood and waited, knowing all too well the fate of Malweir rested on of a handful of Gnomes.