Fall of the Western Kings (Tirumfall Trilogy Book 1) (33 page)

Chapter 44

B
y noon, the forward scouts encountered the outlying posts of the Mountain Castle.  There was only marginal resistance from the few soldiers manning the outposts.  The elves quickly neutralized them and tried to seal off all routes back to the castle but several of Barlon’s messengers got through.  Steadily the army moved forward.

After several more hours of hard marching the ominous black stone fortification rose ahead, standing out against the light browns and grays of the surrounding rock.  The castle stood near the top of a rocky peak with the mountainside sloping steeply downward from it.  A single gravel and rock road led up to the main gates.  It was an imposing sight, designed for easy defense.

Undaunted, the army marched on, the men in high spirits now that their target was in sight.  On command from Prince Theodore, the army spread out and ringed the downslope side of the castle well out of arrow range.  He arranged his cavalry near the road, ready to charge to the castle once the gates were opened. 

The younger dragons wheeled overhead, while Uric, in sage form, walked with the command group.  Gant waited with his knights.  At any moment the dragons would crash through the Mountain Castle’s heavy iron bound gates. Gant felt his pulse quicken.

Suddenly, against the blue sky, he saw a dark speck flying toward them at incredible speed from the northwest.  One of Uric’s sons flew to intercept it while it was still a long way off.  As Gant watched, the much smaller silver dragon escorted a huge dragon in to land near the Dragon King.  The new arrival bowed her head as she landed, her red scales faded to orange, her eyes soft and mellow, the years having taken their toll.

“Dragon King,” she addressed Uric with soft deference.

“Yes, Vee,” said Uric, “have you come to join us?”

“No, as I told you, I am too old for such nonsense but I owe you debts of honor from years past so I came to warn you.  Bat is going to lead the others against you.  He made a pact with the Demon-Prince to assure his position when the forces of darkness come to power.  The others are silly youngsters who will not listen to me.  I fear it will be dragon against dragon.  If it must be, I stand with my king.”

Uric bowed low.  Vee was the oldest living dragon.  She had survived more battles with men and beasts than most could remember.  In her time she had been a power unto herself.  Now, her time ran short but her mind was filled with an ancient wisdom.

“Thank you for coming.  We must go and stop Bat before it is too late. If dragons help guard the portal it will be nearly impossible to close.”  Uric turned to the others.  Fear registered in the faces of many of the elves.  Whispers of dragons fighting alongside the horrible forces from the dark realms spread like a cancer.

Uric knew there was no time for talk.  “You’ll have to manage the castle,” he said.  “I’ll be back when I can.  If I can.”

Without another word Uric leaped into the air, changing shape as he rose.  In an instant all of the dragons were airborne.  Lord Barkmar, Gant, Prince Theodore and the other commanders stared after them.  For long moments they remained silent, watching the rapidly diminishing dots on the horizon.  Soon all seven dragons were gone.

“Now what?” demanded Prince Theodore, glaring at those around him.

“You heard him,” said Lord Barkmar, “we’ll have to take the castle ourselves.  Have the men form siege lines with grappling hooks.”

“Are you crazy?” shot back the Prince.  “It’ll be hard enough to climb up the mountain side much less reach the walls.  Even if we had a battering ram, preferably one with overhead cover to shield the troops, how would we get it to the gates?”

“Well we don’t have any of it.  There aren’t even any trees to build a battering ram,” said Lord Barkmar hotly. “And we can’t just stand here doing nothing.”

Gant stepped between them.  “It’s plain we don’t have the siege equipment we need, and that we don’t have time to starve them out.  But we can’t be throwing away men’s lives either.  We’ll have to come up with another plan.”

“Like what?” asked both of them.

“I don’t know.  Maybe Zandinar and I can climb the ropes and gain a foothold on the wall.  Think!  Between us we’ve got to be able to come up with something better than rushing up the side of a mountain to attack a castle.”

For a moment they did stop to think but before anyone could offer another plan, an elf runner raced up.

“Lord Barkmar,” said the runner, stopping at rigid attention.

“What?” Barkmar asked, scowling at the intrusion.

“Sir, we are being attacked by an army of trees.”

“Trees?  What are you talking about, elf?” snapped Prince Theodore.

The elf turned and pointed to the rocky canyon that extended away to the east.  Gant shaded his eyes from the sun with one hand and looked in the direction the elf pointed. At the far end of the canyon stood a solid green forest that hadn’t been there earlier.  Closer, a groove of tall hickory trees had detached itself from the main forest and slowly, like a herd of ponderous beasts, advanced upon the rear of the siege army.

“Evil magic,” stomped Prince Theodore.

“It must be an illusion,” said Lord Barkmar.

“Perhaps,” said Gant, “but we’d better find out before it reaches our troops.  Zandinar and I’ll go.”

“Me, too,” added Pris.

Gant glared at the young emperor.

“We’ll all go,” said the Elf Lord, starting off with springy strides toward the advancing wall of trees.  “There are many possible explanations, some good, some evil, but we’d better find out which it is quickly.”

Gant whirled to follow along with the rest of the command staff.  They rushed past the troops waiting for the call to battle.  Rumors flashed through the camp and soon every officer along their path fell in behind them in an ever-growing military parade.  Down the draw they went, picking up speed as they neared the lumbering trees.  About a hundred yards from them, Lord Barkmar halted the procession. Those at the rear spread out until the entire canyon width was four or five deep in soldiers, all buzzing with questions.

“Now what?” asked Prince Theodore, watching the trees advance unchecked.

Lord Barkmar studied the trees for a minute, and then turned back to the Prince.  “What if they’re peaceful?”

Without another word, Prince Theodore turned and strutted three steps ahead of the soldiers massed at their back.  “Stop,” he yelled at the top of his lungs, holding up one hand to signal a halt, “and state your business.”

Behind them Pris giggled until Kalmine hushed him. 

“Perhaps you could do better,” snapped Prince Theodore turning on the boy.

“Yeah,” shot back Pris, undaunted.  “Like a fireball in their midst.”

“Enough,” snapped Lord Barkmar.

“Look, they’ve stopped,” cried several voices from the crowd.

Indeed the front line of thick-trunked hickories had halted, each tree settling to earth with a thunderous rumble. 

From within the line of trees a loud voice boomed toward the men. “I seek audience with Gant of the Ironlimbs. Send him forth, alone.”

“What is this?” mumbled a startled Lord Barkmar.

“Friends of yours?” Pris asked Gant with a wink.

“You can’t go,” said Prince Theodore.  “It’s a trap.”

“And we can’t stand around gawking at each other,” said Gant.  “I fought Egog. I’m not running from a dozen trees.”

Gant started resolutely toward the cluster of trees. The instant he reached for his sword, Valorius magically left its scabbard and flew into his beckoning hand.  “Wait here.  If I’m not back soon, burn them to their roots.”

Gant walked warily toward the somber, leafy hardwoods.  As he approached, the nearest trees heaved themselves up and moved aside, using their thick roots like crabs scurrying across the sand.  The second row of trees did likewise and Gant stepped gingerly into the aisle formed for him.

At any moment he expected an ambush, creatures of darkness to sweep him under.  He’d never seen a tree walk.  How could anything less than a god or devil be responsible?

He followed the open trail into their midst.  Over his shoulder he noticed the trees closed in behind him cutting off the view of his comrades. The only noise was the sound of his own soft footfalls on the loose rocks of the canyon floor.

Finally the trail ended in a small, sunlit glade.  He stepped to the center, peering into the shadows surrounding him.  There were no sounds, no movements.  For a moment he began to think he was alone.

“Gant?” came a soft, musical voice that was sweetly familiar. “Is that you?”

“Yes,” he said.  “Is it. . . ?”

Dalphnia stepped out from between protective trunks, her long brown hair sweeping down over her shoulders like a royal train.  Her walnut brown eyes sparkled as she stepped into the sunlight.  Her smile challenged the daylight.

“I have looked so long for you.”

Gant lowered Valorius.  “Dalphnia,” he choked.

It was all he could get out before she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him with a burning fire.  Together they stood in a shaft of sunlight, embracing, the rest of the world forgotten.

Gant pulled back. “What are you doing here?” he asked softly, holding her at arm’s length.

“I came for you.  I love you.”

“And my thoughts have been on you ever since I left.  I told you I would return as soon as the war is over; as soon as Varg is defeated.”

“Varg?” she spat.

“Yes, he has returned, and brought creatures of darkness with him.”  Gant explained briefly all that had happened since he’d left Dalphnia’s peaceful gardens.  By the time he finished, her mouth stood open. 

“You should go home.  Wait for me there.  It’ll be safer,” he said.

Her face remained cold and stern.

Finally her features softened.  “I’ll go with you,” she said.  “There’s a lot I can do.”

Gant was about to say no when a roaring blast of fire ripped through the trees, scorching trunks, crumpling leaves and catching several of them on fire.

“Stop!  Stop!” yelled Gant, racing back toward his friends.

He ran through the trees heedless of the heat and flames.  Here and there some of the trees smoldered.  Gant burst out of the grove.  Several of his companions had moved closer, including Lord Barkmar, Pris, Zandinar and Prince Theodore.

“What’s going on?” yelled Gant, running up to them.

“Oh,” said Pris sheepishly, “you’re all right.”

“Did you do that?”

“Yes,” said Pris, eyes lowering.  “You said if you weren’t back soon to. . .”

Gant cut him off. “Forget that, we’ve got to put out the fire.  Quick!”

“No problem,” beamed Pris amid stern stares from the others.

Before anyone could object, Pris poured a thimbleful of water into one palm, recited a magical verse, contorted his fingers just so, and threw the water into the air.  Instantly a sheet of water formed in midair above the smoldering trees.  It fell heavily, dousing the hungry flames amid a sizzle of protest.  Little wisps of steam hissed up from blackened trunks, but the fire was out.

Then, from the shadows of the trunks stomped a tall woman, her hair hung in wet, matted tangles.  She shook the water off her arms, sputtering as she walked toward them.  Behind him Gant heard the soft rustling as arrows were fitted to bow strings.

“Put them down,” shouted Gant, turning to the archers behind him.  “She’s a friend.”

Hesitantly the bows sagged.  Arrows were returned to their quivers.  Gant turned and ran down to take Dalphnia’s arm.

“Some welcome,” she snapped.

“Sorry,” was all he could manage.

But the light was back in her eyes.  She smiled and hugged Gant.  By then they’d reached the command group and Gant quickly introduced Dalphnia to the enraptured men and elves. Introductions finished, Gant turned back to Dalphnia.  “What are you doing here with an army of trees?”

“Trying to get close to you without getting stuck by an arrow.  Last night I tried to sneak into camp.  I got past the first two sentries, but the third shot an arrow at me.  The trees were to make sure it didn’t happen again.”

“Well you’ve come just in time,” said Lord Barkmar.  “Do you think your trees could break down the castle gates?”

Dalphnia thought for a moment.  “Probably as long as I remained close enough.  Trees do not handle complicated tasks without constant encouragement.”

Lord Barkmar smiled.  “Wonderful.  Likely the castle defenders will shoot a lot of arrows at them if they advance on the gates.  Do you think they will be able to withstand such an attack?”

“Arrows are not much concern,” said Dalphnia. “Fire is another matter.”

Lord Barkmar turned to Pris. “Can you repeat any of the spells you just cast?  If so, maybe between them and our archers we can keep those on the walls from trying to burn the trees.”

Pris smiled.  “I’ve got enough of Abadis’ powder to cast the ball of fire once more though I’m not so sure about the water spell.”