Logan Marsh: A Thrilling Fantasy Novel (Action Adventure,Mystery, Y/A Book 1) (22 page)

"Yes," Smord said, "I will fight for you, master, I…" Hubris elbowed him in the stomach. Hard.

"What about the hell denizens?" Klaxes asked.

A smile rose on Hubris's face.

"Fifteen thousand skeletons, carrion eaters and spectres are waiting to surface, and with them there are death leeches, zombies, dwarves and men," Hubris said. "And a special unit of parachuting grey elves and a tenth of them are bat-riding archers. They all await at the field at the south of the island. I will lead them."

"And in my hand, dragon, is the most important artefact of all," Sernin said, "The horn."

Klaxes huge teeth appeared when his lips retracted with horror.

"The first call, my king, shall open the door to Nature kingdom," Sernin continued, "with the second call… a great surprise awaits you, my king, a great surprise…"

"I love surprises," a torrent of fire covered the ceiling when the terrible dragon laughed.

Twilight shades coloured the sky above the boulevard. The night birds started to tweet to greet the coming evening.

Rood, Achtisanor’s roan, walked along the boulevard at a steady pace, as if the sun counts its last moments before its disappearance. At the end of the boulevard, there was a big and green garden, thousands of colourful flowers filled it and several trees stood vigil over them. At the centre of the garden was a pure and ornate headstone.

Achtisanor climbed down from his horse and patted his reddish neck with affection. He took his sword from the scabbard and planted it in the ground. After he had taken a lungful of fresh air, he approached the tomb and kneeled next to it, the golden medallion in his fist.

For a long moment, he looked at the medallion, his lips quivering. His hands shook as he caressed the tombstone, and his eyes were filled with tears.

"So much time…" the tears choke him. "Pain… anger… sorrow… fear…" he lowered his head and cried. "I am sorry, Carinian, my love… but… I could not…"

A long moment of silence covered the garden. Even the birds stopped singing, as if sanctifying the moment. A slight breeze caressed the grasses and the treetops.

"All of this will end tomorrow, my princess," he said. "My journey is at an end. My soul is still restless, but I have not avenged your death. Rest in your dimension. Wait for me, because I will come to you. I will see you again between my arms."

A long minute passed. Achtisanor rose and walked to his horse with lowered eyes. Before he climbed, he turned back to the grave.

"If my master Patrick is there, tell him that my revenge is also his, and I yearn for his final blessing," he called to the white tombstone.

The red clouds became black. The wind was chilly, and the tweeting of the birds screeched in his ears.

"Revenge begets revenge…" a voice was heard behind him.

"My king," Achtisanor turned and kneeled.

"Her eternal youth and beauty are not forgotten, is it, Achtisanor?" the king looked at his only daughter tombstone.

Achtisanor nodded in pain.

"When her mother died in childbirth, Carinian was the light of my life. The darkness that filled my heart when she died was the same darkness that engulfs you," he said.

"I am sorry, my liege," Achtisanor said.

"How can I not forgive you?" Domarwink asked. "I hear your words of vengeance, Achtisanor. They trouble the winds around you. I am worried."

"Why, my king?" Achtisanor asked.

"It is not revenge that should guide you," Domarwink said, "but the goal itself: defend Nature kingdom. Revenge blinds us, and it begets offspring that will hurt us again and again. After you have your revenge, Achtisanor, nothing but emptiness is left inside you."

Achtisanor stood in his place.

"I think of you as the son I never had," the king said, "I could have seen clearly the love you had for my daughter, and I wished that you will join my family one day."

Achtisanor rose and hugged the king. Tears filled his eyes, "I miss her so much, Domarwink."

"Yes, Achtisanor," Domarwink said, "we all are."

"Nivron," Dunlop stopped his pony and pointed forward.

Sludge tiredly and reluctantly followed him, carrying Serdamus on his back.

They could see Nivron Junction in front of them, still afar, but visible. The place was known as a bustling intersection full of people and trade. The two continued to ride towards the junction, but a sad sight greeted them.

Nivron was completely deserted. The central trade tents were hurriedly folded. Rotten vegetables were scattered on the roads. Here and there some, chickens tried to find sustenance in the dirt and cats feasted inside trash cans.

The inn also looked deserted. The wooden doors were locked and barred, and its windows were sealed and covered with boards.

"Are ye sure that's Nivron Junction?" wondered Serdamus. "Me never seen a place more empty than this."

Dunlop took his notebook and started describing the sight.

"I don't like it a weeny bit," Serdamus said.

"Me neither," Dunlop said. "The smell of war is heavy in the air, and we are still on the road. We need to reach the battlefield as soon as possible."

"Are ye sure that we ain't in danger ourselves?" Serdamus asked.

"Are you kidding me?" Dunlop said. "Of course it is dangerous, but this is the whole point. Notizia reports behind enemy lines interviewing the forces of darkness before the destruction of the universe…"

"The readers will die for it," Serdamus said.

"We will receive awards, Serdamus. Lucrative and prestigious awards from the press union. We will be asked to come and lecture in every college and school in the kingdom. We will start our own newspaper and establish a journalism school. You'll see, Serdamus…"

"What, really?" Serdamus smiled.

"Come on, let's enter Idrinian. Just a little more. We will spend the night there. It is not that wise to stay out here," Dunlop said.

"It seems what everybody thought," Serdamus looked at the emptiness around him.

A tang and awful smell covered Logan. Dark and mouldy corridors spread around her like cobwebs. Fragments of skulls, broken bones and carrion remains filled her way when she walked the same black corridor next to Hubris. The place looked like a colony beneath the ground. Terrible screams sounded around her. Whispers, sounds of rough and vicious laughter and wild roars echoed.

Logan continued down the corridor. The horrors around her did not matter to her. She did not feel the need to draw her sword.

"Gostorick," the word was uttered again and again. "Gostorick…" whispered the walls.

The corridor turned to the right, at its end she saw more skeletons standing against the walls, spears and little black wooden axes held in their hands.

"Gostorick…" they said again. Bowing to her.

At the end of the corridor was a huge hall. Logan entered it and stood to the side of the dark warlord. They stood on a dais. The skeletons followed them and stood in rows behind them.

Thousands of undead covered the hall. Spectres flew above. Liches, horrible death leeches, looking like skeletons covered with a thin sheet of flesh, their eyes white and their skull adorned with dead hair, stood on balconies carved from the living rock.

Hubris lifted his arms. Silence fell on the hall.

"Domkachil," his voice echoed in the hall.

"Domkachil," the screams of the undead pierced the gloom and they lifted their weapons. Fire burst from the liches hands and flew at the ceiling.

"Domkachil," Logan was frightened to hear this word, which meant "war" in the dark tongue.

The light of the moon was swallowed in the first gloomy sunlight. A tiny sliver of sun peeked above Hoshesh Ocean. Big and grey clouds stood as a dark and misty wall to cover it. The walls of Nessit stood silent as trees planted in the forlorn ground, facing the grim unknown.

A flutter of wings shook Kolchis castle. The scaly tail of the dark dragon hit the air like a whip and he flew on the air currents before he used the might of his wings to carry him forth. The waves below him accompanied him on his journey to the shore. Hundreds of black ships swooned on them as black pox on the arm of death.

Flocks of birds flew away in terror.

From the distance, the tower of Nessit looked like a dollhouse in the horrible eyes of the dragon. He coughed and grumbled fire in maw. He passed the shoreline as trumpets called a warning sign from the science city at his approach.

"Prepare, archers," called the knight commanding the three Nessit divisions. "Load the catapults."

"Prepare, wizards," called a young wizard standing in front of the wizard group, away from the three divisions. The wizards wore red capes and black cloaks.

"Prepare the mirrors," screamed a tiny squib, riding on a pony.

Dozens of squibs standing in line at the centre of the city took big and round mirrors and turned them toward the sky.

"Come on…" muttered the squib to himself. He looked to the west and waited for the sun to rise above the ocean.

"Seven degrees to the east. At the Bordeaux tree hour – let it shine," screamed the squib commander, when the huge black dragon appeared above the shore and approaching Nessit.

The dozens of mirrors were tilted by the squibs to catch the sunlight, and from there to the dragon's eyes.

Bright white light was shot from the ground and enveloped the dragon. He turned his head and tried to dodge the blinding light. His wings buffeted the air and his tail pointed downward as he climbed up until he disappeared in the clouds.

Cheers rose from the squibs for their success at blinding the beast. But after a few moments, the sounds of cheers turned to horrible silence. The dragons did not appear. The soldiers and squibs turned their eyes to the sky. They wondered what the disappearance of the monster meant for the battle.

A low moan that sounded like a muffled roar surrounded them. It seemed that the clouds themselves dissipated with fear. The sound grew stronger with every passing second.

Suddenly the squib mirrors shattered one after another.

Great blasts and terrible screams were heard. A black cloud hung over the city, and the dragon flew out of it and sank toward the soldiers.

"Fire," called the knight commander, "fire."

A great volley of arrows was shot to the sky, as a deluge that rains from the ground to the sky. Rocks flew from the catapults, and spears were thrown.

"Aim rods," called the wizard commander, "fire."

The wizards' rods pointed upward. Fireballs, ice blocks and acid bolts were shot from them to the battle zone. To the surprise of them all, the wizards missed the dreaded dragon and hit the soldiers instead. Burning fire was spewed from the dragon's maw toward the archers' line. The archers shot many arrows at him, but could not defeat him. Instead, he only grew angrier and continued to burn the catapults and ballistae.

Screams rose from the wounded men, burning in flames. Their friends continued to try defeating the dragon, but to no avail.

The wizards' volley continued to hit and soldiers, who did not understand what was happening. "Who taught these wizards to aim?" called the knight commander, as he escaped from a falling block of ice.

More fire columns were shot from the dragon's maw and shattered the hopes of the last surviving soldiers, who escaped to all directions to avoid death.

The dragon sank again and clenched his claws around the knight commander and his horse. He carried them upward and threw them from a long distance. Afterwards, he sank and took them into his burning furnace of a maw.

The fire burned the city houses, and its tower collapsed into the ground. The sounds of horrible blasts shook its streets. The city clock square was completely burned and Horistus, the biston statue, was melted. The squibs and archers' screams were deafened. The scorched earth whispered its dying words, along with the city walls.

A deafening sound was heard from the bowels of Kolchis castle. A horrible call that was heard everywhere. Its disharmonious echo rode on the waves and sank into the deep, flew along the treetops and sank into the graves.

Hordes of animals got frenzied and started running without a purpose, birds stumbled at their flight, and the sun was covered with black mist. Uruklip cliffs never looked so frightened and shaky. Zooloo chasm also shook and great stones fell into the unfathomable abyss. Hoshesh Ocean, the whispering water, was silent as the grave while Asadore Sea foamed and threw its waves on the shore.

A shiver also shook Nature's soldiers in the bistons' mines and a great terror held the denizens of the kingdom.

Horrendous sounds of destruction were heard throughout Nessit, and the sky above it grew dark. The earth shook, the tree roots lost their hold and the heavy trunks fell to the ground. Rifts were opened underneath the buildings, and pulled the buildings inside, chewed and swallowed them whole. Lightning hit from the sky and burned the place to cinder. After a few minutes, the earth was upside down. Thick smoke clouds covered the area with darkness and the filth of death.

So it happened that between the Asador Sea and the bistons mines no remains were left of the city of Nessit: not a building, not even a lonely shack remained, no tree or leaf covered the ground. The place was a desolation, smoking, boiling, and terrible.

"What de ye think was that noise?" Serdamus awoke from his sleep.

The high treetops moved and rustled and dropped dry leaves on their head.

Dunlop sat next to him on the ground, covering his ears with his hands and his eyes were closed. The pony neighed with terror and tried to bite the rope that attached him to the tree. Sludge, the boar, ran around Dunlop and Serdamus in endless circles.

Serdamus rose and stumbled. The ground began to shake, and he fell in fear and held it with his dear life, screaming in terror.

Long minutes passed until the great noise stopped. The trees stopped moving and the ground stopped shaking. The pony disappeared.

"Dunlop," Serdamus said and rose from the ground.

Dunlop continued to sit with eyes closed and ears covered.

"Dunlop," the squib shook the frightened half-elf.

"Eh? Is it over? Please tell me it is over," called Dunlop and rose with horror.

"It be over," said Serdamus. "Now ye tell me: what was that?"

Sludge continued to run in circles, until it collapsed to its side, panting with exhaustion.

"The horn," Dunlop said, "it must have been the horn. They used the horn, by the gods, this is a historic moment. We have another headline."

Sounds of ruckus were heard from the beach to the south of them. Rough shouts of glee and ugly hate calls were heard beyond the trees.

"What the hell is that?" Dunlop asked.

The two reporters and dizzy Sludge walked to the beach and peeked from behind the trees.

"Big and brute soldjas and ugly as hell gnolls. Come on, Dunlop, let's get away from here," Serdamus screamed and ran away, Sludge running after him.

"No, Serdamus, wait," Dunlop ran after him and pulled his vest to stop him. "We have a great opportunity here – we can write the story of the soldjas and gnoll squad. We will interview them."

"Are ye crazy?" Serdamus asked. "They be catching us and make a stew of us both."

"Maybe," Dunlop said, "but we've got to try."

Dunlop continued to walk to the beach.

"Oh," Serdamus sighed with frustration, and Sludge followed him. "No, Sludge, you remain here," he ordered.

"Whew, you ground people, sure know how to make a noise," yelled Con, the silver eagle, while manoeuvring between the grey clouds.

"Noise and destruction," yelled Dor, flying toward him.

De-Stik and Logan's faces, riding on Con's back, and the faces of Achtisanor and Krunch, riding on Dor, were strained from the effort of holding on to the eagles. Catch the hawk flew alongside them all the way from Broncolina and watched around as their bodyguard.

"The first call," Achtisanor called. "The first battle must already be in progress."

"A morning of horror and fear," muttered De-Stik. "Even the ground of Nature is not safe here…"

The sun rose above Asador. They could not see any movement below them, as if all the animals disappeared and the trees froze in silence.

"Your majesty," a redheaded biston ran to the king. He looked like Frecklie Stoltz but his beard was thicker and his nose was redder.

Domarwink rode on a horse at the head of the royal cavaliers alongside Alystus and looked at the excited biston. An hour passed after the terrible noise. Chaos still reigned in the camp, since during the earthquake, the horses shook free and trampled the camp.

"Lashampir reporting for duty, sire," the biston said. "I have managed to flee Nessit just a moment before the terrible call."

"What news do you have?" Domarwink asked.

"The wizard army is gone," Lashampir called, "and there is no sign of the three divisions, not even one squib. The city of Nessit was completely destroyed."