Mantle: The Return of the Sha (34 page)

King Menagraff raised his hands above his head. His eyes changed from dark red to bright red, and he yelled in such a voice that the whole mountain shook, “Rise my children,” he shouted, “for your time has come. Be born to your destiny!”

Below the throne room, in the deep caverns of the mountain, the children of Skite began to awaken. They pulled first at the soft membrane that surrounded them and then began breaking their way out of the hard shell that had taken shape over time.

As each one broke free, it let out a deafening screech and began exploring the use of its arms and legs. There were hundreds of thousands of Skites being born in the mountain, and the sound of it would have killed anyone other than them.

They were covered in a slimy substance that dripped from them, and when they stood they were not nearly as tall as Menagraff. They stood only about five feet tall, but mirrored the king’s appearance in almost every other way. They, too, had a horn that formed on the back of the head, but it did not split into two as the king’s had. And their eyes had a liquid quality, but were milky gray, unlike the red eyes of the king.

Once the newly born Skites had gained their mobility, they went to one of the many heaps of weapons that lay scattered throughout the caverns. They had been made and left by the last of the previous Skites—one
batch
of Skite children, leaving provisions for the next.

As they did this, iron doors—hundreds of them—flung open around the base of the mountain, flinging rocks and dirt high into the air.

Each cavern in the depths of the mountain led to one of the iron doors, and as the Skites finished preparing themselves, they rushed toward these doors. They needed no training for this. The king of Skite—Menagraff, was sharing his wishes as easily as he was thinking them.

They poured from the open doors of the mountains, running away from the mountain to take their place in front of the others.

At the same time,
darkness
began to flow out of the mountain as well. It rolled thick out of the doors along with the Skite soldiers, engulfing them until it could break free and spread into the air like thin clouds. The darkness would move relatively slowly, but would still cover the full Kingdom of Skite within hours.

When the Skites had finished their exodus from the mountain, they lined up in formation as any highly trained army would. Two hundred and fifty thousand soldiers of the dark.

Once they had assembled, Menagraff walked out to a ledge that overlooked them. Pleased with what he saw, he silently ordered them away to battle, and the Skite soldiers turned to begin their charge.

****

When the watchman signaled that someone was approaching from the Outlands, the war room that had been full of men now cleared at once. They went to the balcony of the main building that overlooked the Outlands, and saw three figures in the shimmer of the heat. The sun had only risen a short while ago, but already the heat was overbearing. The figures appeared to be of a horse and rider, with someone leading them.

As the figures got to the edge of the Outland Post, the men shuffled down the narrow stairs and into the courtyard, with Lizabet and Dorian rushing past them.

Once the figures finally emerged from around the corner of the gate, they saw King Zander leading a horse with Queen Bella sitting atop. Soldiers began following them to the gate, so that there was a large crowd now gathered behind them. The soldiers stopped at the gate, but Zander continued in, and once Bella could see Lizabet standing in the courtyard awaiting their arrival, she leaped from the horse and they both ran to each other. They embraced and tears began to flow from both of them.

Zander walked toward King Cergio, who was also standing in the courtyard.

“Zander, you make me look bad to my wife!” Cergio said with a smile of genuine relief.

“King Cergio, I believe that you would do the same for
your
wife,” Zander replied, surrendering only a brief smile. “Now tell me where we stand,” he continued.

They began walking toward the main building, and it was then that the ground began to shake. It only shook for a few moments, then stopped as quickly as it had begun. A muffled roar could be heard coming from Skite, and although they did not know it, what they heard was the collective screaming of newly born Skite soldiers.

****

In the war room, an exhausted Zander stood looking down at the map. It had now shuffled the black crystals of the Skite army to a place that would be visible to them from the post. This told them that it was clearly a deception, since no armies could be seen. An approaching army would be visible from anyplace within the Outlands, and although the Grey Eagles would not fly over the deepest of the Skite lands, they would fly over the Outlands that lay along the border. Yes, the map was being deceived by the Skites, and Zander planned to remedy the situation. He picked the black crystal up off the map and handed it to General Brask.

“Put this away—it is nothing but a distraction.”

Brask took the crystal and placed it in the velvet bag that the crystals had been transported in.

“Have we heard news of Ekkill?” Zander asked.

“Yes, Majesty,” Brask said, “he has a fleet of ships that have reached the Red Islands, but his primary fleet is still in the Domin Sea, rounding the Knob-Nose Peninsula. He will be entering the Lost Waters shortly. The map is true in that respect.”

Zander continued looking down at the map. The crystals that indicated Ekkill’s fleet were colored in gold, and seemed to be true enough.

“He is much too far away to be of any use, I think,” Zander said.

Brask nodded agreement. “Yes, I’m afraid so,” he said. “We knew this might be the case, Majesty, and I don’t believe that a front on the Lost Waters will be of benefit in the long run.”

Zander had known it was possible that Ekkill would not be at Skite shores in time. It was much farther for him and his armies. They would make the best of it.

****

Bella and Lizabet had broken off from the men to talk about each of their adventures, if that’s what they could be called—
adventures
. They each told their story, and they each withheld parts of it.

The experiences for both of them sometimes seemed as though telling of them would spoil a joyous occasion. Lizabet told Bella of the butterflies in the Hidden and the moss that would help them, but left out the slaying of the Locks and how they had gotten lost in the forest. And she was quick to tell Bella that she would talk more of her being a sha at a later time. There were still too many things about
that
that she didn’t understand herself.

Bella, likewise, told of her rescue and Zander’s use of the fairy staff, but left out the parts of the story when she had been sure that she would be killed.

It was when they were embracing once again, before rejoining the others in the war room, that the sky began to darken. They heard the yelling of men coming from outside the walls of the post, and others within the post were now running across the courtyard not sure where to go.

Bella and Lizabet ran into the main building and sprinted up the stairs to the war room, where Zander went to Bella at once.

“You should not be here,” Zander said.

“And would I be in less danger in my quarters?” Bella asked. “It is but morning, and we are surrounded by scorching heat and the dim light of dusk,” she said. “No…I should be beside my husband—at the side of my king.”

She said this with such a tone of authority that Zander was helpless to contradict her.

“Very well,” he said, frustrated.

Bella gave the slightest nod of approval as she and Lizabet stepped to the far side of the room.

Turning back to Cergio, Zander said, “I believe they will be here soon. If they are leaving Narciss now—and I suspect they are—we might have two days to prepare.”

“Three if luck is with us,” Brask added.

“I agree, but we do not know their traveling speed,” Cergio said. “We should prepare as though they will arrive tomorrow.”

It was then that King Cergio turned to King Zander and looked him squarely in the eyes.

“What would you have us do, Zander?” he asked, seeming to offer Zander the lead.

“I would have Forie foot soldiers lined up along the border eight men deep for as far in both directions as they can reach. I would place Forie archers behind them to make the first strike once the Skites charge—as I expect will be the case. Bore armies on Noble Horses will take the lead, with catapults set toward the front of the line to offer additional cover. The munitions of the catapults will be charmed to provide added distance.”

“I believe that to be as fine a plan as any—aye, so I do,” Cergio said somberly.

And he did believe that. Although his own men would be first to see battle, it was the Fories who mastered archery. His men were more adept at using swords and hammers.

Cergio turned to his own commander, General Felipe Gaspar, whose expression revealed that he was also in agreement.

“Carry out the orders, Gaspar,” Cergio instructed, “and tell your captains to begin moving troops at once. Work with General Brask, and if your captains should come across men with grumblings about the arrangement, tell them they will answer to me.”

While the two kingdoms were friends and allies, Bore soldiers could be brutish and arrogant. That was what made them so effective, but it also meant that they might not get along well with Forie soldiers, who Cergio expected might be softer around the edges.

He would never say such a thing to Zander, but in all likelihood he would be correct in his thinking. Unlike the people of Bore and Tongar, the Fories relied heavily on magic to aid in their everyday lives. Bore and Tongar had a good deal of magic as well, but life in Bore was very different than that of Forris. The Fories were pampered to some extent, and Cergio knew it. He also suspected that Zander knew it as well.

“Well, shall we get started?” Brask asked General Gaspar.

“Aye, let us set this thing loose,” Gaspar replied.

Zander and Cergio looked at each other. They both knew that it would be the Skites who would set things loose. At the border, they could only wait.

****

When the waves came, King Ekkill called for his admiral to summon the waters. Although they didn’t know it, the seas had risen in response to Menagraff’s reincarnation.

However, the Tongars were not without charms of their own. The very ships that now traveled the Lost Waters, as well as those holding at the Red Islands, were constructed to withstand gale-force winds and the waves that accompanied them.

Tongar ships were constructed tall and wide, most rising three levels above the surface of the water, and each level exposing small windows where cannons would be placed. They were constructed using wood from the Tongar Forest, which was light, but strong as iron. Each wooden board was painted with a clear liquid created from the blubber of non-elder whales. It went on as a clear liquid, but as the ship was placed in the water, the liquid turned the ships a light blue that would camouflage against the water and sky, making the ship nearly undetectable from even short distances.

The bow of each ship was curved to a dynamic point, as one would expect, but each bowsprit created a perfect sphere that illuminated on command, lighting the waters that surrounded them.

King Ekkill’s ship was the same as the others, but larger. While the others flew only the banner of Tongar, the king’s ship flew the banner of the king over the Tongar banner.

When Admiral Arvin Clausen was given the order to
summon the waters
, he went to the forecastle deck at the front of the ship and stood for a moment. The wave that was currently building in front of them was rising to a height of over five hundred feet and would surely destroy the first of the fleet, including Ekkill’s own ship. But the king stood firm at the helm, expressionless, knowing that the sea would not harm them. Nothing in the Kingdom of Tongar can be more reliable than the sea.

Admiral Clausen stood on the deck a moment longer before raising both hands. He closed his eyes and yelled words into the wind that few would understand. They were words of the Old Travelers, and they carried over the wind and into the sea itself.

Once the verbal command had reached the waters, a
moaning
sound came from the sea that sounded like deep thunder. The ship began to move backward as the ocean beneath them shifted, sending underwater currents at the oncoming waves. The currents cut the waves from below, forcing the upraised water to curl under itself, folding into a white-water gush.

This went on for nearly a half hour, until the sea became calm once again. Ekkill wasn’t sure what had caused the wave, but he knew that it had not originated from the sea itself. It had come from land. When word came from the rest of his fleet that sat at the Red Islands, he was relieved to hear that, in the shallow waters, they had avoided the waves altogether.