Sword of Light (The Knights of the Golden Dragons - Book One) (28 page)

           
“That
particular path to glory is generally reserved for knights, and I have no
desire to die anytime soon. For what possible reason would I continue on this
journey toward almost certain death? Think carefully before you answer, knight,
and I will give you time to turn it over while I pack.” Boremac, true to his
word in this instance if no other, began gathering his meager items.

           
“You
faced certain death to protect me from assassins, and now you would choose to
turn your back on me when I need you the most? Have you learned nothing in the
time that was spent in the Temple at Nactium? Do you have NO honor, rogue?” The
young knight regretted his words, but the rogue had left him little choice. “I
can ask no more of you than you are willing to give freely, Boremac.
 
If I felt my trust in you was misplaced, you
would not be here now, and Lord Silverwing has made every effort to see that
you continue with us, no matter what fate holds at the end of the journey. Go
if you must. God speed you and keep you.”

           
Boremac
dropped his gear and turned angrily to face Gregor. The holy warrior's words
had cut him deeply, but it was the memory of Silverwing that forced the answer
he gave to Gregor. “You know nothing of me, Lord Lightsword. You are the master
of your own fate while those of us around you are made to bring you to face
evil you cannot begin to comprehend. Blind faith is a wondrous thing. I will
take you into the pits of the Abyss if that is what is required, just to see
what happens when that golden light is stripped from your eyes. I will not die
for a God that chooses to abandon his followers at his whim. I will take you to
your doom to prove the strength of the word I gave your mentor. Be glad for
that, and ask me for no more, for you will receive no more.”

           
The
soft clapping of a pair of hands nearby turned the two men away from each other
to seek its source. Tana stood at the edge of the camp, taking in the exchange
with Sephia standing at her side. Boremac's reaction was immediate as he
narrowed his eyes at the huntress. “Shut up, Tana.”

           
Gregor
had to smile in spite of the path that was laid before this group. Some things
would never change.

17

Into the Maw of Darkness

           
Lord
Silverwing grew more anxious with each step up the sharply rising mineshaft. While
the group he led had rested in the depths of the mountain, he had focused his
will to contact Master Gregor. The holy knight had been as surprised by the
form his God gave him as his student had. Many of the memories of the foolish
youth he once was brought a smile to Lord Silverwing's face after the contact
with Gregor was broken. Lord Lightsword, the older knight reminded himself. The
youth that had come into Master Silverwing's care so long ago was no longer his
student. The boy now was his equal, battle-tested and blessed with the touch of
the God of Light. Lord Silverwing prayed he would live to see the knight Master
Gregor had become in the time since the two parted.

           
“There
be light, Silverwing. We
comin
' out the mine.”
Fasurel's call from the front of the party drew Silverwing back to the present;
back to the task at hand. The knight knew the remaining rangers and druids were
going to face a terrible enemy once they left the dark safety of the mine.
 
Every member of the group was ready to face
death, and Silverwing steeled himself to lead them into the unknown.

           
“Stand
ready, Fasurel. I will take the first steps. Take the rear and be certain no
one comes at our backs.” Fasurel growled something unintelligible, clearly
unhappy with taking the rear position, but moved past Silverwing to the back of
those assembled. Silverwing passed orders to the remaining hunters and healers
as he took the point, attempting to marginalize the group's vulnerability once
they emerged. The knight understood the arts of the battlefield, and lessons
learned long ago served him well now, but all the planning in the world could
not have prepared him for what was to come.

           
No
creature moved near the exit from the mineshaft, and Lord Silverwing sharpened
his ears, seeking any hint of an ambush lying in wait. If there were any
creatures on the surrounding ledges at his back, they were far more disciplined
than the forces Silverwing had encountered in their journey so far.
 
The object of their mission was readily
visible from the high perch, as Lord Silverwing focused his eyes on the small
keep across the gorge in front of him. He knew with certainty borne of instinct
that the cause of the evil plaguing this world dwelt within the unremarkable
black stone walls of the stronghold. As if to confirm his suspicions, large
humanoid figures moved across the buttresses of the keep. Even at this
distance, Silverwing was able to see the glimmer of armor glinting red on the
patrolling demon blooded orcs. Light from the lava flows winding around the
building tinted the dark clouds overhead. The sky was blanketed in ash from
some unknown source that kept the bowl of rocky cliffs in a near constant
night. The swirling sheets of cloud snuffed out any sunlight bold enough to
penetrate the gloom. Despite Lord Silverwing's purpose, he felt a tug of
despair as he watched the humanoid guardians moving at the top of the keep and
through the landscape at its base. He could find little hope that any of his
forces would survive a direct assault on the stronghold, even with much greater
numbers.
 
The defenders he could see
numbered in the hundreds. They would have to find another way into the keep.

           
“We
cannot take the defenders at the front. There has to be another way into the
stronghold that I cannot see from here. I will not throw the rest of you away
for nothing.” Lord Silverwing withdrew his bow from the sling at his back,
nocking a silver arrow.
 
“Looks like
there is a makeshift road that leads to the keep from here. Ready your weapons
and follow me down the mining path. Be alert. We will no doubt be challenged
before we make the grounds near the keep.” Silverwing was correct in his
assumption, but his caution would prove fruitless.

           
The
first of the archers in the group to fall had his chest penetrated by a bolt
the size of a small spear.
 
The only
sound as the bolt was launched was the twang of the crossbow's lathe snapping
forward to launch the deadly projectile. Those that were killed instantly were
the lucky ones. The fist-sized tip of the bolt protruding from the ranger's
chest extended metal prongs, lodging them deep within him. The demon blood that
fired the missile dropped its crossbow to tug at a line made of thick rope,
dragging its screaming victim into the air and up to the ledge where it stood.
Lord Silverwing's arrow took the creature in the face, and the humanoid form burst
into flame with the bite of the blessed arrow, but the damage had been done.
The demon blood's victim plummeted to the rocky earth, his horrible screams
silenced by the impact.

           
“Find
cover! Get down!” Silverwing shouted out the warning in vain as he
nocked
another arrow and turned to find the next attacker.
The surrounding ledges above the road filled with demon bloods, and more of
their number boiled over the ledge at the hunters' feet; inhuman howls drowned
out any further orders the knight could have given. The air filled with the
giant bolts from the high precipice, towlines flying everywhere at once. Lord
Silverwing fired arrows in rapid succession, destroying many of the crossbow
wielders as they reloaded their weapons or attempted to drag their victims up
the rocky slopes. His arrows were exhausted long before the numbers of the
attackers were thinned; another of its kind replaced every creature he killed.
The swelling number of demon bloods climbing to the road from below them were
heavily armed and armored. All these enemies carried great swords and iron
shields that dwarfed the weapons of their mountain orc brethren that Silverwing
had encountered guarding the mine. The only possible path for escape would be
blocked in moments if he didn't move quickly.

           
Already
the ground had grown slick with the blood of the fallen rangers and druids.
Lord Silverwing ran through the whirl of blades blocking him, beheading as many
of the demon bloods as he could, as he moved to Fasurel's side. The mountain man
was swinging his double-bladed
ax
like a man
possessed, dispatching the circle of enemies crowding in on him several at a
time. Silverwing brutally hacked his way into the center where Fasurel was
making his stand, narrowly ducking under the stout man's spinning swings.
 
“Go now! The others are dead or dying, and
there is no reason for us all to be lost!” Silverwing brought his own blades
into the melee and ripped through the waves of demon bloods, attempting to clear
a path of escape for Fasurel.

           
“I
won' leave
ya
to the fiends! We die together
if’n
tha
' be the way of it! I
won' go!”
 
Fasurel's axe never slowed as
he hollered his reply. Silverwing almost began to think they would survive
until a heavy bolt shot past his head and impaled one of his attackers.

           
A
voice filled with fury, but human no less, rose above the noise of the demon
bloods. “Don't kill the ranger, you fools! The Master wants that one alive!
Slay the bearded one and take the knight!”

           
The
creatures were distracted by the order and turned to look toward the distant
ledge where the call had originated. Silverwing took advantage of the
creatures’ loss of concentration and shoved Fasurel through the cloud of
disintegrated orcs he had cut down toward the direction from which the doomed party
had come.
 
“Flee or I will kill you
myself, Fasurel! Warn Gregor!” The knight paused only long enough to be certain
the mountain man had disappeared into the ash cloud. He turned to track the
line of sight of the staring demon blooded orcs that partially encircled him. A
man stood high on the ledge above, clothed in blowing crimson robes and holding
a long metal staff. Silverwing thanked the God of Light for revealing his
enemy, and cut through the demon bloods between him and the figure, noting the
man's head was exposed. Even as the demon bloods turned their attention back to
the knight, Silverwing drew his bow and loosed one of the iron-tipped arrows at
the priest's head. Despite the range, the arrow flew true.
 
Silverwing was momentarily frozen as the
priest's metal staff glowed brightly, casting an unearthly light the color of
fresh blood, and the arrow deflected harmlessly away from the figure mere
inches from his face. Though the knight could not be sure, he thought the man
was smiling at him.

           
The
demon bloods at the ledge behind Lord Silverwing took advantage of his pause.
Two heavy bolts pierced both the knight's shoulders, driving him to his knees
like great hammer blows to his back, as metal prongs clawed into his chest and
arms.
 
The successful crossbowmen began
tugging the knight into the air almost immediately. Excruciating pain coursed
through Silverwing's body as his feet left the ground. One of the demon bloods
on the ground struck him violently with the flat of the blade of its great sword,
and the knight knew no more.

***

           
Gregor
and his companions were a mere two days behind Lord Silverwing when his mentor
was captured. The group broke bread with the same people of the village where
Silverwing and Fasurel had learned of the mine guarded by the only remaining
orcs in the area. The intense discussions within the group, focused largely
between Tana and Boremac about their current path, turned into an outright
argument once they talked to the mountain men of the village. Tana felt the
rogue was taking them directly down Lord Silverwing's path. “You have no idea
what you are doing, do you? If we continue as we have, then we will no doubt
meet the same fate as Lord Silverwing, for good or ill. Why are we following
you? If we wanted to follow Silverwing's trail, I could have taken us there
already. If isn't like he is hiding his passage through these mountains!”

           
Boremac
returned her angry gaze. “Look, huntress. I did not volunteer to lead this
doomed mission to save the world. In fact, I have no desire to speed into what
will certainly be a most uncomfortable death for us all. Judging from the way I
could replace our torches with these dagger hilts, I think it is safe to say
Gregor is in serious trouble. We haven't even made it into the Forsaken
Mountains yet. By the time we do, I will have to cover these damned things with
something, and hope I do not need them to defend myself!”