The Exodus Sagas: Book IV - Of Moons and Myth (90 page)

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Saberrak cut left and right, sending soldiers airborn with his cleaving axes. One golden miotaur with him, the other dead on the ground. Kaya was on his right, cut several times, but fighting on against the overwhelming horde of Armondeen. Liogan Andellis slashed wildly, stumbling, but keeping to Lady Kaya’s right. Azenairk Thalanaxe pounded his hammeraxe into a soldier’s face, then cut back with the axe blade into another, fighting to the left of the golden minotaur warrior. They were down to twenty men and fifty elven archers fighting now with blades, had killed hundreds, but they could not get to Harron Vir Magaste. His soldiers were too many.

Harron parried the shortblade of the elven captain, feinted with his scimitar, then smashed his halfshield into his enemy’s face. Just as Aariss went to withdraw, a halberd slashed him from the side and sent him stumbling forward. He dove at Harron, his shortblade blocked, and then his neck burned cold. Then his chest felt a pinch, and then he fell at the feet of Lord Harron.

The Lord Amirak wiped his blade on his cape, full of elf blood now, and looked east. He saw the mob approaching, saw his infantry and cavalry falling, yet he was winning here. He kept distance from the minotaur
s, he knew they would tire out soon. He had four hundred to stand against the refugees with Jardayne, and he knew he had the reserve legion to finish the rest. He looked to the other side of the impaired bridge, seeing his forces heavily engaged, yet still outnumbering the Harlians and remaining elves.

“Men of Armondeen, finish the rest, and take the city in the name of Queen Andorra!”

“
Rah, rah, hoona rah!”
His remaining four hundred here, the three hundred on the field, and the three hundred on the other side of the north bridge all chanted in acknowledgement of his orders. He still had over a legion here, scattered, but against the three hundred remaining
intruders
and the peasant mob and with a legion in reserve, the experienced warlord smelled his moment of victory.

Harron marched back out of the trench, to send i
n the rest, and take his city
. His men were withdrawing from the east, massing near the camp. His eyes went wide with disbelief, seeing that the reserve army was not there. His heart raced, his brow furrowed, and he gritted his teeth as he tried to find the fifth legion.

“
Son, what have you done?”
H
e whispered. Something, to his left, a charging blade and a feathered cross was all he saw. At the last moment, Harron raised his shield.

Clang!

“You are a deadman, knight of Chazzrynn.” Harron met the salute of James Andellis and returned it.

“We shall see.” James lunged with his broadsword, parried by Harron. He ducked the scimitar, blocked the riposte with his shield, and slashed into the Armondi lord’s halfshield. Blade to blade, sparks flying in the air, James Andellis marched Harron back away from the city with furious strokes of his sword.

Two retreating soldiers charged him, one he cut low and
cut wide open as he ducked the halberd. The other he blocked with the shield, crosscut the scimitar, and slashed his blade up through. Both fell dead. Then his shoulder burned as Harron took a dishonorable slice with his scimitar.

Still James pushed on, cutting down interfering Armondi soldiers, blocking Harron’s scimitar, and all the while blue flames licked his broadsword from his glowing hand. The pace increased, Harron was running backwards, James slashing and parrying forwards, and men were falling in behind, unable to keep pace nor rescue their Lord Amirak.

A slash from Harron took some hair from James’ head, but the follow up attack was blocked. Harron blocked a swordslash, then another, his shield arm tiring. Never had he fought so vigorous a knight. Near the outpost
now
, passing injured soldiers, James Andellis pressed him further back. The clash of weapons was constant, and now hundreds of Armondi were behind the battle, ready to kill the knight that dared attack their lord.

Harron feinted to stop, backed up two steps, then lunged. James parried with his blade, spun with his shield, and roared as he followed with his sword across Harron’s chest. The scimitar countered, blocked by James, and then he took Harron’s right arm clean off. He did not look, did not stop to see he was soon to be surrounded, and he stared straight ahead. His griffon hilted broadsword drove right between the scepter and talons, dead center through Harron’s chest, and James looked him right in his painted blue face as blood poured out his
enemy’s
mouth.
He whispered as the Lord Amirak of Armondeen slid off of his sword.

“
That was for Gwenneth
, now go
meet your masters in hell
!”

James stepped back, saw the hundreds of soldiers charging up the hill toward him, seconds away. He cared not to run, he stepped over to the Armondi fla
gs, cut them down, one, then two
, then picked up the last one and yelled
to the ruined city
.

“
Long live Mooncrest!”
James threw down the enemy flag, hearing some faint cheers go up from the trench, and he saluted the mass of enemy soldiers in front of him.
He dove ahead, fighting between the pillars, slashing while surrounded. James looked out
from his vantage, the field was red, the bodies uncountable, yet on he fought as hundreds came for revenge.

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Gwenneth hovered over the black throne, her lightning ripping holes into Imoch, her fury was endless, and the dead wizards inside chanted her name. They had to, for the thousand foot statue
,
now resembled her.

“
Gwenneth, Gwenneth, Gwenneth!”

Imoch was reeling back, absorbing what he could, defending with all his might, and hurling balls of flame at her the size of small cities. Gwenne countered with walls of ice that stretched as mountains, summoned acidic clouds that dissolved him to just a sliver of a skeleton, and as he reformed she cracked the very stillness with arcane force theat crushed his eternal soul.

Her eyes tur
ned white, just like his, and she spoke in the draconic tongue. “
Heliax duthartes ex duarmest!”

The green world inside the emerald flashed, her statue turned toward Imoch, her powers had not faded in here, they had grown to god-like power. He cowered, the statue of Gwenneth Lazlette formed wings, a tail, and was covered in scales. It breathed a gout of green flame all over him, incinerating him, his powers could not contend. He knelt, as his spirit burned to but black bones.

“I submit, I submit!”

“Say my name and call
me
your mistress!” Gwenneth looked up as she spoke, white light, the only color besides green and black and every shade in between, blasted her from above.

“I submit mistress Gwenneth, I submit! Please, do not destroy my eternal----“

“
Aaaaahhhh!”
Gwenneth gasped for air, her eyes saw nothing but bright light and white energy. Her body burned in pain all over, then it faded to just her back, and then that faded too. She held up her hand, trying to grasp something, and someone held it, then another hand as well.

“
By Alden, it’s a miracle.”
Tubrey sobbed, the feather was gone, just white speckles now floated through the air. He had been praying for her, with the feather, watching the staff flash green like a rapid heartbeat.

“
Easy now, Lady Lazlette, rest easy. You are alive.”
Angeline held her hand tight with Tubrey as she winced and gasped for more air.

“Who is there, who are you? Where am I?” Gwenne tried to stand, got to one foot, then the other, shielding her eyes. Her hand rested on someone short. She heard the sounds of battle, of war, and many screaming men and the clash of their steel.

“It is me Tubrey, m’lady, and Angeline of the Knights Soujan, and we are in Mooncrest.” Tubrey looked to the battle, a terrible sight, and then to Angeline.

“Where is James? I need James.” She was weak, her strength and vision returning, but she needed help to walk. “Angeline from Vallakazz? What are you doing here?”

“
James
is in the battle, Gwenneth, I will try and find him for you. Rest now.
We will talk later, you and I.
Tubrey, keep her safe.”
Angeline had prayed as well, not to Alden, but to all the Caricians she was sworn to protect. Now, she raced into the field of war, to find James, the man that Gwenneth loved.

“Here, sit here my lady, rest.” Tubrey sobbed as he held her, watched her eyes return to normal green, and saw her smile to him.

“No, I have much to do, my little friend.” Gwenneth started to chant, rose up just a foot or so, and stared at her staff. Her body fell slowly back down to the ground, and she squinted in weariness, then whispered softly.

“I said,
I have much to do.”

The staff glowed, first the emerald on top, then the first three runes on the shaft flashed orange.

“More.”
She whispered again.

The fourth rune hummed and illuminated like fire.

“
More, or I destroy this staff, and spend my life erasing your name from known existence, Imoch.”

The fifth rune glowed white on the staff, sparked with energy, and her body trembled from even holding it. She felt power course through her, much like inside the emerald prison, power that few mortals could even explain in words. She looked to the fields of battle, every direction, and she started to walk very slowly north.

“
Better.”

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Saberrak was cut, several times now, and he looked across to Kaya and the young knight beside him, then to Zen. He snorted, flared his nostrils, and heaved a great breath as the soldiers surrounded them. “
No surrender!
If we die, we die together.
”
They all nodded in silence and fatigue.

Shinayne backed up against Lavress and Arylius as the dwarves shielded them, hundreds of bodies filled the trench. The blades kept slashing, axes hammering, yet more soldiers were breaching past Karai and Cristoff.
The ruins were flooding quick, and the highborne elf knew they would be surrounded soon.
That soon, came now.

James cut down the fifth soldier, then the sixth
, but now one hundred reached the hill and surrounded him. He waited, knowing he was dead, and the blades came toward him. As they struck, they turned to ash and dust. Everyone stared as a strange hum filled the air from the city.

The halberds melted like water around Saberrak and Zen. Swords crumbled like gravel from the Armondi around Shinayne and Cristoff. Suddenly, the humming noise grew, white light beamed from the sky to the ground, and a black robed woman rose off the ground. Her black hair was wild in arcane winds, her staff was glowing green, orange, and white with sparks of force. Her eyes, while green, pulsed with strange power that enthralled everyone within view. Then, hundreds of Armondeen soldiers, lifted up into the air. Hundreds more followed as her hand trembled and rose with them, and soon, over a thousand men hovered in the sky at her command. Their weapons disintegrated, they began to scream and contort in pain, and Gwenneth Lazlette spoke.

“Who commands this army?” He
r voice echoed across the ruins as blood dripped from the nostrils of those she held.

Everyone looked around as James ran toward her as fast as he could. The soldiers pointed to Harron, but he was dead. Drodunn lifted up Thohne, and Jardayne pulled Prince Rohne to his feet. Shinayne let a tear fall, as did Zen, and Saberrak just stared as Gwenneth hovered above them, alive.

The
men were floating, under her powers, fifty feet above the ground as Prince Rohne and Bishop Thohne were brought before her. The peasants watched, the soldiers screamed, and the eyes of Gwenne fell upon the two remaining nobles of Armondeen. Lightning crackled the sky, thunder boomed from the sunlight, and the energy backed everyone up that had the chance.

“If you surrender, vowing never to return to these lands, I
will
let you and your men live.”
Gwenneth looked to Prince Rohne as Jardayne held a blade to his throat.

“
I hope you say no, with all my heart.”
Jardayne whispered to Rohne.

“
Gwenneth!”
James knelt below her, tears in his eyes, not believing what he was seeing.
“
No, please no
. Not like this.”

Gwenne tried not to look, felt her tears swell, then looked to Shinayne. That was just as distracting, as her elven friend just shook her head as well and stifled her tears of joy. Gwenne knew it, and her tears fell as well. She glared back to Rohne to keep her focus.

“My prince,
please.
” Thohne whispered to his nephew, as the axe of Drodunn Anduvann held tight to his throat. “We fight another day,
your highness.”