The Greater Challenge Beyond (The Southern Continent Series Book 3) (43 page)

“We want you to be safe.  There is a war coming – a war of demons who will fight humans.   This will be a dangerous place, but in Southgar we can make you safer, and fight with you, together, against the demons.  And after we win that battle, you can settle back into Southgar and enjoy the comforts of a united nation once again,” he said everything he had to say.

There was silence, and then a trio of men emerged from the door way of a tent.  Grange glanced around; he saw that there were many people watching and listening – every doorway and window seemed to hold a face or two, and around every corner someone else seemed to peer at him.

“This is a false promise, made by a false leader,” the center man in the group spoke loudly, speaking not just to Grange, but to all the sets of ears that were listening in the area.

“This boy, we are told, claims to be the son of Ragnar, the last true king of Southgar.  But Ragnar had no son.  His wife died childless ten years ago, here among us.  This boy who claims to be the heir to the throne of Southgar is not such.  He is a trick played by Magnus to try to pull us from our safety here in the wilderness,” the man cried.

“We will not fall for it!” the man on his right shouted.

“This is a magician who can play a few tricks and who is trying to trick us now,” the man in the center spoke up once again.

“Leave us, imposter!” he shouted.  “Take your magical tricks and leave us alone.

“If you do not leave, we will punish your foolish dupes,” he added in a lower voice, and he motioned to his left.  Grange’s eyes followed the gesture, and he saw to his horror that Logan and the rest of his patrol, the men who had just emerged from the wilderness ahead of Grange minutes earlier, were bound tightly and tied to long rails that were carried forward by other men.

“You should not punish them,” Grange said evenly.  “They tried to fight us, but we overwhelmed them.  They did not fight against your own forces.  They were honorable in their behavior,” Grange said.

“Release them, and then let us discuss how we can work to bring the Bloomingian society back to Southgar, so that you people may live in houses, not tents, and eat wholesome meals, and live in cities and villages among their countrymen once again,” Grange urged, still broadcasting his voice.

“The gods want this; the gods have chosen to put me on the throne next, so that a Bloomingian will wear the crown once again,” he said.  “That is what you want, isn’t it?”

“We want justice for our people.  We want to wipe out Magnus and his cronies.  We want to expose you as a phony, and we want to punish these henchmen you’ve fooled,” the member of the trio who stood on the left said.  He motioned to the men who held the poles that Logan’s company was tied to, and the men lifted the poles, then dropped them into holes in the ground.

“Bring the squad forward,” the man in the triumvirate called, causing a group of archers to amble into a line thirty feet away from the captives.

Grange pointed his wand, and created a new protective dome over Logan and his men, then he used his wand to wrench the bows out of the hands of the executioners.

“This is foolish, for you to be attempting to kill good men,” Grange chastised the Triumvirate members.  “Stop seeking death, and try to see your way to a better life for all your people.  The gods command it to be so.”

The sound of rumbling feet sounded behind Grange, and he realized that the ambushing forces he had circumvented were finally catching up with his group.  His group was safe for the time being; even though the energy in his wand was continuing to diminish, there was still enough to provide protection for his group, and Logan’s men, for some time to come.

“Jenniline,” Grange called, “take Halsten and go cut Logan’s men free,” he directed.

“Everyone move closer to Logan,” he directed his group, wanting to converge the two protective domes into one field, one that would be easier to maintain.  His group of followers complied, as Grange saw them all draw their weapons, even the princesses, down to and including Brigin, who showed a fierce scowl on her face as she led a mule towards their new location.

The captives were quickly cut free, as Grange reduced his defensive shield.

“Bring pitch!  Bring oil!” one of the Triumvirate called out.

“That one is Elouis,” Logan told Grange, as he thanked him for the rescue.

“They wouldn’t believe anything we said.  As soon as we entered the camp they took us captive,” he explained.

Bloomingian soldiers appeared, rolling barrels.

“Open the barrels; surround them with the oil,” Elouis ordered.

Grange watched the soldiers roll the barrels in a circle around the protective shield, as more and more of the archers from the aborted ambush filed back into the city and began to surround the emerging scene that was playing out.

“What are they doing?” Halsten asked Jenniline.

“Trying to make the ground too slippery for us to escape?” the princess hazarded a guess.

“Bring the torches,” another member of the trio shouted.

“Ah,” Grange suddenly realized what was about to happen.

“This is a waste of your fuel,” he spoke.  “You aren’t going to burn us inside here,” he called to the determined leaders.

“We’ll see what happens,” one of the men said, as he grabbed a torch and threw it into the thick puddle that had spread all around Grange’s protected circle, and even seeped under the edge of his shield.  Other torches were thrown as well from other sides around the beleaguered visitors, and the oil immediately began to burn, sending thick clouds of dark smoke into the evening sky.

The fire spread up to the edge of Grange’s shield, throwing its burning heat into the interior of the shield.

“Grange, can you do something?” Hope asked.

Smoke began to fill the dome as well, as the oil inside the dome began to burn, filling the top of the dome with its noxious fumes.  Those inside started to cough, and ducked down to find clearer air.

“Open!” Grange ordered the top of the shield, and as it did, the smoke inside the dome billowed out.

“It’s still too hot!” Halsten shouted, as the flames from the oil burning outside the shield roared and licked against the magical surface.

“Fire your arrow high, and let them rain down on our enemies!” one of the leaders outside shouted, and the archers around them immediately began to arch their arrows upward.

“Close!” Grange immediately ordered his shield, and the arrows fell upon it, striking it loudly and bouncing away, while smoke began to collect inside once again.

Grange whipped his wand in a frantic circle over his head, desperate to find a way to extinguish the fire around his people.  The oil fire could not be extinguished with water he knew; he remembered a fire in the orphanage kitchen once, that had spread because someone had tried just such a means of unsuccessfully dowsing it.

Instead, he created a whirlwind out in the nearby wilderness, and focused its energy low to the ground, pulling up sod and dirt and sand.  He pulled the top of the rapidly spinning cylinder towards the camp, and as the dirt reached the top, he dumped it down into the settlement, on top of the fire, spreading choking dust everywhere as tons of dirt smothered the fire around Grange’s defensive position.

“There is no point in carrying on with these attacks!” Grange shouted angrily.  He ended the tornado, and caused a breeze to blow briskly through the town, blowing away the dust and the smoke.

Grange could feel his wand growing emptier by the moment, as he expended energy in prodigious amounts.  He was going to have to start to take aggressive measures to protect his followers if the leaders of the Bloomingians continued to be unreasonable.

“You are responsible for the damages being done here,” Grange faced the Triumvirate members.  He pointed his wand at them and lifted them high into the air.  The men shouted in fear, and a hue and cry arose from all the people in the settlement who had gathered to watch the extraordinary confrontation.

Grange lowered the men to the top of his shield, then opened it once again, and dropped the men to the ground, letting them crash violently.  Logan and his men rushed to the aid of the older leaders, as Grange walked over to them.

“You are trying to destroy the chance to save your people,” he shouted heatedly.  His wand had emptied of power as the men had flown through the air, and he had called upon the energy directly with his own abilities, channeling it to the shield to maintain the protection around his group while he could.

“If you try to remain out here, you will all be killed and consumed by the demons that are going to occupy this space, someday soon.  You must make peace with Southgar,” Grange said forcefully.  “Stop this pointless opposition, and bring our people into safety.”

“You claim to have so much knowledge, and so much authority, but all I see that you have is sorcerer’s powers,” one of the men said defiantly.  “We are not going to be lured into a trap by this charade you practice upon us.”

“That is enough!” Grange screamed, his self-control undone.  He released his stream of support for the shield, and the green barrier evaporated away, causing a chorus of murmurs.  Grange turned and pointed at a group of archers, and their bows flew out of their hands, then lined up, strings drawn, arrows notched, all pointed directly at the Triumvirate, as the bows floated in the air.

“Logan, save yourself and your men, and move them away from these dead men,” Grange ordered.

“Grange!  Don’t do this!” Jenniline and Hope both shouted.

Grange ignored them.

“I had a dream about you last night,” Logan suddenly said.  “I dreamed that I was following you in the wilderness, because I thought you were a great leader.  And I would follow that dream – it was powerful.

“But if you do this, you will only be a murderer, and I will not follow you.”

Grange turned and looked at him, startled by the admission of another prophetic dream, and one placed among the Bloomingians.

He turned back to the bows, slightly shook them in the air, then released their arrows.

The air all around him was filled with shrieks of horror for the first two seconds, until the arrows struck the turf just in front of the trio, kicked up clods of dirt, and then skidded harmlessly past them.

“The shield is down!  Seize these barbarians!” one of the leaders shouted.

Before anyone could react, the remaining red rays of sunlight were suddenly obliterated by a heavy cloud that created total darkness within the settlement.

“Don’t let his trickery stop you!” one Triumvirate member shouted.  “Grab them!”

“Stop!” a deep voice thundered from all directions, so powerful that it made each person present feel vibrations pass through their flesh.  Grange’s eyes widened in surprise, as he recognized the voice immediately.

A bright light appeared overhead, and a figure dropped heavily to the ground.

It was Acton, the god of war, taking on a massive physical presence for the second time in Grange’s experience as the Champion.

“This nonsense will cease!” the god roared.

“Grange, pose no more threats to these men,” the god thundered.  “You have been chosen by myself and all the gods to be the Champion who fights on our behalf in the Demon War that is coming.  You shall act with honor and dignity.

“These old doddering fools are behaving only with their eyes focused on maintaining their own power over the people they keep trapped here in poverty and misery,” he scowled down at the quaking trio.  “Histra, Hafir, Elouis, you are no longer the leaders of the Bloomingians.

Henceforth, Grange, the true son of Ragnar, born of Ragnar’s secret mistress Isena, shall have command of all the people of the Bloomingian camp,” he pointed at the three men, and they were forced to their knees, facing Grange as though offering obeisance to him.

“All the people of this society shall accept him as the king of Southgar – all of Southgar, and all of its people – the king in waiting, and will obey him,” the god said.  He was glowing with a golden light that grew brighter as his voice grew louder and more strident.

“Your task will be to take these people and lead them to safety in Southgar, as many as you can,” Acton looked down at Grange.  “But you will only do that after you take on the mission you must complete next.”

“Yes, my lord,” Grange said humbly, overwhelmed by the feeling of power and presence that Acton brought to the settlement.

“You must restore the jewels to life – all of them,” Acton said.  “These Southgar followers who have come with you will be joined by others from these peoples, on the journey that lies ahead of you,” the god gestured around at the Bloomingians.  “They all will cross the wilderness with you to regain and restore the powerful allies who were taken from you in an untimely manner.”

“The jewels? All five of them?  Even those that I no longer have?” Grange asked, unwilling to believe the challenge he was being given.

“You know where the jewels are, at the scene of your battle with the demon leader – now you will return there, and you will take these others with you to regain and restore all the elementals,” Acton affirmed.

“And to help you, I will give you back the first of your allies right now,” the god continued.  “Place the jewel on the ground, and step away.”

All eyes in the camp were watching in astonishment as the god and Grange talked, and they were glued to Grange as he lifted his sword hilt and worked the blue jewel in it free, then set the sparkling stone on the ground, and stepped back.

“Now, point your wand at the jewel, think only of her as you’ve known her; remember her features and her skills and her strength.  Remember who she was, what she did, and think of no one else, then release the energy in your wand and restore her,” the god instructed.

“But there is nothing left in the wand,” Grange protested.  The whole notion of bringing Ariana back to life astonished him, though he had mulled it over following Miriam’s visitation.  He knew it was supposed to happen and a portion of it had begun, but he hadn’t believed that it was something he was truly capable of successfully completing.  The jewels were immortal beings, pure energy, and their essence had been scattered more thoroughly and more widely than was possible for a human to undo.