The Tomb of the Dark Paladin (46 page)

"I am sure that, one day, you will be quite happily settled," offered the elf gently. "Yet, now is not the time my friend."

"What do you propose?" he asked.

"We must indeed return to Alfheym," he began as he removed a pipe from his person and lit it. "I do not know the paths we will walk next, but Zuhr has brought us together for a great purpose."

"We have the Tome, what else could there be?"

"In a short term we must attempt to rally the nations to one standard, to thwart the juggernaut that is the Nashian Army and Umester. Armies must be raised but I do not believe our own part will be played out upon the field of battle."

"It is good to have you with us, Morgon."

"Aye, so it is."

"What makes you certain our lives won't be wasted on the end of Nashian spears on the field of battle?" demanded Gennevera angrily.

"Certain?" he asked with a huff. Genn was not pleased with the elder elf's tone. "Nothing is certain, young lady. Nothing except that Umester is hunting us and he is not alone."

The next morning the companions set out towards Alfheym, deciding it would be best to lead their pursuers away from Hitchyn Itsa. The sense that pursuit was not far off settled in ominously. They felt vulnerable even though they had an escort of a hundred Jaguar Knights on foot and in the skies.

As the companions walked, a great owl glided silently through the air to land beside Princess Hala where it took human form. Her scouts reported that an enemy hunting party, riding hard, would overtake the companions very soon. They had been moving fast and hard for hours and Carym was coming to regret the time he took to rest. 

"The time to run has passed," Hala said matter-of-factly. The companions moved towards a large rocky hill that offered high ground to defend and large boulders to provide cover. The terrain behind the hill would make it difficult for the enemy to flank them. "We should make our stand here."

"You say that as though it were naught but a band of second rate oroks hunting us!" said Gennevera angrily. "This is the Nashian Army. They are battle-hardened soldiers. We must flee, I tell you!"

"We have fled, Gennevera. We can flee no more," said the bard. "We are a powerful group. Three Sigilists and a hundred of the finest warriors of the Jaguar Tribes. We shall defeat them here, so we shall."

"This does seem a very defensible location," offered Morgon as he looked toward Ederick and Hala. The red elf was an imposing sight. He was tall and lean and his black cloak trimmed in red and etched with Sigils gave him a sinister look. His dark eyes seemed to see everything and the aura of power about him was palpable. Carym knew that the man was anything but sinister.  

"We can defend this rock formation from the higher ground and force them to fight uphill. My Jaguar warriors can move off into the woods as a reserve to flank the enemy." 

"That does sound wise, Princess," agreed Ederick, taking stock of the terrain and the likely avenues of enemy approach. "We can engage them lower on the hill and lure them up towards the crest. These boulders will make excellent kill zones for anyone in reserve."

Carym was glad to leave the tactical discussions to Ederick, Hala and Morgon and he moved closer to Genn. He took in the sight of this beautiful land with her at his side and knew there was no place on Llars he would rather be at such a pivotal moment. For good or ill, they would make their final stand here--together. He took the backpack with the Tome of Sigils from his back and handed it to Genn.

"Guard that with your life, and we will guard you. Go up to the hillcrest and fire upon anything that emerges from the tree line. Don't endanger yourself if you can avoid it, I need you to guard the Tome." He smiled at warmly at her. He didn't know why, but for some reason he felt like he could take on the world and win. Gennevera seemed more emotional the past few days, and more prone to panic. But Carym had been prone to dangerous emotional swings lately and he felt wrong to judge her. He assumed it was her concern for him and for their mission that made her overly cautious. He leaned in very close to her ear and whispered, "I love you, Gennevera." Then turned and walked to the forward edge of the boulders. Gennevera stood silently, a tear rolled down her cheek.

Carym, Bart and Morgon settled themselves in at the foot of the hill while Ederick and Hala conferred with the Jaguar Knights, assigning them to positions based on their inherent strengths. The avian knights would watch from the tall trees, ready to swoop down on unsuspecting attackers while the ground moving knights would be split, some would stay with the companions at the base of the hill and others would remain on the flanks. There was little time to spare, the scouts reported the enemy was close. 

And the enemy was not what they expected. 

"Frost Elves!" said Morgon suddenly. Everyone heard the Crimson Elf say those two dreaded words. That was almost enough to cause the stalwart warriors to reconsider their allies. Hala held them strong. Frost Elves were notorious as the most bloodthirsty, evil beings on Llars. Ruthless and savage in battle and sworn enemies of the Crimson Elves. There was silence among the companions, the tension was palpable. Each of them knew what it would mean to face Frost Elves. 

The time dragged by slowly. Minutes seemed an eternity and everyone knew that the coming battle would be furious and deadly; they all sensed the evil approaching them. Morgon closed his eyes in concentration, then let out a slow sigh.

"Take heart, for as savage as the Frost Elves are, we are far stronger in magic than they," said the elf. "They cannot stand against our might!"

Carym was uneasy and nervous. He sensed the Shadowtides seething and gathering around their position, swirling and sniffing, doubtless taking an account of the companion's defenses. "They are scouting us with their dark magic," he said.

Sensing Carym's uneasiness, Morgon approached him. "Carym, do not fret over what you do not know. It cannot help you. Focus on what you do know. Center your efforts around what you have learned, the Flame and Earth Sigils are your strongest disciplines. "

He nodded his head, saying nothing. It was good advice. Carym quickly gathered up a large number of fist-sized stones and staged them near his fighting position. When he gave the appropriate command in the language of the Sigils, the stones would then perform the action he required of them; he hoped. Morgon took his quiver of arrows and set them down, giving Carym a confident smile.

Carym then reached out to the Tidal forces commanded by the Earth Sigil and whispered in that secret language. A suit of shiny magical armor, jet black, coalesced around his body. Then Carym infused the armor with the power of the Flame Sigil, giving his armor the ability to react to an enemy strike with a burst of fire. Bart was a few paces away and on the other side of Carym, his staff ready. Behind Carym, and slightly higher up the slope, Ederick and Hala were ready with a bow and a quiver of arrows and Gennevera was crouching behind a rock formation near the hillcrest.

"We hold the high ground, Carym. We have the advantage!" called Ederick, this was what he lived for. Carym looked proudly at his friends. Bart, Ederick, Hala and Morgon were ready to fight. The shape-shifting Jaguar Knights were nowhere in sight, but Carym knew they were poised to strike.

"Frost Elves are after us? Shouldn't we run?" Genn called down to him urgently, her eyes watching the woods. 

"They are too close now." None disagreed with Morgon's assessment other than Gennevera. "We must stand and fight." A bolt of energy streaked through the air and over the heads of everyone lower on the hill, striking the rocks near Gennevera, showering her with debris. A fragment of stone penetrated her arm, she let out a yelp of pain ducking down. Carym wanted to go to her, but he knew that he could not leave his position. 

The fight was on.

A volley of arrows soared through the air and rained down upon the companions. Carym thrust one hand toward the barrage and a sheet of flame burst from his fingers, expanding rapidly, encompassing most of the missiles, turning them quickly to ash. Dark thunderclouds swirled angrily into a vicious gale controlled by Bart surging through the woods toward the as yet unseen enemy. From nowhere, a bolt of pure energy struck Carym and knocked him back against a boulder. Carym felt as though he had just fallen into an icy river and he gasped for air as though he were drowning. But the effects of the cold-infused spell were soon quenched by the power of the Flame Sigil within his own enchanted armor. In seconds the chill left him and his senses returned to normal. Pushing off the boulder he got to his feet and grasped his weapons. Then he opened his mind up to the Tides and tried to sense what was out there. As soon as he cast the spell and he could see the rivers of Tidal magic, what he saw was not all what he had expected. Time seemed to slow to a crawl and everyone around him moved as if mired in mud. Was this really happening? Or was it Carym's awareness of time that slowed?

His magically enhanced
sight
revealed to him the locations and numbers of the enemy host. There were three Frost Elves, a score of savage hurkin warriors and perhaps a hundred oroks farther away. The blue-skinned Frost Elves seemed be the ones wielding magic while the fighters were hurkin and orok. He could not sense any other forces in reserve and it did not seem that the enemy was trying to hide its numbers. But something else was revealed to him through the eyes of the Tides. The Dark Prince was not far away. Though it was clear to Carym that Umester's attention was elsewhere, there was an inescapable sense of corruption in the Tides around him. Then all that had seemed slow to his enhanced
sight
, began moving faster and faster until finally his awareness of time returned to its normal state. But there was no time to ponder the enhancement of his spell and he gave Hala the hand signal that would tell her to send the Jaguar Knights in from the enemy's flank where they could attack the company of oroks. Hala gave Carym an odd look, and it was clear to him that she did not think it wise to send in the flanking element so soon. But Carym repeated the gesture and Hala acknowledge him, it would be clear to her as soon as she communicated with her airborne knights whose vantage was superior to their own. 

Morgon was throwing powerful fireballs at the hurkin warriors who were now trying to advance up the slope toward the companions. Smoke filled the air, thunderclaps shook the ground, and blasts of hail and lightning danced on the battlefield, the display of power was awesome and terrifying to behold. The enemy was returning the favor, answering with their own barrage of deadly frozen missiles, screaming skulls of hideous blue energy, and blasts of chill wind and sleet. 

Giant raptors soared down from the skies and risked their lives amidst the enemy missiles as they assaulted the hurkin ground troops. The giant birds plummeted with great speed and slammed into their foes with blunt force and razor talons. Then another element of the battle unfolded as a flight of wasp dragons entered the fray and began harrying Hala's airborne warriors. The angry buzzing of the wasp dragon wings mingled with the screeches of giant eagles and great owls in a cacophonous roar as the airborne foes collided with each other overhead. Carym saw Bart peering up at the wasp dragons and it seemed to him that the Storm Lord's focus had shifted. With a mighty clap of thunder, the bard burst free of the ground and soared into the air with a trail of smoke behind him. Carym turned away as the bard slammed bodily into one of the great beasts and grabbed onto a wing. At least Bart and the airborne knights outnumbered the wasp dragons and would keep them from entering the fray. 

Ederick and Hala were furiously firing arrows at any enemy that dared to expose himself from his rock formations and Carym was pleased that a number of hurkin soldiers had met their ends with wooden shafts protruding from their bodies. Carym knew that the Elvish wizards must be stopped if they were going to win this fight. One of those Elvish wizards was behind the bole of a great tree beyond the clearing. As the diabolical elf stepped out from behind the tree to throw a spell at Carym, the Cklathman threw one of his own. This time he hurled a large stone the size of his fist across the empty space between them and infused it with magic. As the rock sailed through the air he superheated it with magic and flames trailed behind it. Then he threw another, and another. 

As the Frost Elf's own magical darts reached Carym, striking him and all around him, his own missiles reached their mark. The molten rocks burned through the trunk of the three that sheltered the evil magic-wielder in succession. Then they exploded, launching pieces of oak in a thousand directions at once. When the smoke around the scarred stump cleared, there was no sign of the Frost Elf. But one of the elf's magical missiles managed to find the exposed flesh of Carym's throwing hand while two more struck his armor. His hand was badly hurt, but the other two missiles were simply absorbed by the power of the spell protecting his armor.