Betrayal and Strife
Part 2
* * * * *
Neteilu’s army approached steadily, making its way through the mountainous terrain toward Naborea. General Dalrik was a formidable figure in a splendid suit of black dragon leather and carried a terrible-looking, two-handed serrated sword made of obsidian. The sorcerer Neteilu rode on a black stallion by his side, wearing black robes and a blood-red cloak. He carried a gnarled Darkwood staff. His new bride, Torana, rode on an ebony mare. She wore a red gown and carried an ornamental dagger. They were all surrounded by guards on horseback.
Torana hoped that Neteilu would be killed in the fighting, though she doubted it would happen. At least, she hoped he would be severely injured and that justice would be served. He’d murdered her rightful husband in cold blood. Darek had recognized Ulven’s weakness, but he’d been foolish enough to trust Neteilu not to kill him. Darek had been murdered like Ulven, although he’d been tricked by Neteilu into killing the king as part of the sorcerer’s plot. Darek had been a fool, but he’d been her fool, and she would avenge his death.
“Your Majesty, our scouts have reported seeing a camp nearby. No doubt it is the Wanderers,” the General announced. “They also spotted a gold dragon not long ago.”
“Indeed,” replied Neteilu, “the same gold dragon who was an ambassador to King Ulven, and who has been seen accompanying the girl thief?”
“That could very well be, Majesty.”
“Then we must take no chances. The girl could be in that camp. We must find out. In any case, the Wanderers need to be questioned regarding the girl’s whereabouts. If any are hiding her, they are to be executed. Any who resist should also be killed. It will be but a small detour on our path.”
“Yes, your Majesty.”
General Dalrik issued relevant orders to his commander. The girl and her companions would be found, no matter what it took.
* * * * *
Meanwhile, in the Wanderers’ camp, the warriors prepared for battle. Arrows were made ready to be set aflame. Armor was enchanted with protective spells, and weapons were enchanted with spells to make them more formidable. Food was stockpiled and set aside so it wouldn’t be set aflame if tents were torched. Families gathered their most precious belongings. There was so much to be done, and in so little time. No one believed that Neteilu’s army would be merciful.
When the first shadows of the army loomed over the rocky soil, it was Balen Talbrand who greeted them with Jay and Ravyn at his side. Commander Firan, a tall stocky man with black hair and green eyes, met him.
“We seek a man who is not a man but a dragon, and a girl thief. They have committed the crime of using magic. We have reason to believe they are here. Where are they?”
“I know naught of what you say,” Balen replied. “Will you leave this land peacefully?”
“No, for I sense you are lying. Come,” Firan shouted to his troops. “We must search this camp carefully.”
Balen held up his staff, poised to defend himself. “You will not enter without my permission.”
Firan frowned. “Who are you to claim authority over King Neteilu himself?”
“I am Balen Talbrand, warrior and leader of the Wanderers. I serve no King. Remember that when I strike you down.”
“You will not get that chance,” Firan exclaimed and drew his sword. “Attack! Kill anyone who resists!”
The archers on both sides launched their arrows. The Wanderers’ blazing arrows soared over the rocky terrain and struck down many of Neteilu’s soldiers. Kip summoned a wall of wind that slowed down most of the enemy’s arrows and rendered them ineffective. But Neteilu was not about to let himself be defeated. He began to chant ominously.
As the sky darkened, thick clouds gathered. Thunder rumbled loudly. Lightning flashed across the heavens, scraping the sky like silver talons. But no rain fell. However, a bolt of lightning aimed for the middle of the Wanderer’s army. Kip began to cast a counter spell, and he heard Ianora doing the same. Just as lightning flashed, their shield held. A cheer went up from among the fighters.
Meanwhile, Tanith fought with her scimitar Sirocco on horseback, slashing at any enemy who crossed her path. The flame-haired warrior struck down nearly a dozen fighters before she was challenged by General Dalrik himself.
“You fight well for a woman,” he told her. “Still, in the end, it is the more seasoned warrior who will win the battle.”
“Perhaps I am more seasoned than you think,” she replied.
They parried for several minutes. “Where is the girl?” Dalrik demanded.
“This is a large camp. There are many girls and they are probably in hiding from the likes of you.”
“You know which girl I mean, the one who can command the very stars themselves.”
“I know of no one with such power.”
“You lie badly.” Dalrik was hoping to provoke her into an opening, but found none.
“Perhaps, but I will die before I give the answer you seek.”
“Then so be it!” The black-clad general thrust his blade into the horse’s flank. The stallion reared.
*Mistress,* J’yar gasped as pain shot through him. *We must defeat this man.*
“That was a low blow, General, striking at my horse instead of me.” She glared at him.
“This is battle, my dear. If your heart is too faint for it, perhaps you should join the healing women.” Dalrik laughed.
Tanith gritted her teeth. “Never!” She lashed out and cut him on the arm.
Dalrik glanced down as crimson blood spurted onto his black leather armor. “You may have drawn first blood, but you will not get any farther.”
He struck at her, but she leapt off the stallion’s back and faced him instead, glaring at him. Then all hell broke loose as Neteilu summoned a tornado. Dust and rocks flew everywhere, making it impossible to see. Kip and Ianora’s voices were lost as they chanted to counter the magic. Tents were uprooted and tumbled everywhere. More than one fire was started as candles knocked over by the wind set other things ablaze.
The wind howled like a rabid wolf and threatened to blow more than just tents away. Crouched behind a large boulder near what was left of Ianora’s tent, Aliya wondered if there was something that she could do to help. The only time she’d been able to use her magic was at night. Well, it was as dark as night right now, and the gods knew they needed it.
She concentrated on the opal, trying to summon whatever magic there was within her. Suddenly she felt the magic well up inside her like a mountain spring overflowing with the winter thaw. A silver point of light gleamed amongst the clouds that had not been there before. It was a tiny pocket of starry night, barely noticeable in the chaos. Aliya focused on it. The star flared brighter, but no one else seemed to notice.
Aliya focused intently and suddenly, there was a blazing ball of silver flames within her hand. She felt the warmth but it did not burn her. She gaped at it in amazement, and then felt someone else staring at her. It was Aris Moondell, Ianora’s apprentice. She wore a long, flowing yellow dress. Her long brown hair was tied back with a gold ribbon. Aliya was about to say something, but several of the enemy soldiers had broken through to get to the camp. She hurled the silver ball at them and it exploded. They cursed and yelled, then dropped to the ground, writhing in pain.
Suddenly the storm vanished as quickly as it had appeared, but it still appeared to be night, even though it should have been day. Aliya wondered if that was because of her.
“Truly you have strong magic indeed, “Aris said, “if you can change the cycle of the stars.”
Aliya blushed. “I don’t know for certain if that was me.”
Meanwhile, Trin and Fenrek were battling enemy fighters. The faery princess hurled magical arrows at her opponents and struck them with her dagger if they came too close. Fenrek fought with his dagger atop Bagley’s back, stabbing his opponents when they least expected it. Then they both noticed that the clouds had disappeared, only to unveil the starry sky.
The Melosean gaped in amazement. “How is this possible?”
“I do not know,” Trin answered. “However, I have a feeling it is more foreboding than it appears.”
Fenrek nodded, knowing that Trin’s feelings were usually right.
* * * * *
