A Single Candle Page 10

  So, whenever she could, Tressida would move among them, rubbing her head along their necks and cooing softly to them. She knew that in their months of working with the Chosen One they had all come to love and respect her. But she also knew that each one held in his mind the image of a wizard who he longed to feel once again on his back. It was in recognition of that pain, and in hopes of easing it, however slightly, that she touched each one gently as they stood now, waiting to answer the call to enter the fray.

  But an odd thing was happening to Tressida as she made her rounds. Deep within her she felt a strange sensation, not totally unfamiliar, but not instantly recognizable. It was, she realized, a sensation of ever-growing warmth. As it intensified, it somehow comforted her. Then, when the feeling had become an all-encompassing heated tingle throughout her entire body, her head shot upward as she realized what was happening.

  Her connection with Cerah, which had been instantly interrupted when she had disappeared, was being rekindled. Cerah was alive, and was somewhere on Quadar. She needed to make her way to that place at once. “Beloved, I feel you! Where are you? Tell me so that I can come to you,” she said to her match-mate, not knowing if she would receive a response.

  But a moment later, to Tress’s great joy, she clearly heard Cerah’s voice return to her. “I am climbing down Mount Opatta. Surok’s magic has sent me here. He thought to imprison me.”

  “The fool!” Tressida said, tears and laughter in her mental voice. “Hold strong, my sweet Cerah! I will be with you soon. I shall fly faster than I have ever flown!” Then as an after-thought she added, “I will bring you a fish to eat!”

  She heard Cerah’s laughter in her mind. “Yes! Do! I’m starving!”

  Still in the middle of the riderless, Tressida spread her golden wings and took to the sky.

  From his position, some fifty feet from the dragons, Parnasus saw Tressida fly off. He had not received word from Kern that they were needed, and he was confused by her departure. But the riderless could sense that Tressida was bursting with joy and as she turned and flew south they began to trumpet in encouragement. The First Elder covered his ears, especially when Dardaan, who was standing right next to him, joined the chorus. “Dard!” he called. “What’s going on?” The ancient black dragon was prancing like a hatchling. “Something’s gotten you all excited.” As Dardaan continued to hop around he added, “And…happy? There has not been much occasion for happiness in these recent months.”

  The dragons continued their exuberance until Tressida was no longer visible, and Parnasus felt a sliver of hope rising within him as well. Cerah! he thought. Tressida must have reconnected with Cerah! She’s going to her now!

  The First Elder had been sure when Cerah had vanished before their eyes that she had not been killed. “Merely taken,” he had said, just as the populations of the vanishing cities had been taken in the months leading up to the ascension of the Chosen One and the commencement of the war against Surok. He had come to believe that Surok’s dark magic had taken her to another plane, most likely, he’d thought as a chill filled him, to the Under Plane. For there was nowhere he could have brought her on the surface of Quadar that Tressida would not have been able to sense her.

  But he could tell from the queen’s behavior when Cerah disappeared that their bond had been broken, confirming his suspicion. He had not spoken to anyone about the conclusion he had reached, fearing that it would cause despair, especially in young Slurr. How would they ever be able to bring Cerah back from the Under Plane? She might not actually be deceased, but if her living body was trapped in the realm of the hopeless dead, she may as well be.

  Even with his thousand years of life and devotion to his craft and to the service of Ma’uzzi, Parnasus knew of no way to reach into the Under Plane and draw Cerah back to them. He knew that the legends spoke of great wizards of the bygone who had journeyed there and then returned. But even if the lore was true, these sojourns had happened in the misty depth of the distant past. And he, great a wizard as he had come to be, did not possess that magic.

  But if Tressida was now once more feeling Cerah’s essence, then she had found a way out herself. It did not surprise him, but it did amaze him. Everything that girl does is amazing, he thought. It looks as though I need to prepare myself for more wonderment still. Hurry, Tressida! Hurry to her and hurry back!

  7

  Stygian Raiders

  The two armies met at a point that was nearly half-way between Stygia and Trakkas. Thanks to the speed at which the Army of Quadar had moved, they were marginally closer to the walled city. Slurr, ever grateful for the wizards of Melsa, had received word when Surok’s forces were still ten miles off, and had spread the order to halt and make ready.

  When the first of the warriors of darkness appeared, it was not karvats who led the charge as in the past, but humans.

  “The foul turncoats of Stygia show their true colors once more,” Kern shouted to Yarren, who flew to his right. Pointing his staff in their direction, Kern sent a ball of crimson flame flying at the Stygian who seemed to be at the head of the column. The blast found its mark, and the man fell screaming to the ground. A moment later he was reduced to a pile of ash, which quickly coated the feet of the charging enemy as they trod heedlessly through it.

  Slurr, wielding his great Riddue sword, began to cut a swath through the human vanguard. Near him was Zayan, the Riddue craftsman himself. Zayan had returned with Kern to Melsa after creating Cerah’s armor and her staff-blade, Isurra. From the very first he had become an important element in the army of the Light. First forging Gorshinda for Slurr, as well as a suit of molute armor, he’d made as many weapons as time permitted, including a large supply of feather-light gorrium arrows and a strong sword for himself.

  Slurr heard the Riddue screaming war-curses in his native tongue, and smiled, even as two enemy warriors came at him from different directions. As the general cut them down in turn, he heard another voice that he recognized. It was that of the former silk merchant, Loar Pilta, whom Slurr called “Smooth.”

  “Well so much for your whining about not having not seen any combat!” he called to the general.

  Slurr ran to where Smooth was hacking his way through a group of five Stygians. The giant man grabbed one by the neck and lifted him off the ground with a single hand. He tossed the warrior, who was not small, like a rag doll in Slurr’s direction. “Dirty your sword with this one while I deal with these others!” Slurr’s blade met the flying Stygian in midair, driving through his chest.

  “Smooth, you’re here!” Slurr realized the meaning of his friend’s presence. The reinforcements had arrived! The riders who led them had received word of the coming conflict and had diverted from Trakkas to the site of the battle, arriving just as things were getting serious.

  “Do you think I’d miss a party such as this?” Smooth replied, laughing as he separated another particularly large Stygian’s head from the rest of him.

  “Never,” Slurr replied.

  The human vanguard was now dispersed widely, fighting in bands of various sizes. Slurr turned toward another of these skirmishes and there saw a horrible sight. Mixed among the fighting men of Stygia were children. Boys no more than ten or eleven held swords that were almost as long as they were tall. But they came at his own warriors clearly intent upon killing. As he drew closer, Slurr actually saw one of these little ones come up behind a man twice his size and plunge his weapon into the warrior’s back. The other soldiers of the Light had no choice but to cut the youth down. Nothing he’d witnessed in these many months of war affected him so deeply as this tragic sight. Forcing himself not to dwell on this latest indication of Surok’s unadulterated evil, he turned away.

  As the Stygians continued to spread out, Slurr realized that the monsters Surok had sent were making their way forward. He made out three distinctive units of Silumans, each with ten to twenty Silestra leading them. This was a new tactic. Previously the various species of Surok’s vile army h
ad fought in separate groups. It had always followed the same pattern. Karvats attacked first, followed by Silestra, who rapidly fanned out to attack from as many different directions as they could. Finally would come the dread Silumans. They had always made up the largest segment of the force, a fact that sickened Slurr. He knew that the many thousands of Silumans each represented a helpless human mother who had been murdered by her own child as it had ripped itself from within her.

  Now, however, the Silestra were directly coordinating the fearsome Silumans, making them more dangerous than ever. Slurr, his brilliant tactical mind working rapidly in the face of the chaos of war, called to Smooth and several other nearby warriors, to turn their attention to the hulking Silestra.

  “The Silumans will still be treacherous without these fiends to guide them, but less so. Kill them all!” he shouted, racing toward the nearest Silestra.

  As the large human neared, the Silestra recognized him and called in his horrible, shattered-glass and smoke voice, “Ah, the great General Slurr! Hurry to me, worm, that I might feast upon your corpse.”

  While still nearly ten feet from the monster, Slurr leapt high in the air, holding Gorshinda over his head. The Silestran smiled, exposing his cruel fangs, saliva dripping from their tips, as he anticipated the taste of human flesh. He raised his sword to meet Slurr’s attack. But at the last minute the general curled into a ball and dropped at the monster’s feet, slashing across both of its legs. The creature let out a scream of pain and surprise as it fell to the ground, unable to stand as Slurr’s weapon opened a second series of wounds, even as he rolled to his right. The monster looked up at him with hate filled eyes, attempting to strike with his sword from his now prone position. Slurr stared back down with an abhorrence that eclipsed the wounded beast’s own, and easily parried the strike before driving his sword with a twisting motion, meant to maximize the pain, through the Silestran’s throat.

  “Kill them all!” Slurr screamed again, standing on the chest of the dead Silestran. His men ran in tight, quick groups to meet the other Silestran captains. Not all were as successful as he had been. As he ran to attack another of the great black monsters he saw several of his warriors fall as the Silestra fought back ferociously, biting and tearing as well as swinging their jagged swords.

  Once they saw what was happening, the Silumans began to surge forward to aid their Silestra fathers. The initial attack was faltering, Slurr saw as he came to the aid of three warriors who were struggling. But even as he helped them kill their target he saw the bulk of his force surging forward.

  The force Surok had sent to attack Trakkas had been smaller than Slurr would have anticipated, and with the arrival of the reinforcements he had numerical superiority. This and the fact that the Stygian fighters, who had not fared well at all, were now breaking ranks and fleeing, meant that the battle-tide turned quickly in his favor.

  Unlike the Stygians, the Silumans fought to the death. Once the Silestra had been painfully eliminated, (for they had killed many) and the army’s full attention could be turned against the Silumans, the skirmish did not last much longer. After a span of three costly hours, the Army of Quadar was victorious. The monsters, who did not retreat unless commanded to do so, were slain, their bodies littering the lightly forested terrain in which they had fought. Slurr had ordered his troops not to pursue the bolting Stygians, to improve their numbers against the dark races. He had involuntarily thought of the fighting children again. This too had stayed his hand against their human foes.

  Among the bodies of Surok’s lifeless minions were far too many of the Army of the Light. As always, Slurr instructed his men and women to collect their fallen comrades. Carrying them away from the battle ground to a clearing near the edge of the forest, a pyre was quickly but carefully constructed, and magical wizard-fire sent them speeding off to the Next Plane.

  Slurr, standing near his captains, and joined by Kern and Yarren, waited in silence until the flames had rapidly burned themselves out, as the wizard’s fire reduced the fallen to ash far more rapidly than flames built without craft. Finally, he turned to them and said, “Back to Trakkas. The danger there has not passed as long as Stygia protects Surok and the bulk of his forces. What he sent out to face us was a serious misjudgment. He anticipated far less resistance than we could mount. He won’t make the same mistake twice.”

  “Even in his madness, he seems likely to learn from his errors,” said Yarren.

  “All but one. He has not learned that opposing us at all is his greatest blunder,” Slurr answered with a resoluteness that encouraged those near him.

  Kern, as always proud of his longtime friend, was even more so hearing him speak such words. He had feared that Slurr might yet falter in Cerah’s absence, but again and again he did not. It brought to mind something he’d said to Cerah early in their adventure. “Slurr,” he’d told her, “is a house with many hidden rooms.” Even after all the tumultuous events of the past year, his young ward was still revealing new chambers.

  “Kern, please have half the flight hold back to escort the foot soldiers. The others should hurry back to Trakkas and spread the word that we fought back Surok’s first assault. The morale of the Trakkasians needs every iota of bolstering we can give it.”

  “At once, General,” Kern said nodding his head in agreement.

  Before sending his forces off, Slurr touched five of his warriors, all of them female. “I need you to help me with something,” he told them. Without saying another word the general walked among the fallen enemy and began removing the bodies of the children. The women, seeing his intention, began to do the same. When they were done, thirty young bodies were stacked together.

  Slurr turned to Kern, who had also stayed to observe this tender gesture. “Thirty, Kern. They sent their babies into battle, and thirty of them lie dead.”

  “It sickens my heart,” the wizard replied.

  “Remove their armor. Collect their weapons. The surillas and the jackpups can have the rest, but these thirty deserve better.” When the ill-fitting armor was removed Slurr slung one set over Szalmi’s back. He took one of the swords, crude and rusted, and slid it through his belt. He felt that it somehow honored them to carry away these trappings of their forced service. Turning once more to his friend Slurr said, “Set the bodies alight, then we’ll return.”

  Moments later the Army of Quadar marched away from the ashes of their fallen, which were scattering in a breeze that had come up even as the flames consuming the boys were waning, and returned with fifty riders flying above them, to the beleaguered city of Trakkas.

  Even with the protection of her armor, Cerah’s exposed skin was screaming, tortured by cruel winds which buffeted her as she made her way down the treacherous slopes of Mount Opatta. It had been she that had given the soaring mountain its name, in honor of Parnasus’s mentor and prior First Elder of the wizards of Melsa. I feel a far fouler name might have better suited this place, she thought as she lost her footing and slid down a steep section, landing in a heap on a narrow ledge. With her face stopping just shy of its edge, she saw that another couple of feet further and she’d had fallen off a several hundred-foot drop. “Mount Zankrat-Shit,” I should have said.

  Standing, she brushed the snow from her and took measure of the scrapes and bruises the tumble had caused. They were minor. She passed her hand over them and they faded, then were gone. Still, she told herself, better to stay vertical than to have to heal myself all the way down.

  It had been early the previous day that she’d heard Tressida call to her from across the thousands of miles between them. Cerah knew approximately how long it would take the golden queen to reach her. Their first visit to this forsaken place had also commenced from Illyria, though on that occasion they’d left from Harundy. Tress was flying from Trakkas, which was about five hundred miles further north. That meant by the time she finished descending the mountain, a climb that generally took about three days, she would have to survive a two full days in th
e foothills, which they had learned though tragic experience, were the region that the snow beasts preferred. That did not worry her much. She was now more than a match for these huge, grey and white furred animals. They were wildly ferocious, but she was the Chosen One.

  After that she could look forward to yet another one, possibly two days on the flat ice sheet that led to the sea.

  As she looked about to find the best way to continue her declination, she suddenly heard Tressida’s voice once more. “Are you safe, darling?”

  “There is no place on this icy hell that is truly safe, Tress. But I am well. I expect to climb down for another four or five hours before resting for the night. Not that one ever really knows when it’s night here. It’s dark… always.”

  “I remember. It is a horrible place.”

  “It’s far better than the places I’ve come from,” Cerah said shuddering, from the memory this time, not from the cold.

  “You poor, poor angel,” Tressida replied. “You must tell me all about it when we’re together, flying you back to your amazing husband.”

  “We’ll see, sweet dragon. I don’t know that I’m ready to talk about that just yet.”

  “It must have truly been horrible, then.”

  “Let’s change the subject. Tell my how my… what did you call him… ‘amazing husband?’ has been doing.”

  Tressida paused before answering, wanting to make sure she chose her words wisely. “He has not had a moment’s peace since you were taken from us,” she said at last. “But his army does not know this. I know, because of the depth of my own despair. I know he was suffering just as much as I was. But, Cerah, he has been so brave. He has made bold decisions, all of which have turned out to be correct. He has led his men and woman unfalteringly. When we arrived at Trakkas the city was in pandemonium. Word had reached the defending troops as well as the civilians that the Stygians had joined Surok and…”