Chapter 53: Calm before the Storms
Angrenost stood at the edge of a cliff on the island of Sharktooth, staring longingly at the distant city of Tierm, knowing that he had to return to it as soon as he could. There was a small camp there, on Sharktooth, which had been set up by Freohr's men.
Angrenost had been surviving for the last week on the food and water that he stole from the people living there.
The last week had been horrible for him; he had to constantly be on the run, evading Freohr and his men. Now, he stood, hoping that he was safe and waiting for ships to sail forth.
He had overheard a conversation last night, when he had been sneaking inside the camp for food. Two soldiers had been talking to each other in hushed voices, inside a tent, and Angrenost had been just outside.
By what they had said, five large vessels had sailed away from Tierm two days ago. Angrenost himself had seen them, but not properly. But, as he had listened to them, he had realized that they were all going to set forth and attack Tierm that night, after most of the dragons and Riders left the city.
Angrenost knew that this would his best and only way back to his own kingdom, so he had immediately knocked out one of the guards that he had come across on the way back, and donned his armor. He would look just as much a soldier as anyone else now, and could blend with the others and makes his way to land.
Deaother walked towards Phiole and Everaun, who were waiting for him in the dragon hold, ready to take off towards Ellesmera. Everaun stared at Deaother, his eyes suddenly quite sharp. Deaother stared back with a small smile, then put his small backpack into one of Phiole's saddlebags.
"How are you, my friend? . . ." Everaun asked, and Phiole stared at him as well with gentle eyes.
"I . . . I am fine, Everaun, Phiole . . . trying to get used to the new things . . ." Deaother said, looking at both of them, then sighing and running a hand through his hair.
It's quite obvious that you're disturbed . . . Tell us what's bothering you, is it the departure of your parents? Phiole asked him, and Deaother nodded, not meeting their eyes.
"Listen Deaother . . . they are coming back someday or the other, this is just a passing phase . . . things are going to be just fine . . ." Everaun tried to reassure him.
"No, it's not that simple . . . They're marching to war, to battle . . . this isn't just any casual trip." Deaother told him, trying to remain calm. "What if something-"
No, Deaother, don't even consider such a thing. Phiole said suddenly, making Deaother turn to him. They are the senior most members of our order, of course they will do their best to protect Alagaesia, but they are just as proficient, they will survive the battles. They did, a hundred years ago, against Galbatorix, and they will survive against this Crugan as well, you just wait and watch. Phiole finished, and Deaother nodded at him.
"Listen . . . you don't have to keep all these things bottled inside. We are your friends, Deaother, and we know what you're going through . . . you don't need to be alone all the time, you can join us . . . we don't do much more than fly around in Ellesmera anyway." Everaun said, and Deaother smiled.
"Thank you, you two, now let's get going before King Dathedr begins wondering whether we'll ever return." Deaother said.
It was evening, and Angrenost was still waiting on the eastern shores of Sharktooth for the ships to arrive. He wasn't alone either, he had blended himself into an entire battalion of soldiers, who camouflaged him.
He knew that there would be only one dragon and Rider in Tierm, Fealia and her Rider, Marian. Angrenost knew that Tierm would stand a better chance of defeating Freohr's men if they had a warning that there was an incoming attack, which was why he had a plan.
Their ship was the first one to attack the city, to be followed by the next one. Angrenost didn't know what the idea behind this was, but he had a plan to warn the dragon and Rider of the incoming attack that could destroy their entire city.
"This ships the one which has the ballista in it, ain't it?" Angrenost asked to one of soldiers in a different, drunkard type of accent.
"Aye, it is." The soldier replied in much the same accent. "Ain't seen see ya'around much, where' you been?"
Angrenost raised an eyebrow, though his face was covered with a helmet. "I've been injured, dratted dragon at Beirland, I think it. Nearly lost a leg." Angrenost replied uncertainly.
The man nodded, then said, "You ain't the usual hardy folk type, my man . . . Ya' from the countryside?"
Angrenost nodded, "Was . . . then I got dragged in 'ere." The man didn't seem to want to let him go now.
Oh drat! What have I got myself into? Angrenost thought.
"Same 'ere man, same 'ere!" The man replied enthusiastically.
Better change the topic before he asks me where I am from . . . Angrenost thought."So, ya'think these poor folk will stand a chance against us?" Angrenost asked him.
"My man, wha'ever these blokes are, they ain't poor . . . Ya saw the armor of them guards of the Prince guy? Them wore bleedin' golden armor man, an' here we are stuck with them leather jackets." The man said.
"Aye . . ." Angrenost replied, unsure what to say next.
"So, tell me, where you from?" The man asked.
Oh blast! Angrenost cursed.
"Tell them to stop marching." Zar'rac muttered.
"Army, halt!" His colonel shouted, and his words were echoed by the other captains.
Zar'rac stared ahead, there was a peculiar smell in the air, which he noticed before the others because of his extremely sensitive nose. He said, "I am scouting ahead, tell them to set up camp . . . and make sure that the Ra'zac and humans are in different tents!"
"Yes sir, right away!" The man replied and saluted him.
Zar'rac then walked ahead, his dark cloak silent. There was hardly any wind in the forest of Du Weldenvarden that night. It was to his advantage. They were nearing the capital, and he wanted to know what had happened of his scouting party which he had sent ahead earlier. The tallest pines in the region towered above him, and he looked up at them, his eyes able to spot them even in the darkness.
Elves have been here . . . and so have my men . . . Zar'rac thought. He could smell blood, human blood, somewhere nearby. He sniffed again, knowing that he was getting closer, and he saw it. A lone man lay near the base of pine, dead for sure. Zar'rac walked to him and observed his body. There were three huge gashes on his back, which showed that he had been killed by some wild animal in the forest, whatever it was. He bent down and turned around the body, and a flicker of surprise crossed his eyes. The man was the captain of the scouting party.
"Here's the captain, so where are the rest of the men?" Zar'rac murmured to himself, then walked back to his original position and closed his eyes, letting his nose trace the direction towards the corpses of the party.
He was sure that they were dead, they were supposed to return before his attack on odour of decaying corpses was stronger towards the right, which meant that the party was there. Zar'rac turned and walked briskly towards their general direction.
He didn't have to walk long. Soon, he spotted them, six or seven of them lying dead on the ground. He watched for a while, and he saw the single strokes on some corpses, and no strokes at all in the remaining.
They have been killed by a blade or by magic . . . This is the work of elves. Zar'rac thought.
Tomorrow, the capital would be burnt to the ground, he was sure of it. And he himself would ensure that the king was killed with it. He turned around and walked back towards his army, but he didn't notice a pair of glinting eyes of an elf on him from a platform high up in the trees, waiting for a chance to catch the intruder by surprise. The elf jumped down and stood right behind the Shade, who turned around in surprise. The elf stepped back, his eyes focused on Zar'rac.
"Who are you?" The elf said, suspicious, staring at the Shade, while Zar'rac smirked.
"Gilderien, I take it?" Zar'rac asked, and the elf didn't react immediately.
"Why are you here?" The elf asked.
"Me? . . . Oh, I am here just to . . . destroy your kingdom." Zar'rac said, and the elf got a glint of surprise in his eye before he jumped back, drawing a magnificent sword from his hip. The sword was made of a glistening metal, and had a golden cross guard and hilt.
"Quite frank, aren't you?" Gilderien said, while Zar'rac dug his hands into his pocket.
"I am . . . I am going to enter Ellesmera, and you are not going to stop me, you hear?" Zar'rac asked him.
"For your own sake, I'll advise you to get away from here as soon as you can." The elf said, his eyes glowing fiercely and his sword held ready.
"Oh, I am not going to fight you, don't worry . . ." Zar'rac smiled at him, then pulled out a small, wooden box from his pocket, which he opened.
It was just what he had wanted, the little parting gift Crugan had given him to use against this very elf, whom he was now facing. He remembered his master telling him how to use it.
"I made this from the bark of a Crowcipe tree . . .you know where they are found, I presume?" Crugan had said, while Zar'rac had nodded. "Yes, towards the north, in the Malewoods . . ." Zar'rac had replied. "But they are so rare, I haven't a single one of them till now." "I was lucky enough to find one . . .This tree has many magical properties, as you know, and if we cut its bark in this shape, and mutter an incantation to it, then it will open and suck the person into it . . . and that person will end up here, where I have remaining part of the bark." Crugan said. "But for whom should I use this?" Zar'rac asked him, and his master laughed. "For that guardian of Ellesmera I wasn't able to cut past the last time I was in Alagaesia . . . vengeance will be delivered to him soon." His master had told him.
Zar'rac smirked at the elf, who was standing still, eyes fixed on Zar'rac.
"Why so serious? . . . Let's toy around for a while . . . here, catch!" Zar'rac said and tossed the box high into the air. The elf looked up, and Zar'rac began to say the incantation.
"A nice trick, Shade, but its not going to . . ." The elf trailed off as the box suddenly lit up, twenty feet in the air. Then, it opened and a purple light glowed from within the box.
"What are you doing?" Gilderien asked him startled, but Zar'rac was silent.
Suddenly, there was blast of light from the box, illuminating the elf, who pointed his palm at the box, his mouth forming words. But, before he could finish what he was saying, there was a loud explosion and the elf, and the box vanished, leaving behind a huge amount of smoke.
That was a too easy . . . his commitment and suspicion was his undoing . . . Master, he is all yours . . . Zar'rac thought, but he knew that the old elf would have some other tricks up his sleeve.
In the darkness of Mani's caves, suddenly light began to glow in a seemingly huge hall built just outside the mountain. The darkness was swept away as spirits materialized. Many, many of them, materialized and coalesced, slowly forming one body. The illumination coming from them slowly reduced, and finally stopped completely as one figure materialized in front of them, wearing dark robes.
It was Orúm, and he smirked wickedly. "Stupid Rider . . . You made a big mistake, trying to take me on . . . now, I'll make you regret for your actions . . ." He spoke to the air, and then bent down muttered something in the Ancient Language.
A ring light suddenly leapt up in front of him, and within, it suddenly began to splash liquid of some sort. Orúm crouched and placed his head inside. The dark liquid was cool to touch, but it itched and irritated his eyes, and he wished that he had kept them closed. But as unpleasant as the sensation was, only his head was enduring it.
His head appeared out of the ground in another, extremely distant place, and he spoke to the thousands of men waiting there. It was huge mess hall, and in the centre of it was a dark hole, filled with wild magic, where Orúm's head was now present.
"It's time!" He said, and the men jumped as they saw his head appear out of the hole. "Follow me!"
Orúm pulled his head back then, and he was sure that the men were already getting into lines and marching towards the hole.
Jiarha and Eridor flapped incessantly, flying back towards Galfni.
Ephian are you sure that he is going to return to the well? Jiarha asked him.
Yes, I am perfectly sure . . . that's where his army is going to come from . . . Ephian said hurriedly.
What army? Eridor asked him.
Don't you see? . . . Elva was transported to another place through that well, so people could travel the other way, that is, to our land from that well. Which means . . . it is a magical shortcut to Alagaesia from another region, from where Orúm has come . . . Ephian replied.
I guess that makes some sense . . . although I still stink it's a load of nonsense for the most part. Eridor replied, and Ephian shot him an angry look.
There's the mountain . . . Jiarha said, and dived, while Eridor followed.
They flew downwards for a minute, after Jiarha suddenly stopped, flapping and looking down uncertainly. Eridor stopped as well, and stared at Jiarha.
What's wrong? Eridor asked.
I see . . . people down there . . . Jiarha said, and Eridor looked down as well.
By the heavens, you are right . . . both of you . . . He has called his army. Eridor them, thousands and thousands of men marched towards Galfni, continuously pouring out from the hall.
Their purpose was just one, complete annihilation and destruction. Orúm stood at his head, a smug smirk on his face.
Try to stop me now Rider.
A couple of days had passed since Worian's return now, and the last Vaelia had contacted Deaother, he had been leaving Tierm. Now, Vaelia stood inside Worian's room, staring at him. He seemed to be better now, all of his injuries were healed and he was regaining from his earlier terror.
"Why did you leave, Worian?" Vaelia asked him softly, staring at the elf who was lying bare-chested on the bed in front of her.
The two of them were alone in the room, and Worian was lying with his eyes closed.
"I . . . wanted a new beginning, a place where I could start anew . . . after all the misunderstandings that . . . took place here." Worian said, and Vaelia looked down, scratching her chin. She remembered them quite well.
"So . . . how are things with you? . . ." Worian asked her after a pause.
"Things are . . . fine, not great but fine." Vaelia said, still scratching her chin.
"Are you trying to distract yourself purposely?" Worian asked her suddenly, and she looked up to see him watching her.
"I . . . no, of course not . . . I was just trying to . . . never mind." Vaelia said awkwardly, staring at the elf whom she had liked so much for so long, but everything had been torn away within moments. "I was just wondering when Deaother would be coming back . . . he was about to leave the last I contacted him."
"Deaother? . . . He's not here?" Worian asked her, and she shook her head. "Then where is he?"
"He had to go Tierm for something. I don't know what exactly, but some sort of Rider conference." Vaelia told him.
Worian raised his eyebrows, "But he isn't a dragon Rider . . . then why?"
"That's what I don't know . . . Everaun just told him to accompany them to Tierm." Vaelia replied.
Worian nodded, then closed his eyes again. There was silence between them for a while, and Vaelia stared at the ground, thinking how she would confess her feelings to Deaother, but she suddenly noticed Worian's breathing becoming increasingly stressed, and faster. She looked up to see him sweating, and staring at the ceiling.
"Is something wrong?" Vaelia asked him hurriedly, concerned. He turned to her, and she noticed a strange look on his face, that of a person who had finally accepted a bitter truth.
"Vaelia . . . They are coming for us . . ." Worian said suddenly.
"What?" Vaelia said, getting up and hurrying to his side, perturbed by what he had just said.
"Vaelia . . . this is just temporary, any day now they will march over to Ellesmera and attack us . . . Vaelia, they have Lady Enaevia on their side, she knows everything about our government, about our kingdom . . . she knows all our secret locations, and all the places where we elves can seek sanctuary . . ." Worian told her, his voice having hardly any emotion in it.
"Hush, Worian . . . you are just blabbering, its not-"
"Its happening, Vaelia, every moment we waste is too precious . . . they are coming, they are very close . . . Oh . . . Oh no . . . Vaelia . . ." Worian said suddenly, and he seemed to have gone pale with fear.
"Worian, relax, nothing is going to . . ." Vaelia began to say, but for some reason she was unable to say anything to console him, her words had stopped short in her mouth. She couldn't lie in the Ancient Language.
"You see, its not true . . . Vaelia, the Ra'zac . . . they . . . they can smell us, they can smell elves, humans, even dwarves and Urgals . . . What if I . . . I just led them to us?" Worian asked her, and raised his hand to his face and rubbed his eyes, unable to believe what he had just said.
Vaelia went pale as well, what Worian had said was true, he had led them to Ellesmera.
"Vaelia?" Worian asked her.
"My friend," Vaelia said, empathy brewing inside her for Worian. She sat down next to him, on his bed, and grabbed his hand in her own, knowing that there was only one way to comfort him.
"Worian . . . don't blame yourself . . . its-"
"Vaelia," Worian said suddenly, his voice high pitched and panicky. "I . . . I failed us all . . . I failed . . ."
Vaelia knew there was hardly anything she could do now, except reach forward and grab his face in her arms and pull it close to her, hugging it.
"Don't say that . . . we aren't even sure of it yet." Vaelia said, but suddenly something happened. "What was that?" Vaelia muttered, looking around.
The ground trembled beneath then, and Worian looked up at her, then jumped forward and embraced her, and pushing her off the bed with him and to the ground, covering her from the top.
Not a second later, the roof of the room collapsed, broken apart by a boulder thrown from a huge catapult just outside the city.
The attack on Ellesmera had begun.
In three different regions, in three different places, battles were to begin against the oblivious and unprepared. And at all the three points, great slaughter would take place.
Vaelia held tightly onto Worian as rubble fell down onto them, unable to believe what she was seeing. There were two, no, three Lethrblaka flying overhead.
Ephian watched through Jiarha's eyes as the army reached Galfni and entered it without any resistance, then disappeared down a tunnel, knowing that the tunnel probably led to Tronjheim.
The ship came as close to the shore as was possible, and soon, Angrenost had boarded it, along with the other soldiers.
"I tell ya'man . . . This place is gonna get blasted hard." Angrenost heard the man next to him say.
And miles and miles away, four dragons flew above five ships, halfway through their journey.
The greatest battle in the history of Alagaesia had begun, and now, its fate rested in the hands of the untested, inexperienced but courageous.
The tides turned in Crugan's favor, who just watched from his high seat, while the woman in front of him screamed in pain.
"Rider, Alagaesia is doomed, there is nothing you or your partner can do to save it . . . do you hear me?"
