"Let them come and crash against our walls." King Galdra of Lunithír stood with his arms folded, looking over the erinian-inlaid table in the main chamber of Mythníril. The king's silvery hair coruscated in the pinkish-red light of the Blood Moon that drifted in through the oculus overhead. Through the arched windows in the walls behind him, Calen could see storm clouds brewing, glowing with a crimson light. "We can teach them to once again fear elven steel."
The other two rulers of Aravell, along with the six Ephorí stood either side of Galdra, all with their arms either folded or clasped behind their backs. A number of elven commanders stood around them wearing smooth silver plate and flowing cloaks the colours of the various kingdoms.
Varthon, the Matriarch of Clan Dvalin, stood to the left of the table, Baldon and Aneera beside her.
"Walls mean nothing to dragons," Aeson said, leaning over the table. "One pass and every warrior you put on those ramparts will be char and ash."
"Agreed." Harken had one arm across his chest, propping up the other, his hand scratching at his chin. The man's long, dark hair was tied into a braid that ran down his back.
"Well—" Queen Uthrían raised an eyebrow at Aeson "—what do you suggest then, Rakina?"
"If I may?" Chora raised a finger.
Uthrían nodded, and Aeson gestured for Chora to carry on.
Chora lifted herself up in her chair, her eyes scanning the map on the table. "The dragons are burning a path through the Aravell, and the armies are walking across the ash. Once the dragons push through the glamour, they will simply burn everything in their path. What I suggest is we take the dragons out of the battle."
Towering behind Chora, Thacia nodded with a broad smile stretching from ear to ear. The Jotnar's blood-red hair glistened in the crimson light.
"With all due respect, Rakina," one of the elven commanders said, "if that was such an easy thing to do, we wouldn't be having this discussion."
"We don't let them reach the walls." All eyes turned to Ella as she moved past Calen and closer the table.
"And who, may I ask, are you?" Baralas, one of the two Ephorí from Ardurän shook his head and gestured at Ella. In the short time Calen had spent in Aravell, he'd found Baralas, of all the Ephorí, to possess a level of arrogance that set his blood boiling.
"She is a guardian of Fenryr." Baldon's voice remained low and level, a rumbling growl reverberating in his throat as he looked at Baralas. "She is an Aldruid of the warrior blood, and she is the daughter of the Chainbreaker."
"My apologies," Baralas inclined his head towards Baldon and gestured for Ella to continue, the colour draining from his face.
Dann leaned in close to Calen, and Calen could sense the smirk on his face just by the tone of his voice as he whispered. "I fucking love Baldon."
Ella gave Baldon a soft smile and a nod. She turned to Chora. "Forgive me, I spoke out of turn."
"Speaking out of turn is what I pride myself on. Continue. I already know my plan. I'd prefer to hear yours."
Ella inclined her head, passing her gaze around the table before she continued. She leaned forwards pointing at Aravell on the map. "If we sit and wait, we're doing exactly what they want. But if we could get closer, if we could move through the woods and bring the fight to them before they knew we were coming, we would negate the dragons' fire. If we get close enough, the dragons wouldn't be able to burn us without burning their own. And if we could somehow drag them into the woods, then not only would we even the odds a little, but maybe those spirits – the Aldithmar? Maybe they could help us." Ella looked to Varthon who stood at the end of the table with strips of black fabric draped over her white fur, the veins of gold in her black antlers glimmering. "Gavrien guided me and my friends through the woodland. He said you have a pact of sorts with the spirits?"
"Of a sort," Varthon replied, her deer-like eyes fixed on Ella.
"We can use that," Ella said, tapping on the table. "If we keep the Dvalin Angan close and draw the imperial soldiers into the wood."
"I like the way your brain works," Chora said. "That's a better plan than I had."
Calen could do nothing to hold back the smile that touched his lips as he looked at Ella, a pride swelling within.
"They would still overrun us." The Ephorí Calen knew as Ara of Lunithír stood with arms folded. She bit at the corner of her lip, raising an eyebrow as she looked up from the map. "And then they could pull back, and the dragons would lay waste to our forces."
"My rangers could go." The elf who spoke was Thalanil, High Captain of the Aravell Rangers. It was he who had recused Calen and the others from the Uraks when they were last in the Darkwood. His left eye was a milky white, and a myriad of scars latticed his face. "We can take galdrín and Dvalin with us, move light. We take up positions on both sides of the path they're burning, split their attention. We wait by the line of Nithrandír. Once the dragons do a pass, we cut through the soldiers with arrows from both sides. Then the galdrín can pull the soldiers into the woods for the Aldithmar to take. They won't know what's happening. We can thin the herd, then lure them in."
It took Calen a moment to remember the word 'galdrín' meant 'mage' in the Old Tongue.
"We can set up the main army here, here, and here." Aeson pointed to three spots on the map: one behind the line of Nithrandír, one to the left, and one to the right. "Once you've dealt your damage, fall back. The empire will give chase, and the Nithrandír will cut them down. As soon as the Nithrandír take form, we will charge. We hit them hard and fast from all three sides." He dragged two fingers in a long line. "We need to make use of the forest, let it cover us as we stretch our forces outside the path they're carving, let them walk willingly into our grasp, then cut them to shreds." Aeson looked up towards Ella. "Like Ella said, if we get in close, quickly, we'll negate the dragonfire – for the most part. It will be chaos. But chaos is our best chance."
"As good a plan as any," Queen Uthrían said, nodding. "It has my support."
"And mine." King Silmiryn, who had remained mostly quiet, inclined his head towards Aeson. "I will provide my royal galdrín to accompany the rangers."
"As will I." King Galdra's chin rose a little higher in the air. Calen had yet to see a time when the two kings hadn't tried to outdo each other.
"My thanks, King Galdra, King Silmiryn." Thalanil inclined his head. "They will be most welcome amongst our number."
"I will go with the rangers." Therin hadn't spoken the entire time. In fact, Therin rarely ever spoke around the other elves at all. And now, as he did, most didn't even turn to acknowledge his words except for Queen Uthrían and one of the Vaelen Ephorí, Ithilin.
Thalanil stared at the stone map for a few moments, then lifted his gaze. He nodded at Therin.
Aeson looked to Haem, who stood to Calen's right along with Lyrin and Varlin. "Arden, will Ruon and Ildris be returning?"
Haem shook his head. "This is all we could spare." Haem gestured towards Lyrin and Varlin, who stood either side of him. "With the Blood Moon, our brothers and sisters must be ready to push back the Shadow. Efialtír is splitting us on purpose."
There was weight in Haem's eyes, loss.
Aeson nodded, then turned to Calen. "Valerys will need to stay in the city."
"What?"
"If he takes to the sky outside the glamour, the Dragonguard will rip you both to pieces. And the woodland is too dense for him to be anything other than a target. If he holds back, he can protect the city from anything that slips through." Calen didn't have to speak. Valerys's roar thundered through the sky outside, echoing in the chamber. But as much as Calen hated the idea, it was true. "He will get his chance," Aeson said, holding Calen's gaze. "But there is no sense in throwing his life away." Aeson drew in a long breath, then looked around the table. "Gather what you need and say whatever you need to say to whomever you need to say it to. We march immediately."
As the room emptied, Ella pulled at Calen's arm. "Tanner, Yana, and I are going with the rangers. Don't argue. It's where we're best suited."
Calen looked into Ella's eyes, seeing the blue shift to amber. In his heart, all he wanted to do was put her somewhere safe, but nowhere was safe. As he stared back at his sister, Ingvat's words in the Burnt Lands rang in his ears. 'Take away their choice and you take away who they are.'
Those words had found a new meaning in Calen's mind when he'd discovered Aeson had known Ella was alive all this time. Aeson had taken away Calen's choice, taken away his ability to keep his sister safe, and Calen refused to do the same to others. He drew in a sharp breath, nodded, then pulled Ella into a hug. "We'll get through this, I promise."
Ella squeezed, then pulled away, a soft smile on her lips. "Whatever happens, we're together."
"I'll go with her," Dann said, moving to Calen and Ella's side.
"I don't need you to protect me, Dann Pimm," Ella said with a frown. "I'm not some damsel."
"Protect you?" Dann raised his eyebrows. "No, I want you to protect me."
The winter air was ice in Dann's lungs, his breath misting as he exhaled. He held his new white wood bow in his left hand, his heart thumping as his fingers brushed the fletching of the arrows in the quiver at his hip. The drum of feet and howls of instructions and commands from the imperial soldiers echoed through the forest like a landslide. The smell of burning wood filled his nostrils, and smoke clouded the air.
About two hundred feet ahead, the light of the Blood Moon washed down through the clearing created by the Lorian dragonfire. The clouds of smoke from the fires shone with an incandescent pink glow, casting the wood in an eerie light. That was the one benefit Dann had found of the dragons burning their way through the Darkwood: the forest itself was no longer a sea of darkness. A few hundred feet along the clearing, a column of torches marched forwards, shadows dancing across the wood as the imperial forces moved towards the ambush point.
All about Dann, Aravell rangers crouched low, hooded green cloaks draped over their shoulders, white wood bows gripped in their fists. Dvalin Angan were interspersed amongst the elves, strips of black fabric covering their white fur. Alea and Lyrei were crouched to Dann's left, the hoods of their dark green cloaks pulled over their heads, their bows held tight. Ella, Tanner, Yana, Faenir, and Baldon were on his right. Dann barely recognised Ella, and not because of the broken nose or the scars on the side of her head – or even because of her eyes that seemed to shift from blue to gold. But because of the way she held herself, the way she talked, and the way she moved.
The Ella Dann knew was sharp and quick witted. She had always been able to hold a sword and, most importantly for Dann, she could trade insults with the best of them. But this Ella was colder. Her wit was sharper, her humour curbed. Dann had been in Aravell for months, and there was no way he would have been caught dead speaking in that chamber in front of those Ephorí and the Kings and Queen. Ella had stepped forwards and spoken as though she were a veteran of a hundred battles. And besides Ella, Faenir looked like he'd gotten in a fight with a bear and then eaten the bear. The wolfpine was enormous.
"You think you might have left the white cloak in the city?" Ella whispered as they creeped through the wood, her gaze focused on the marching imperial soldiers ahead.
Dann looked down at his new armour that Valdrin had made for him. He rubbed the white cloak between the thumb and forefinger of his right hand as he ducked under a low branch. "It kind of completes the look."
Ella turned her head, the faint light of the torches ahead casting shadows across her face. "Really?"
"You're just jealous," Dann whispered back.
"Shh." Lyrei slapped at Dann's hand, glaring at him. Her finger was pressed against her lips. Both Lyrei and Alea had left their white cloaks in Aravell. Now that Dann thought about it, it probably would have been a good idea.
Dann frowned and stuck out his tongue at Lyrei, which only drew a sharper glare from the elf. He cursed himself for his reaction – it was childish, but fear tended to find the child in him. Strangely, it wasn't fear of the fighting to come that gripped him. It was the fear of what he was about to do. Killing Uraks or trying to kill the spirits that lurked in the Darkwood – the ones he could see drifting through the night around them – was one thing. But Dann had only ever killed seven humans. One in Milltown, three in Camylin, and four at Belduar. And each of those had been with his blood hot in his veins. The first time he'd taken a life had been to save Calen. When he closed his eyes, he could still feel the vibrations as the sword crunched against the bones of the soldier's neck. He could still see the blood on his hands.
Dann looked at the bow clenched in his hands, seeing that he had been subconsciously gripping the wood so tight his knuckles were pale. He loosened his grip, drawing in a slow breath. He knew that for the first time he was about to take a human life not in direct fear of his own but simply because it needed to be done. And the soldier he killed would never know how or why they had died. The thought twisted a knot in Dann's stomach. He wouldn't shy away from what he needed to do, but that didn't mean he would allow himself to accept it peacefully.
The howl of a wolf rippled through the night, rising above the marching feet. All about Dann, the rangers pulled arrows from their quivers and nocked them. Dann drew a short breath, then followed suit, the touch of the fletching calming him before he pulled the arrow free from the quiver.
"Remember," Lyrei whispered, "as soon as the signal is given, run."
Dann nodded, holding Lyrei's gaze for a moment. "I'm not going to have to carry you out of here again, am I?"
The elf sucked in her cheeks, then shook her head and turned back towards the clearing ahead. As Lyrei turned, Dann could see Alea staring at him, her golden eyes shimmering in the light of the Blood Moon.
"What?" he mouthed. Just like her sister, Alea shook her head and looked back towards the clearing.
"I see you have as much success with the elven women as you do with the human ones." Ella's lips widened to a grin as she slipped two short swords the elves had given her from her belt.
"You know, I liked you better when we thought you were dead." A moment passed, and Dann grimaced. "No, wait. That was a bit too mean."
"Yeah." Ella pursed her lips. "It was a bit much."
"I'm working on it."
"No, you're not."
"No, I'm not."
"Shh," Lyrei hushed again. She nodded towards the clearing where the torches were drawing closer, the imperial soldiers marching.
Dann nodded, then dropped to one knee, wet leaves shifting beneath him. One of the greatest things about his new armour was that it didn't hurt his knees when he knelt. Relax. Let yourself breathe. The smell of burning wood redoubled in his nostrils as he drew a long breath, and he let out a cough as the smoke caught in his chest.
Lyrei glared at him again as he gave her an apologetic smile.
He let his breath out slow, cracking his neck to the side. The wait was what was killing him. He counted his heartbeats as the column of Lorian soldiers drew closer in the clearing ahead. It was hard to tell in the pale crimson light of the Blood Moon, but it looked as though the column was hundreds of soldiers wide and stretched back until the night swallowed it.
Minutes passed, each more tense than the last. Dann's heartbeat had blocked out almost all other sounds, thumping like a drum. The soldiers were directly ahead of him now, their torches scattering the criss-cross shadows of trees through the undergrowth.
Dann's heart clenched as shapes shifted in the forest between the line of elves and the column of soldiers. Twisted shapes of roots and bark, black smoke illuminated only by the Blood Moon's light. Aldithmar. Part of the plan was to draw the imperial soldiers out from the clearing and into trees, exposing them to the Aldithmar's wrath. Dann was all too aware, however, that the Aldithmar would just as easily snap his bones as they would any imperial soldier's if he strayed too far from a Dvalin Angan.
I could really use a drink.
He rolled his shoulders, loosening himself, then slowed his breathing. Little was more important when using a bow and arrow than staying loose and breathing.
The voices of the soldiers drifted on the breeze. Dann could hear them clearly now, chatting, throwing insults back and forth, totally unaware of the blood that was about to be spilt. Dann clenched his jaw, swallowing. Beneath the mask of the 'evil empire', these were just men and women. They had homes and parents, and friends, likely siblings, maybe even children. You can feel the guilt later. They're here to kill you. Dann thought back to that night in Ölm Forest during The Proving – the night he had killed the bear. He imagined himself to be that bear now. These men and women had marched into his den, and if he didn't kill them first, they would kill him.
Another howl echoed in the night, and Dann saw the elves around him tense, their fingers ready to draw. He drew in a deep breath and pulled back the bow string, feeling the pressure against his fingers.
A few grumbles rose amongst the soldiers in the clearing, a few curious shouts, but they marched on.
Dann glanced at Ella to his right, the big man, Tanner, and his partner, Yana, standing beside her. None held bows, but Dann had no doubt they would carve the soldiers apart when they got close. Baldon was now in his wolf-like form, standing on all fours beside Faenir, both their eyes glistening. Despite Faenir's growth, the Angan still towered over the wolfpine, though Dann would not want to run into either of them in a dark wood – or the Darkwood, as it happened.
He looked back towards the column of soldiers marching past them. His heart beat with a thump.
The last howl rang out in the night, and Dann loosed. The snapping of bow strings sounded all around him, the whistle of arrows cutting through the air. Even in the pale red light, Dann followed the flight of his arrow, watching as it soared between the trees and punched into the head of a Lorian soldier.
Cries and screams rang out as the arrows sliced through the column, and soldiers dropped like sacks of stones. Dann didn't think he'd ever seen so many lives taken in a single second. So quick were the elves that the Lorian soldiers hadn't had time to draw their swords before another volley of arrows cut through them like blades of grass. Dann nocked and loosed, allowing himself to find a rhythm as his hand moved from his quiver to his bow. The more we kill now, the fewer will try to kill us later. It was a simple thought, but the reality was more complex. With each arrow that landed, his jaw clenched, and he felt a twist in his heart.
The soldiers were forming into lines, hefting shields and screaming orders. Arrows cut into their ranks from both sides, unceasing. Dann watched as something unseen ripped men and women from the forming shield wall, hurling them through the air and into the forest. Even though he wasn't the victim, the helplessness of facing magic always made Dann uncomfortable. No matter how much he trained or prepared, a mage could end his life in a heartbeat.
A blood-chilling cry pierced the night, and Dann followed the sound to see a clutch of Aldithmar tearing through the Lorian soldiers who had been dragged into the woodlands. One of the spirits grabbed a woman by the shoulders and ripped her apart, her body splitting, blood spraying. Another soldier screamed as roots burst from the ground and tore into his skin like laces through a boot, erupting from his mouth. Athird Aldithmar had punched its hand through a soldier's gut and now held the man in the air. Dann knocked an arrow and loosed. The arrow slammed into the man's head, his body going limp as the Aldithmar held him.
"Heraya embrace you," Dann whispered. He'd seen those Aldithmar up close, felt the fear of looking into their eyes. He wished that on nobody.
As Dann made to knock another arrow, pillars of fire plumed into the woods, illuminating the forest with the light of a raging sun. The strange pitch of the shrieks and hisses of the Aldithmar as the fire consumed them set Dann's hairs on end. Bolts of purple lightning flashed through the air, and Dann watched as several Aldithmar burst into flames.
Seconds passed, and then Lorian soldiers were charging through the fire, howling war cries. Soldiers on horseback charged amongst them, the horses leaping over thick roots and dense foliage.
As the Lorians charged, the elves unleashed a storm of arrows. Men and women dropped in plumes of blood, vanishing into the dark.
The whistle of an arrow passed Dann's head.
"Down!" he roared, grabbing Lyrei and pulling them both down. Alea, Tanner, Yana, and Ella had done the same, but down the line, Dann saw a number of elves dropping with arrow shafts embedded in their chest.
Another wolf howl cut through the din of charging soldiers.
"Fall back!" One of the elves bellowed as more bolts of purple lightning crashed into trees in explosions of fire.
A series of roars erupted overhead like claps of thunder.
"Please not the fucking dragons," Dann whispered, a bolt of lightning flashing above him.
"Go!" Lyrei grabbed Dann's shoulder and threw him forwards. "We need to get back to the Nithrandír!"
He looked back to see Alea and Lyrei following him. Ella, Tanner, Yana, Faenir, and Baldon were moving as well.
Hooves thundered to Dann's right, and a Lorian rider leapt over the trunk of a fallen tree, spear raised, eyes locking with Dann's. But as the man heaved his shoulder back, Faenir leapt into the air. The wolfpine wrapped his jaws around the rider's throat and ripped him from the saddle. The horse thundered forwards, shrieks ringing out.
"Keep running!" Ella yelled. She moved through the dense wood with as much ease as Alea, Lyrei, running with the loping gait of a wolf, her eyes shifting with a golden glimmer.
Dann made to turn his head, but before he did, his gaze fell on something amidst the flames of the wood. A man plunging a black sword through the midsection of an Aldithmar. The black smoke that shrouded the Aldithmar's body dispersed in a cloud, its white eyes misting upwards. The man turned his head, and Dann recognised the pale sickly skin and the black, light-drinking eyes. Even the blue swirls on his cloak matched those of the Fade they had fought in Belduar.
As he stared, Dann's foot hit something on the forest floor, and he went tumbling sideways. His armour softened the blow as his elbow slammed off a root, but he managed to catch himself with his face. A burst of pain smashed through his head, and stars flitted across his eyes. A hand grabbed him by the hood of his cloak, heaving up. He scrambled to his feet, slipping in the dirt.
"Go! Go!" Ella roared, pushing him forwards.
An arrow sliced past his head, a tree trunk splintering to his right. He blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision. The fingers of his left hand were still wrapped around his bow. He kicked another root as he staggered but kept himself upright. Ahead, the rangers were dropping to one knee, loosing arrows behind them before breaking into sprints again.
Dann touched his hand to the arrows in his quiver, glancing over his shoulder to see Lorian soldiers in full chase, columns of fire pluming from mages' hands as the Aldithmar approached.
Fuck that. He pulled his hand away from his quiver and pushed his legs harder, his balance returning to him. Ella, Tanner, and Yana sprinted beside him, but Faenir and Baldon looped backwards, ripping soldiers from horses, tearing men and women limb from limb.
Why did I say I'd do this?