Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Five: Know Thy Enemy

Donovan and his token force galloped across the bridge onto the drying muddy road and stopped on the other side of the bridge. “There’s no telling what we will face once we catch-up with the enemy. Every man here serves in the Dawn Breaker Mounted Brigade and carries leather armor if the need requires it. Let’s prepare for battle as true men of Etmindor.” Donovan dismounted to unpack his gear. Perhaps thirty minutes later, sunlight gleamed from burnished oak- tanned leather surfaces of Donovan’s armor and of eighteen men around him. He put on his steel studded-leather barbute helm and saw something below. The prince crouched lower to inspect what had caught his attention. It was the boot print of a Giant, nearly obliterated by many tracks of smaller booted feet.

“The enemy has a Giant; how did they manage to accomplish such a feat?” Donovan asked.

One hundred and eighteen years ago, an army of Giants had invaded Northern Etmindor during a blizzard. Out of the howling winds and driving snow, they had attacked and destroyed farmsteads, logging camps, and the town of Endlemere buried in drifted snow. The hulks had slaughtered everyone and left the village in ruins. King Edder led the Etmindorian Army into battle, and great pitched-battles erupted in the Northern regions of Etmindor.

Allies joined the war, determined to help Etmindor end this threat once and for all. Two months later, during the twenty-one-day battle of Edder’s Stand, both sides had suffered horrific losses. Dead were stacked everywhere, and wounded were beyond counting. Out of necessity, both sides agreed to a temporary truce. For five days, each side tended to their wounded and dead with only an open plain between them. Through ravaged grass-land, flowed a stream which wound over and around tangled bodies of the fallen. Ever since the historic battle, the creek had come to be known as b****y Run.

On the morning of the sixth day during a light rain, a towering figure had limped toward the stream separating them. The great figure stood on his side of the flowing waters. King Edder had approached the massive form, limping due to an injury of his own to his left lower leg. With great effort, the Giant had knelt and placed upon the ground the iron battle-ax he carried. Blood was seeping down from a wound to his right shoulder, dripping off his iron chest plate.

“We fight no more.” The Giant stood upright. King Edder had stared for a few minutes at the massive figure before him and nodded his head. He slowly knelt and painfully drew his long sword and placed it on the ground. “Leave in peace,” King Edder said loud and clear. Both leaders had returned to their people bearing painful reminders of the battle, yet the bloodshed had ended.

Donovan shook his head to clear his mind of these distracting thoughts. “At least three Giants were traveling with a force of many more fighters leaving Drennard,” Maneau said quietly at Donovan’s side.

The young Centaur of nineteen years was skilled in tracking and was studying the enemy’s tracks. Maneau’s dark brown hair was pulled back behind his head, and his brown eyes spoke of youth. The sunlight shone off his breastplate of light leather-harness armor.

Prince Donovan mounted his horse and galloped down the road. In drying mud, perhaps three miles farther down lay two dead Kang with short spears sticking out of their backs. Each of them was approximately seven feet in length, sturdily built and covered with wiry black hair. They wore crude leather armor. Each of their faces was locked in a death leer with green eyes wide-open. The beasts lived in elaborate tree-top colonies in massive trees beyond the Skargtooth Mountains.

Donovan galloped onward, continuing the chase. The direction the enemy was traveling didn’t make sense. Ahead, the Turga River thundered between towering rock walls. There were no fords for miles in either direction. The river consisted of a series of deadly cataracts and cascades which would kill anyone who attempted to cross. Topping a ridge, Donovan paused while observing their enemy for the first time with his spy-glass.

Marching before the prince was approximately two hundred and fifty Nyen and Kang on foot, led by three Giants. The broad, stocky forms of the beasts stood a head taller than the savages did. One of the giants wore an iron chest plate and backplate, iron-studded leather bracers and gloves. He also wore a helmet of an open-faced bassinet design crested in bright red plumage. The other two wore ragged iron-studded leather armor and caps. Each held a double-edged battle-ax.

Somewhere ahead, a horn blared, alerting the marching enemy to his small force’s presence. In astonishment, Donovan discovered a rope and plank bridge now stretched across the thundering Turga river. In a blink of an eye, Prince Donovan had lost the element of surprise.

Their enemy started to fast march, and the foremost of their force stepped upon the bridge as Donovan watched. Incredulous, he realized they were about to make good on their escape. The prince kicked his horse into a fast gallop, racing to close with the last attacker fast-marching towards the bridge. From somewhere ahead, a shout echoed through the air. An enormous tree on the far side started to sway. Swiftly, the leaf-crowned deadfall gained momentum, while hurtling towards the wood and rope bridge.

The enemy, including his chosen target who were fast marching across the bridge, screamed in terror. They now were sprinting, attempting to escape certain death. The massive tree crashed onto the makeshift bridge with a loud whoosh and crash. Thick lines parted like threads, each cracking loudly. The air in front of Prince Donovan exploded into shattered wood planks, whirling fiber, and blurred tree boughs. About two dozen enemies fell screaming to their deaths. Their shrill cries echoed in the air, hinting at Donovan’s own rapidly approaching demise.

Prince Donovan suddenly realized he was traveling far too fast to stop. In desperation, he leaped from his saddle and grabbed a limb of a passing tree. With body hurtling through the air toward the chasm beyond, Donovan’s form suddenly snapped around, wrenching his shoulders cruelly. Still, he managed to maintain a death grip on the tree branch. The bough wasn’t strong enough and tore off from the small tree. He heard his horse scream in terror as it tumbled over the edge. The limb had served to slow his momentum, allowing him to hit the ground even while sliding closer to the cliff. Moments later, the prince felt the solid ground beneath him vanish as he went over the edge.

“Ooohhhh ssshhhii—” Donovan screamed in terror, facing his inevitable doom.

Hurtling over the edge, Prince Donovan felt something hard impact his right hand. Without thinking, he grabbed impulsively, welcoming the touch of something solid. With another painful wrench of his body, the prince swung back and forth over the raging river far below. Shakily he reached up with his free hand and barely managed to grab hold of the root. Dirt and debris showered down from somewhere above. Donovan glanced upward and saw Changa looking down at him.

“Hold on, brother, Mathew’s getting some rope.”

Prince Donovan felt his grip starting to slip. The strain on his arms and hands was almost more than he could bear. Suddenly a rope dropped down from above and hung beside him. Donovan managed to grab the rope when the root he was hanging from snapped. With heart hammering, he gripped his lifeline tightly with both hands and legs and swung back and forth. He concentrated on not looking down at the white ribbon of rushing water far below.

A roar across the chasm attracted his attention. A Giant was wading through the enemy grouped on the far side with an enormous bow held in his left hand. It was the hulk with a bright red crest upon its helmet. “Prince Donovan, I am General Anktar. You amuse me, hanging like a bug from a web. As surely as I destroyed your pathetic town, I will now kill you!” General Anktar roared.

Helpless, Donovan could only wait for the Giant’s killing shot while clinging to the rope. Slowly but surely, he was being pulled back to solid ground. With eyes closed, he awaited the arrow’s impact. Abruptly, a booming bellow of rage caused the prince to c***k an eyelid towards the Giant. In amazement, he saw General Anktar was bellowing in pain while backing away from the cliff ’s edge. With his free hand doubled into a fist, the General roared in anger at something to the side and above him. As the hulk turned his head, Prince Donovan spotted an arrow shaft sticking out of his face. Blood was flowing steadily down the brute’s face, dripping into the wind.

“Whoever made the shot has to be the luckiest man alive,” Donovan thought. Hands reached down to grab hold of his arms and pulled and rolled Donovan back onto solid ground. Still shaking from his ordeal, he glanced at the hillside above, to discover who had saved his life. There stood a woman, highlighted by the setting sun behind her. “Who is she?” Donovan asked out loud.

The unknown archer drew back her bowstring and sent another arrow on its way. The shaft embedded itself in a Kang’s chest, which crumpled and fell head-long into the chasm before it. His men now lined the cliff ’s edge, where they added their bow-shots to hers. Enemy archers who at- tempted to trade shots with the marks-woman were felled swiftly by her. Her uncannily accurate aim was slowly driving the enemy back. Abruptly, their foes started to retreat, placing distance between themselves and the female bow woman.

Shortly afterward, with a smile of gratitude, Donovan stepped forward, awaiting the lady who had saved his life. Prince Donovan’s jaw dropped when he saw it was Princess Morgan Trindell of the Kingdom of Caralon. Her brown hair was shoulder length and shone in the waning sunlight.

Clad in huntsman’s garb of dark grays and greens, one could never tell she was of royal blood. The shy young girl Donovan had once known was now riding towards him confidently. Princess Morgan was now nineteen, as he recalled, and her brown eyes were measuring his every move.