Light of Elliana: Book One—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Twenty-Five: Mern

Sixteen days had come and gone since Donovan’s unexpected meeting with Girard. The first nine days and nights consisted of near-constant travel, inspections, and broken snatches of sleep. Monitoring Kandalare’s upgrades and inspecting the new and existing watch-tower garrisons, had proven too much for him to handle alone. King Tarran and Queen Katherine had finally prevailed, for Prince Donovan had driven himself to the point of exhaustion. General Theodore Anxeswell appointed the garrison inspections to three capable young officers whom he would keep under a watchful eye. Meanwhile, Prince Donovan slept through days ten and eleven.

By day twelve, Donovan had recovered, for the most part, which was a good thing. For early the following morning before dawn, he was abruptly awakened and forced to eat a hasty breakfast with his father. An hour later, Prince Donovan was on horseback alongside his father at the head of some two thousand men and Centaurs, riding towards the town of Mern. Ensign Tim Slater flew the Dawn Breaker Mounted Brigade standard. The flowing banner showed a crossed gold sword and a hand ax upon a field of crimson, above which was a silver knight and horse. Ten yards to his right was Ensign Mark Amlee, who held the flag of Etmindor, which was flapping in the wind.

Mern stood on the Sarnet River’s North Bank. It was a major timber and fur supplier to Kandalare and was becoming known for its grain as well. Nearly twenty-two hundred men, women, and children lived there. Over the last three years, the area had rapidly expanded, for the soil was fertile and well-suited for growing crops. Two scouts had observed a large force of enemy raiders, heading south. They were burning and pillaging homesteads and farms. If they continued in their current direction, Mern was sure to be attacked.

The enemies’ scout network appeared to be functioning well. As, once again, there had been little time to prepare for the coming attack. There were no precious hours to waste while gathering troops and allies for the journey to Mern. Many brigadiers were away, supporting new watchtower garrisons until soldiers in training could relieve them.

Thus, only eight hundred brigadiers from the Dawn Breaker Mounted Brigade were available. The remaining twelve hundred men have experienced Militia and Centaurs from nearby clans. Efforts to rally support among the Menduwaka had roused a meager response. The grand alliance between man and Centaur was now shaky at best.

After traveling for five days, Mern sat in the distance, engulfed in flames. Fire and smoke billowed high in the air ahead, marking their destination. Dark shapes dropped down from the smoke-filled sky, again and again. The creatures appeared to be attacking something on the ground. Some time back, an old officer had told Donovan about lizard beings, known as “Slythe” in his travels. He had claimed the females were fast fliers. Until now, Prince Donovan had written off the older man’s story, as drunken ravings. He made himself a mental note to make it up to the retired one-eyed soldier.

Their force charged into the burning town. From the smoke ran a Kang in oiled leather-armor, hefting a crude ax covered in blood. The roaring brute’s chest suddenly sprouted a feathered shaft. The mighty beast collapsed in midstride, with green-eyes wide-open, while his gnarled hairy hands clutched at the arrow.

Thick smoke from the burning buildings, partially hid Nyen, Kang, and what must be male Slythe. Like an anthill that had been disturbed, the enemy poured out of every opening. His father charged into the fray with his hand and one-half long sword, swinging in methodical precision. Countering a Nyen’s wild blow, King Tarran’s gleaming blade changed direction, slicing its pale throat.

“Kill them all!” Donovan’s father roared.

Donovan dispatched a Kang, with a swift slice to its neck, severing the main artery which lay below the skin. The hairy beast staggered backward and collapsed to the ground.

Whirling around on horseback, Prince Donovan managed to stop a sword-wielding Slythe, using his destrier’s momentum to blunt the attack. Quickly, he dispatched his opponent with a sword thrust into its green lightly scaled chest. It gave a screeching hiss and collapsed on the ground, where it writhed for a few minutes and lay still. Everywhere Donovan looked, was massed figures fighting amidst the smoke. “We are slowly driving the enemy back, but at what cost in men?” Donovan wondered silently.

From around a burning building, charged a Nyen wielding a crude sword. Prince Donovan deflected a thrust and responded in kind. His gleaming blade penetrated the savage’s leather armored chest, as his foe’s eyes opened wide. Even though Donovan’s adversary was mortally wounded, the savage attempted to fight on. With a cruel wrench and twist, the prince ripped his keen-edged blade free. Blood flowed freely from the gaping wound as his avowed foe toppled backward to the ground.

From an open doorway, a Nyen charged forward with a hand ax. In a bright flashing arc, Donovan’s longsword intervened. In the blade’s wake, a pale white hand and weapon tumbled to the ground below. The savage barely had time to scream before the prince’s sword pierced his leather-armored chest.

“Bravo, Prince Donovan. Nice blade-work,” Girard yelled. The Sword-Master bent forward and cut a Kang down, with a sword blow to the brute’s thick hairy neck.

“The beast simply wouldn’t accept no for an answer!” Donovan quipped, with a grim smile.

“You don’t say!” Girard laughed while repositioning himself for the next threat.

From somewhere deep in the smoke ahead sounded a horn. What the alert portended, Donovan didn’t know. A breeze blew the smoke away for a moment, giving him a brief glimpse of many reinforcements approaching. Lumbering beside the attackers were the forms of four Giants.

Prince Donovan briefly noted the hulks wore iron chest plates and helms, as well as leather armor. The smoke closed in before him once more. “This battle has taken a decidedly bad turn for the worse,” the prince thought wildly.

“Donovan, we risk being over-run; if we don’t leave now,” Davis shouted. His friend was frantically motioning for him to go.

“I agree! Girard, Arthur, Sir Alfred, Changa, pull back!” Donovan stopped a Kang’s advance, by a sword blow to the beast’s face, which struck midway up its black leathery nose. The creature stumbled to its knees, and Arthur’s hand ax quickly ended its worries.

A high-pitched horn blared from behind, signaling a retreat. Donovan’s father had seen the advancing force, and he had wisely decided to disengage from the enemy. The men tried to respond as best as they could, as the enemy reserves charged forward.

“Flee for your lives. Flee! Get out of there!” His father roared from somewhere behind him. Prince Donovan broke contact with the enemy and fled.

Suddenly, a suffocating blackish-purple cloud filled the air. For a moment, Donovan watched as an enormous winged-creature plummeted downward to land in the town before him. The prince turned Shadow’s head and desperately kicked his mount forward. The dark evil haze filled Prince Donovan with indescribable terror and confusion.

In the distant gloom, an immense shape reared-up, which Donovan could not identify. Suddenly, an ear-splitting roar drowned out the battle’s noise and echoed through the air. Its merciless and evil cry steadily approached. The prince forced his attention away and spurred Shadow forward, lunging past enemy soldiers. Prince Donovan felt as if he’d been punched in the gut and felt instantly nauseous. He struggled to maintain control over his mount while putting distance between himself and sure death.

The sounds of distant chains filled the air, as forms rose from the ground, in horror, Donovan watched friend and foe rise, each with pale-green glowing eyes as they armed themselves. The riven flesh of countrymen, allies, and enemy alike obeyed the black sorcerous evil commanding them. With a savage roar, the undead army turned and charged towards them. The prince knew they couldn’t survive the onslaught and signaled to withdraw. Another deafening bellow echoed forth. Its earsplitting rumble shattered the last of Etmindor’s forces courage, and now they were galloping headlong in retreat.

“Donovan didn’t blame them, for they were no match for whatever this creature was. Never had he seen such a beast! Could this monstrosity be a—dragon?” Prince Donovan’s body shook as he knew he had witnessed a nightmare’s arrival in their midst.

“What in Elliana’s name is it, Donovan? Is this what the old fisherman Dain was talking about?” Emec asked in a shaky voice beside him. The young Centaur slowed down, to run alongside Shadow. The prince saw his fear, mirrored in his young friend’s eyes.

“It must be a dragon. Yet, how can it be? Why have we never seen one before?” Donovan took a deep breath and noted Emec was attempting to calm down as well.

The nightmares from Drennard crowded Donovan’s mind, even as the dead armed themselves and advanced towards them. The corpses did not slowly stumble along. The dead charged towards them with sickly green eyes.

Wide-eyed and horror-stricken, Prince Donovan fought to escape the loathsome evil surrounding him. He was shocked to discover that almost a full third of his father’s force was dead or dying. Swiftly, he spun around on horseback to escape. Ahead, a soldier was running who the enemy had knocked from his horse. Galloping up to the man, Donovan offered him a hand and pulled him up behind him.

Kicking Shadow, they took off at a gallop. Taking a glance behind, Donovan noted the enemy was continuing to pursue them. Here and there, his wounded countrymen were being dragged down. Enemy weapons were rising and falling again and again. In the dark haze, soldiers and Centaurs disappeared and did not rise again.

Finally, they broke free, and Donovan galloped to regroup with the survivors, who followed King Tarran. Slowly, their ravaged force managed to put more distance between themselves and the enemy. Helpless, Donovan could only watch from a distance while the enemy destroyed what once was a booming town.