And the air rang with distant cries and blasts; for a league and a mile to the south, fire bloomed and lightning flashed from dark fortress walls, while a stark illumination lit up the killing ground and the land beyond, revealing a vast Ruptish army surrounding the bastion.
A nighttime battle was under way.
Arrows flew from the walls, to be met by arrows flown in return. Hundreds of Spawn lay dead on the killing grounds, and more shrieked and died in the volleys, while on the darkened walls above, archers loosed shafts and Mages threw bolts, and Healers rushed hither and yon and treated wounded allies.
Spawn raised long scaling ladders against the walls and began clambering up, but Elves above waited until the Rupt were nearly to the top ere using long forked poles to push the ladders out and away, Rucks and Hloks to tumble down screaming.
From within the shelter of a roofed-over battering ram, Trolls hammered at the fortress gates. But fire rained down upon them, and they flinched and cowered, yet the wetted, hide-covered roof protected them, and they and their garb had been thoroughly soaked and did not burn, and so they rose up and hammered on. Flaming oil flowed out from under the gate, but grounded iron plates formed a wedge and fended the fire away.
In the dimly lit courtyard beyond the gate, an Elven army stood assembled, ready to do battle were the entry to be breached.
“My kindred,” said Aravan, shifting from foot to foot, his knuckles white against the haft of his spear. “I need do something. I cannot just stand here. Valke must fly to the western crossing and bring reinforcements from Adonar. We can attack the foe from the rear. Yet I cannot leave thee unprotected.”
But Aylis shook her head. “I will be well enough, Chier. Yet ’tis not the in-between time for crossing into Adonar from Neddra.”
“Rach!” cursed Aravan, frustrated in even this.
And still the battle raged.
But then out from the ragged clouds above, four bellowing Dragons came sweeping, their battle cries drowning out all others. Across the skies they hurtled and swooped down toward howling ranks of the Ruptish army encircling the black fortress
Aravan gasped, “How did Drakes come into this-?”
Aylis spoke an arcane word-“ Evulgare! ”-and peered at the Dragons, and then said, “ ’Tis illusion, Chier.-The Dragons, I mean. The conjured fire and lightning are real, but the Drakes are not. ’Tis a deception Magekind brings to bear.”
As the Dragons plummeted toward the Spawn, claws extended, fire licking out from the corners of their mouths, Aravan slammed the butt of his spear against the stone and said, “Aylis, I have to do something . I cannot leave thee, yet I also cannot just stand here and-”
“Nay, love, look,” she replied. “Even now the foe is routed.”
In the face of the Drakes, the ranks of Rucks and Hloks and Trolls and Ghuls broke, and Spawn fled, the Dragons roaring in pursuit, spewing illusory fire, augmented by real Firemage castings. Rupt burned and died screaming, yet some aflame ran on. Then the Drakes veered away from the chase and returned to settle atop the four towers at the corners of the fortress, where they bellowed challenges into the air, their thunderous echoes to slap among the crags and peaks.
“It takes much life essence to conjure a Dragon,” said Aylis, “one with movement and dimension and fire and sound. Those Illusionists who have done so will need to be replaced by other Mages, and soon.” Even as she spoke, the Drakes took to wing and flew up above the clouds to vanish.
Aylis smiled. “Good. The Dragons went as true Drakes would, and didn’t simply fade away. That will give the enemy pause ere they try to assail the fortress again.”
She turned to Aravan. Clearly he was agitated that he had had no part in this battle. Aylis took him by the hand and said, “Come, love, let us to the fortress, where we will celebrate with the others.”
Aravan inhaled deeply and slowly let his breath out. Then he shook his head. “The Rupt scattered in all directions. We need wait till the coming of the dismal day on this ill-begotten world ere we start for the bastion. I would not have us encounter remnants of that army.”
In less than a candlemark, Aravan and Aylis heard heavy treadfall thudding across the slopes below.
“Trolls,” murmured Aravan.
Moments later, many feet pattered by down in the narrow vale running past.
“Rucks?” whispered Aylis.
“Rucha or Loka or both,” breathed Aravan.
Though Aylis and Aravan stayed alert the rest of the night, no other Spawn passed in the darkness.
At last drear dawn seeped into the sky, and Valke took to wing. Up and across the brown-tinged air he soared, and after but moments he spiraled down and landed at the rear of the plateau, where a flash of silvery light brought Aravan in Valke’s stead.
“ ’Tis clear. Let us hie to the fortress.”
And together Aravan and Aylis hastened down the slope and toward the dark stronghold below, where new fires burned outside the walls, pyres for hundreds upon hundreds of slain Spawn.
“How many battles have ye fought while we were away?” asked Aravan.
“This was the first,” said Alamar, “though I doubt it’ll be the last.”
“It took them some while to assemble again and to collect even more Spaunen to come and assault the bastion,” said Arandor.
“ ’Twas nigh a full Horde,” said Aravan.
“Next time it might well be that,” said the captain.
Aravan sipped from his wine and looked at Alamar and then Arandor. “The crossing points here on Neddra need be warded as well as the fortress, else the Foul Folk could set ambuscades for those entering or leaving. Yet to have guards at the crossings has two drawbacks: they advertise to the Rupt exactly where the in-betweens are, and it puts the warders at risk. And so, I suggest that at the critical times of crossing-mid of night when arriving on Neddra, and mid of day when leaving-that patrols ‘just happen’ to be in the vicinities of the nexus points.”
Alamar shook his head. “Not necessary, my boy.”
Aravan frowned. “Not necessary?”
“That’s what I said,” snapped the Mage.
“Father,” cautioned Aylis, glaring at her sire, then adding, “You’d better explain.”
Alamar gritted his teeth, then took a deep breath and let it out. “A Seer looking one day ahead or even a half is altogether enough.”
Aylis frowned, then nodded in agreement. “If all that is being examined are the times of the crossings and whether or no the enemy is nigh, it should be simple enough.”
“I told you it wasn’t necessary,” said Alamar, somehow preening while seated, a self-satisfied cast to his face. “We have things well in hand.”
Aylis looked at her sire and shook her head and sighed. “Well in hand or not, Father, I think a good leader would lay his cards on the table ere jumping down someone’s throat.”
Alamar rolled his eyes as if asking, Where’s the fun in that?
Arandor laughed and said, “Lady Aylis, it was through a Seer that we knew the assault was coming. And so, we had the plan in place. My battalion stood assembled, and archers and repellers were on the walls as well as Magekind.”
“The Dragons were my idea,” said Alamar, again preening though he sat in a chair. “Scared the spit out of them, too.”
“But we didn’t foresee the fact that the Trolls would be protected such that fire did them no harm,” said Arandor.
Alamar made a negating gesture. “Pah! Next time we’ll ask the Sorcerers to simply destroy their shelter, and then use lightning.”
They sat for moments, none speaking, but then Aravan asked, “Thinkest thou they will attack again?”
Alamar shrugged. “As I said, I doubt if this will be their last assault, yet if this didn’t scare them off forever, then when they come again we’ll do even more.”
“We can stay on, Father,” said Aylis, glancing at Aravan, who nodded his agreement and added, “I am a fair hand with bow and spear.”