“My brother greets me,” said Karak.
“Yes, it seems he does. And he has also brought pets. What are those things in front of the wall? Why is the land dead?”
“Those are grayhorns, altered in the same way Ashhur altered the wolves that fell upon our camp. The earth looks the way it does because of the way the universe is balanced. One cannot improve on one creation without draining life from another.”
“I see.” Velixar began to feel edgy as he finally saw the giant beasts for what they were-horned monstrosities standing twenty feet tall on two legs. Any one of them could easily wipe out ten or more soldiers without injury, and there looked to be at least a thousand of them. He took a deep breath and clenched his fists. Closing his eyes, he pictured Karak filling him with strength, and the demon’s magic inside him expanded tenfold. He suddenly did not feel so afraid.
“Why are they not attacking?” he muttered.
The deity did not need to respond.
“Karak!” called out a booming voice that rattled Velixar’s bones. “Turn away now. Return to your lands across the river! There has been enough bloodshed, enough meaningless loss of life.”
Karak stood there, silent, looking smugly at Ashhur as the distant god stared down at them.
“We do not have to destroy each other!” continued Ashhur. “We were brought here to live in peace. Turn your soldiers around and return to Neldar! All will be forgotten.”
Still, Karak remained unmoved.
“Will you answer him?” Velixar asked.
The deity shook his head.
“The time for speaking is done,” he said, “and the time for bringing your plan to fruition is upon us.”
“But what are we to do? Charge the wall? Bring a fireball from the sky as you did to the temple in Haven?” Again, the fear of his lost journal resurfaced. “How are you to destroy your brother without assistance?”
“I do not want my brother destroyed,” Karak replied. “I want him shamed. That is why I preserved my power over this long journey. I will show my strength, and then his children will bow before me. They will acknowledge my superiority while he still breathes. It will defeat him more surely than death ever could.”
“Why bring an army with you if you plan to use your power?”
Karak stared at him disapprovingly. “My children are my power, High Prophet. Do you not understand that yet? When the wall tumbles, when our soldiers rush inside, when the blood flows…then the citizens of Paradise will understand my true might. Then, my brother will bow.”
“And what of the wall?” Velixar asked. “How will we topple it?”
Eyes fixed on the wall, Karak said, “I brought fire from the sky to destroy a temple that blasphemed my name. This wall is an even greater insult, and it will burn in a greater fire.”
With that, Karak raised his hand, pointing two fingers at the sky while chanting long-lost words of magic that not even Velixar recognized. His chanting grew louder and more intense, until his voice overrode all other noise. Velixar looked at the wall, at Ashhur still standing atop it, and somewhere beneath his god’s chanting he heard thousands of voices screaming at once, from both ahead and behind.
The sky lit up as a ball of flame at least three times as large as the one that had impacted the Temple of the Flesh appeared overhead, screaming down as if from the hidden stars. Velixar felt his skin grow hot, felt the hairs on his arms smolder as it careened toward the massive wall.
When it struck, just like in Haven, there was a moment when all sound disappeared. A blinding light came next, spreading out from the wall like a living cloud, followed by an explosion so powerful that Velixar was almost knocked from his horse. He braced against the force of the blast, squeezing his eyes shut and wrapping his arms around his horse’s neck as it whinnied and bucked. The noise rocked his head, threatening to deafen him, and then suddenly there was silence. A hot wind blew the hair back from his face, seeming to last forever.
Velixar opened his eyes. For a moment he thought he was blind, but then the giant white spot blotting out his vision dissipated. He sat up and righted his bucking horse, his head pounding from the deafening din of the blast, and looked to the rear, where the untold thousands of Karak’s Army were picking themselves up off the ground, shaking their heads, holding their ears. To a man they appeared rattled, more like a massive throng of children dressed up as soldiers than an army. Even the elves were shaken. Of them all, only Gregorian appeared to be no worse for the wear. The new Lord Commander straightened himself in his saddle, his good eye narrowed in concentration, his hand on the hilt of his sword.
Swiveling his head around, Velixar examined the wall. A great plume of smoke rose from it, and fire spread across the dead grasses in the foreground. There was a hole in the wall itself, a jagged aperture of crumbling stone that looked to be hundreds of feet wide. He then peered to the sides, where a smattering of the altered grayhorns stumbled about, looking confused. At least half of them took off toward the dead forest.
Mordeina was ripe for the taking.
“It begins now!” Karak bellowed, addressing his army. “Lord Commander, gather the captains and have them lead the first vanguard through the gap! We will be unrelenting! There will be no mercy until the false god of Paradise concedes defeat!”
His injured left arm in a sling, Gregorian organized the first vanguard, gathering his soldiers into a tightly packed group. The three captains-young, hard men wearing full platemail-circled around the throng. Karak then leaned down and whispered into Velixar’s ear.
“Do you feel my power flowing through you, High Prophet?”
Velixar closed his eyes, his every nerve dancing on end.
“I do, my Lord.”
“There are still many beasts remaining. Use the Ekreissar to destroy them. Pave the way for my soldiers to enter the walls unscathed.”
“Yes, my Lord.”
Shouting voices followed as Lord Commander Gregorian whipped the vanguard, two hundred of his most eager men, into a frenzy. Velixar gazed straight ahead, the glow from his eyes casting a red haze over his vision. The grayhorn-men trumpeted their strange call, then made their charge from a half mile away, their multiple tusks leading the way as they galloped on all fours.
Velixar turned to Chief Shen. “The beasts! Slay the beasts!” he shouted. Shen drew his two black swords from his back and clanged them together. The elven rangers roared their approval. Velixar then drove his knees into the sides of his horse and took off to greet the beasts head-on. Shadows and purple fire rose from his body, and his vision narrowed to the grayhorn-men’s twisted, horned faces. The pounding of the rangers’ horses followed fast behind him, creating a dull thud like a second heartbeat inside his head.
He released the reins with his right hand, raising that arm into the air. The pendant bouncing against his chest throbbed, and energy crackled at his fingertips, siphoned from Karak’s well of otherworldly power. Pressing down on the stirrups and holding tight to the reins with his left hand, he rose from his saddle, feeling mighty, feeling invincible. At least a hundred of the grayhorn-men had not fled, each a ton of flesh and bone, and they were a thousand feet away and closing fast.