Cald repeated the words in his mind. Free them. Only a short time before, he and Eyrmin thought they had discovered the way to call on the trapped spirits, but they had been wrong.
They had tried the old song that had been a lullaby for so long.
It sounded as if it might have referred to the Star Stair and elves who had lost their lives on Aebrynis. So had the next line:
If there was ever a time when they faced a need, it was at that moment. At that moment! When Cald and Eyrmin had tried to call the spirit warriors there had been no need!
“Illberin!” Cald shouted, and was startled by his own voice. It rang through the grove as if it had sprung from a thousand throats.
The eyes of the spirit warrior lit with joy and purpose. His body took on solidity. As he took a step; the grass crushed beneath his feet. He drew himself up straight and raised his blade as one of the awnshegh’s humans charged toward Cald. The human, with the lust of battle on him, shied, and his eyes focused on the elf who had not been visible a moment before. The human’s blade had been raised for a strike at Cald, and he was not fast enough to prevent the suddenly visible ghost elf from skewering him through the magical protection.
Malala faltered as a strange elf appeared beside her and hacked at one of the two opponents she faced.
Glisinda, backing away from three humans, found two strange warriors at her side. The three elves quickly dispatched the confused foes, who had been startled to see two opponents appear out of thin air. Around the clearing, elves and enemy alike faltered in their attacks as in their midst appeared more than fifty warriors whose existence came as a surprise.
Several appeared directly in front of the awnshegh, who raised his hand and tried to flame them, but his fire proved ineffective against the ghost warriors.
Realizing the ghost warriors were occupying the attention of the awnshegh, Cald raced forward with the blade he had drawn from the rabbit hole. He plunged it into the side of the monster.
Czrak screamed in agony and twisted, nearly jerking the blade from Cald’s hand. The human stumbled and was knocked sideways by one of the exoskeletal legs. Czrak turned on him. Using another leg, the monster pinned him to the ground. As the giant head turned toward him, Cald felt the pull of the awnshegh’s gaze, invading his mind, robbing him of his will.
The master wanted the sword … the master must have the sword. Cald would be rewarded if he gave the master the sword. The puny elves, evil because they stood in the master’s way, would be destroyed, and the master would rule all Cerilia. Cald would rule with him….
A wail of terror erupted from the fighters, but Cald, caught in Czrak’s spell, only dimly heard it and gave it no heed.
Suddenly he was free of Czrak’s gaze. The bloated face twisted in pain, and the awnshegh gave a tortured scream. He rolled on the ground, nearly crushing Cald with his weight as he passed over the human.
Breathless and feeling as if his ribs had been crushed, Cald staggered to his feet.
He found himself facing the foreleg and shoulder of a gigantic black deer. As he looked up, the Stag of Sielwode lowered his head. His silver antlers, glowing like fire in the darkness cast by the portal, gored Czrak in his bloated side. The sluglike body was tom by ten antler points, sharp as rapiers.
Czrak roared in pain and outrage and slashed at the Stag of Sielwode with two of his long, claw-tipped spider legs. One missed as the Stag leapt away; the other slashed down the shoulder of the gigantic black deer. The deer backed away, limping on his right foreleg. The deer’s hind legs became entangled in the branches of the huge fallen limb.
Czrak whipped his swollen, tom body around, two long insectlike legs reaching for the encumbered and wounded Stag.
When the Stag attacked, Cald had pulled his mind free of Czrak’s influence. Eyrmin had said the elves had never been truly sure whether the Stag of Sielwode was good or evil, but now Cald knew. The creature was graceful, beautiful with its gleaming black coat and silver antlers. He fought the evil, bloated Czrak that had killed so many elves.
“No!” Cald dashed forward. The wicked claw on the long, exoskeletal leg was reaching for the Stag’s throat. The human jumped and raised his arm, hacking at the leg as he reached the top of his leap. He had barely touched the ground when the claw and first joint of the insect-leg fell beside him. He stood between the Stag and Czrak.
With a heave, the giant black deer freed himself of the thick, confining branches of the fallen limb. The Stag lowered his head. At first, Cald thought the creature meant to gore him, but with an abrupt move, the Stag used the side of his head to push the human out of the way. Cald went staggering back as the Stag charged into Czrak again.
The force of the shove sent Cald stumbling toward the eastern side of the clearing, where the portal had opened.
The fight between the two awnsheghlien would be theirs alone, that much was clear. The battle would be to the death, and the survivor would absorb the strength of the dying.
Inside the shadowy wood, the light that blazed from Eyrmin’s sword and armor set the human youth’s goal. He worked his way toward it, through a knot of fighting skeletons and ghouls. He leapt and dodged, putting the evil blade to use in behalf of the elves, whether living or dead. The spirit warriors little needed his aid; so long denied battle, they were attacking with a vengeance.
A moan of fear from the rotting mouth of a ghoul warned Cald of a new arrival, a monster he had seen before. He turned to see a black, formless shape winding between the trees. This time it ignored the fighters as it approached, and he sensed its attention on him.
He shut out the individual battles around him, and their noise hushed to silence as the darkness approached. Again he looked on a blackness so deep it seemed to be a hole in the existence of both worlds. Still, it had movement and purpose. If it had a mind, its thoughts were centered on Cald.
Fear caused him to back away a few steps, but as the horror approached, it neared Eyrmin and Klasmonde Volkir. The elven prince was too caught up in his fight to see it, and the lich-lord was attempting to force the elf back into the path of that approaching menace.
Cald started forward, though his feet felt as if they had grown roots. Fear slowed him; still, he knew he held the most powerful weapon in the battle, and if this new danger was to be stopped, he would have to stop it.
Then behind him, he heard the clear, sweet voice of Glisinda as she began the “Lirimira,” the elven battle song of courage. Howls from the undead tried to drown her out, but other elven voices took up the song, swelling the noise of battle and giving heart to their allies. Cald felt his own courage grow, and he ran forward, his blade cutting into the unsubstantial darkness when he reached it.
Remembering the creatures that had disappeared into that void at the last battle, he ducked quickly aside. At his feet, a black feather shape, almost weightless, drifted to the ground, and the apparition drew back. Cald dodged the smaller portion of blackness, not sure if it contained any power. He quickly learned it did. The severed head of an undead warrior rolled from a nearby skirmish, and the grisly skull, with its rotting flesh, disappeared into that scrap of blackness.
Stepping carefully to avoid the remnant, Cald advanced toward the main shape of the void again. It waited, spreading huge wings like those of a bird. Above his head, Cald saw the shape of an avian neck and head.