The bright horse whinnied and pranced, eager to be of service. All around Mikahl in the torchlit garden yard, men yelled and dove for the ground as more terrible things crawled from the hole and took to the sky.
Along the walls the alert soldiers cheered when they saw their king come flying out of a cloud of dust and debris.
Mikahl took the bright horse up into the frigid sky so high that all he could see below were the tops of the clouds. He hated to abandon Westland, but there was no choice in the matter. He set into a streaking course due east and hoped with all he had that he could get to Queen Willa’s palace to meet Hyden Hawk before the Warlord got there first.
Chapter 52
For a long night the elves battled the demon horde in the Evermore. The arrogant Hardwood Coalition set their wizards on the attack, but found out quickly that most normal spells were useless against the hellborn. Blades and arrows weren’t much better, but even the greater of the devils were bound to a body of flesh while in the world of man. They fell and writhed and died just like the elves they were so mercilessly slaughtering.
The elven defensive forces had been split, and while one force, the Hardwoods and their sentinels, raged in to meet the demons like madmen, the other force, led unofficially by Dieter Willowbrow and a few of the Queen Mother’s soldiers, was helping to protect the rest of the elves as they fled.
The crafters and healers, the mothers and children, and the outlying gatherers were grouped together and herded toward the only place Dieter thought might be safe. In the south there were dense tangles of forest. It was no easy task keeping so many elves safe and together while fighting off the attacking hellspawn as they went.
A group of eight young elves, both boy and girl, and their ancient herbology teacher, were trapped in a dense thicket between an acid-mouthed wyvern and a pack of devil dogs. Three of Dieter’s scouts came upon them and were doing what they could to keep the demon kin at bay with their bows. Now they were growing short of arrows. They sent one of their number to get reinforcements, but as one of the devil dogs charged in and latched its teeth on the old instructor, the situation demanded action. Charging like the barbarian berserkers of old, one of the elven archers raced into the group of youngsters, screaming and yelling and waving his arms around madly. His brazen approach startled the devil dogs back.
One of the other elves charged and used the ground the dogs had given to snatch up a few of the errant arrows from the trees and undergrowth. It was then that the wyvern struck.
A boy of perhaps twenty-five years bravely shoved two of the female students out of harm’s way and took the attack of the man-sized wyvern himself. Corrosive saliva and blue elven blood sprayed the group like a shower of warm rain. The wyvern’s teeth were clamped on the boy’s neck, and it shook its head furiously. The violent motion tore a chunk from the young elf’s body and the wyvern chugged it down.
A few of the children began swatting away at their stinging flesh where the monster’s saliva had touched their skin. A cloud of steam rose up from the warm blood pulsing out of the body in the snow.
The thrum of a soldier’s bow and the thump of his arrow impacting into the wyvern’s scaly hide was lost in the shouts and cries of the terrified group.
The wyvern flapped awkwardly into the trees and crashed, going into a sputtering death rage. Large clumps of snow and ice fell down on top of the beast, shaken loose from the branches above.
The devil dogs had the group surrounded in a rough circle. The sudden cry of the old herbologist caught everyone’s attention. A pair of the red-eyed, toothy beasts had gotten hold of her again and this time they quickly dragged her away from the others.
One of the soldiers charged out of the huddle to help her, but even as the other black wolf-like beast finished tearing her apart, she commanded him back. “Save the children!” she shrieked. “Do what you must to save the…” her voice trailed away as her throat was ripped out. The elven students whimpered and moaned in horror as their beloved teacher was devoured like a fallen deer before their eyes.
With the devil dogs busy, the archers cautiously urged the young elves toward the bulk of their retreating kin. They were met in a small clearing by Dieter and a handful of sentinels who were coming to their aid. As the children were calmed and ushered away, a winged panther-like beast the size of a horse came crashing down upon them. Luckily, the youngsters had gotten out of the clearing and into the trees. The forest was too dense for the creature to give chase, but since it had just crushed one elf, and lashed another senseless with its spiked tail, it had plenty to occupy its attention.
The beast’s snarling maw opened only a foot from Dieter’s face. A brimstone-tainted roar blasted at his long, golden hair and filled his eyes with blurring tears. The elf with whom he had been conferring was now lying in a steaming heap of entrails at his feet. Another elf stumbled aimlessly toward the unprotected middle of the clearing, his head a bloody mess.
From Dieter’s left an arrow loosed at the beast. From his right, one of the Queen Mother’s elves plunged his black-blood-stained sword deep into the creature’s guts. When the soldier’s sword hit its vitals, the demon twisted toward the attacker and snapped out at him. Dieter had no sword, but as calmly as if he were about to peel an apple, he pulled out his dagger and laid open the beast’s throat. A spew of hot crimson gore covered him, and an unseen hand yanked him clear of the demon’s death throes.
As surely as he had killed the monster before him, a certain dread filled Dieter’s heart. The Heart of Arbor had helped spare him, just as it had in the clearing before. He knew why he had been spared. He was the only elf who had a chance of getting them into Xwarda. The humans would surely leave them to their own fate, just as the elves had done to humans not so long ago. But Vaegon had fought to the death with the men of Xwarda. If he told them who he was, they would listen. Even though it went against the new Queen Mother’s order to stand and fight, Dieter decided what he was going to do. If she didn’t understand, then so be it.
Once he was back among the main group of elves, Dieter leapt gracefully to a low-hanging branch and whistled for silence. The eyes that fell on him grew wide. He was covered in blood and looked half-demon himself.
“We must flee the forest!” he yelled. “It will be here for our return, but if we stay, we will surely be destroyed by this unearthly force. If you wish to live to see your homes again, then follow me. If you wish to stay and die, then at least do so to stall their pursuit of us. Grant the children and the untrained a chance. We have a long way to run, but we are fleet and we know the forest.” He paused, feeling the Heart of Arbor pounding in his chest. “Come, children of the Evermore, our future lies even farther south.”
Most gathered there could feel the Arbor Heart speaking through Dieter and didn’t question the young elf, but some of the older males, who’d long forgotten the dreams of youth, lagged behind. Whether by the will of the forest, or by the stubbornness of their ways, they gave their lives for those who followed Dieter.
Through that night and all throughout the next day the elves continued their run toward Xwarda. The first night the demons harried them, but then as if some magical force began to protect them, the pursuit seemed to break off.
When the group reached Xwarda, hungry and exhausted after two nights and two days of continuous retreat, they found the gate to the city open, but the alert troop of soldiers guarding the portal was unwilling to let them inside.