The dwarves led the Red Wolf king and as many innocents as they could save into the caves and mine tunnels under the city. The Warlord’s horde turned toward Locar and the wild half-breeds’ attack. Even with the effective dragon guns, and the brute force the breed brought to battle with them, they were overrun. Dark magic, and violent acts so mindless and brutal that they could only be called evil, ripped through the breed before the sun rose to end that first night. By the next night, the whole city of Castlemont, and Locar as well, was alive and crawling with devils, demons, and skittering, slithering hellspawn.
Only the most well-hidden groups of refugees survived them. The rest were rooted out and devoured.
The Warlord felt wholly confident with his amassed army. To wait for more of his minions would only delay his conquest. There were more wingless creatures and far fewer flying ones than he had hoped. The march across the continent would be slow but pleasurable, for the huge city of Dreen was just over the mountains and directly in his path. The hellborn that hadn’t joined him yet could catch up or not. He didn’t care. Knowing he had an army that could chew through the land to Xwarda unscathed was all that mattered to the Hell Master.
Just before dawn of the third day, he gave the order to start east toward Dreen. Like a slow, oozing puddle of spilled sludge, the horde made its way over the Wilder Mountains and into Valleya.
The Red City was half empty, and those remaining were in the process of trying to flee with the horse lords. Lord Gregory had refused to allow livestock leave the city before the women and children. Now, herd masters fought each other, and their terrified horses, to win free of the city gates as the demon spawn swarmed over the walls in a hungry fury.
Cresson had heard Hyden Hawk’s warning, and Master Wizard Sholt had followed it up with news of what was happening in Westland. Other wizards from Castlemont had warned those in Dreen, as well. Lord Gregory had issued the order to evacuate as soon as he learned they were gathering in Castlemont. To him it was obvious where the horde was going. His command to flee the Red City saved thousands and thousands of lives, and almost as many horses. Those who didn’t get out were swallowed in the bloodthirsty black maw of the Warlord’s army.
Lord Gregory, with Lady Trella and her two young Westland-born handmaidens, steered their carriage toward Oktin. From there, the Lion Lord planned to cut back west and north. He was beyond his fighting days now. All he wanted was to get his wife safely home to Lakebottom Stronghold. He was no coward, by any means. In his day he had fought enough battles and brawls for any dozen men. If he and the High King somehow survived this horrendous foe, he swore to himself that he would beg Mikahl to release him from his duties. His days as a hero were done.
Chapter 54
“Oh, Hyden,” the misty form of the goddess spoke in a voice of tinkling chimes. “Don’t you understand?”
Hyden shrugged. He was still trying to figure out why this audience with his goddess felt so different to the others.
She smiled, seeing his confusion. “You’ve died,” she said simply. “At least your mortal body has.” She put her hand on his bicep. Oddly, he noticed that her touch on his skin felt solid and cool, even though she seemed to be made out of mist. “You cannot afford to get caught up in the moment. It’s the very traits that caused the greater gods to choose you that keep drawing you from your purpose. You must weigh your loyalty to friends and family, and your sense of honor, against the balance of the whole. What are you fighting for here?”
“What does it matter, if I’ve already died?” Hyden asked.
“You’ve powerful friends, Hyden Hawk. You cannot waste your efforts battling a single demon in Afdeon when your brother is leading thousands of them toward Xwarda. What do you hope to achieve?”
Hyden dropped his gaze shamefully. “Must I kill Gerard?” he asked. “If I do, I will surely die, too.”
“The Abbadon is not Gerard,” she said a little more forcefully. “And you’ve already died, Hyden. Your brother chose his own path. He was consumed by that thing, and you should be battling it this very moment. The idea that the brother you remember is still somewhere inside the beast is foolish. Gerard is gone. If any bit of him still lingers, it is that corrupt, jealous part of him, and it must be destroyed or banished with the rest. The very people you love will fall victim if you fail.”
“But how do I get to Xwarda?” Hyden asked. “The teleportals all open into the Nethers now. I… I don’t…”
“If you had been exploring your god-given powers, instead of planning unnecessary adventures to find trinkets you could retrieve in minutes, you’d know.” her voice had a hard edge to it. She was angry. “Where did you send Talon? Your familiar’s place is with you.” Her voice softened and she touched his cheek. “Lucky for us all that you have made some mighty friends along the way. Without one of them, we’d all be doomed.” She smiled and touched his nose lovingly with a fingertip. She drew her face very near his and it seemed as if she might kiss him, but she stopped and whispered, “Always remember who your true friends are, Hyden. Never forget them.” Then her lips moved to his cheek and he was drifting.
“Is he dead?” Durge asked.
“I think he is,” Jicks replied with a sniffle.
A trio of roars erupted like thunder outside the walls of Afdeon, one after the other. They were angry sounds, low and guttural, and from something absolutely massive. Suddenly, Durge’s eyes glazed over and his movements became mechanical. He bent down to pick up Hyden’s limp body and carried it back to the lift. Jicks wiped away his tears and followed dutifully. A moment later they were rising up onto the cold floor where Hyden accidentally blasted away the outer wall.
“By the gods, what are you doing?” Jicks asked as the giant stalked over to the open hole.
The young swordsman suddenly froze.
“Durge!” Jicks yelled out in a loud whisper as a huge, split yellow eye the size of a wagon wheel pressed against the hole from the outside. The eye was hooded by a dark green-scaled brow. The whole orb gently rose up and down with the huge wyrm’s wing beats. A lower lid blinked up once and then the dragon’s head pulled away from the opening. Jicks’s heart was thundering. The green dragon was so big and terrible-looking that he couldn’t move his legs for fear of it. He began to tremble as his mind registered what he was seeing. Another roar sounded, this one far louder and more menacing than any of the others had been. This roar shook Jicks in the guts and vibrated the very walls of Afdeon.
Durge, seemingly oblivious to what was going on outside the castle, walked straight up to the opening and stood there. It took Jicks a few heartbeats to pull himself away from the spot he was standing in, but he finally did. He eased across the rubble-strewn room to the giants’ side and looked out. The voice of another giant speaking excitedly came from an open window or a balcony a few levels below them.
Jicks scanned the sky, looking for the giant green dragon, but he didn’t see it. He saw two blue dragons, slightly smaller than the green. They were circling high above in the open air. And there was a distant speck, no, two of them, winging closer from the east. They grew in size with every breath he took. Suddenly, the green dragon came shooting up before them out of the steam. It passed barely an arrow shot away. The green’s worn ivory-colored underscales followed its sleek horned head past the opening. Then came its long body and even longer tail. Its wicked-clawed hind legs were tucked tight against its body and its wings were spread wide. The sight was breathtaking, but Durge acted as if he had seen nothing.