The Legend of Oescienne--The Reckoning (Book Five) Read online

  And she meant those words, spoke them with such fierce conviction that Jaax shivered beneath her touch.

  Under a moon-silvered sky, a sacred vow was forged between two souls brought together by fate and bound by destiny. Not an oath relying upon the power of the words that were spoken, but the sincerity that drove them forth into the world. A bond forged that no power in Ethoes, no king aided by the dark magic of a malevolent god, could ever break.

  -Chapter Sixteen-

  The Battle of Kahrparyum

  The morning dawned cool, the valley floor below Dhonoara Castle shrouded in a hazy mist. Despite having stayed up late the night before, Jahrra wasn’t tired. She had mended things with Jaax and, that alone, had eased the dread in her heart. Now, she just had to hold onto that thread of courage and find a way to make it grow.

  Jahrra dressed quickly, in her traveling clothes and the hard leather armor and helmet King Vandrian had supplied for her. Not as restrictive as steel, but still nearly just as resistant to weapons and arrows. Not just beautiful, the armor was tooled with a lovely knot work pattern depicting what appeared to be dragons. It allowed ease of movement and was tough enough to turn away most arrowheads. Sword blows would merely graze over it, and only direct thrusts from a close-by opponent, or a spear thrown with some force, could pierce the tough hide. When she had asked the elves what it was fashioned from to make it as effective as the heavier, more awkward steel armor, they gave her the name of an exotic hoofed animal that roamed the mountains nearby.

  “It isn’t so much the hide of the creature,” the soldier who had delivered the armor had told her, “but the magic and method used to cure it.”

  Curiosity satisfied, Jahrra had thanked him. Now, she walked down the grand corridors of the castle, travel bags full of her precious belongings thrown over one shoulder, her longbow stretched over the other. In her free hand, she carried her sword and scabbard, and as she wove through the bustle of the busy castle, she ducked her head and made her goodbyes to the staff and courtiers who would not be marching off to war.

  Out in the bailey, King Vandrian sat perched atop a magnificent gold dun semequin. He gave Jahrra a curt greeting and announced the guard and soldiers of Dhonoara would be leaving within the hour. Jahrra spotted Jaax, outfitted in an impressive suit of dragon armor, talking to Sapheramin and Tollorias. The Korli dragons were also sporting steel plates and spikes, only their membranous wings remained free of any adornment. As she approached her mentor, Dervit joined her, tugging at a child-sized chest plate. Jahrra didn’t know whether to be amused at the image or disturbed that the elves had found it necessary, at some point in time, to create armor for children.

  “Isn’t it wonderful?” the limbit breathed, clearly proud of being included in all the pre-war activity.

  Jahrra stifled a grimace and nodded. “I’m glad they found some armor for you, even though it only protects half of you.”

  Dervit had shrugged sheepishly. “At least, I feel like a true warrior now.”

  Jahrra declined to remind him he already was a true warrior, in her eyes, at least. He had shown more bravery than most in the short time she’d known him. She only hoped that bravery didn’t get him hurt, or worse, in the coming days.

  Shaking off her melancholy, she stepped up to Jaax and cast her eyes over his own armor. If she hadn’t known the Tanaan dragon, she would have been far too intimidated to speak to him. Layers of burnished plate metal followed the arch of his neck and along his spine, ending midway down his tail. The plates mimicked large scales, able to shift with his movements. A massive breastplate protected his chest, and a helmet, fashioned to fit around the horns protruding from his skull, covered his angular snout. The elves responsible for creating the remarkable set of armor had thought of everything, for even his arms and legs were guarded by greaves and vambraces. Impressive armor or not, he was still Jaax.

  Jahrra came to a standstill and flicked her eyes to his gauntleted toes. She arched a brow and said, “Too bad you didn’t have this armor when you first challenged me back in Oescienne. You might still possess that scale I broke loose if you did.”

  The dragon’s eyes flashed with mischief, and he gave his ward a grin. “Or, that nuisance of a scale would have grown infected and festered, leaving me to a slow, painful death. And then, who would be here to keep you in line?”

  Jahrra laughed at that. A mixture of humor, nervousness, and a general release of her pent-up nerves. Others might say it was no time for joking around, but she would welcome any joy she could get.

  “How are you faring this morning, Jahrra?”

  The question came from Sapheramin, her white teeth gleaming as she offered a kind smile. Jahrra returned the gesture.

  “As well as I can be, considering the circumstances.”

  The Korli dragon nodded solemnly.

  “Have you eaten yet, Jahrra?” Jaax pressed.

  When Jahrra assured him she had, he suggested she get Phrym ready to ride out. On that note, she and Dervit headed for the stables to find more of that hard leather armor, only this time it had been fashioned for horses. Grateful for this kindness, Jahrra quickly got Phrym saddled while Dervit figured out how to attach the many pieces over the semequin’s legs, neck, head, and chest. Naturally, Phrym was a bit reluctant to move around in his new trappings, but a few kind words from Jahrra and a couple of apples pilfered from the kitchen, settled him. Once all the ties and fastenings had been double-checked, Jahrra climbed into the saddle, pulling Dervit in front of her. Rumble would be staying behind, and Jahrra was glad for it. He would be out of harm’s way in Dhonoara.

  By the time Jahrra and Dervit emerged from the stables atop Phrym, King Vandrian’s guard were blasting the horns, calling all allied warriors to join them on their march to Ghorium. Taking a deep breath to settle her nerves, Jahrra brought Phrym up to follow Ellyesce on Gliriant. By her side, Haedron and Dathian, also dressed in leather armor and looking rather dashing, sat atop their own semequins. And although she could not see her, Jahrra knew Denaeh rode somewhere in their company as well.

  At least, she told herself as the endless line of horses took the road leading into the mountains, I am with my friends.

  With that small comfort, she urged Phrym onward with the first glimmer of hope and courage kindling in her heart.

  * * *

  For a week, the allied army of Ethoes traversed the mountains surrounding Dhonoara. After four days, they descended the great heights and crossed the Auschenh River, a swift, treacherous waterway flowing west from the Great Sulfur Sea. The crossing was slow going, for there was only a single stone bridge that could accommodate a line two horses wide. Once the entire force was on the other side, however, the pace quickened, and King Vandrian led them west along the base of the Western Stacking Range. Before reaching Kahrparyum, the southwestern region of Ghorium, they ascended once again into the edge of the forested mountain range. They had been lucky, Dathian informed Jahrra one night, not to have encountered any enemy scouts or troops patrolling the realm. But their luck ran out as they began their final descent into Kahrparyum.

  Jaax, who had been taking turns keeping an aerial eye out with the other dragons, returned early from a scouting mission. He landed in a clearing beside the road, ahead of Vandrian and those leading the troops, and waited, his expression grim. Worried, Jahrra kicked Phrym into a faster pace, pulling ahead of her friends to reach her guardian. She dismounted, ignoring the protests of the soldiers around her, and came to stand beside Jaax at the edge of the wood. She followed his gaze down into the wide plain visible between the gap in the trees.

  “Dear gods,” she breathed.

  Far below them, no more than ten miles from the base of the mountain, several legions of red and black clad soldiers marched, their footfalls rumbling like thunder. They appeared no bigger than ants from where Jahrra stood, but if she had to guess, she’d say their number was near three or four thousand. Close enough to their five thousand to be a cause for conce
rn.

  “I would take you away from here, if I could, Jahrra,” Jaax whispered harshly. “Just say the word.”

  Jahrra cast surprised eyes upon her guardian. A deadly stillness settled over his armor-clad shoulders, the look in his hard, emerald eyes one she’d never seen before, not ever.

  Drawing in a deep breath and pulling upon that shallow well of bravery in the pit of her soul, Jahrra rasped, “I was born for this, Jaax. Remember?”

  He turned his attention back to the writhing mass of enemy soldiers, his reply so quiet she almost missed it. “I would hope you were born for much more than this.”

  Jahrra pressed her teeth together so hard it made her jaw ache. Courage, Jahrra. Courage.

  She shook her head. “I could never live with myself, abandoning my friends on the eve of battle. And you couldn’t, either.”

  “You would be surprised what I could live with,” Jaax muttered, this time his voice harder.

  Jahrra reached out a leather-clad hand and pressed it against the steel plate covering her guardian’s shoulder.

  “We do this together, Jaax. Until our very last breaths, remember?”

  His eyes glinted from beneath his steel helmet. He didn’t speak, only ducked his head once, and Jahrra could feel the fire rising in him, preparing for battle.

  A steady beat of horses’ hooves broke ahead of the main body of the Coalition’s army. Jahrra cast a look over her shoulder. King Vandrian, his two eldest sons, Ellyesce, and the captain of the king’s guard approached, their expressions grim.

  “I didn’t expect to encounter the Tyrant’s army until we reached the Noryen River,” Vandrian growled.

  Jaax shook his head and snorted. “This isn’t his main force. This is only a scouting group.”

  Prince Storian blinked. “That legion is at least three thousand strong! Are you certain?”

  The dragon’s jaw tightened, and Jahrra swayed slightly where she stood. If this approaching army was only a fraction of what the Crimson King had to offer …

  “Then we’d better get used to the idea that Cierryon’s main force is three times that number, if not more,” Jaax stated dourly.

  “Do we engage this army, then?” Vandrian asked, turning to Jaax.

  The Tanaan dragon swept his tail from one side of the road to the other, his armor clinking together where the plates overlapped. “Send word to our warriors to make ready for battle. The dragons will fly ahead and do what damage we can.”

  Jahrra snapped her attention up to her guardian. “You’re not going on ahead of us?”

  He nodded once. “I am.”

  “Jaax–”

  He moved quickly, cutting her off as he lowered his head so that he could murmur just to her, “Stay as far from the front lines as you can and don’t engage the enemy until I’ve returned to your side.”

  Jahrra swallowed back a lump of sudden fear as adrenaline pumped through her veins. “But–”

  “If the Tyrant’s army breaks through our front line, and they reach you before I do, remember everything Viornen and Yaraa have taught you.”

  Before Jahrra could say anything else, Jaax bunched his hind legs and extended his massive wings, leaping into the air and swooping low over the forest. Phrym, who had been cropping grass nearby, unconcerned with the affairs of elves and dragons, snorted as a gust of wind caused by Jaax’s passing blasted into him.

  Jahrra gritted her teeth and stared after the Tanaan dragon disappearing down the line of Dhonoaran soldiers and their allies. Ellyesce and the others moved closer, taking up Jaax’s place on the ledge overlooking the plain. The Magehn gave her a slight nod of acknowledgement, his eyes heavy with resolve. Jahrra hadn’t spoken much with either Ellyesce or Denaeh in the past few days, the rift between the two of them as obvious as ever. She wondered if they’d ever repair that damage, even if it was none of her business. Nevertheless, she wished they’d find a way, before the first mighty wave of war swallowed them all. They had become like hollow shells, making their way through the world with no internal substance to give them purpose.

  “We wait until the dragons have done their part,” Vandrian said, climbing down from his semequin and letting it join Phrym. “No point in engaging the enemy before then.”

  Jahrra bit her lower lip and tried not to fidget as she sat down atop a boulder. She watched as the king dispatched messengers to spread the word down the line and soon the clink of metal and squeak of leather filled the air, men and women dismounting to rest for a spell.

  “Here,” Prince Storian said, stepping away from his father, brother, and Ellyesce to offer Jahrra a drinking flask.

  She took it gingerly after removing her helmet and gauntlets, her fingers numb from the cold, and sniffed at the narrow opening. The pungent scent of alcohol made her eyes water.

  “What is it?” she asked, holding it back out to the elf.

  Storian shook his head. “It’s sidria. Drink of the warriors. It will ease your nerves as we enter battle. Is this your first real fight?”

  Jahrra wrinkled her nose and tipped the flask back, then nearly choked as liquid fire burned down her throat. The prince patted her gently on the back as she regained her breath.

  “Gods and goddesses of Ethoes! Are you sure this isn’t poison?”

  She held the flask out in front of her, eyeing it the way one might regard an angry scorpion.

  Storian laughed. “Nay, it isn’t. It does take some getting used to, though.”

  “Yes,” Jahrra gasped, braving another drink, this time bracing herself for her body’s reaction, “this is my first true battle. I’ve been in a few skirmishes, but nothing like this.”

  She waved her arm outward, indicating the writhing mass of soldiers moving ever closer. Jahrra and her company were still a good deal up the mountainside, the screen of trees providing plenty of cover. But it wouldn’t take them long to reach the plain below, especially with semequins and horses, and in the time she’d been watching, the enemy force had moved perhaps a mile closer.

  A dark shadow blotted out the weak sunlight breaking through the clouds above, followed swiftly by the whoosh of heavy wing beats. Jahrra flung her head back to spot Jaax several feet above them, his strong wings stirring the treetops. Several more reptilian shapes followed suit. The rest of the Tanaan and Korli dragons heading into battle. Jahrra gasped and threw herself forward, moving quickly despite her stiff leather armor.

  Storian called out after her, but she ignored him. Only a few dozen yards ahead, the road curved sharply to the right, the trees breaking to provide an even better view of the flatlands below. Jahrra leapt onto a large slab of granite perched precariously on the side of the steep slope, and watched with impending dread as their dragons drew closer to the enemy. One heartbeat, two, three … And then Jaax, a silver streak of elvin steel and green scales, dove from the nose of the onslaught, spinning as he evaded projectiles launched from below. Just when Jahrra thought he’d collide with the line of tiny soldiers, he let forth a brilliant jade stream of fire. The other dragons followed his lead, each one taking a section of the legion.

  “Soldiers, mount up!” Vandrian bellowed.

  Jahrra gasped and dropped down from her perch, pulling her helmet and gauntlets back on. Ellyesce was approaching on Gliriant, Phrym’s reins in his hand.

  “Stay by me, Jahrra. Stay by me and don’t engage the enemy unless you have no other choice.”

  Jahrra swallowed back a sudden lump of unease, but nodded furiously as she climbed atop her semequin. Phrym snorted and whinnied, adding his own battle cry as the other horses and semequins screamed out alongside their masters.

  Vandrian lead the charge, armor clinking, horses snorting, as their hooves ate up the road twining down the mountain before them. Banners and cloaks snapped in the wind and far above them, ravens wheeled, cawing mournfully as the tang of battle fury and fear permeated the air. Jahrra kept her word and stuck close to Ellyesce, following him as he pulled Gliriant to the west when the ro
ad leveled out onto the plain of Kahrparyum. Elvin, Nesnan, and Resai soldiers rode past them, shouting their wrath and swinging their blades. Archers, those nimble enough to ride and hold a longbow, aimed their arrows high and let them loose as they drew ever closer to the foot soldiers of Cierryon.

  The arrows of the enemy rained down as well, and Ellyesce cursed, leading Jahrra farther away from the battlefront.

  “I should be up there fighting with them!” Jahrra protested, though the fear was so strong it made her weak in the knees. Good thing she had Phrym beneath her.

  “No, not yet! You’re fight lies elsewhere!”

  Frustrated, she shook off that niggling sense of honor and instead focused on following the white semequin through the battle fray.

  Somewhere, not too far in the distance, a dragon roared, and Jahrra whipped her head around. They had been moving against the forward progress of the Coalition’s combined armies, but now, she pulled Phrym to a stop. One of the dragons, a blue Tanaan, had received a spear to his wing. He faltered in the air, struggling to land safely, but his right wing was practically useless. Instead, he crashed into a group of the Tyrant’s soldiers, crushing several in the process. Those who had jumped out of the way were soon leaping upon him, thrusting swords and spears into the spaces between his armor or coming down with hammers and axes where they could not find scales.

  “No!” Jahrra screamed. This dragon wasn’t Jaax, but he was an ally. A friend.

  Just when she thought the enemy had subdued the dragon, emerald and scarlet fire exploded from above. Jahrra blinked up. Jaax and Tollorias. They hung twenty feet in the air, mighty wings beating fiercely to keep their armored bodies aloft.

  The soldiers beneath them screamed, several attempting to flee as their clothing and hair burned. Bile rose in Jahrra’s throat, and she had to turn away. At least the blue Tanaan dragon had broken free.

  “Come on, Jahrra. This is still too close,” Ellyesce growled, his voice not as harsh as earlier.