Jarren had informed Ravenhold's commander of the encounter with Skraeg the night before, shortly after caring for the horses and the roa'an, and watched now from the battlements as another squad of scouts rode through the gates. The scouts would be combing the area for Skraeg for miles to the north, east, and south of the pass. Earlier that morning, the commander had been informed there were signs of the fight that took place the night before, but all dead skraeg had vanished. This was not surprising to Jarren. He was certain they belonged to a larger group that would have searched for them and retrieved the bodies. They would also be enraged—there would be more attacks. Jarren was also certain, after hearing Drogan's story, that the ambush had nothing to do with Andorin, and had he not escaped, would have been victim to the attack as well. He wondered at the Skraeg movements, and of course the attack on Eagles Crest. What had emboldened them so much—even more so, what could have brought the Skraeg together, united as they were for the first time in years to have a force large enough to so quickly sack the city as they had? He wondered as well about the wrapped sword slung over his shoulder. He felt like he were on a mission without a plan. He had the sword and somehow had to see it delivered to Jandrous, where ever he was, but had no idea how to find him, and no idea where to begin looking. He reached over to scratch behind Runner's ears. The big Forever Lands wolf had been a constant companion since Jarren raised him from a pup. He had proven valuable in more ways than Jarren could ever have hoped for. The massive wolf was great for hunting, fighting, tracking—tracking! The sword bled the blood of Jandrous! If given the scent from that blood, perhaps Runner could track the scent to Jandrous! But where would the search begin? There had to be a place to begin.
He gazed into the distance, letting his eyes seek out the horizon down the mountain pass before him while he tried to imagine how to begin his search for the One True King—and he caught movement far in the distance. Barely perceptible against the grey clouds, something out there flew towards Ravenhold. A large bird perhaps. A vulture or hawk—some kind of bird of prey. He tried judging its size by pinpointing its distance against the terrain—that was no bird! Was it a griffin rider, perhaps of the E'eldroan— the Griffinwood elves? No, he thought as it came closer, far too large even for a griffin. Dragon then!
"Friend or foe, Runner?" Jarren asked the large wolf beside him. No growl escaped Runner's throat, and as the massive winged creature drew nearer, Jarren could see the dragon was not a black, but a white—loyal to the One God. A few guards on the wall were suddenly very animated, having just seen the dragon themselves, making ready to sound the call to arms when Jarren called to them.
"Be at ease!" he shouted. "The dragon means us no harm. Look now. It is a white, not black!" The soldiers calmed somewhat, but remained visibly uneasy. Good or bad, a dragon could be a frightening beast to behold. They watched, shaken and sweating even in the cold wintry air as the dragon flew closer and dropped lower into the pass itself— its great wings reaching not far from the rocky and forested terrain on either side. Jarren glanced at one of the soldiers nearby; one with a horn at his belt. "Go ahead and sound a call to gather, soldier," he said. "I believe this dragon means to pay us a visit." And as the soldier put the horn to his lips, the dragon glided to the wall to land atop the battlements, fanning its wings and sending clouds of snow into the air. With some blue and grey mixed into its white scales it appeared as cold as the wintry air, but there was a warmth in its golden hued eyes—a warmth Jarren knew to be nonexistent in the eyes of the black dragons. There was no fear in Jarren, although he held a high level of respect for the dangerous beast only a few feet away. This was a beast who's jaws could splinter trees like twigs, who's claws could shred steel armor like a knife to thin parchment. But there was a gentleness and grace in its powerful greatness. And it seemed to look upon Jarren with a measure of respect as well.
The call of the sentry's horn brought people out of their homes and businesses, as well as soldiers from the barracks and those going about their duties. Ravenhold's Commander Fain came out to see why such a summons was called as well. His dark eyes widened as he stepped into the open area before the gates and he blew out his long black mustache as he stumbled backward before regaining his composure and smoothing out his white surcoat bearing a lion's head. Although many of the inhabitants of Ravenhold retreated back into their buildings, most, although wary, joined the gathering as they looked upon the massive white dragon upon the wall. Drogan, Tia, Kendrick and the others all came to the wall together. All were visibly shaken at the sight, with the exception of perhaps Tia. Even Annyaa was there, leaning on Kieran for support, as she was yet very weak from her ordeal. Kendrick looked nervous and Drogan gasped at the sight of the great white dragon. They were all in awe. Dragons rarely came within sight of people, and even more rarely allowed themselves to be seen by less than a great distance. This one had perched atop the wall and turned its serpentine neck in a wide arc, seemingly looking directly into the eyes of everyone gathered. The giant winged beast had come to rest atop Ravenhold's walls for a reason. That was a certainty to everyone.
"Hail dragon!" Commander Fain finally broke the silence. His words were shaky yet, strengthened as he continued. As commander of the stronghold city, he also acted as the mayor to the people. He handled all military affairs and most public affairs as well. Stepping forward from the crowd, with his dark grey cloak billowing behind him in the wind. "My name is Fain, Commander here. And I welcome you to Ravenhold." The dragon turned its gaze upon the commander and nodded its great, narrow reptilian head.
"Well met, Commander." The dragon sent it's thoughts not only to the commander, but to all present. "Long has it been since my kind has involved itself in the affairs of the people of the world," it continued. "When last we did, Jandrous walked among us. Never since then has there been such a need. There have been times of peril—but not like now." He took all their eyes in again, silent for a moment before continuing. "Many of you know of the prophecies of Jandrous, of the Long Winter and the war that will come. Hear me now! I tell you that time has come! You have heard the great Horn Of Gaulin. The blast from that trump destroyed stars and heavenly bodies on its way to this world. Constellations in the night sky will never be the same. Never in the history of this world has winter come so quickly and strongly—and I tell you it will only grow worse." The dragon paused a moment, to let its words sink in to those gathered before him. "War comes," it said. "And Eagle's Crest has already fallen to the Skraeg."
Jarren had seen first hand the attack on Eagle's Crest, knowing the city would fall. Somehow they were taken by surprise, or perhaps treachery was involved. How it happened mattered little anymore, however, as surely all those within the walls were likely dead.What mattered now was that it was done and countless lives were lost. The amount of gasps from the crowd told him there were yet many who had not yet learned of Eagle's Crest's demise.
"There is more, people of Ravenhold!" The dragon said. "Skraeg mass within the mountains nearby as well. Be on guard!" He eyed Commander Fain as he spoke. "But a greater army comes from the east, from within the Shadow Lands, led by a man with dark beasts at his command. The black dragons have joined him as well." Again there was another collective gasp and many in the crowd spoke out and muttered amongst each other, many of them shouting. The dragon let the shouting and gasping and muttering run its course. "Already the white dragons have engaged the black dragons over the Mistwood as they attacked the E'eldhiavan. We sent them flying away in haste as we came upon them in surprise. I fear there will be more battles between us far deadlier than that. The black dragons are not quick to follow man's command. We believe they follow him because he follows the direct command of Xandrous. Xandrous has a general and this general brings with him an army like has never been seen upon the mortal world." Again there was a great gasp and much shouting and the dragon looked at the whole of the crowd before him. "I do not wish to cause you fear, but I bring information that must be told. All loyal to Jandrous must unite if you are to survive the coming war! Others of my kind have flown throughout the lands to warn the people, as I warn you now—I'm afraid we were too late to warn some." And with those last words the dragon looked them all over once more before spreading its great leathery wings, and rising into the sky. After circling the city above, it let out a great roar and flew west. The crowd began talking and murmuring and some shouting amongst each other about the dragon's warnings again, as Commander Fain tried to no avail to call for order. And no sooner had the great white dragon flown from sight that another flying creature appeared in the distance, and after sounding a high pitched screech it was known that what was coming now was a griffin. And when the lion bodied creature with the eagles head flew over once, surveying the crowd below, Prince Arden recognized the rider as Hardis.
After landing within the yard, Hardis' eyes found Commander Fain as did the dragon before. As with all griffin riders, Hardis had often traveled to the cities and strongholds of their human allies bearing messages of some sort or another and therefore he was recognized by many of the people and soldiers of Ravenhold.
"I had wanted to meet with you in private Commander Fain," Hardis said as he removed his conical nose guarded helm with red horsehair plume. The remainder of his clothing was much like Arden's—dark grey leggings and tunic with bits of green embroidery and a forest green cloak. He also wore a leather breast plate and leather armor on his forearms and over his thighs and shins. "I suppose it is just as well, however that all those gathered hear this."
"Speak on then, Hardis!" The commander called out, and gestured to the people in the yard. "We have all just heard ill news from a white dragon just a moment ago. If the news you bring is ill as well, better they hear it now!" Hardis' eyes widened at the news of the dragon, and then nodded to Fain, and looked around at the crowd before him.
"I fear I do indeed bring ill news, people of Ravenhold!" He spoke loudly so all those gathered could hear him. "Seaport to the south is no more!" Again there was a collective gasp, with questions of when, how, and who. "Black ships arrived out of a fog enveloped morning, and without warning. Before any alarm could be sounded they were within the city. The surviving soldiers of Seaport and her people have been in a running battle—fleeing toward Grey Home. The enemy; mainly E'eldnarak—elves from the Blackwood, and men, are burning or destroying everything in their path."
"What of Misting Hill, Hardis?" Drogan spoke out, and Hardis and many in the crowd turned to look toward him.
"Well met again, Drogan," The tall blond haired elf said. "I'm afraid that news is dire as well. The people of Misting Hill are on the run with those of Seaport. Misting Hill was burned to the ground." Annyaa cried out and dropped to her knees, clutching the hand of Kieran who had been supporting her. "Some of my people, as well as a small force of Haira'hem were on their way to aid them last I heard, and a griffin rider was sent to Grey Home with the news. There is no doubt that Duke Nordhelm will have sent soldiers out to help them reach the city." Drogan knew this to be likely true. The duke would protect them as best he could. "I do not mean to make assumptions," he continued and looked at the commander, "but I fear these men and Blackwood elves are a small part of a larger force yet to come. It makes no sense that they would attack as they did. They were large enough to easily take Seaport by surprise, but I cannot foresee them attacking Greyhome with risk of being attacked themselves by others. However, other than a few sightings of small groups of E'eldnarak within the Griffinwood and perhaps some Skraeg— most of which are near Ravenhold, no other enemy I know of have been seen."
"Dragons!" Prince Arden, standing near Drogan suddenly blurted out. The elven prince looked at Drogan. "Their reinforcements must be black dragons! They are apparently not near Grey Home now, but they could travel there quickly!" Suddenly Arden was moving through the crowd toward Hardis. He stopped long enough to speak a moment with Commander Fain, and then the two of them walked up to the griffin rider together, the commander nodding in agreement as Arden spoke animatedly.
Drogan looked down at Annyaa who was being comforted by Kieran and Broan, and he grit his teeth in anger. She had been through so much already. He wanted to take her home—now there was no home to take her to. He certainly could not take her to Grey Home, although that's likely where her father would be if he was a survivor. If Arden was correct in his assumption, then Grey Home may soon fall as well. He returned his gaze toward Hardis and the commander and Prince Arden. They had been joined by Jarren with the large wolf at his side. Without a second thought he motioned to Faldrek to follow him and they too joined the others with Hardis. It appeared his life as a soldier was not coming to an end any time soon.
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They came out of a heavy fog that had enshrouded the southern tip of the Forever Lands, and the E'eldradin Border Guard had little warning. There was a warning call upon a horn, cut short, and then the sound of screams and steel ringing against steel. A beastly roar sounded, and Lian'asuran hearing the sounds from their camp with torches all around and within for light, knew it instantly to be a battle cry from a Taurian.
"To arms!" The son of Grea'oran called out, while pulling his sword from his scabbard. "We are attacked! Make ready E'eldradin!" His long red hair trailing behind him, he ran to the perimeter, peering into the fog enveloped darkness beyond. It sounded like those outside the perimeter were engaged in heavy fighting. And the sounds were rapidly drawing nearer. It was a running battle, the E'eld further out were in a full running retreat. He was soon joined by others; and they were well known as some of the greatest fighters in all the lands; swordsmen that fought often times with two swords, or a sword and a spear, or used sword and shield together in what could only be described as a graceful dance of death. There were archers that could aim without having to see their targets, listening to the distinctive sounds of whatever enemy they faced. Whatever their weapon, they were all deadly—but those in the distance were being driven back in what sounded as a terrible battle. Lian'asuran knew what was coming was a force much larger than themselves. A Taurian by itself was a fearsome foe; a massive, thick skinned, bull headed beast, with thick, short hair covering its hide. Eight foot tall and a mass of powerful muscle, one angry Taurian could tear through the lines of a large force, bringing terrible destruction before being taken down. Many had horns upon their heads as long as a man was tall.
Suddenly everything was quiet; no more screams or battle cries, nor sound of steel on steel, no sound of movement at all in the thick fogged darkness before them. Three hundred soldiers were under Prince Lian'asuran's command, although only one hundred were with him at the southern tip of the Forever Lands. Eighty of them stood behind and spread out to his left and right. The other twenty were still out there. He canted his head, listening, and then looked at confusion at the e'eld nearest him.
"I'm afraid our soldiers out there are dead, my prince."
"Nonsense— twenty of our best—" His words were cut short as a body flew through the trees and crashed to the ground, rolling to a stop at Lian's feet. Grimly he looked down at the body, as a roar sounded from within the trees. He turned his head to archers lined up with bows drawn. "Archers," he said calmly. And they answered with a flurry of arrows that whistled into the darkness beyond. The screams and roars of angry and wounded Taurians answered the flight of their arrows. "I think we've got their attention now," he said. "Again." And the arrows whizzed by and whistled in the wind once more, followed by more cries of anger and pain. Lian was no stranger to fighting the Taurians, he knew what would follow. "Stand ready spears! And swords!" Without warning, suddenly two dozen Taurians burst out of the darkness into their sight, many of them with arrows still protruding from their hides. Few Taurians wore steel plate armor, although some would wear leather breast plates and bracers and shin and leg protection. As well, some would tie chain mail onto their kilt like garments made of thick animal hides. They crashed into the line of elves in a rage, and tore into them with heavy axes and spiked maces. Some carried thick wooden staves carved from branches as thick as the Taurian's own forearms or larger, and some even tore into the elven line barehanded, using their very bodies as weapons, or their fists, or their horns. Whatever they used they brought destruction with them. But the Border Guard held their ground and eventually brought the Taurian berzerkers to an end. Still—Lian and his men expected the attack, but not so many. The rest of the enemy still out of sight must have been a considerable sized force indeed. He looked around him as his soldiers quickly moved some of the wounded or dead behind them. They knew as well as he did that they faced a larger force than normal. "Make ready," he said. No sooner had the words escaped his lips, the Taurians attacked in force. They crashed through the smaller trees and undergrowth beneath the giant trees like a herd of angry bulls, and the elves saw suddenly that this force was no small raiding group like they were used to. They broke into and through the Border Guard as if they were but weeds in a strong wind.
"Fall back!" Lian yelled furiously, as Taurians and elves swarmed around him; the elves being overrun and falling all around. "Retreat!" They would surely all die if they did not flee. Lian thought of Tia'ialla, his betrothed, and ran. He knew she had left the Forever Lands, accompanying Jarren, and a priest. He would marry her someday— if he stayed alive long enough. "To me!" he cried out. "Retreat!" He pulled a horn from his belt as he ran, sounding it loudly and repeatedly, to bring his soldiers to him as they retreated, and to warn the other two hundred Border Guard not far to their north that trouble was coming. Reaching the center of their camp, he mounted his roa'an, and sounded the horn again. The Border Guard would fall back and be strengthened by the rest of the force. And even they would not be enough to effectively fight off the Taurians. But they could slow them down while riders warned villages and brought reinforcements. Also, Lian would send his best scouts to skirt the enemy, and assess just how large a force they were. They would retreat, yes— but they would also deal damage, as well as gain important information. And the Taurians would soon find out just how deadly the E'eldradin could be, especially within their own dark, heavy forested lands.
After putting enough distance between himself and the Taurians, he brought the roa'an to a halt atop a small rise, and looked grimly behind and all around him. From out of the darkness of the fog and trees, in numbers of twos and threes, and sometimes more, his Border Guard that retreated with him were coming into view. Some were on foot, though most were able to reach their mounts. Still many of them were likely conversing with their roa'an and would rejoin one another soon. He said a quick prayer for those who may not make it, and regretted that some had died already. What had happened was quick and unexpected. The Taurians were divided between those who were loyal to Jandrous, and those loyal to Xandrous, and often the latter would make advances into the Forever Lands and skirmishes between them and the elves would follow. But this, Lian knew already, was no small skirmish. This was a large force he was certain—although unsure of just how large. And he knew without any doubt that full war had come to the Forever Lands.
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King Erehk stood atop the western gate, grimly looking out on the snow covered lands beyond. In the distance an army snaked it's way between small hills, slowly making its way toward the capital city of Erinor. This was the Skraeg army that had sacked Eagle's Crest in a night, and now they would attack Rosenguarde. Unlike Eagle's Crest, he had time to prepare his army and his city for the army advancing in the distance. Riders had been sent out to seek aid, and his soldiers were ready for a long fight if necessary. Unfortunately, it appeared any aid would not arrive in time. Although he was confident they could repel the enemy for a long time if necessary, he couldn't help but think of the possibility that Rosenguarde might fall in the end— but she would not fall easily. He heard a loud roar above and behind him and turned. Descending was a large white dragon. He watched as the magnificent winged creature landed upon the wall nearby as soldiers scrambled to get out of its way. He knew of this dragon. This one was the largest of its kind, and king of the whites.
"They are many," Erehk said with a nod of his head toward the army in the distance. "More Skraeg than I've ever seen together. Do you come to help?"
"My kind are fighting another battle, with the blacks," the dragon answered. "We will help where we can, but this battle is your own. They—" he said looking at the advancing skraeg, "are but a small part of what is coming. I come to bring you warning as more of my kind are warning others elsewhere."
The king listened as the dragon gave him the same warnings as other dragons were giving throughout the lands, speaking to all those who assembled to hear within the walls of Rosenguarde. When the great dragon was finished, Erehk turned once more to the army of Skraeg.
"Would you give them something to think about as you take your leave, dragon?" And the massive winged beast turned its golden eyes to stare long at the advancing enemy.
"I will." And as it took flight, it flew toward the Skraeg roaring a challenge before swooping low and unleashing its fiery breath. Once, twice—a third time it dove and breathed flame on the enemy below it as many scattered to escape only to be caught in the dragon's inferno to burn. The snow upon the ground instantly turned to vapor, and great clouds of steam and smoke enveloped those caught in the dragons attacks. When at last the king of the whites flew away, the Skraeg raised their weapons and shouted challenges and curses although many of them had died. The soldiers and men at arms upon the battlements raised a triumphant shout as the dragon slowly disappeared on the horizon. The Skraeg would not attack that day, Erehk knew. They would lick their wounds, while wary of another attack. The dragon had bought them more time for help to arrive— perhaps a day. But when they finally stormed the city's walls it would be a devastating battle. As he looked out at the army in the distance, Erehk was determined to make certain the coming battle was devastating to the Skraeg. War was coming from the East under Lord Belkarus' black banners, and war had already arrived outside his own walls.
"So it begins," he said to himself as the winds began to pick up and more snow to fall. "So it begins."
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Night had fallen in Ravenhold, and Kendrick sat in his room at a small candlelit table reading The Teachings—or trying to read. His thoughts were drifting to the events that led him to the stronghold and all that had happened in the short time since he arrived. He had read little more than a paragraph in the last hour. He rubbed his eyes and reached behind to rub the back of his neck and finally closed the book.
"I can't concentrate," he said aloud before blowing out the candle. With a puff, he watched the flame bend behind his breath and disappear. A thin trail of smoke rose from the extinguished wick. The light remained. He looked toward his bed expecting to see the candle next to his bed burning, although not remembering ever lighting it. It was not. At the feel of the touch of a hand on his shoulder he nearly jumped over the table and stumbled and nearly fell as he stepped away from the table. He turned to look behind him, eyes wide as saucers.
"Do not be afraid, Kendrick." Before the young priest stood a man clothed in light—or so it seemed, with armor shining so bright it appeared as glowing translucent gold. "I am no enemy of yours, I come in peace."
"Wh— who are you?" Kendrick asked, trembling.
"I am Gaulin," he smiled. "A Drayan of Jandrous, and I come to you with a mission from The One God. To see that the sword that slew Jandrous is handed to him in the Valley Of Dragons."
"But no one knows who—" Kendrick began.
"You will know him at the moment he receives the sword."
"Do not the prophecies say even he will not know who he is?"
"Yes." The drayan answered.
Kendrick was at a loss. If he did not know any better, he would have sworn he were dreaming. A drayan— Gaulin himself, one of the few drayan mentioned in The Teachings speaking personally to him? Standing right in front of him shining like a golden sun? Despite his awe of the drayan before him, he raised an eyebrow and threw his arms into the air.
"Well— what am I to do then?" He asked, somewhat perturbed; his startlement curiously retreating. "March myself all the way to the Valley Of Dragons, and give it to any man who might be suffering from a feeble mind? An old man with a failing memory? Someone who took one bump on the head too many?"
"You will know him at the moment he receives the sword." The drayan answered.
"Well that brings up another question," he said. "Where exactly is this sword?"
"It is already very close," Gaulin smiled and was gone, leaving Kendrick standing in darkness as if he had just snuffed out a candle.
"Hello? Gaulin? That answer doesn't really help me!" He exclaimed, and moved toward the table to sit once more, bumping his knee on the chair and stifling a few choice words as he sat. "It's been one thing after another ever since I left Danir." He muttered under his breath while rubbing his bruised knee. And then he beamed, grinning wide. "A mission from the One God! Me!" And then his smile was replaced by a frown. "Oh goodness— why do I feel like my life is just about to become even more difficult?"
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The late night sky had cleared and the moon, three quarters full, sat high in the cold night sky above Ravenhold and thousands of stars blinked across the curtain of darkness. But although the clouds were gone, a cold wind still swept through the mountain pass. Unable to sleep, Jarren stood on the eastern wall and gazed to the north. Just barely visible, slightly above the dark outline of the surrounding mountains, was the Sailor's Eye. He had gazed upon the constellation many times in his travels, and now missing three of its surrounding stars it, along with the other disfigured constellations, seemed somewhat alien to him. Runner sat beside him, the big Forever Lands wolf waiting patiently, unbothered by the cold air that blew through his thick fur, and turned at the sound of someone walking up behind them.
Tia rested her arms on the battlements as she walked up to stand beside Jarren and turned her gaze to the Sailor's Eye as well.
"It is strange, is it not?" It was more of a statement than a question. "I wonder if the night sky will ever look as it did before."
"I don't believe it will, Tia." Jarren shook his head. "I believe those stars are gone forever. What brings you out into the cold night?"
"I suppose the same as you. I could not sleep. I keep thinking of everything that has happened—everything that happened even only today. I keep thinking of Lian'asuran. I am worried for him."
"I would suspect that's normal, Tia. You are to marry him someday. When we love, man or e'eld, we worry about the well being of those we love."
"It is not only that, my friend," she said quietly, shaking her head. "I fear he is in danger."
"Do you believe you should go to him?" The Hunter asked, turning to look at her with concern in his eyes. "If so, I would not fault you."
"No." She shook her head. "As much as I yearn to run to him, I believe the path the One God has currently set me on is my being at your side. And that brings up another topic entirely." She locked her eyes on his. "You have never been secretive with me."
"If you're asking about the wrapped object I carry, I deem it best not to speak of it to anyone."
"I do not understand, Jarren. It is obviously a sword wrapped within that fabric. Why would you be so secretive about acquiring a new blade?" She looked intently into his eyes, but he turned away. "Whatever it is, it appears as though it is a heavy burden you carry, perhaps we can share the burden?"
"A heavy burden it is indeed, my e'eldsian— my e'eld sister, but a burden I believe I must bear alone." he said quietly.
"Well whatever it is," she replied with a hand on his shoulder. "And whatever you do from here, know that I am with you. We have traveled together many times, you and I, and although I don't understand your hesitancy, I will respect it."
"Thank you, Tia." he replied and rested his hand atop hers reassuringly. "As for what I do from here, I'm not certain. I know the path I am on, but I don't know where it will lead me. For now, I suppose all I can do is wait—"
"Hsst!" Tia cut him off and raised a hand for silence. "Did you hear that?" She turned her gaze eastward, looking out from atop the wall. Runner rose with his ears pricked up, obviously hearing something as well, but to Jarren's human ears, the sound had not yet reached. "A horn call sounding loud and fast," she continued. "A call of alarm I think."
They stood in silence, waiting. Finally the sound reached Jarren's ears as well, a rapid call, and quickly moving closer. By then other sentries upon the wall could also hear the trump.
"Rider coming! Stand by to open the gate!" One of them called. And soon afterward a man on horseback appeared, galloping hard through the pass toward them, repeatedly sounding the horn and calling out for the gate to be opened. He rode across the now frozen river, and then the gates opened and closed as he rode into Ravenhold. He was met just inside the gate by a captain, who then shouted for the alarm to wake the city, and for all soldiers to gather immediately.
"What is it?" Jarren called down.
"Skraeg coming this way—an army of them! They're moving quickly!" The captain answered.
Soon after, horns sounded throughout Ravenhold, mustering the soldiers to arms, and warning the populace that an attack was coming. They walked from the commons of inns and taverns into the streets, hearing the blaring trumpets and asking passing soldiers what was happening as they ran toward the eastern walls—some strapping on sword belts and pulling mail coats over their heads as they ran, or stringing bows and readying arrow quivers. Families walked out of their homes, conversing with neighbors and passers by, worry upon their faces.
Kendrick walked from his room and was met by Kieran and Annyaa, who shared a room, in the hallway.
"What's going on?" Kieran asked with a visibly frightened Annyaa standing close beside her.
"I don't know." He said, as they walked down the stairs into the commons. Drogan was already there conversing with Faldrek and Arden, and belting on his sword. After catching Kendrick's eye he quickly moved to meet them.
"Kendrick, I hardly know you but I must ask you to keep Annyaa close. Can I trust you?"
"O—of course!" The young priest stuttered. "What's happening?"
"Why are all those horns sounding?" Annyaa followed.
"They are warnings—and a call to arms." Drogan answered. He looked long at Annyaa—she was so beautiful! Even with fear filled eyes and still exhausted from her long ordeal, scraped and bruised and hugging her pained ribs—those beautiful green eyes! How had he never noticed before when they were younger? Shaking his head and clearing his thoughts, he grabbed her by the shoulders, turning her to look at him. "Stay close to the priest. If the battle goes against us, he will need to see you through the western gates." He turned to go and was just leaving through the door when Annyaa called out to him.
"Dro— Drogan!" She called, and he turned. She wanted to ask him to stay with her, to keep her safe. But as she looked at him, she reminded herself that he was a soldier, a warrior, and duty was calling him to action. "Be careful." She said instead. He took a long look at her, and then nodded to Kendrick before stepping quickly out the door, followed by Faldrek and the elven prince.
Kendrick watched as Marek, a priest he had briefly met in the company of Jarren the Hunter and dressed similarly made his way to the door.
"Excuse me, brother Marek?" He called, and the middle aged priest, buckling on a sword and scabbard, turned. "You're going to fight?"
"I'm not a typical priest anymore, brother." He said with a hint of sadness in his voice and within his hazel eyes. And then he too disappeared out the door.
Broan and Durinald came inside, having been outside conversing with others. The big bearded man sat down heavily at a table. Durinald stood by quietly, awaiting orders from his captain.
"Well—we can consider the boat as good as lost!" Broan shouted angrily. "When the Skraeg come across that frozen river they'll burn every vessel there—or use their timbers to make siege towers, or ladders perhaps! Burn me for a fool for staying this long!"
"We had no choice, Broan." Durinald said. "You had to get help for Kieran. And then the weather only grew worse until the river froze solid almost overnight."
"Oh, I know that!" The big man shouted. "And I'd do the same thing again if given the chance! But now our livelihoods are gone. Burn me, but I'm madder than a cornered boar with an arrow in its hindquarters!"
"Boat or no, Broan," Durinald replied. "You're still our captain, and the men are awaiting your orders. What would you have us do?" Broan looked at Durinald as if the blond man had gone daft.
"Well Durinald, what do you think my orders would be?" He pounded a big fist on the table. "Tell them all to make ready for battle, blast it! We've repelled boarders from my boat countless times! The One God knows we can very well repel boarders from the walls of Ravenhold as well!" He stood from the table, knocking over his chair, and put his hands on his hips, roaring at the top of his lungs and red in the face. "And tell someone to bring me my staff! We're off to the wall!" He looked over his shoulder at Kendrick. "And Kendrick! Keep Kieran close to you!" With that, he was out the door with Durinald close behind.
"Oh sure." Kendrick muttered under his breath. "Anyone else want to put another woman in my care?"
"What was that, Kendrick?" Kieran asked.
"Oh—nothing, Kieran. I'm sorry, I'm just not exactly sure what I should be doing."
"How about the three of us look after each other?" She asked.
"That's a good idea." He managed a small smile, although his knees were shaking under his white robes. He silently prayed for the One God to protect them and then swallowed hard and told himself to be brave. "We should also find Donnagan, have any of you seen him?"
"I'm right behind you, young Kendrick." Donnagan said as he walked down the stairs behind them. "What's happening?"
Kendrick told his high priest what little he knew as they all rushed to each other's rooms. The gathered their's and as much of their friends' belongings that they could carry in the possible event that they would have to flee, knowing those fighting would not be able to return to the inn. And then they returned to the commons and tried to remain calm. Outside the window they could see soldiers and citizens running to and fro as the city prepared for battle. Kendrick paced back and forth, back and forth, until Kieran pointed out that his nervousness was doing little to make her and Annyaa feel safer. He apologized sheepishly, as he took a seat. It was Donnagan who was able to ease their fears— at least a bit.
"I am afraid as well," he said as he took the women's hands in his. "But the One God is with us, not matter the outcome, and if we trust in him he will either see us through or bring us home to him. For now, let us try and put our fears aside and pray for our friends and soldiers on the wall as they prepare to defend us."
"You're right, Donnagan," Kendrick replied. "However, I would feel a little better right now if I had a broken oar at hand." This brought a chuckle from Kieran, as they all bowed their heads to pray.
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Drogan and the others found Jarren and Tia atop the wall. And when Drogan walked up beside The Hunter he was greeted with a nod. Marek was close behind and took his place beside his teacher as well. Soldiers were still taking up positions as commanders were shouting orders.
"We're here to help," Drogan said to a passing captain. "Where would you have us?"
"We're glad to have you," the captain replied. "Right where you're at is as good as any, I suppose." Noticing Drogan's surcoat which marked him as a soldier of Grey Home, he asked, "Are you an officer, soldier?"
"I'm retired, but currently acting as a lieutenant on a mission from Grey Home. Although, I'm sorry to say I sent my men away as my second and I continued on."
"Retired and still so young? No matter. Would you be willing take charge of a squad or two if I send them to you here?"
"Send them with their sergeants, sir," Drogan answered. "But if their sergeants fall, then yes, I will."
"Sounds good. They will arrive shortly." The captain turned to Tia, Jarren, and Prince Arden noticing their bows. "We could use you with the archers if you'd be willing."
"I will," Arden replied and Tia nodded as well. But Jarren declined, stating he would fight beside Marek his student in the sword.
"Be careful," Tia said before turning to follow Arden.
"I will, e'eldsian." He turned then to Marek. "Are you certain you're up to this?
"I'm scared to death, Jarren," Marek replied truthfully. "But this is my place now."
"Stay close to me Marek. I'll do my best to keep us from becoming separated." Jarren then gave him a smile. "If we are parted, I'll send Runner to you."
A moment later, the eastern gate opened to allow a company of soldiers carrying torches and oil to rush toward the frozen river. One by one they set all the vessels ablaze to prevent their being used by the Skraeg to build ladders or rams, and to prevent them finding anything— weapons or otherwise that might help them. Broan groaned as he looked down toward the river, shaking his head.
"She was a good little ship, captain." Durinald rested a hand on the big man's shoulder. "She served us well."
"That she did," Broan sighed. "Not the end she deserves, but better than being ripped apart by those grey skinned beasts marching this way I suppose."
Once all vessels were burning, the soldiers returned, and the gate closed tight behind them. The light from the fires illuminated the pass, and soon after, the first of the Skraeg came within view. Faldrek let out a long low whistle as they rounded a bend, seemingly filling the entire pass. And as they came, countless more followed behind.
"We cannot win this fight," Faldrek said just so Drogan could hear him.
"No." Drogan shook his head in agreement. "All we can hope to do is slow them down long enough that the people of Ravenhold can escape out the western gates."
Prince Arden stepped to the wall and watched as the horde drew ever closer to the river below, now seemingly frozen solid in so little time by the extreme temperatures. If unfrozen, the river would have served as a first line of defense, but that option was no longer available. Hardis, could not have known there were so many, likely keeping well within the trees and remaining well hidden from the ground and the sky above until they moved into the pass. Even if Hardis was still within Ravenhold, he could never fly to E'eldaduranus to seek aid in time. Being the heir, to his father's seat he knew he should attempt to flee. That would be the wise choice. But he shook the thought from his mind as he checked his bow string. No, he would stay and help and fight. And hopefully— stay alive.
©Anthony David Rosenthal/To The Valley Of Dragons 2010
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