The giant was massive, easily doubling the height of any elf, even Leldeif who towered taller than most humans. He wore a bloodied and hacked dwarven shield strapped to his chest like a breast plate and swung an enormous hammer of black steel. He raised the giant hammer up with one hand making ready to bring it down on the Har Karoome, Drick felt fear. If the giant was smart enough to aim for his horse he was as good as dead, either way he didn’t see how he could avoid what was about to happen.

  The giant reared up suddenly, his face a reflection of pain and he howled. Then there was Spunk dancing next to the beast with a mouth full of flesh and tendon from the back of its knee. His lance plowed through the dwarven shield and into the chest of the giant, forcing him off his feet and flat on his back. Spunk wasted no time in pummeling the face and head with his sharp hooves until it moved no more.

  He closed with his compatriots allowing Juin and Leldeif to take up defense in front of the entrance as he drove on through to make sure the other side was accessible. Dwarfs with the same intent split to the side as he drove his horse to greater speeds. He turned into the entrance.

  The tunnel was wide and open with the river flowing to his right narrow, cold, and deep. He was surrounded with a couple hundred dwarfs who must have been trying to get back into Riverhouse after responding to the death knell of Pine Hold. Together they ran toward the tiny dot of light ahead that was the main tunnel, something didn’t look right. The ground was rough and moving like it was matted with millions of rats.

  It wasn’t rats, he knew they weren’t rats.

  A flash of light in the distance turned into a blast of sparks against muscles and hide as it hit the chest of his horse, suddenly he was falling, the only sound now being the chuckle of a very pale man.

  * * *

  Juin waved hand signals toward the remaining lancers forcing them to turn out and help fight against the thousands that were now awake and advancing on their position. The fleet elf swung himself onto Maggie’s back and joined his comrades to drive them back. This was not going to be a run through a tunnel leaving the enemy behind. This had turned into a major conflict of the war as more and more foul folk seemed to appear from nowhere. There was no way they could be left on their flank, eliminating this force was critical as well as quite possibly impossible.

  He looked to his uncle and saw the miracle that was his swordplay. The human woman stood next to him with bloodied blade in her right hand and long knife in her left, holding her own within the cocoon of Leldeif on her right and that stupid donkey on her left.

  Juin drew from the lances in his basket and charged forward, his men instantly covering his flanks. His targeted troll fell, the shaft breaking off while still in his chest. A shadow caused him to look up just in time to see the pterodac swooping down to snatch him off of Maggie’s back.

  He let it come until he was inside the giant beak before shoving his gauntleted left hand out to stop the closing of the toothy jaw while shoving his splintered lance deep into the throat of the rushing avian.

  Juin dropped to the neck of his steed allowing the dying beast to skip off his back and tumble into a mass of muridai like a ball in a game of nine pin. Then he was up and had another lance in hand. He moved forward again and slightly left, skewering three before the lance shaft broke. He whipped the broken remains into the face of an approaching giant, catching it in the eye, but only slowing it slightly.

  He reached for his last lance, knowing that he wouldn’t have time to get it into position, let alone gain momentum to make it viable. He forwent the lance and pulled the long lancer’s sword from his back, but his men were quicker as they surged around the beast’s legs. They hamstrung it to bring it down to their level before plunging three simultaneous blades into its neck from multiple angles.

  Behind the wall of his men he surveyed the scene and saw how hopeless it was. What they thought was a camp of a thousand had suddenly and mysteriously turned into a force of ten thousand and they were focusing their entire weight on his force of mounted elves, one human, a goat riding gnome, and approximately two hundred and fifty dwarfs. They fought valiantly, but there was no hope for it. There were simply too many.

  His last lance secure, he charged to the sound of foreign horns intending to sweep the weight off the defenders. It might be his last act, but he didn’t care. Dying in the attempt of ridding the world of this scourge was worth it.

  * * *

  “That’s it, that’s where we need to be,” Rain said to the giant human-like being.

  “But there is already a battle going on down there,” Thorvald said reluctantly, never having been one who wanted war, but knowing that this one couldn’t be avoided. The return of the wood elves was significant to the lonesome frost piners. They rarely gathered as a group and never with other races. It wasn’t distaste as much as it was the frost piners finding the other races to be very frivolous and not the least bit interesting. The wood elves, however, they were special to the frost piners as a whole. It stemmed from a time before the aerial wars when a lost group of piners, who were then called something else, were given refuge in a time of need. The piners never forget such acts and have always been close with the diminutive wood elves because of it.

  “We’ve discussed this, Thorvald, many times. If you want to keep making money from frost pine and don’t want to be slaves or dead…then you have to go to war. You can’t sit this one out, there is too much at stake,” the petite wood elf said to the towering man.

  “Yeah, I know, or at least I guess I know. There sure do seem to be a lot of foul folk about,” Thorvald said.

  “Look, you and your people voted on this, that is how we were able to send forces up to Lilieack and down to Mikalene. It is too late for cold feet at this stage of the game. Now I know that you fear no one, nor should you with your strength and intellect, so what is the problem?”

  “We are not a violent people; we don’t have time for this business.”

  “None of the fair folk are, Thorvald, well except maybe the northern elves,” she said referring to their much larger cousins in Lilieack, Noril, and what used to be Pine Hold.

  Thorvald continued to scan the battle below them until his eyes landed upon three figures.

  “Gi-Noo,” he whispered.

  “What? Who?” Rain pressed.

  “Gi-Noo and Pomen are down there fighting and so is that girl who helped to set my leg and made my boots. Toa…or something like that,” Thorvald said making up his mind.

  “Tia is down there?” Rain said with a look of horror at what might befall her newly found friend whom she had met in Mikalene and had carried her and her people to Skorsdale.

  “Aye,” he said as he pulled the axe out of its sheath and gave a nod to his people. Instantly the felling song was picked up. a deep rhythmic chant in a pitch so low it resonated through the forest before them as a shaking of the ground. Horns were blown and his people started to advance. The women of his troop joined in three octaves higher and singing the opposing verse, for you could never fell a frost pine without conflict.

  * * *

  Tia almost lost her timing when the sound of the battlefield took on a familiar tune. She was exhausted and her arms should have fallen off a half hour before, but then she would be dead and she knew it. Leldeif, whom she had once hated stuck close to her side, easily defeating two and three to her one and never letting more than she could handle slide through. She should have felt insulted by his feeling that he had to protect the frail women, but it wasn’t about that and she knew it. He had spent his life fighting, Tia was new to it. She may never be that fond of Leldeif, but she would never claim to hate him again.

  She could more than likely best any of their adversaries in a one on one skills competition, but this wasn’t a competition…this was war. Their physical weight and numbers alone would have swept over her, heedless of how good with a blade she was, and both her and Leldeif knew it. She expected Pomen with Gi-noo to be at her other side, but an ornery donkey held that position and fought as if he were one of the soldiers with an axe to grind. Flailing teeth in massive jaws and powerful kicks with sharp gilded hooves were more than enough to keep her left side clear, allowing her to maintain enough to stay alive and keep in the fight.

  It was at the very end of her endurance that she heard the sound and it spiked a reserve of power that she never knew she had.

  “Piners!” she shouted and then began to attack with a renewed energy. She brought her blade across in a slashing motion, scalping a troll who was trying to come in low a half second before a double mule kick collapsed its skull from her left. She tasted the blood from the scalp brushing her face in its trajectory, but it didn’t repulse her, instead she took more inspiration and pressed her attack harder.

  “Don’t get ahead of me,” Leldeif snarled as the donkey surged before her to trample a muridai with his front hooves as he dragged another with his teeth to fling in front of the blades of the scarred elf.

  A cloud of smoke appeared before them, smelling strangely of tobacco and all of them felt themselves being dragged back away from the front line.

  Their vision filled with smoke was enough to make them panic before the thunder of elven steeds swirled the smoke aside and lancers pushed the foul folk back toward the piners’ axes.

  * * *

  Drick crawled back on to his feet wishing that he had time to lament the death of his mount. He retrieved his sword only to find that whatever magic had been used had melted the blade down to the pommel. He cast the useless hunk of steel into the river and began to advance with nothing but his long knife.

  “Here ya go, mate, grab that off of my pack,” a passing dwarf said and Drick looked at the frost pine stave laced to his pack. It was perfectly cured to Smithtown standards making it harder than steel with one end smoothed flat, shaped and sharpened into some sort of short handled halberd. He wished that he had the time to admire the golden sap marbling that flowed through the wood grains to give it a legendary strength.

  He took the weapon and sheathed his long knife, knowing that he would need two hands for this beast, he strode forward with a nod of thanks to the dwarf.

  Him and the dwarfs met the line of trolls and muridai at the hallway point and the battle began anew, all occurring under the obnoxious chuckling of the pale sorcerer who awaited any opportunity to do more damage. Drick assumed he was simply enjoying the devastation before he used magic to wipe them all out.

  A fitting end to his life, he thought, and moved on knowing that he just might have an opportunity to strike at the evil human.

  57

  Lost homes

  Nigel was invigorated by the powerful strokes of his wings, covering miles with each downward pull. He easily covered ten miles to one compared to a man on horseback on flat ground, however, flying over the Rachis that was compounded by hundreds. Days of travel on foot were covered in seconds by wing. He approached the kingdom of old, thinking that there had to be some remnant of his people left there.

  He crested the Rothimeadies ridge and saw the first of the aeries up at the peak of the tallest spire. Movement caught his eye and he smiled. His people were here.

  A horn sounded and a wall of flying beings rose into the air. He frowned, something wasn’t right. Some were flying just as he did, but there were more who flew in quick, erratic patterns like a fish chasing krill or a bat hot on the trail of a juicy moth.

  He slowed and held his position allowing them to approach trying to take in the scene all at once. What he saw seemed so wrong on many levels…but was it? Or was this just the natural occurrence of things? His mind flashed back to some of the orphans back in Riverhouse and a word came to mind.

  Breeds

  He landed, sensing their aggressive nature. He was alone and facing them in a straight aerial duel would be suicide, where if he could get them to talk…now that is an area where Nigel shined.

  It only took a couple of minutes before what seemed to be half the city stood before him and by the cast to their brows, they were none too happy to see him. A sound of flapping wings behind him caused Nigel to turn and look. Much to his surprise most of those whom he had cast away as pawns of the human sorcerers were standing behind him.

  Ramita smiled meekly, if she was even capable of being meek, and gave him a nod that said all he needed to know. They no longer followed the ways of their parents and their evil alliance, they followed Nigel.

  “A welcoming party, how nice,” Nigel said to the glaring mass before him.

  “Oh, your kind is always welcome, aerial, yes indeed. We can always use another to mend our clothes, cook our meals, and service our every need,” a very large leathery looking man said, his eyes like black pits and his ears pointed like that of an elf. The being scanned his own people in the direction of several pure-bred aerials who stood with their heads bowed submissively.

  “Angelica?” Ramita gasped from behind him.

  “We have no Angelica here,” the leathery beast said. “You must be referring to Mule,” he finished with a laugh.

  Ramita growled and Nigel could hear her start to lift off, but he stopped her with an extended hand.

  “Relax, Ramita. Leather Face won’t be alive long enough to worry about,” Nigel said causing a spike of curiosity in the larger, well-muscled breed.

  “You sound very confident for my future, slave. Watch your tongue, boy, or when I beat the uppitiness out of you I might not be able to restrain my hand in ending you.”

  “Oh, you have just sealed your fate, ground pounder. I could ask your name, but why bother when you won’t live long enough for me to use it,” Nigel said and stood up to his full height with his wings extended, he knew what was coming next, but he kept speaking as the leathery breed signaled two of his men forward, they didn’t hesitate and rushed him.

  Nigel turned as if to flee and could see by their expression that this was exactly what they expected. Most being attacked by two would flee if even to just get more space between them. They took to the air in a giant wing enhanced leaps while Nigel continued his spin to a full three sixty and side stepped right in the same motion. He brought his right leg up high and under the belly of the one on his right and dragged his hind talon across his gut in a vertical slash. His scream was drowned out by the slapping of his entrails hitting the rock surface. Nigel continued his spin by turning it into a wing enhanced roll that brought him up and over the back of the now dead breed. He latched on the top of the wing elbows of his companion who was still trying to maneuver around his falling comrade, not realizing that a being could move that fast.

  Nigel pulled with an opposite force until he felt the crisp snap of his neck before dropping him like a rag doll to the surface just feet below. He landed and faced the leathery breed, having not even broken a sweat.

  “I am Nigel. Commander of the First Wing under King Rothimeadies and I am here to restore my people to our proper place,” he said and smirked. “I guess you weren’t aware.”

  The leather man signaled for two more to go after Nigel and gave a head wave to a third to join in.

  “Before you force me to kill my entire army,” Nigel said, while drawing his sword, which had the effect of stopping them in their tracks. He pulled the silver talon covers from his pouch and casually slipped them on. “Let me tell you the story of how things are done within the world of aerials.” He paused and saw that he had their attention.

  “Do you know why Rothimeadies was king? No, I didn’t think you did. Rothimeadies was king because no one…actually not even two, could beat him in battle, though many had tried. I was his first commander for exactly the same reason, no one could beat me, therefore I commanded his entire army. The only one who would have even come close to beating Rothimeadies would have been me, but he would have torn me wing from wing and I knew it, so I settled into my seat of power and fought his wars for him. Have you ever been to war? I thought not.”

  “I’m sure that you have a point to this, I will allow you to speak it before you die,” Leather Face said.

  “My point is…Rothimeadies is dead.” He paused to let that sink in. “Kneel to your new king,” he said and strode forward.

  One of the ones who had been instructed to attack laughed at Nigel’s comment. With a quick flick of his sword, Nigel sent the breed’s head rolling from his shoulders. He brought his blade to the throat of the other who had been advancing, the crowd wide eyed at what had just happened.

  “Kneel before your king, imp,” he snarled. The breed looked at the three corpses surrounding him, three whom he had known and one even who he had feared, all dead within seconds at the hand of this…warrior who stood before him in a hammered breast plate and plated skirt.

  He knelt. Nigel scanned the crowd and saw more starting to kneel.

  “You are nothing but dirt, I will take your imaginary crown and shove it—”

  The leathery breed never got a chance to finished as Nigel flipped head over heels toward him, which was showy, but also never lets your adversary know where you were going to strike. He landed on top of the bat like wings of the leather man and hoisted him off the ground.

  “You have not earned the right to speak to your king. You are naught but a bully and a slaver who won’t fight his own battles.” Nigel spat his disgust at the being. “Enslaving your own kind makes you the worst of the worst and I will see you discarded like morning’s waste.”

  The leathery greed extended his wing to get lift, but Nigel was expecting it and sliced the membranes of both wings while they were thirty feet off the ground, instantly rendering him flightless. He dropped the beast who plummeted to the ground while desperately trying to make his ruined wings work.