Remembering how his uncle had treated him, Juin slowed himself and took a moment to breathe. He summoned sprints and repeated the message he had received before sending them off to the factions on the field as well as to others which may be near. Much like the dwarven group that had just joined the piners, sprints were constantly guiding wayward factions together. They had their poison and their darts, but that is not really a melee weapon like a club or an axe. So, they did their part by transferring messages and guiding people, a feature that in its own way had revolutionized warfare.

  “Enlith, how far in?”

  “Halfway at least, Karoome, you must cover your ears, sir, you must or you will lose your sanity. Trust me, Karoome, you must.” Enlith’s head bobbed spastically.

  “We will, Enlith, we all have wax and cotton, we’ll use that. Now stay here and get your head together,” Juin said.

  “No, Karoome, I’m going to my sister,” he replied and took his position in line after replenishing his lance count.

  The echoes of the slave riders chittering and the curses of their mounts was soon drowned out by the pounding of hooves causing thunderous roar in the stone chamber. Long, straight was the tunnel, well-lit by a fissure in the ceiling mirroring the river and reflecting off the surface. Juin’s force built speed starting a half mile out two hundred and fifty light horse thundered down the tunnel toward battle. The Karoome didn’t slow as the horror came into view, there was no battle. This was a feed hall.

  He tasted bile as he saw the goblins sitting on the backs of their slaves waiting patiently for them to finish their feast. He lowered his lance and gasped when he saw the point glowing as if it had an internal fire of its own. He glanced at those next to him and saw that theirs too glowed with a magical light.

  “Stay on mission!” he shouted when he sensed some were starting to falter for the scene before them was truly horrific. He expected the goblin cavalry to break and run under the point of their lances but they didn’t. Instead they started to raise spears and twirl nets, flails as well as axes over their heads as they drove forward.

  Bolos were thrown accurately to take out the entire front row of elves, including Juin, but they were suddenly swept to the side in mid-flight as if by a gust of wind allowing the light horse to hit with tons of flesh, bone, and leather.

  An impact that sounded like the earth breaking, highlighted by the intense flash of their glowing lance tips that literally exploded, sent a ripple through the crowd. His lance tip shattered, Juin shoved it into the gapping maw of what must have been a frost piner, but now carried an exceptionally large goblin. The piner collapsed onto his face, throwing the hulking goblin forward to connect with the princely gauntleted fist that snapped its head back and launched him off the back of the fallen slave beast.

  He grabbed another lance and charged again, its tip also flaring to life and sending more ripples back into the crowd of foul folk. Everywhere it touched flashed sparks and debris. More lancers came in behind him and they were pushing the force that nearly tripled their number back and into the main part of the House.

  A pale man shouted panicked orders at the slave riders and signaled to some trolls to join in. Juin could see them beyond the fracas, coming to stop up the entrance which would force Juin’s group to crush the slave riders against the massive bodies of the trolls. They were running out of steam and would soon be down to just blades. A flash from beyond and the trolls just burst into flames. Groups of four and more were blown backwards off their feet.

  The pale man howled and pointed at something just beyond view. He screamed and clenched his open fingered fist down by his waist and sent twin bars of energy at whatever was beyond the mouth of the cave entrance.

  Four bars came back, one at the trolls outside and two into the mass of slave riders between him and the House proper, incinerating everyone it came into contact with. The fourth bar of light moved so fast he didn’t know how the pale man avoided it as showers of rock and dust filled the air.

  Juin didn’t know if he ran and dove or simply dove from where he stood, but in seconds he was in the water of the fast-flowing stream and disappearing below the surface.

  He and several of his people leapt from their steeds and started to lay waste to the remaining slave riders and their mounts as there was truly no hope for them, the best they could offer was death. There was no coming back from what they had been made into.

  A light appeared from around the corner and Maggie nickered a familiar greeting as Ice King appeared.

  “Juil?” Juin said, amazed that she truly was alive. He hadn’t seen her since the day they parted up in the Racise when the giant carried her away.

  “It is I, little brother,” she said with a smile, knowing that their births were only seconds apart. She was on the opposite bank of the tributary so they couldn’t touch, but they could see each other and they could talk.

  “I see that your rune spells have greatly improved,” he said slyly to which she barked a short laugh.

  “Yes, and all it took was for me to realize that I didn’t really have any power at all.” She saw his look of confusion and smirked in return. “It is a long story that I hopefully will be able to share with you later. I am sorry I did not get here in time to save the Har Karoome, I will miss him greatly.

  “He is dead then?”

  “Yes, I felt his soul flow to our ancestors over a half an hour ago. He was a remarkable man, our little Drick. The horrors he had to face today as well as the past weeks would have made the strongest of men whither and weep, yet he fought on.”

  “How do you know this if you weren’t here?” Juin asked.

  “She speaks to me, Juin, she has been talking to me for days now…which is how I know that I am needed elsewhere. Fight your way to the city dock, for that is where you will be needed,” Juil said, and with that she mounted and was gone.

  “First Spear,” Juin called.

  “She is dead, Karoome,” a voice replied sending a jolt through him.

  “All commanders to me!” he shouted, but no one came forth. He scanned the group with him and saw only fifty, maybe a few more, left standing. Bloody and beaten, but not defeated, they faced him with fire in their eyes. They were not ready to lay down and die just yet.

  59

  The thousand

  Frodeg rushed to be with his few men who stood behind their large phalanx style shields. He had a thousand with him, which normally would be quite a force, but against the numbers that were now flooding into the chambers, it felt more like a small recon squad than a brigade. In his periphery, he could see the woman switch to the color of blood both hair and body and she started to spin, laughing manically. She was summoning power using the kinetic energy to claim more than was her due and the Sheriff didn’t know what he could do to stop it.

  He should be able to stop her, all power in here came from Riverhouse and he should have the control to stop her…yet he didn’t, and he didn’t know why.

  “Tic!” he screamed hoping to draw the cowardly boy out and into the fight, instead all he got was a calming voice in his head.

  I am here, do what comes to mind, and I will take care of the rest as I have been doing. You’re afraid, I get that. She is truly very powerful, but not so much in here, trust me. If you were anywhere else the battle would already be finished. See how she draws the power? Outside it is already at her finger tips, use that against her.

  Frodeg did as instructed ignoring his own bafflement at the conversation within his head when it dawned on him, the power isn’t Tic’s. The power, or magic if you will, isn’t his or Juil’s or anyone’s other than who or where the power came from to begin with, in this case…the earth. Tic had told him this on several occasions and he never understood until right now, Tic was the conduit and that is why he stayed out of sight. It wasn’t because he was afraid or didn’t have the strength, he was their tap into the power and if he fell, it all fell, for Riverhouse has chosen no other.

  He flung his hand out and as if he knew, or someone knew, he gave his wrist a twist. Dyanna was in the midst of gathering her power, her eyes locked on the dwarf sheriff when a rotating cone of water snapped up around her, sealing her off from the chamber.

  She screamed an unintelligible sound of frustration. He could see the energy flash behind the cone of water as she tried to break out and unleash her rage on the denizens in the mecca of commerce called Riverhouse. He could also feel it draining his reserves with every flash.

  More, I need more, he projected.

  It will come as you need it, hang tough. Again, it was Tic’s voice. On impulse he motioned a finger at five points between his army and the invaders who were just now hopping from their ships and into the icy water. It was too much to hope for that they be whisked away by the current. He could have destroyed the docks, but knew that would just be damaging the real estate more than slowing their charge.

  Swirls started to appear where he had pointed. They started small as a leaves and twigs, but soon gathered other debris as the whirlwind gained in size and strength. They became swirls of power catching up everything that came within range, they started to move out in a line. Slowly at first, but then picked up speed as they wove around each other into new positions not ten feet out from his army of dwarfs.

  He was confused at first, but then saw the value. Instead of a long, wide open expanse that the barbarians could charge them on, they now had smaller channels five to six feet wide.

  Huge men in stained leather, ornamental bone piercings and huge tattoos all over their bodies came from between the whirlwinds wielding chipped black steel swords and rusted axes. The dwarfs tightened their ranks and lowered their pikes.

  The men charged the pike men in scattered groups, spreading out to fill the void before striking, causing Frodeg to curse the fact that dwarfs never picked up on the use of archers. But then arrows were flying and plunging into the enemy ranks wreaking havoc. Something about the arrows that struck the sheriff’s memory, so small yet straight and effective.

  Wood elves! He was elated by the new arrivals though he hadn’t spotted any of them yet. You never saw them or heard them before they struck, that is simply the nature of the diminutive beings. To his surprise he saw them already dispersed between his men ready to be right in the thick of things with their steel shafted arrows and high tensile bows.

  The shield wall groaned as the weight of the attacker bore down upon it, the pike men working frenziedly to push them back amidst the help of a hail of steel arrows of the little people who had joined with them.

  A scream of utter rage rang out and the whirlwind around Dyanna exploded in an array of sparks and steam, taking the smaller whirlwinds out with the blast. The path was open direct from the boats and he knew it was time to fight. This time, however, he wasn’t to use the peace-keepers cudgel or his grandfather’s axe. His weapon today was new to him, yet older than the day steel was first cast, stretching back into the time before the earliest wood was first sprouted. Frodeg didn’t know how he knew what to do, if he was even conscious of his actions. He simply opened himself and the energy flowed as screen after shield was thrown up to block the evil woman from destroying his troops in one fell swoop with her magic.

  He felt the impacts and could tell when he had to renew or replace his defenses but it was impossible for him to do anything else. The barrage of shear energy was threatening to overwhelm him.

  Tic… please help.

  I’m trying.

  Cut her off from the source. He thought in a last ditch effort at finding something that they could do.

  She raged and started to throw pulses directly at him and would have had him, but Tic or the force behind Tic was ready for it. Frodeg pulled his head up as if shaken from a dream. He touched five points in the air in quick succession a miniature rune appearing at each point and hovering in place. With a wave of his hand he sent them toward Dyanna who seemed momentarily transfixed by his action. A rune of wind intercepted her flow repelling the blast as the other four swirled toward her and she was suddenly back on her heels, trying to deal with each threat individually. He was a little disappointed at the lack of creativity she was showing.

  Wait, that wasn’t my thought. I hope that she remains dull and boring all day long. Frodeg heard the chuckle within and knew that it was Tic’s thought. Of course it was, it wasn’t the cobblers body after all, that she would be getting creative on.

  A thrown mace skipped off his shoulder causing him to catch himself before falling onto his back reminding him that he was still vulnerable to the physical world. His men must have realized it too and dragged him back behind their lines.

  Still more ships were entering from the north tunnel and the sheriff instinctively stopped bouncing the energy safely away from his men and toward the newly arrived ships. The blasts proved to be simple energy bursts as two of the ships caught fire without any sign of heavy impact. That was when Dyanna decided to become creative after finally getting her initial rage under control.

  The ground started to ripple as it built a concussive wave that rushed toward the sheriff’s group who was barely managing to keep the barbarians out of their lines.

  * * *

  Tic wavered as Juil pulled massive amounts of energy through him while battling at an entrance a few miles south of the main docks where Frodeg was doing his best to keep a massive army of barbarians from overwhelming the city. He had no idea where these cruel men had come from or why they fought on the side of Dyanna, yet here they were and they fought ferociously, screaming and laughing as they tried to hack through the line of defending dwarfs.

  The power flowing through him was more than he ever imagined possible and he staggered a bit before falling.

  Foreign, but gentle hands grabbed him and guided him to his knees and he looked up into the most beautiful pair of azure eyes as he could have ever imagined. He didn’t know how he knew her and once he muttered her name, he recognized it as a name that Tia had mentioned from her journey to Smithtown and Mikalene.

  “Rain?”

  “We are here Mother, we will protect your vessel,” the beautiful elf said as she gently guided Tic to the floor. She spoke directly to the entity within as if Tic wasn’t even there. His hands touched the surface of the stone floor and he felt an instant rush of energy flow through his hands and back into the ground.

  Juil was drawing aggressive power from wherever she was fighting as Frodeg used every type of defensive magic that was thrust upon him. He was struggling against the forces arrayed against him. There was a third, only tentatively tapping into the subtler forms of the art from a great distance away. Possibly unaware of his role in all of this, but he would come, no matter what he tried to deny, it was as much a part of him as it was everybody else involved. He would come, but would he be in time?

  * * *

  Juin and what was left of his force made sure that all of the vile beasts were dead and pulled a couple of their own out from under piles of dead, friend and foe alike. He wanted to wait for the piners to finish up with the trolls and halfmen outside the entrance, but there was a sense of urgency that was currently eating him up.

  He looked around for his uncle Lindeif, or Leldeif as he insisted they call him, but couldn’t spot him or the human girl called Tia. He did spot the silly donkey called Spunk though. He sniffed at a spot on the ground and pawed at a cloak that looked familiar.

  Drick?

  He walked over to what was left of his childhood friend feeling every ounce of regret that he could for not giving him a break as an adult. Drick had been a good man and an excellent Har Karoome considering how young he had been, and he found himself wondering if things would have gone better had he started listening to him earlier.

  He bent down and picked up the hunk of frost pine the donkey had been nudging and saw that it still had a hand attached to it. Drick’s hand with the damaged signet ring of rank still stuck on the third finger. He peeled the hand from the shaft and put it in his pouch before pleading with his ancestors to allow enough of Drick to be there so he could intern him to his crypt properly.

  A tear stretched down his cheek and he made as if to inspect the weapon, The weapon of his Har Karoome’s last stand. He would use it.

  “Come on, Spunk, let’s go kill the rest of these bastards,” he said quietly knowing that he didn’t have the force to do much more than make the attempt.

  Their mounts high-stepped through the carnage into the main tunnel to see absolute mayhem before them. Hundreds of muridai were on the bridge they needed to cross. Seeing how few elves came out of the caverns they started to chitter in what could only be construed as a ratish laugh.

  Rage overwhelmed him as self-preservation fled. He screamed and spurred Maggie up the bridge to where they waited without concern as to who followed. He raged into a line that never believed that the young elven prince would charge so abruptly.

  His powerful steed moved as if she had been rested and fed for the last week as opposed to the horrors she had already faced today. The only thing between her and the unorganized force of muridai was an even faster, more enraged donkey who barreled into the crowd of rat beasts with hoof and teeth flailing like they never had before. Spunk had loved Bryan, he was his only companion for as long as he could remember, he trusted him and these things took him away, then they killed Drick who he had chosen to follow so now, they too would pay.

  Prince Juin swung the frost pine halberd back and forth marveling at the ease in which it passed through the flesh of his adversaries. The ranks opposing him were suddenly falling to the side four ranks deep between his long poleaxe and Spunk. The force of his mount and the others behind him drove them back until they started to trip and fall while trying to get out of his way. The pavement started to turn slick with the blood and gore from those they trampled yet still they pressed on.