Army of the Dead (75 page)

“Because I told it to return here,” stated Emperor Vand. “I will not lose my last demon by sending it after the enemy on their terms. Did you not witness the destruction of the other demons? Zarapeto is best suited right here in the temple where the dragon cannot go.”

The demon seethed in rage, not only at Pakar’s words, but also at Vand’s statement that he could not defeat the dragon alone. Zarapeto would have liked to reach out and crush someone, but Dobuk had forbidden it.

“The Khadorans are attacking,” shouted one of the mages.

“And horsemen from the east as well,” added another.

“Deal with them,” ordered Vand as he turned towards the doorway to the temple. “Zarapeto, join me in Dobuk’s chamber.”

The demon growled, but he followed the Emperor into the temple and into the sacred chamber where Dobuk resided. Vand bowed low as he entered the presence of the Great Demon. Dobuk did not look pleased with his disciple.

“You have squandered that which I have given you,” accused Dobuk. “Is this all that is left?” he asked as he pointed to Zarapeto.

“We thought that there was only one dragon,” Vand answered timidly. “You should have told me that there were two.”

“It is the same dragon,” interrupted Zarapeto. “It is Myka, the last of the dragons. I can kill her myself.”

“How?” balked Vand. “I saw her die.”

“Kaltara is active in this battle,” snarled Dobuk. “You should have expected that. Keep Zarapeto close to you. Let your armies destroy their armies. Let your mages destroy their mages. You are strong enough to resist the Three, and you will have Zarapeto to give you overwhelming odds. We will deal with the dragon afterwards. Return to the throne room and prepare for their arrival.”

Vand bowed low again and backed out of the sacred chamber. The demon followed him to the throne room and hovered near as the Emperor settled into his throne.

“We should not meet the enemy here,” Vand muttered aloud. “We should meet them in Dobuk’s presence. We will return to the sacred chamber.”

“That is not allowed,” Zarapeto declared.

“Not allowed?” balked Vand. “What do you mean?”

“Should Dobuk directly enter the fray,” explained the demon, “then Kaltara will as well. That would mean the end of the world, no matter who won. It is forbidden.”

“But Kaltara brought the dragon back to life,” protested Vand.

“Not directly,” the demon shook its head. “Dobuk would know if that was true. Kaltara used others to accomplish the task, just as Dobuk allowed you to raise the dead army. Where do you want me to hide?”

“Hide?” questioned Vand. “Don’t you think that they will be expecting to find you here?”

“Expecting to find me and actually knowing where I am are two different things,” Zarapeto grinned wickedly. “I will choose my own method of hiding.”

* * *

Pakar was busy directing his mages in the attack against the Khadorans and Fakarans when the dragon appeared high overhead. Their attention had been so focused on destroying the horsemen, that Myka had been able to approach unseen until Pakar noticed the shadow race across the roof. He was about to cast a lightning bolt at the dragon, but he could not as it was directly overhead. If the dragon avoided the bolt, it would smash down upon his own men.

“The dragon is back,” shouted the head mage. “Strengthen your shields until we get a good shot at her.”

Even as his warning was being delivered, light blades flew from the back of the dragon and smashed into the surface of the roof. The light blades hit one of the mages and a bright nimbus glowed around him as he struggled to maintain his shield.

The dragon darted around nimbly, which while it made the throwing of light blades rather ineffective, it also provided a futile target for the Motangan mages. Myka began an orbital path around the temple and zigzagged to avoid the enemy’s lightning bolts. It took several revolutions of the dragon before Pakar’s mages realized that their lightning bolts were slamming into the hellsouls below.

“Stop,” shouted Pakar. “Ignore them and focus on the horsemen. Keep your shields strong, and they cannot hurt us. Let them fly in circles.”

The Motangan mages returned their attention to the battle below and began blasting the horsemen that were engaging the hellsouls.

“Not good,” frowned Marak. “We must divert their attention.”

No one answered, but Myka immediately altered her flight path. She swung over the roof as far away from the Motangan mages as she could.

“Jump now,” commanded the dragon.

Lyra jumped without hesitation. She rolled herself into a ball as she had done when practicing her sword fighting. She came to her feet and immediately cast her blue cylinder of protection.

“Don’t back up,” came a soft voice from behind her.

Lyra turned and saw Rejji kneeling behind her.

“What are you doing here?” she asked.

“Guarding your back?” Rejji replied sheepishly. “I lost my grip when you jumped. Don’t look at me and maybe they will not notice me.”

Lyra shook her head and turned to face the Motangan mages. From behind her on Myka’s back, Marak threw several light blades that slammed into the pile of mages. One of them turned and saw Lyra standing on the roof.

“It is one of the Three,” he announced loudly.

Pakar and the others turned to stare at Lyra and her blue cylinder. They all reacted swiftly, and a myriad of spells went soaring towards the Star of Sakova. Her cylinder flared briefly from the magical impacts, but nothing appeared to harm her. The mages kept up a barrage of spells, working their way through their entire inventory of magical projectiles.

“Nothing seems to affect her,” scowled one of the mages.

“Keep trying,” ordered Pakar. “Every shield has its limit. There are more than enough of us to weaken her shield and kill her.”

* * *

Blaka, the leader of the Extala tribe, led the Fakaran charge. All of the tribes, free tribes and Jiadin, joined together in a tight knot and charged through the gap created by the tyrik webs. The Fakaran horsemen excelled in cavalry tactics, and the warriors surged into the mass of hellsouls, lopping off heads as they raced towards the temple.

The Khadoran cavalry was accustomed to a different type of fighting. Lord Marshal Yenga of the Torak clan led the western horsemen. The Khadorans advanced more cautiously than the Fakarans, striking down the hellsouls in any way they could. When the once-dead creatures resurrected, they were struck down again by riders farther back in the pack. A hellsoul might be killed three or four times before someone succeeded in removing its head, and the pace was slower, but they also gained steadily on the Temple at Vandegar.

Unexpectedly, lightning bolts from the roof of the temple began smashing into the ranks of both the Fakarans and Khadorans. The charges faltered as hundreds of horsemen and their mounts were blasted into charred debris. The horsemen were so tightly packed that the lightning bolts were highly effective. Lightning bolts followed one after another, and nowhere on the battlefield was safe. Yenga sounded the retreat, which was immediately echoed by Blaka.

As had been prearranged, elven archers moved forward from both the east and west. They kept to the sides of the horsemen and were soon joined by Chula shamans. The elven archers fired volleys of pointed arrows into the hellsouls while the Chula shamans used light blades to attack. The horsemen retreated under the cover of the elves and Chula and quickly regrouped. Once the horsemen were clear, the elves and Chula backed away.

“This is far enough,” shouted Yenga as the lightning bolts ceased. “Let our unmounted friends get clear before we try it again.”

“We are going back into that slaughter?” asked one of the nearby men.

“We are,” Lord Marshal Yenga nodded as he looked up and saw the dragon circling over the temple. “This battle ends when Vand’s forces are defeated and not before. If you don’t have the stomach for that then you can come up front and ride beside me.”

“I don’t mind fighting,” balked the Khadoran soldier, “but lightning is not battle.”

“It is as much a part of battle as creatures that rise from the dead,” countered Yenga. “It is not important how you die. What is important is how many of the enemy you kill before your death. There will be no life for any of us if we fail here today.”

Cheers ripped through the Khadoran army as the lightning bolts resumed because the deadly missiles were falling on the Motangan soldiers instead of the Khadorans. Yenga looked puzzled at the development and then his eyes rose to the roof of the imposing building. He saw the lightning bolts aimed at the dragon and grinned broadly.

“Clever creature,” Yenga mumbled under his breath as the lightning bolts continued to slam into the hellsouls.

The lightning bolts hitting the Motangan soldiers suddenly stopped. A few moments later the mages directed the bolts at the horsemen again, but the Khadorans were well out of reach. For a long moment the battlefield remained frozen with neither side attacking. The area between the forces erupted in fountains of dirt as the magical lightning bolts blasted into the ground. Lord Marshal Yenga watched as the dragon passed over the roof of the temple. He saw two of the humans on her back jump or fall to the roof, and then he saw a blue cylinder shoot skyward.

“Resume the charge,” Emperor Marak said softly in Yenga’s ear.

Yenga grinned and waved at the distant dragon. He raised his arm high in the air and shouted for the attention of his men.

“Khadorans,” shouted Lord Marshal Yenga. “Charge!”

The horsemen charged from the east and west as the hellsouls once again took up defensive positions. The elves and Chula followed the horses once again to provide for a safe retreat if it was needed.

High above the heads of the hellsouls, the dragon flew around the temple while the Torak threw light blades at the Motangan mages. Myka watched the flaring of the magical shields for any signs of weakening.

“The one farthest to the west,” the dragon said softly. “His shield flickers faintly. Concentrate on him.”

“Can you get me in closer?” asked Emperor Marak. “I would like to try something more physical. Most shields are more effective against magic than they are against a physical object.”

“With pleasure,” grinned the winged warrior.

While the dragon looped west of the temple, Marak sheathed his sword and grabbed several Sakovan stars from his pouch. Myka dropped below the level of the roof as she approached the temple. Marak watched the stone wall of the temple approaching at a rapid rate and mentally prepared for the uplift. At the last moment before impact, the dragon soared upward and over the edge of the roof.

The Torak quickly took aim and threw two Sakovan stars at the nearest mage. He watched with satisfaction as the stars bit into their target. The mage’s hands went to the star in his temple even as his body fell to the roof. Myka swept just over the heads of the mages, her voice cackling in triumph.

“This is more like it,” grinned the dragon.

Marak heard screaming from below the dragon. He could not see the source of the screaming, but he looked back at the roof and quickly counted Motangan mages.

“You have one,” the Torak said accusingly.

“Not for long,” chuckled Myka as the screams suddenly died. “I really wouldn’t eat such a thing.”

As the dragon banked over the tyrik-web pens holding the skeleton creatures, Marak saw the lifeless body of a Motangan mage tumble downward.

“Let’s go weaken some more of them,” smiled Marak.

The dragon banked sharply for another run at the temple.

* * *

Pakar instinctively ducked as the dragon flew low overhead. He didn’t bother to be distracted by the dragon, but he thought he heard screaming as Myka passed by. His eyes flicked to his left, and he quickly counted heads. Two mages were missing. He frowned with concern and then saw two black-cloaks dash from the door of the temple and run around behind the small structure in the center of the roof. He nodded approvingly as he thought that two of his men had taken the initiative to get closer to the blue cylinder. Only when the spells from the two black-cloaks began impacting on his shields did he understand that something was wrong.

“Who are they?” yelled Pakar.

“Xavo and Lady Mystic,” one of his men replied.

“Traitors!” shouted Pakar. “Some of you go get them.”

Two mages split off from the group and approached the hidden traitors. It was at that moment that Myka and the Torak returned.

“Do not harm the two behind the structure,” warned Marak as he threw a Sakovan star at one of the advancing mages. “They are friends.”

“They should dress differently,” Myka scowled as her claws grabbed the other advancing mage and carried him off.

“How are you able to pierce their shields?” Marak asked as the dragon discarded another dead mage.

“The same way that you can kill them with your stars,” answered the dragon. “When their shields weaken, it is the physical protection that fails first.”

“My stars won’t hurt me if their shields are too strong,” frowned Marak. “I will just fail to kill them. The same cannot be said for your claws. You may cripple yourself.”

“Lyra will heal me,” retorted the dragon. “Stop trying to save them all for yourself. His shields were already weak, and he was running. Do you have any idea how hard it is to maintain a shield while you are running?”

“Actually, I do,” laughed Marak, “but I am sure that you do not. Just be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt again.”

“Then use some more of those light blades to soften up another two,” replied the winged warrior. “My claws are itching for more Motangan flesh.”

* * *

“Filthy beast,” swore Pakar as he saw the dragon carry off one of his men and the other fall dead to the roof with a star in his head.

The head mage quickly saw that his position was untenable. They could not stay on the roof and battle magical foes while the dragon attacked at will. Regardless of Vand’s orders, Pakar made the decision to move inside the temple and continue the fighting where the dragon could not go. He shouted orders to his men and began moving slowly towards the entrance to the temple. He would not run and take the chance of his shield failing.