Realm Of Blood And Fire (Book 3) (17 page)

“They weren’t always like that.” Aramonius kept looking at the sky beyond Bayerlon.

“In what way?”

“Our ancient texts say they were fine in the daylight when they last lived here, but the Third Realm is a bastard of a place—a foggy twilight.”

“Do you feel sorry for them?”

Aramonius laughed. “Not enough to not want to banish them back there.” He leaned forward, eyes focused across Bayerlon, looking to the north. “I think I see something.”

Pernus’
s heart beat harder as he waited for the dragon to confirm the sighting. He felt the tension of the soldiers who had been standing close enough to hear the dragon’s words.

“It’s them. The gormons are coming.”

“Let the others know.”

While the dragon sent messages to his fellow
Vellonians, Pernus sent his boy racing along the wall. He called out as he ran. “Gormons load! Gormons load!”

Pernus held up a flaming brand and waved it about his head, back and forth three times—the prearranged signal. Over
two thousand archers lined the top of Bayerlon’s walls, each holding an arrow and waiting for the next sign.

Within another minute, the gormons became small black shapes in the sky.
So many
, Pernus thought. It reminded him of a colony of bats. He drew his sword. “Tell me when, Aramonius.”

The dragon spoke quietly to himself. “Closer. Closer
. Come on.”

Pernus could hear the sharp intake of breath and swearing as his soldiers sighted the enemy. To stop anyone going into shock at the sight of the monstrosities, Edmund had asked Verity to draw a picture of Kwaad. They had it copied a few times and handed it around. Everyone knew what to expect—although meeting one was not the same as seeing a picture.

They were close enough now that Pernus could see the angles and points of their wings and their tails streaming behind. And was that. . .?
What in the Third Realm? Red eyes.
The glowing red orbs shone like hot coals in the dark.

“Light them!”
Aramonius’s voice carried way down the line, and Pernus raised the torch in the air, waving it about again. Atop Bayerlon’s wall, two thousand arrows were nocked, each miniature blaze a spark of hope for a dead gormon.

The dark mass reached the city, but they flew too high for the arrows to reach, and Pernus refused to give the signal. Craning his neck, he looked up at the ugly creatures. It was like looking through a portal into the Third Realm. The mass formed a circle. Like a toxic whirlpool, they flew faster and faster above Bayerlon.

The men around him stood proud, but fear shone from their eyes almost as brightly as the flames at the end of the arrows.

Where would the gormons choose to strike? They could break from the pack at any time, go in any direction.

“Can you do something with Second-Realm power?” Pernus asked the dragon.

“No. I have knowledge of the power contained within Talia, but I’m not close enough to the source to syphon enough. Only those trained by a realmist can do that.”

“And the gormons?”

“I daresay they have those who are capable and those who are not—like us or your people.”

“Where’s Arcese and Elphus? They would know what to do.”

“I’ll see if I can contact them. But get ready. Let’s hope they’re not too
intelligent, and that blood lust causes them to rush together.”
Arcese, where are you? We need you up here. The gormons have arrived.
She didn’t answer immediately, and Aramonius looked across at the captain. “She’s not answering.”

“Try again.” Pernus kept his sight on the swirling evil above and resisted the urge to run.

Arcese. It’s Aramonius. Are you all right? What’s happened?

Sorry . . . I’m okay. We were attacked. The gormons found a way to enter under the city. We lost both soldiers, and Elphus is hurt. They were trying to take Edmund.

Can you make it up here? The sky is teeming with them.

Yes
—if we don’t come across any more. Watch for them coming from below.

Will do. Bye.
He cut off the connection. “Pernus, they’re going to try to come up, but the gormons got in under the castle.”

“What in the
Thir….” Pernus stopped midsentence as the first gormon broke from the vortex and dove toward the east, and the bottom of the city. One by one, they broke ranks and darted to all ends of Bayerlon. Pernus shouted “fire!” and waved his torch about his head, pieces of ash floating down around him.

The twang of released
bowstrings and the whizzing of fire shooting through the air vibrated throughout Bayerlon. It was hard to tell if many had hit their mark, but the archers immediately grabbed another arrow, which was lit by a nearby soldier, nocked and fired. As the second volley arced through the air, some images of success could be seen.

Around the city, forty or more gormons were alight. Viscous gray smoke billowed from the burning creatures. The falling conflagrations reminded Pernus of shooting stars or fireworks—
spectacular in their brilliance, but as they neared the ground, they turned into black slag. One body landed on the wall near the captain—the burning heap barely alive. Pernus approached it, ready to slice its head off. Its red eyes dimmed, and it bared its teeth just before the flames snaked up and consumed its head—life in its eyes finally doused.

For every gormon that was shot, many more flew through unscathed—some were too fast, easily avoiding the arrows, and some had been hit, but, Pernus surmised, they must have had Second-Realm shields
up because they didn't combust.

Shouts and screams filtered up from the city below. Gormons had started to land on buildings, on the wall and in the streets. The archers picked off the ones they could, but the gormons soon learned to stay out of range.

Pernus heard a noise like a flag whipping in the wind. He spun around. A gormon had its back to him. It grabbed an archer—Donellan—and closed his mouth around his head. One of Bayerlon’s blue-vested soldiers stabbed at the gormon from behind, but the sword slid off, as if meeting ice. The beast ignored the soldier and clamped its jaws shut, severing Donellan’s head from his body.

Not wanting to give up, the soldier continued his assault, hoping he would eventually crack whatever barrier was preventing him from wounding the creature.

“Pest.” The gormon twisted around and grabbed the soldier, Donellan’s blood dripping from his mouth onto the other man.

Aramonius drew what little energy he could from the channels beneath Bayerlon. The problem was that the wall was so much higher than the ground—he had to mine through too much stone before he
could reach the source. He mumbled a few words and strode toward the gormon.

“Hey, giant bat, get off my wall.”

It turned its head to stare at the dragon. Aramonius felt the malevolence of a thousand years radiating from those eyes. The gormon opened its maw, ready to breathe acidic fire.

The dragon jumped and spread his wings, using them to lift above the gormon’s head. Just as the fire reached the gormon’s lips, Aramonius,
his scales flaring brighter red than before, manifested a large white ball, which was as hard as a dragon’s eggshell. The sphere filled the gormon’s mouth, blocking the deadly flow. Once the ball was wedged in tight, Aramonius pushed harder, the shell cracking on the gormon’s myriad of teeth. Thousands of tomb spiders—the deadliest in all the realms—poured down the gormon’s throat, sinking their fangs in as they scurried.

The soldier,
his blue Veresian vest splatted with red, struggled out of the gormon’s grip. The gormon’s shield now gone, the soldier picked up his sword and slid it through the convulsing gormon’s stomach. The point of the blade caught on the gormon’s spine. Twisting his wrist and pushing harder, the warrior was able to work the sword past the obstruction. It made a satisfying
pop
as it broke through the other side.

All around them, men
and gormons died, but too many of the latter still lived. The gormons had a great size advantage and were able to kill three, four or five men at once with their acidic fire. Not content with fighting the soldiers, the gormons were destroying doors to houses. Pernus saw one gormon enter a palatial terrace. The sound of women and children screaming reached his ears, then silence. Exiting the home, saturated in blood that clearly was not his, the gormon looked left then right before choosing where to continue his murdering spree.

Pernus sprinted along the wall, trying to help those who were battling the ghoulish beasts, Aramonius behind him, shouting advice when he could. The odors of battle assaulted
Pernus’s senses—burning flesh, the metallic tang of blood and the smell of fear and vomit. Mixed in with these was the unfamiliar sulfuric, swampy stench of the gormons.

“Calen!” The captain ran faster. A gormon held his young errand boy by the ankles, dangling him in the air above his open mouth, like a bunch of juicy grapes. The child flailed his arms and screamed, trying to break free.

“Pernus, I’ll distract it; you try to grab the child. When you grab him, run as fast as you can. I’m going to light that Third-Realm kindling.” When they reached the duo, the dragon breathed a small spurt of fire at the gormon’s feet, but it sputtered out.

“Argh!” The
Third-Realm creature fixed the dragon with its red-eyed stare. “You dare interrupt my meal, you Drakon-loving lizard. I’m Embrax, third brother and priest of the great Klazich, soon-to-be co-ruler of Talia. You will bow down to me!”

“Who are you calling a lizard, you slimy excuse for a worm?”

The gormon flung the boy high over his shoulder and advanced on Aramonius.

Pernus watched helplessly as Calen flew through the air, having no hope of getting to him in time. Luckily, a nearby archer broke his fall. The captain heard an angry roar and looked
over his shoulder. Embrax was close enough to breathe his deadly fire on the red dragon. Remembering, finally, to get out of the way, Pernus ran toward where Calen had landed and grabbed one of his soldiers on the way, dragging him along.

Aramonius couldn’t hold off any longer without giving the gormon a free shot. He opened his mouth wide and a torrent of flames gushed out. The dragon almost laughed at the comical expression of surprise on
Embrax’s face—did he forget dragons could breathe fire, or did he think he was invincible? The dragon fire consumed his face. Once his shield dissipated, the flames galloped along his neck, arms, and down his body, dancing to the sizzle and hiss of blistering skin. Aramonius attacked again and set the gormon’s wings alight. The gormon’s wings shriveled and turned to ash.

As
Embrax crumpled to the ground, a mournful wail echoed across Bayerlon. The sound weighed Bayerlon down with its promise of a city doomed. Fighting stopped momentarily as the gormons listened, and the Talians looked around—to see where the threat was coming from or to look for a place to run.

Pernus looked to the south. A gormon, far larger than the one they had just slain, soared toward them, fire raining down from its mouth to the hapless people below. A few of the
archers fired burning arrows, but the ones that connected bounced off harmlessly. This gormon was coming for them. Pernus assessed their odds, picked up Calen and sprinted for the stairs. “Run! Regroup downstairs. Now!” As he bolted, he felt the heat of gormon fire at his back.

***

Death was instant—the gormon that Arcese had struck with the stone shaft grunted before it released Edmund and crashed to the floor.

Finally able to breathe again, Elphus coughed and sat up, and the king
dry wretched before standing. Edmund looked at Elphus and Arcese, deciding the dragon needed his aid more than the realmist. “Did they stab you? What’s wrong?”

She held her hand up, indicating that he
had to wait. Elphus’s gasping breaths sounded thin in the cool expanse of the underground chamber—so quiet now compared to the sound of fighting from moments ago. Edmund waited. Finally, Arcese slowly straightened. “No, I’m okay. It was just a cramp.”

“The egg?”

“Probably. Using too much power must be dangerous. What if I’ve hurt it?” The worry in her eyes surprised Edmund. He had never thought about the love dragons have for their young—but of course she would be upset.

He caressed her folded wing. “Everything will be all right. Sit down for a moment. Let me check that there’s nothing else coming.” He peered around the corner but couldn’t see any other creatures from the Third Realm. “All clear. Can either of you walk?”

Elphus rubbed his chest with the palm of his hand and took a deep breath. “I seem to be okay. Nothing broken. I could use a little help though.” The realmist rolled over to his hands and knees and pushed off the ground to kneel.

Edmund grabbed his arm. “Ready? On three: one, two, three.” The king pulled while Elphus wobbled one foot under himself
and then the other. Once standing, he sucked in a few quick breaths.

“Being this large is hard work.”

“I bet it is.” Edmund looked into his friend’s round face, not knowing what to say.