The two turned away from the fortress and Water collected liquid from a nearby stream, fashioning a wheel of water. Larger than normal, it had spikes on the curve, allowing it to dig into the bark of the limb. He climbed inside and she claimed the second seat inside the wheel.
“We have an accord,” he said.
They sped down the sloped limb, curved around a trunk, and then threaded through the ranks of soldiers to reach the southern gates. Once outside the city, he poured his magic into the wheel, the circle of water spinning so fast the landscape blurred by. Dirt and mud kicked up into their wake.
“What sort of accord?” she had to shout over the sound of the spinning wheel.
“The type that brings victory,” he called back.
“To have that, we’re going to have to be successful,” she shouted. “And those we seek to enlist will be reluctant to join our cause.”
“We’ll find out soon enough!” he called back.
They streaked through the trees, speeding their way down the wide road. Behind them, the fiend army gradually swallowed Ilumidora, ripping the forest apart as it surrounded the alliance. Water set his magic into the wheel, knowing that life on Lumineia hung in the balance.
The hours of the long night sped by, and Lira managed to fall asleep. Water kept his gaze fixed on the road ahead, unwilling to pause or rest. This time, they would be victorious. This time they would stop Draeken for good.
“For Elenyr,” he whispered, and pushed the wheel to even greater speed.
Chapter 33: Draeken’s Kingdom
Draeken surveyed the forest of Orláknia, a sneer spreading on his features. He’d though the allied races would have gathered at Terros, an easy victory. But he’d found the city abandoned, and in anger, he’d ordered it destroyed. Then he’d set his sights on Ilumidora. When the fiends had reached the forest, he’d burned it, using his dragons to rend great furrows in the beautiful elven woods. The fiends had leveled the trees, leaving burning logs and limbs scattered in piles across the region.
Destroying the forest did little to the alliance, but they were watching, and to witness their beloved forest be destroyed would strike fear into the hearts of elves and man. Such destruction required power, and Draeken wanted them to know exactly what they faced.
Already his army of fiends was halfway around Ilumidora, the sound of snapping wood and rending earth filling the air. By dawn, the bright city would be surrounded by a sea of fiends, an island from which there would be no escape.
Draeken could feel the weight of the fiends pull on his willpower, an omnipresent anchor against his mind. The burden was shared by four others, his four generals. He shouldered the bulk of the load, but without them, he could not endure for long.
He fleetingly considered the prospect of ordering his generals to remain away from the battlefield. They were his greatest strength, and his greatest vulnerability. If they were killed, it would force Draeken to shoulder the entire weight of the fiend army, at least until they managed to return to Lumineia through the Dark Gate. (Return to Lumineia? Or Kelindor?)
Draeken shook his head and directed Gorewrathian to swerve around Ilumidora. The generals were almost impervious, their magic greater than any mage. Only a handful posed a threat to the generals, and if they were killed, they would not truly perish. He smiled, pleased that Serak had possessed such foresight to ensure the generals would endure. For all of Serak’s weakness, he’d laid the foundation for Draeken’s future.
From his vantage point, Draeken could see the alliance gathering on the walls. They’d obviously left traps and dangers in the mile outside the city. The fiends halted at the invisible barrier, leaving Ilumidora ringed by the final trees. The dangerous ground of traps and pitfalls had been covered, a needless gesture, as the fiends would not attempt to avoid the traps. They would just perish, and the fiends behind would trod their corpses underfoot.
Draeken chuckled to himself. The alliance thought the fiends were sentient, but they were more like limbs to his mind. They obeyed his will, and when he gave the order, they would charge the city and continue to assault the walls until all those within were dead or the survivors surrendered.
At his command, Gorewrathian came to a hover high above the city. Moonlight filtered through the cracks, but against a backdrop of dark clouds Draeken and his mount were almost invisible.
Why do we hold the assault? Gorewrathian rumbled his displeasure.
“We attack at dawn,” Draeken said. “The alliance cannot stand against us, and I want them to see their destruction in the light of day.”
Your pride will be your undoing.
“Isn’t that what they say about dragons?” he retorted.
The dragon released a plume of flame, and Draeken smiled at his irritation. Draeken didn’t care what the beast thought. He may be the king of dragonkind, but he was still just an animal, and his vaunted strength did not compare with his own.
Draeken turned his mount away from the city and flew to a camp erected at the middle of the fiend army. Above the camp, Draeken slid off the beast and dropped toward the earth, flying on his own. He could feel Gorewrathian’s baleful gaze on his back. The dragon could strike, of course, but both knew the attempt would be lethal. Again, Draeken smiled, pleased that he could remind the mighty king of his inferiority. Draeken didn’t need the dragon to fly.
Draeken descended to the earth, the fiends stilling at his approach. He landed on a hill that had once held beautiful oak trees and flowers. Now the earth was rent, the trees fallen on their sides, their leaves and branches stripped bare. Zoric greeted him with a smile, but Draeken ignored him.
Draeken was surprised to find that he missed the trees. He’d always liked the forests, and decided that once he’d conquered the kingdoms, he could have the elves rebuild their forests, after they built him a seat of power.
He nodded to himself as his feet touched the ground, liking the idea of a mighty fortress. Not Xshaltheria, for that citadel reeked of sulfur, and Draeken had no love for ancient dwarven architecture. No, he needed a giant and spacious fortress. Perhaps one that floated above the earth, a constant reminder that his power exceeded that of the people. He could blend his magic with krey technology, ensuring none would ever dare to attempt an attack.
“We attack at dawn?” Zoric asked.
“We attack at dawn,” Draeken replied. “But you will stay here, out of the conflict.”
Zoric’s eyes narrowed. “Why?”
“Because your father is dead,” Draeken said. “And I don’t want to risk your loss. A mind mage will be useful in my new empire.”
Zoric inclined his head, obviously pleased that Draeken needed him. Alone, Draeken approached the summit of the hill and mentally summoned the four generals. Much like tugging on a string, he sensed their acknowledgement and response. Bartoth was nearest, and the armored rock troll ascended from the east. Raven and Mimic came next, their two forms approaching and coming to a halt beside Bartoth. Last to come, Gendor reluctantly appeared from the darkness.
Draeken frowned at Gendor’s continued resistance. The man had been a murderer, a killer of soldiers and innocents, a man who took lives for coin and ambition. Why did he resist Draeken’s will?
“My horsemen,” Draeken said. “You have ridden on the four winds, destroying the earth, preparing the region for my new reign. You have my gratitude for your loyalty.”
“We are grateful for the power you have granted,” the Raven said.
Draeken smiled at the pleasure in the woman’s voice. “After all you have endured, I believe it’s only fitting that you discard your old names. They represent your past lives, and you no longer need them.”
