He hadn’t seen Soreena since before the Stormdial, but she came often to his thoughts. He hoped she was in her druid village north of Erathan, far from the war. If they failed, there was no place far enough, but it was a consolation that the woman he cared for would not have to witness the end. He smiled as he realized such a hope was fool’s hope. Soreena was a leader and a soldier. She was probably already at Ilumidora, ready to fight for her tribe.
He put his hand on the boulder and felt the cold stone, ignoring Lachonus and Rake arguing about different options. Fire set his gaze on the dragons in the distance, and accepted that whatever the cost, he would make sure the Dark Gate was destroyed.
Chapter 36: Walls of Glass
As dawn approached, Shadow dropped from the aquaglass wall and threaded his way through the lethal field of traps and pitfalls. From there, he entered the ranks of fiends. Disturbingly, they stood silent, or occasionally rocked in place, their blank eyes fixed on the city of Ilumidora. Some were still occupied in tearing down trees, but the rest resembled statues of flesh, waiting on the order of their master to attack.
In his elemental form, Shadow slipped among them, using the darkness to weave threads of magic from krakas and sipers, to quare and skorpians. The threads of magic were invisible in the dark, but they would be as binding as chains until the sun came up. More and more he cast, binding them together, wrapping the chords around broken trees and under fallen logs.
He stifled a chuckle as he wrapped a shadow rope around a kraka’s horns and then tossed a loop over the sword of its neighbor. Then he fastened the thread to the claw of a skorpian. When the predawn glow touched the eastern horizon, he retreated back through the landscape of pitfalls and scaled the aquaglass wall. On the other side, the ranks of soldiers tasked for the night watch failed to see him, even when he passed right in front of their eyes.
Shadow reached the top of the wall and clambered over, and found Elenyr leaning against the battlements. Shadow chuckled to himself as he straightened, but did not wonder how the Hauntress had known his intention. She always knew.
“Did you enjoy yourself?” she asked.
“Not as much as I will at sunrise,” he said.
She inclined her head. “We don’t have long to wait.”
They both turned to watch the fiend army gradually materialize as daylight approached. The fiends began to stir, a swell of motion across the landscape as far as Shadow could see. Captains and officers barked orders, and archers notched arrows. Crossbowmen laid bolts into place and ballistae operators armed their war machines. The grinding of stone echoed across the city as boulders were rolled into catapults.
“Where’s Light?” Shadow asked.
“While you were out playing, he built his own war machine.” She pointed to the cavalry ling up behind the northern gates.
One contraption stood out from the rows of horsemen. The machine had been built atop a wagon, and looked much like a carver, a spinning wheel of spiked blades that could cut through steel and bone, only this wagon had three carvers, all pointing in opposite directions. Willow sat on the front of the wagon, holding the reins of two wolfsteeds, the animals of light stomping their horse hooves on the road. They tossed their wolf heads, as if eager for the coming conflict.
Light was atop the wagon, his feet in the air as he ducked under the top of his machine. Elven light mages lined up with imbued light orbs, and he sucked them dry, using their magic to finish crafting the machine. The depleted orbs were taken away, making room for elves and a new supply.
“Ten gold says it doesn’t work,” Shadow said.
Elenyr smiled. “Make it twenty.”
“You think his machine will function?” Shadow snorted in disbelief.
“I will always bet on my sons.”
Shadow chuckled at that. “But aren’t you betting against me?”
“Perhaps,” she allowed. “Does that mean you are rescinding?”
“Twenty gold it is.”
Her smile turned smug, causing him to frown. “What do you know?”
“King Dothlore and two of his engineers helped in the design.” She smiled and turned to Rynda, approaching along the battlements.
“That’s not fair,” he protested.
“You didn’t ask,” she replied.
Rynda reached Elenyr and swept a hand to the stirring fiends. “Let them come.”
“You sound excited,” Shadow said.
“Why should I not be?” Rynda asked. “This is the greatest battle in the history of our world. I wouldn’t miss it for anything.”
“Me either,” Shadow said.
Rynda regarded him and then grunted her approval. Then the light pierced the horizon, a sliver of yellow that signaled the charge. The fiends began to paw the ground, a rising snarl filling the landscape. Shadow shivered in excitement as the horde charged—and promptly fell on their faces.
The shadow ropes went taught, the ropes catching on leg and pincer, arm and horn, hand and neck. Quare flopped awkwardly as krakas landed upon them, crushing them under their bulk. Sipers tripped and went down, while skorpians were tossed onto their sides, pincers and spear tails stabbing and impaling. Shadow burst into a laugh at the thrashing horde of fiends, and to his surprise, Rynda joined.
“It appears your mischief has a purpose,” she chuckled. “When it’s pointed in the right direction.”
A distant roar rumbled across the writhing mass of bound bodies, and Shadow spotted Bartoth standing atop a nearby log. His roar signaled another charge, this time by the second rank. Heedless of the damage, the second rank charged, carving their way through the first line as if their lives meant nothing.
Quare were torn apart as krakas used their heavy obsidian blades on their bodies, the shadow ropes snapping under the assault. Thousands were slain in minutes, and the second wave trod them underfoot.
“I get credit for those kills,” Shadow said.
“Are you counting?” Elenyr asked.
“Of course,” Shadow said. “How else will we know that I killed more than Queen Rynda?”
