The Lord Marshal of the Torak clan watched as his men traded blows with the Motangans. While the Khadorans were constantly able to move closer to the temple, the cost of gaining territory was excessive. Most of the Motangans were struck down with blows that did not result in decapitation. The hellsouls rose again, and had to be killed once more. Lord Marshal Yenga stood tall in his stirrups and gazed across the battlefield. While his own Khadoran army was slowly pushing back the Motangan hellsouls, the Fakaran tribes were slashing through the enemy with a swiftness that he could only admire. He watched as the Jiadin and free tribesmen leaned far out of their saddles to lop off the heads of the Motangans. Mentally calculating the relative distance to the temple from the two opposing forces, Yenga decided to halt the Khadoran charge.
“Sound a defensive posture,” Lord Marshal Yenga shouted to the hornsman. “We stand here and fight.”
The hornsman blew his horn loudly, and the call was quickly picked up by other hornsman throughout the line. Slowly the charge faltered as the Khadorans formed a tight defensive line that was impenetrable. The plan was to remain in position for as long as the Motangans continued to attack. Once the attack abated, the Khadorans would move forward slowly, crushing the Motangans between themselves and the Fakarans.
* * *
Harmagan led the Jiadin charge through the mass of Motangan soldiers. He constantly shot a glance far to his right where Blaka was leading the free tribes on a parallel course. Whenever Blaka appeared to move ahead of Harmagan, the Jiadin leader shouted a war cry to urge his men onward.
“Quit fighting like old maids,” shouted Harmagan. “Do you want the free tribes to get there before you?”
A thousand negative shouts answered Harmagan, and the big man’s face broke into a wide grin. He slapped the rump of his horse with the flat of his long blade, and the stallion surged forward. Standing erect in his stirrups, the Jiadin leader flew past the Jiadin vanguard, leaning far to one side to sever the head of a Motangan soldier. The move of the Jiadin leader was inspiring to his men. Before Harmagan could attack the next Motangan, scores of Jiadin surged past him to engage the enemy. Over the din of battle, Harmagan heard distant shouts. He turned to his right once again and saw Blaka driving the free tribes hard into the red-clad Motangans. Harmagan howled with laughter as Blaka refused to let the Jiadin reach the temple first.
Several Jiadin near Harmagan fell from their horses, but the leader hardly noticed. The Jiadin lived and died on the back of their mounts, and to die in battle was to die a natural death. As he struck down another Motangan hellsoul, Harmagan felt as if this was the very moment for which he had been born.
* * *
“Harmagan is crazy,” shouted Yojji, the leader of the Kheri tribe. “Does he think this is a race?”
“He is not crazy,” Blaka responded as he glanced to the left and saw Harmagan take the lead of the Jiadin. “He is a true Jiadin, not one of those villagers that they kidnapped and raised to fight.”
“You sound as though you admire him,” frowned Yojji. “It was not long ago that he was your sworn enemy.”
“It is not that I admire him,” corrected the leader of the Extala tribe. “It is that I respect him. He is not leading the Jiadin against defenseless villagers today. He is crushing invaders from across the sea, and he is our ally now.”
Blaka leaned far out to the right and sliced through the neck of a Motangan soldier while Yojji mirrored the maneuver to his left. The red-clad soldiers fell to the ground, their bodies immediately trampled by hundreds of hooves.
“And it is a race,” grinned Blaka, “one that I will not let the Jiadin win.”
The words were barely spoken before Blaka surged forward to pass the forwardmost riders of the free tribes. Yojji shook his head in amusement and quickly followed. The leader of the Kheri tribe turned briefly and saw the gap left behind. A wicked smile crossed his lips. He raised a horn to his lips and a long, shrill note blared out. The sound was immediately echoed by a hundred horns throughout the free tribes.
“What are you doing?” chuckled Blaka. “Why call a charge? We are already charging.”
“Well,” grinned Yojji, “we are not charging fast enough. If this is a race, I will be blasted if I intend to let the Jiadin win. Move aside. You are slowing me down.”
Blaka laughed as Yojji pulled up alongside him. Together the two tribal leaders surged forward to take the lead once again.
* * *
The dragon swooped into the mass of red-clad soldiers yet again. Arrows soared up to meet her, but they bounced off her armored scales. Flames belched from her snout, and her claws extended out before her as she attacked. Some of the Motangans tried to harm her with their swords, but most of them panicked and ran. Myka cackled as she snared two Motangans, one head in each claw. The dragon shot upwards so that she was clearly visible to the Motangan host before she shook the heads until the bodies separated and fell to the ground. Thousands of upturned faces screamed in horror as Myka tilted her wings and fell into another dive.
After a dozen more dives, Myka saw the Khadorans halt their advance. She circled lazily while she observed the battlefield. The Jiadin and the free tribes were racing towards the temple, and most of the Motangans were fleeing towards the Khadorans. What disturbed the dragon was the large number of red-clad soldiers running into the temple. That was not part of the plan, and the dragon broke out of her circling and sped eastward. Her keen eyes swept over the charging free tribes until she located the elves and Chula behind them. Diving steeply, the dragon sped downward and landed before the elven king.
“Motangans are entering the temple in large numbers,” reported the dragon.
“How close are the Fakarans?” asked King Avalar.
“They are closing swiftly,” answered Myka, “but it will still be some time before they can reach the temple. Maybe a half-hour. The Khadorans have already halted to give the Motangans room to gather before the clamp gets tightened.”
The elven king turned to the head shaman of the Zatong tribe. “Can you get us to the temple ahead of the Fakarans?” he asked.
“How many of you?” asked Ukaro.
“Myself,” frowned King Avalar, “and my two daughters.”
“Axor?” the Torak’s father asked. “Rykoma? Will you two join me?”
The two shamans stepped forward and nodded solemnly. All three shamans shimmered for a moment and then disappeared. Seconds later, three large tigers appeared in their place. King Avalar waved the two elven princesses over and nodded towards the tigers.
“See if you can dissuade some of the Motangans from entering the temple,” King Avalar said to the dragon. “We will be there shortly.”
The dragon nodded silently and leaped into the air. King Avalar mounted one of the tigers and immediately nocked an arrow to his bow. Princess Alahara and Princess Alastasia mimicked their father’s moves.
“Why bows?” asked Princess Alahara as the cats sprung to life and raced towards the temple. “Wouldn’t light blades be more appropriate?”
“Light blades may travel through the Motangans and hit some of the Fakarans,” explained the elven king. “We do not need to decapitate the Motangans that we will meet along the way. We just need to keep them away from us while we get to the temple door. If they rise again, someone else will take care of them.”
Princess Alahara nodded thoughtfully as the three tigers started loping westward. Within minutes the tigers were racing along the tyrik web wall that surrounded the skeletons. Hundreds of the trapped skeletons were stuck to the web, and others were trying to climb over it without touching it. Princess Alahara shuddered in disgust and looked away.
King Avalar took the lead as the group started riding single file along the web barrier. The Fakarans ahead of them had kept away from the web for fear of getting stuck, but it appeared that they had managed to kill the Motangans along the edge of their route. The tigers leaped over decapitated bodies without breaking stride, and they soon caught up to the tail end of the Fakaran horsemen. The elven king watched as the Fakarans ahead of him leaned far out of their saddles to strike at the Motangans trying to hug the web. Several Motangan hellsouls were stuck to the outside of the web. The tigers nimbly avoided contact with the stuck Motangans.
As the tigers drew parallel with the vanguard of the Fakarans, King Avalar raised his bow. The elven king fired as fast as he could nock arrows, and his daughters joined in, but it was impossible to kill all of the Motangans in their path. The lead tiger leaped into the air and pounced on a Motangan who had managed to survive the withering volley of elven arrows. The large cat pushed out with its forepaws, knocking the hellsoul to the ground, and continued onward. The following cats leaped over the fallen body before it could rise. Several more Motangans were bowled over by the tigers and soon the elves were clear of the conflict. The Motangans between them and the temple were fleeing to the west or into the temple.
Myka stood on the steps of the temple, flames pouring out of her mouth as red-clad soldiers tried to race around her. Her tail was constantly whipping from side to side, and each movement swept Motangans to the ground. The dragon’s claws streaked outward and grabbed soldiers and snapped their heads off, but the red-clad soldiers still raced towards her.
“They think they can overwhelm her,” shouted King Avalar.
“They probably can,” replied Princess Alastasia. “She can only do so much, and to remain outside the temple is certain death for the Motangans. What is our plan?”
“We will seal the entrance,” King Avalar replied as the tigers raced up the steps towards the dragon.
The large cats raced through a sea of red uniforms, but there was little combat as the Motangans were fleeing. It was only when the elves reached the doorway to the temple that the hellsouls realized the danger. Myka swayed to one side to allow the tigers to pass by her huge body and then she immediately resumed her position. The tigers raced through the doorway and immediately halted. The elves leaped off the backs of the cats, ready to fire upon soldiers inside the temple, but there were none in sight, although their shouting and pounding footsteps could be heard coming from farther within the temple. King Avalar raced to the edge of the doorway and knelt down. He studied the darkness for several moments before he found what he was looking for.
“Scraggly weeds,” the elven king said with distaste, “but it is better than nothing. A sturdy vine stock would have been too much to ask for. Join me, daughters.”
The elven princesses ran forward and began to cast spells on the weeds. So intent was their concentration that they were unaware of the Motangan soldiers overwhelming the dragon and surging towards the doorway. Unexpectedly, magical projectiles streamed over the heads of the conjuring elves, and red-clad bodies began flying backwards away from the doorway. King Avalar glanced over his shoulder and saw the three Chula shamans in their human form. The shamans stood at angles to the doorway so that their spells would not impact the dragon if they missed. The elven king smiled inwardly and returned to his spell casting. Within minutes the scraggly weeds had grown thick and strong, and crisscrossed the doorway from top to bottom, but the elves continued casting.
“We can no longer keep them away without damaging what you have done,” announced Ukaro. “They are already hacking at your weed with their swords.”
King Avalar nodded wordlessly and continued his magic spell. Even as the Motangans sliced through strands of the weeds, the plants grew stronger and more numerous. Minutes later, light ceased to pass through the doorway, the entire opening covered in a mass of thick vegetation. The elves stood up and ceased their casting, their foreheads damp from the strenuous weaving of magic.
“Will it hold?” asked Ukaro.
“They could eventually cut through it,” shrugged King Avalar, “but I doubt that the Fakarans will allow them time to accomplish it. The hellsouls will soon realize that they must stand and fight. There will be no fleeing from this battlefield.”
“We must do something about the ones who already got into the temple,” remarked Princess Alastasia. “They must not be allowed to aid Vand in his battle against the Three.”
“Our people were supposed to enter through that door,” frowned Princess Alahara. “Now we have sealed them out.”
“Not entirely,” smiled King Avalar. “There is a balcony on the second level facing east. We shall create a plant ladder for our people to use. If our Chula friends will join us,” the elven king continued, “we will begin that process now. The sooner we can get our people inside, the quicker we can eliminate the hellsouls already here.”
* * *
Emperor Marak looked down the corridor and saw no one. Using a hand signal to warn Lyra and Rejji to stay back a bit, the Torak eased his body against the wall and peered around the corner. There was a large open area with two staircases descending to the lower levels. He saw Lady Mystic on the far staircase. She was hurrying down the stairs. No one else was in sight. The Torak stepped around the corner and saw Xavo hurrying down the closer staircase.
“Xavo and Lady Mystic are both heading downward,” the Torak said softly. “I suspect that is where Pakar’s men must have gone.”
There was a large urn positioned next to a stone railing half way between the staircases. As Marak turned his head towards Lyra, his peripheral vision caught sight of the urn, and it was in the process of disappearing. In its place stood one of Pakar’s mages. Shouting a warning to his friends, the Torak dove for the floor. A magical projectile flew just over his head as Marak rolled into a ball. Marak came out of the roll and immediately tossed a light blade towards the enemy mage. The spell impacted a shield and dissipated. Marak dove again as the black-cloak threw another spell at him.
Lyra stepped around the corner and pointed her fist at the enemy mage.
“He is shielded,” Marak shouted as he tried to keep moving.
Knowing that Lyra did not have time to erect her blue cylinder, Marak charged towards the black-cloak in an attempt to draw attention away from the Star of Sakova. The enemy mage wavered for just an instant, but it was long enough for Lyra to strike. A powerful force bolt sped from Lyra’s fist and smashed into the enemy’s shield. While the mage’s shield prevented the force bolt from reaching him, it did not quite absorb the spell either.
Lyra’s magical spell hit with such force that the black-cloak’s shield was forcibly pushed backwards, carrying the mage with it. Marak watched in awe as the mage in his shield was pushed through the stone railing and over the edge of the top level of the temple. The black-cloak’s scream faded as he plummeted down to the ground level. Marak raced to the gaping hole in the railing and looked down into the atrium. The black-cloak’s body was splattered on the ground floor many levels below.
“I didn’t know that you could do that,” Marak gasped as Lyra walked up alongside him.
“I didn’t either,” admitted the Star of Sakova. “His shield actually held. There is a lesson to be learned in this.”
“Be careful where you stand when you choose to oppose the Star of Sakova,” quipped Marak. “This one was disguised as an urn. I was lucky to have seen him transforming. How are we ever going to find all of them?”
“Maybe we shouldn’t try to,” interjected Rejji.
“We cannot afford any interruptions when we go up against Vand,” retorted Marak. “Not only are there six more mages to account for, but I saw Motangan soldiers flowing in through the front door down there.”
“I understand,” nodded the Astor, “but with Lyra’s power, we can isolate this level.”
“Destroy the two staircases?” questioned the Star of Sakova.
“Exactly,” nodded Rejji. “We know that Xavo and Lady Mystic are already safely down on the next level. We can destroy the staircases and then systematically search this level to make sure that Vand is alone. Let the others deal with the black-cloaks.”
“What do you think?” Lyra asked Marak. “It makes sense to me.”
“I agree,” nodded the Torak. “The fact that Xavo and Lady Mystic hurried downstairs tells me that they saw the black-cloaks descending. There are probably not any more up here, but we will check every room first before entering the throne room.”
“Not every room,” Lyra shook her head. “We are not to enter Dobuk’s domain.”
“Why not?” frowned Rejji. “He too must be destroyed.”
“No,” objected Lyra. “It is not within the power of man to destroy the Great Demon.”
“Are you sure about this?” questioned the Torak. “Vand is only a puppet of Dobuk. If we leave the demon intact, he will merely replace Vand with another.”
“That may be,” shrugged Lyra, “but remember the words of Kaltara. Vand is a man and his destruction is within the realm of man, but Dobuk is in the realm of Kaltara.”
“And beyond our reach,” nodded the Torak. “You are right, Lyra. Let’s destroy the staircases and search the rest of this level. I do not want to give Vand a chance to escape.”
Lyra nodded and gazed across the atrium at the staircase that Lady Mystic had descended. She clasped her hands together and aimed them at the staircase. The air rippled and distorted as the huge force bolt sped towards the stairs. When it contacted the far staircase, the stairs exploded in a frenzy of flying rock. Chunks of rock shot upward and downward and a cloud of fine dust hung in the air. Slowly the cloud dropped downward revealing a massive gaping hole in the side of the temple. The staircase no longer existed above the level below them.
“Merciful Kaltara!” exclaimed Rejji. “You blew a hole in the side of the temple.”
“Perhaps you should conserve your energy on the closer staircase,” frowned Marak. “We don’t want the temple collapsing beneath us.”
“And let’s move farther away before you cast your spell,” added Rejji. “I don’t want to get hit by flying rocks.”
Lyra nodded sheepishly, her face turning red in embarrassment as the Three moved away from the remaining staircase.
“I guess that was a little too much power,” she said softly, “but I never tried to destroy stone stairs before.”
Marak chuckled under his breath as Lyra’s arms rose once again. Her second force bolt completely obliterated the stone staircase coming up from the next lower level, but it did not punch a hole in the wall of the temple. The Three waited for the cloud of dust to settle to make sure that the top level was isolated before turning to search for black-cloaks.
* * *
Three levels below the throne room, Lady Mystic walked openly down the center of the corridor as if she were merely taking a stroll. While she may have appeared merely lost in thought to most observers, she was in fact concentrating on maintaining the most powerful shield she was capable of creating. When the attack came, it was hardly unexpected. One of Pakar’s mages dropped his illusion of a statue and sent a fiery projectile at the Emperor’s daughter. The missile struck Lady Mystic’s shield and disappeared.
“Clumsy,” scolded Lady Mystic as she turned casually to face her attacker. “You are more skilled than to waste such energy without first testing for the presence of a shield.”
“It was expedient,” shrugged the black-cloak. “Had I caught you unawares, you would not be talking so calmly now.”
“True,” smiled Lady Mystic as she sent a small fireball towards her adversary and confirmed the existence of his shield. “It is possible that you could have caught me unawares as Pakar caught Xavo, but I am not so foolish as to walk around unprotected. Shall we play?”
“All I have to do is wait you out,” the mage retorted confidently. “My brothers will be along in a moment, and I won’t have to waste any more power on you.”
“You seem to have things backward,” laughed Lady Mystic. “Your brothers are all dead. They will never come to your aid again, just as Xavo can no longer come to mine. It is just you and me.”
The black-cloak frowned with disbelief.
“Oh,” smiled Lady Mystic. “Did I forget to mention the hundreds of Chula and elven mages who are approaching this temple as we speak?”
“Their skill can never match ours,” balked the black-cloak, “but you are wise to realize that you need help to defeat me.”
“Help?” laughed Lady Mystic. “Do not bore me. Your skill is nowhere near mine. Your powers are puny compared to the Emperor’s daughter.”
“You wish,” the black-cloak replied with confidence. “Only your shields are saving your life right now. And you cannot hold them up forever.”
“You overrate yourself,” Lady Mystic said smugly. “I could drop my shield entirely and give you the first cast and still defeat you. You are nothing.”
“Try me,” taunted the black-cloak.
“Fine,” glared Lady Mystic as she dropped her shield, “but I warn you. You had better kill me with your first cast, or it is you who will die.”
The black-cloak grinned victoriously as he summoned his power. He sent a tiny projectile out and verified that the Emperor’s daughter had indeed dropped her shield. As Lady Mystic stood unprotected and seemingly uncaring, the black-cloak inhaled deeply as he felt the power build within him. As he extended his arm towards Lady Mystic, the air around him blossomed with light. He turned swiftly towards the light. His mouth opened in surprise as the blades of light sliced through his neck and his body crumbled to the ground.
“You take too many chances,” Xavo scowled at Lady Mystic. “He could have struck you when he tested for your shields.”
“I read him correctly,” shrugged Lady Mystic. “He always was a proud, pompous fool. He probably really thought he could beat me in a fair fight.”
“We will never know,” chuckled Xavo. “Fair fights are not on the agenda today. How did you know that he would drop his shields before he attacked you?”
“I gave him one free shot at me,” smiled Lady Mystic. “He had to make it his best, and that meant abandoning his shields to harvest their power. Let’s go find another one.”
“There are not many left,” replied Xavo. “My daughter just sent one tumbling down from the top level.”
“How did we miss him?” frowned Lady Mystic.
The sound of an explosion interrupted the conversation before Xavo could answer. He quickly erected a shield around himself and signaled for Lady Mystic to do the same. Together they rushed toward the center of the temple where the atrium rose up through the levels. As they slid to a halt near the atrium, a shower of rock debris drifted downward. Xavo peered through the cloud of particles at the hole in the side of the temple far above him. While he was trying to make sense out of what he was seeing, another explosion rocked the building. Xavo grabbed Lady Mystic and shoved her into the corridor just before more rock debris fell from above.”
“What is going on?” questioned the Emperor’s daughter.
“Lyra just destroyed the stairs to the top level,” answered Xavo.
“The fool,” protested Lady Mystic. “Doesn’t she know that Vand derives his power from Dobuk? If we are not there to battle the Great Demon, my father will destroy the Three with ease. How are we going to get back up there?”
“I don’t know,” sighed Xavo, “but we must find a way. We have not come this far to let your father kill my daughter. We must get to Dobuk, and quickly.”