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  Two hands pulled him up. Conner turned to see Glaerion’s face, which was bloodied and bruised.

  “We have to move, now!”

  “What?” He asked, unsure what Glaerion was talking about. His mind was fuzzy and not understanding what Glaerion wanted him to understand.

  “Hargon!” Glaerion shouted. “Hargon can heal her!”

  Marila was already at Elissa’s side. She, too, was bleeding from a wound on the side of the head. She quickly picked up Elissa’s limp body and said, “I’ll find Hargon.”

  In a flash, she was gone.

  Glaerion gripped Conner on the shoulders, and said, “You did it. You got rid of the Deceiver.”

  “You are sure?”

  “I cannot feel him. As soon as the Spear when into Elissa, he was gone. And look! The gem. It’s on the ground.”

  Conner looked at the ground that was stained with Elissa’s blood. The black gem was there. Conner reached down to pick it up. He had touched it before, but he still expected to feel something that would tell him that he was touching an ancient, powerful artifact. It felt no different than that first time. He squeezed it tightly.

  “We have to destroy it,” Conner said.

  “If there’s a way, we will. Now let’s move!”

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Sir Marik pulled hard on his horse’s reins to keep it from charging forward. The inner gate had just been pushed open by four healthy young men, but the men operating the outer gate had not yet pulled back the massive logs that served to keep those doors from opening inward. His horse only saw the opening right in front of it, and to it, that meant it was time to run.

  Marik was ready for what he knew would be the final battle of the war. Everyone had been confident that Hargon would help them survive against the onslaught of the goblin horde, and although he had been late coming to battle, he had come through. Now, though, they faced a new enemy that threatened to be stronger and more dangerous. Hargon was weakened, their walls were weakened, and their resolve was weakened. It was time for desperate measures, and that meant it was time to take the fight directly to the enemy. He had no illusions that they could win this battle by charging out into their midst, but they could stall their charge, allowing Hargon to rest and recover, and giving their defenses a chance to be fully prepared. For almost thirty years he had lived his life for Karmon, training and preparing for this very moment. As a soldier and warrior, there was only one true and honorable way to die, and that was on the battlefield in defense of the kingdom that he had committed to defend.

  On his left arm, he held his shield. It was elongated, wide at the top and narrow at the bottom. On the front, a cross had been painted in red, but it was now faded and scratched from use. His left arm went through a strap to hold it firmly to his forearm, which allowed him to quickly move the shield as he moved his arm. His left hand gripped a second leather strap that helped him keep the shield tight against his body or allowed him to shove it away from his body as a weapon. His sword was sheathed at his left hip, ready to be pulled out as they neared the oncoming army. Two smaller daggers were tucked into his belt, just in case he was tossed from his horse, and he lost his sword. In this battle, losing his saddle would mean death, but having the daggers would ensure he wouldn’t go alone. He was armored as heavily as he could be. When facing the agile goblins, he needed to be as quick as he could, which meant he had been clad in only thick leather with strips of banded plates woven into his outer coat. Now, though, they were facing soldiers like themselves, and this meant they would be facing weapons of steel that could be deterred by layers of steel. Encased in full plate armor made him heavier, but his warhorse hardly felt the extra weight. Karmon warhorses were strong beasts bred for battle.

  Over his head was a full helm that hid his face from those around him. The helm was stifling and uncomfortable, but it kept everyone from seeing the fear that was etched clearly on his face. He had faced death so many times since this war had begun it would be a cause to reason that it should now be normal, but the more times he faced death and survived, the more he knew his time was coming closer. He was almost resigned to his fate, and that was what scared him. Too much fear could render a Knight useless and dangerous to himself and others. A lack of fear could make him careless and just as dangerous. But, with just a little fear, a Knight was sharp and focused. Now though, he wavered between no fear and too much fear, and that meant his mind was working too hard. The outer gate needed to be opened so that he could get his horse moving and stop his mind from working. The waiting was the worst part. Once that battle started, he knew his instincts would take over, and whatever fear he held inside would be gone.

  He glanced up toward the top of the wall. Elves were up there with baskets of arrows ready to be launched. When the goblins had attacked, those baskets were crammed full of arrows. Now, they were barely half full. In the lull between the time the goblins were defeated and the arrival of the new army, the fletchers had worked overtime, but there were still not enough arrows to fight off the army that was coming.

  Turning around in his saddle, he looked behind him not at his fellow Knights, but at the men, and now women, who gathered in the courtyard, swords, and clubs in hands, ready to do their part in this final battle. Many of them were still bloodied and wounded from the goblin attack. There were many many fewer now than before, and that hurt his heart. Too many good men and women had died already. Knights and soldiers were trained to fight and disciplined to understand that death was an inevitable outcome of the battle. The Karmon people though, should not be worried about dying in battle. They should be living their lives to the fullest, with the burden of protecting them solely on the Karmon Knights. He knew he should not feel like he let down the kingdom, but he did. It was his job to protect Karmon, but he had not. They did their best in that first fight at South Karmon, and even more so on the fields outside of Tyre, when most of their number had fallen to the first goblin horde. There were too few remaining to protect the entire castle, but it was their duty and obligation to try, and that was why they were here now. Once last chance to save the kingdom or to die trying.

  A loud groan came from the outer gate doors as the last giant log that served as a door bar was pulled back into the gatehouse room. Almost immediately, the double doors that comprised the outer gate swung inward. He shouted the command for his Knights to march through. He held his warhorse firmly, allowing all the remaining Karmon Knights to pass him by. Most of them still had their face shields up so he could see their eyes. He pushed his up so they could see his eyes. There was not one of them that wasn’t ready for what was about to happen. Nodding at each one, he wanted to see in their faces that they were prepared for this fight, and he wanted them to see that he, too, was prepared for what was to come. He did not need to tell them that they would not be coming back. They all knew.

  He followed the last Knight through the outer gate and then pulled his horse to a stop. The rest of the Knights formed up in front of him, waiting for him to lead them out onto the battlefield.

  The six men who had pushed the outer gate open stood on either side of him, waiting to push the doors closed. Marik turned to them and said, “Seal up the doors behind us. Both sets.”

  The men glanced among themselves. One of them spoke up and said, “Sir Knight! We won’t have time to pull the door bars out to bring you back inside.”

  “These doors don’t open until the battle is over. Understood?”

  “Yes, sire.”

  Marik did not wait for any further discussion. He kicked his horse into a trot to take his position at the front of the column of Knights. The door closed quickly, and he heard the logs being pushed into place.

  Switching his reins to his shield hand, he drew his sword. The rest of the Knights did the same.

  Ahead of them, he could see the enemy marching in columns out of the mountains. Unlike the goblins that jumped and thrashed about in a chaotic mess, these soldiers were disciplined enough
to step in formation. The goblins were not an easy fight, because there were so many of them and they fought without care for their own survival. They could not be intimidated or threatened with overwhelming force. The evil creatures fought to kill and continued to do so until they were dead. Facing true soldiers would not be any easier. They would fight with skill and cunning, and with a sense of purpose. It would be the Knight’s job to do their best to prevent them from reaching the castle and fulfilling their purpose. It would be a tall order, but they had to try.

  Marik gave his Knights one last look. He looked them over trying to find the words to say that would inspire them to victory, but nothing came to mind. It was one reason why he knew he would never make a good leader, for he never knew what to say when it was time for an inspirational speech. Frustrated with his own inabilities, he slammed his face shield down and spun his horse towards the enemy and kicked it into a sprint.

  His Knights were professional and did not need inspirational speeches to inspire them. Anything that could have been said had already been said. They knew what was happening. They knew that they were facing an insurmountable enemy. What they needed was a leader who would lead them through his actions. Marik spurred his horse toward the enemy without caring if any of his Knights were following him was all the leadership they needed. A half heartbeat after Marik’s horse started its sprint, the rest of the Karmon Knights did the same. There was no cheering or shouting to motivate themselves to fight to the death. It was their duty as Karmon Knights to protect the kingdom.

  ***

  Hargon fingered the red gem that was firmly in its place in the pendant that hung from the necklace. The power that emanated from the artifact was filling him with an energy that he had never felt before. He dared not call it the Ark of Life, for he knew it was not the true Ark of Life. That would not happen until the Deceiver was killed and they replaced the temporary red gem with the black one. He had charged up the steps to the top of the wall with a bounce that he had not felt since he was a boy. His chest did not heave with exertion. He actually wished the walls were taller so he would have more steps to run up.

  Standing near the gate, he could feel the great logs being pushed back into place after the gates were shut. The Karmon Knights, too few of them, were lined up in the field just outside the wall. Sir Marik was leading them. He wondered what the Knight was saying to them, what words of encouragement he would proclaim to help ease their minds in the upcoming battle. He knew what he would have said, had he stood in front of them. He would lift their spirits by reminding them that they were heroes and that their actions would be in the memories of the people of Karmon for centuries to come. Songs would be written of their accomplishments. Scrolls would document their deeds. Tapestries would be hung from the walls of the castle that depicted this last, great battle. They had the One God behind them, and they would not fail. Adrenaline rushed through his system as he recited the speech in his mind, encouraging himself to fight in a battle that he would not ever be close to.

  Before his own speech had finished in his mind, Hargon watched Marik lead his Knights in a thundering charge towards the enemy.

  “Short, but sweet,” Hargon said softly.

  “What?” King Illichian asked. He stood nearby, surrounded by his customary troop of Elven Guards. For the moment, they were safe upon the wall. But as the enemy neared, it was likely they would be attacked, and the Elven guardsmen were ready to cast shield spells to deflect any aerial weapons sent their way.

  “Nothing,” Hargon replied.

  “Are you ready?”

  “Of course.”

  Hargon lifted his hands and started casting fireballs at the oncoming army. He tossed them one after another, faster than he had ever done before. As he threw each one, his energy and strength did not go down. In fact, he felt it increase. The power that his necklace and the red gem was giving him was as intoxicating as anything that he had ever felt. No amount of sweet wine could compare to how the flow of power through his body was making him feel. He smiled, and then let out a whoop and a long laugh.

  He stopped momentarily to see the damage that he had done. He expected the enemy lines to have broken and they would be running away in wild panic. Instead, they continued on a steady forward march. The front elements of each large regiment of soldiers had been killed by his fireballs, but the soldiers behind directly marched over their fallen brethren. He took in a deep breath and raised his hands to fire more fireballs at a faster rate when an explosion rocked the wall.

  The booming sound and force of the explosion sent his heart racing, and his confident power was immediately replaced by panic. He ducked and looked around, hoping to find a place to hide, but atop the wall, there was no place to hide. The euphoria that he had felt only a moment ago was replaced by the terror of seeing more large clumps of burning rocks heading towards the wall. They came from the forest, quickly filling the sky, heading along slow arcs that would not only strike the wall but the courtyard and castle behind them.

  The Elves did not panic. They quickly cast spells that formed a shield around their defensive positions. As the balls of flaming rocks came down, they struck the shield, exploding with a thunderous sound that caused him to jump each time.

  Movement from the trees drew his attention. The forest that had once served up a horde of goblins now served up another army of soldiers who were now marching from under cover of the trees. They did not rush out like the goblins did but advanced in even lines, shields ready and swords drawn to fight.

  He looked to his left, toward the charging Karmon Knights. They were only moments from engaging the northern army. They seemed insignificant compared to the size of the Deceiver’s army that was marching out of the mountains. Then he looked back at the soldiers who were coming out of the forest. There was nothing and no one to stop their march towards the castle. Unimpeded, both armies would reach the castle at the same time. He quickly launched a series of his own fireballs at the soldiers hoping to stop them but knowing he would be lucky to even slow them down.

  A moment later, another explosion rocked the wall near him. The force of the blast was enough to knock him to his knees. Elven archers that had been near where the rocks struck had shards of flaming stone hit them, starting their loose clothes on fire. The more they tried to put out the fire, the more it spread until they were fully engulfed in flames. Screaming in pain and terror, several jumped off the wall to their deaths to put out the fires the hard way. Others had their flames smothered by magic, but the damage was done. Their bodies were burned so severely that they screamed and begged for death.

  Myllia and Immerallis swooped down across the top of the trees, spreading their Dragon Fire down on the catapults that were launching the burning rocks. A wall of arrows shot from the forest followed them as they flew away, but arrows just bounced off their hard scales. Many catapults caught on fire and burned, but many still survived.

  The Elven magic shield stopped most of the rocks, but the shield could not cover the entire Karmon defenses. Some of the rocks struck the castle, sending rocks and debris falling into the courtyard. The courtyard was struck as well, killing or seriously injuring many Karmons who had not yet joined in the battle.

  Hargon looked around, the euphoria of his new power having left, leaving an empty hole in its wake. The Knights were about to engage the army coming from the mountains. The Elves were barely able to contain the balls of fire that were coming from the catapults hidden in the forest. The ranks of soldiers coming out of the forest were marching towards the castle walls. He had done much damage with his own spells, but his mind was now frozen in panic. He didn’t know what to do, for there were too many possibilities to choose from. If he helped the Elves fend off the rocks shot from catapults, then the soldiers from the forest would arrive at the castle gates fully ready to invade the castle. If he fired at the soldiers, more rocks would make it through the shield and kill many more Elves and the fighters that were congregated in the courtyard
behind him. If he chose either one of those options, the Knights would quickly be overwhelmed and slaughtered.

  Myllia thumped down on the wall next to him. Many arrows were stuck between her scales and hung from her leathery skin that wasn’t covered by her protective scales. She seemed not to notice or care.

  “You have the power, now!” She shouted at him. “Use it!”

  He looked over at her, slightly dumbfounded that she not only could speak in his mind, but she could use voice inflection to make her sound louder and angrier.

  He fired a handful of fireballs at the army coming out of the forest and then another handful at the army that was about to be engaged by the Knights. It was a pitiful attempt, but it was all he could do. His mind was still cloudy with panic, and he couldn’t think straight.

  “You have so much more power than fireballs! That is the magic of the uncivilized. You might not be enlightened, but you are not a barbaric savage!”

  Frustrated, he screamed back at her, “I don’t know what else to do. We are being attacked on all sides! I can’t think!”

  “Get out your book,” she said calmly. Rocks were crashing down around them, but her voice did not show any panic or recognition of their dire situation.

  “My book?” He pulled out his book of spells from an inner pock of his robe. He had not looked at it in several days, and certainly not since Hemli had set the red gem in his necklace’s pendant. He opened it to the front and turned a few pages, his eyes scanning for a spell that he could use. His mind was swimming with thoughts of the battle, and he couldn’t focus on the words. All he saw were symbols and letters that now meant nothing to him.

  “To the back,” Myllia said.

  “There are no spells there,” Hargon argued. “Only the first few pages of the book have spells.”

  “Your power has grown. Look.”