“Alana and Lorien, select a few of your best men and follow me. Orien, you’ll be joining me too.” Nicon ordered, addressing his retainers and the elven weaponmaster.
Alana and Lorien, his retainers, both wore wolfish grins as they quickly and quietly flitted away to pick their men. Nicon’s retainers returned quickly, with a dozen warriors in tow, among them being Orien’s apprentice, Farik. His apprentice was a sprightly young elf with bright ginger hair and a matching bright smile.
Nicon quickly explained the situation to them all, “This is an emergency and the enemies have far more troops than we do. Therefore, our job is to disable their two catapult legions, and if we are able, eliminate the beast legion. Doing that will put us at a great advantage.”
“As this is a life or death situation, I give you the option now to back out of this operation. I need warriors unafraid of making an early trip to the Ether. I need warriors ready to give their lives for Silvardor!”
Alana merely grinned and flashed her blades.
“No way in the Abyss am I missing the best fight of the century! It’s Orien you should worry about—he’s getting on in his years, after all,” She snickered.
Orien glared at her and said, “I will gladly give my life for this kingdom. But, as I may not walk back from this alive, I ask that you allow Farik to stay out of this and protect my legacy. Lorien, I trust you can spare him, surely? He is still young. He can protect the helpless children in this city should we fall in battle.”
Lorien gave a wordless nod and Orien looked at his apprentice as he continued, “Please do not needlessly give your youthful life to this war. I am old—expendable… you? You have a whole life ahead of you. Enjoy it.”
He clapped Farik on his back and gave him a shove away from the impending war. The boy halted his steps, peering back, but at his mentor’s encouraging nod, he turned and ran.
His gaze hardening, he turned to face his king and he said solemnly, “Now, I am ready, my king.”
Nicon nodded, then shouted, “Let’s set off! May Mother protect us and our home!”
Nicon led them into the shadow of one of the watchtowers, then he raised his arm and shadows billowed out of the ground, engulfing him and the warriors. Nicon had been named the ‘shadow’ king both for his covert, yet watchful eye that surveyed and kept the peace, but also for his extraordinary skill in manipulating shadows. Where there was a shadow, he was able to appear, granting him mobility on par with Dethemina’s teleportation.
He warped his group deep into the shadows of the forest, where they could survey the majority of the demon army camped there.
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Jason had been outside in the training grounds, practising his swordsmanship when the horns blared throughout the kingdom. Immediately he was flooded with an uneasy sense of foreboding as he looked to the skies and saw the portals and demons emerging from them.
He frowned and leapt to his feet, running towards the watchtowers. There he met Nicon, who briefed him on the situation and sent him off to gather his fellow guardians.
Before long, they stood together near the crowd of armed elves led by Jaron and Dethemina, who were both decked out in battle armour. They stood near the armoury, handing out armour. Jaron quickly noticed them and waved them over, shoving a massive chest plate into Jason’s arms and grabbing a pair of boots. He lifted a large chainmail from where it was draped across a mannequin and, noticing Jason struggling to hold everything, handed the chainmail to Altein.
“Put it on,” Jaron said, shoving more pieces of armour at the group, “We’re on the front lines. A good piece of armour can be the difference between life and death on the battlefield.”
He paused, thinking for a moment, then said, “You have no objection to fighting, right? I’m sure you all understand that if we do not stop the enemy here, they will overrun Dargon, just as they did so long ago.”
His eyes darkened, memories undoubtedly surfacing about the atrocities of the previous demon war.
“I’ll do my best to fight!” Jason declared.
… Because Pelos knows what will happen to Dargon if I don’t. If the demons take Silvardor, they will set their sights on Sanobar and Westik next. I cannot allow that to happen. Father, Ed and Lily… I don’t want anything to happen to them.
As an afterthought, he muttered under his breath, “The demons are welcome to take Lord Throeyns, though. Better to rid his filth from this world.”
“What did you say?” Jaron asked.
Jason looked up and shook his head, despite knowing very well that Jaron had heard every word he’d muttered.
Damn those elven ears!
“Nothing,” He said.
<--<< >>-->
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Sunlight shone through the leaves of the still forest as the elves crept forward. Only a quiet shuffling was heard—the skilled elves left not even the sound of leaves crunching on the ground as they walked in their wake. As the day had dragged on and the sun began to set, the demons had set up camp, likely with the aid of magic, Nicon thought.
As they moved further, the catapult legion came into view quickly, as the structures towered above everything else. A pile of large boulders sat beside the contraptions, dipped in tar.
Nicon, who was well versed in war tactics, instantly determined what they were for.
They are to be set on fire before being launched at our city walls. Truly a horrifying thought—and one that must not become a reality, He thought, determination building up within him.
The plan was to attack at midnight, under the cover of darkness. Nicon’s shadows would be most effective at moving the soldiers around in darkness. They were to move in, strike quickly, then retreat into the shadows to the next location. With any luck, they’d move fast enough that the demons would be wholly unprepared for the attack.
Midnight came quickly, and the elves moved into position. Nicon gathered his strength, knowing that moving the soldiers around would be very draining, took a deep breath and let it out slowly.
The soldiers have been briefed on their task, preparations have been made, the area has been scouted out. There is nothing more I can do to give us a better shot at success now—I can only pray we succeed and return home again.
With that thought, he knelt, placing his hand on the cold forest floor. Shadows erupted from around his hand, engulfing him and the soldiers.
<--<< >>-->
The thrill of battle thrummed through her as Alana cut through the half-awake demons at the site of the first catapult legion. The demons scrambled about, trying to gather what was going on, but Alana cut them down before they could do anything.
The first catapult legion fell noiselessly. Before they left, the elves set the catapults on fire, burning the worn wooden beams and causing the structures to collapse. Their job was done.
Alana and the elves snuck back to their position, where Nicon stood waiting. Once again, his shadows warped them deep into the enemy camp, this time in search of the second catapult legion.
It fell almost as noiselessly as the first, but the flames from both legions had begun to alert the demons.
“Commander!” Alana whispered, “Do we continue the assault? We have achieved objective one, but it may be too dangerous to go after the beast legion when they are alert!”
Nicon frowned, considering their options.
Finally, he said, “We continue. We are all in good condition, and taking out the beast legion will greatly benefit the main army.”
He dropped to his knees, gritting his teeth as mustered up the strength to use his shadows again. Sweat beaded on his forehead as the shadows once again encased the elves.
<--<< >>-->
The demons handling the beasts were quickly dispatched by swift sword strokes from Alana and Lorien, but the beasts were much harder foes. The massive beasts, standing as tall as trees, had huge clawed feet, scaly hide leaving them all but impervious to sword strikes, and wickedly curved horns.
The first sign that things were going badly was when a beast crashed into the elves, flinging them up into the sky effortlessly and only lifeless bodies thudded back to the ground. It was a massacre—one that the elves could not have foreseen. The beast skin was many times stronger than they could have anticipated.
A chill ran up Nicon’s spine as he grabbed his sword and rushed out into the fray.
A commander fights with his men, He thought, glancing wildly about.
Orien lay in a pool of his own blood, his left hand clenched tightly around what remained of his right arm. Nicon rushed to his side, but could tell at one glance that it was too late. The elf had lost too much blood already.
“I-I know, your m-majesty…” Orien whispered weakly, “I can only hope Farik is safe…”
Nicon’s eyes reddened and he said hoarsely. “Even now, at the brink of death, your thoughts only go to your apprentice. He is lucky to be your student.”
“Go, y-your majesty… save the others. Save the ones who still have a chance… do that for me…”
He coughed, flecks of blood leaving his mouth, “And t-tell… Farik…”
Orien’s eyes turned glassy and his hand slumped. He was dead.
Nicon whispered a quick prayer for his fallen friend, “Ic aum reca ai Ether deseuam…”
May you reach the Ether safely…
Then he stood, surveying the battlefield before him. Alana still fought fiercely against a beast ten times her size and clearly winning the strength contest, but she held it off with the blade of her sword, seeming to be unable to feel the sting of the numerous wounds all over her body. Lorien had given up fighting the beasts and had instead set his sights on safely evacuating as many of their warriors as he could, carrying the wounded on his shoulder through the mess.
Nicon stepped forward to help, but as he watched, a beautiful yet terrifying being emerged from behind Lorien. He tried to warn Lorien, but his words did not reach the elf in time. A quick stab and the sword was thrust through Lorien’s vulnerable back—He’d not worn much armour beyond a leather chestplate to ensure no sound was made during their operation.
A look of surprise—it was always surprise… as though they always considered themselves invincible until they were inevitably killed, Nicon thought—crossed Lorien's face before he slowly toppled forward. The demon—or succubus, Nicon amended as her full figure came into view—pulled the sword back out of Lorien’s body and watched as the blood ran out in rivulets through the thin grooves carved along the sword for that very purpose.
Peeking out from beneath white-green hair were two mismatched eyes. One was bright gold with a strange pupil, while the other was crimson with a pupil as narrow as a slit. Sharply pointed canines peeked from a mouth, with lips painted blood red, twisted in a deadly grin. Two horns curved back from her head and a series of tattoos adorned her left shoulder.
Directing her mesmerising eyes at Nicon, the succubus brought the sword up to her lips and ran her forked tongue along its edge lapping up the blood, so lightly it did not break the skin.
She stood motionless and her cat-like gaze followed Nicon as he turned and ran towards Alana and the remaining survivors and mustered the rest of his strength to summon the shadows one last time.
As the shadows closed around them all, the succubus’ stare followed, before she flicked the rest of the blood off her sword and she turned away, stepping over a demon’s body.
<--<< >>-->
They landed in a heap within the confines of Ni’aad, and Nicon heard the concerned cries as black dots swarmed his vision, then his body gave way to fatigue and he collapsed into oblivion.