Chapter Twenty-Seven - The Old King

Garrin and Daea were lying on their bellies, propped on their elbows behind a fallen tree. Garrin was peering over the trunk of the tree, staring into a valley below. Shouts of injured, clangs of sword on sword, rattling of armor, pounding of war drums, and twanging of bows could be heard below. They were too late. Rhodhinia had beaten them to Soceria.

They watched as Socerian forces clashed with Rhodhinian forces. He was trying to find a way in. They were in the heart of the Socerian mountain range. The terrain was snowy, uneven, and steep. He leaned over a little more, trying to stay out of sight. He knew from this distance there was no way someone would see them, but since he could see them, it was unnerving.

“What do you see?” Daea whispered behind Garrin, as though the combatants below could hear him if he dared speak any louder.

“Nothing. There’s no good way down, we’ll have to find another way.” Daea was half disappointed, half relieved. He wanted to join the battle as soon as possible, because that’s what his father would have wanted him to do, and because it was the right thing to do. But he was scared. And avoiding the battle as long as possible could only increase his chances of survival. Garrin stood up.

“We’ll have to go on around. Let’s see if we can find a way down over there,” he pointed to place in the distance that looked more level.

“What if they see us as we climb down?” Daea asked.

“We can’t let that happen. If they see us, they’ll shoot us down.”

“But…” Daea started. “But, that’s impossible.”

“We’ll find a way,” Garrin said confidently. Daea wasn’t sure he believed Garrin. They walked down the way a little until they reached a lower place in the cliff as it leveled off some. Again, Garrin approached the edge and peered down.

“Anything?” Daea asked. Garrin did not answer right away.

“Yeah, I think we can make this work,” he said. Daea’s heart quickened.

“You’re sure?” He asked.

“Quite sure. Look.” Garrin pointed across the ledge. “There’s a place just over there we can make our way down. Follow me.” Garrin began to sidle across a ledge, and then to descend the mountainside. Daea followed with hesitation, slipping some along the way, but he did successfully traverse the distance.

Garrin continued to lead Daea down the mountain. Soon, they were low enough that Garrin simply jumped from the side of the mountain and landed on the ground below. Daea did the same. The battlefield was slightly obscured from their new vantage point. They could not see the combatants at all.

The two of them sat in silence for a few minutes. Garrin knew he was the only one attempting to think of a plan that would help them in their situation. He knew Daea wasn’t working on any ideas of his own. He knew Daea was waiting on him, Garrin, to think of the best way, and for Garrin to reveal that plan to Daea. Garrin also knew that Daea was young, inexperienced, and afraid. Daea had never been on any kind of mission before, much less in battle. He was fresh out of training. And for this reason, Garrin reserved his harsh judgment of Daea’s lack of participation. And then Daea spoke up.

“I was just wondering…” He paused.

“About what?” Garrin asked, trying to encourage him.

“What good will it do for us to join the fight?” Daea asked. His tone did not sound disrespectful. Garrin hesitated, trying to form his words carefully, to be clear, and confident. For, he too had asked himself the same thing.

“We were ordered to Soceria. And we will keep to our orders. Two may not change the decision of the battle, but a delegation from a neighboring nation may invigorate their hearts. Knowing one is not alone inspires much determination, even if your aid is not much to add to your numbers. But our actions will be honorable. And all of that aside, it is the right thing to do. Always put yourself in the other man’s boots, Daea. What would you want if you were them?” Daea understood. Garrin looked around the cliff’s edge once more and into the battle before them.

“I think we can get a little closer without being seen if we follow this path,” he pointed out in front of him to a bend in the path. He motioned for Daea to follow him, and they crept across the valley floor, hunched down, and knees bent. When they stopped, they were much closer to the action than they had been. Clashes of armor and weapon, shouts of triumph, and cries of pain could all be heard distinctly.

“If you need a moment to gather yourself, you better do it quickly. This is as good as it’s going to get.” Garrin warned Daea. Daea’s eyes widened only briefly. “It’s okay to be frightened, but master it, be stronger than your fear,” Garrin told him, attempting to motivate him. With a remarkable show of determination, Daea reached for his sword, pulled it from its sheath, and he nodded at Garrin.

“Stay close to me, we will fight together,” he told Daea. Daea nodded several times, as though caught somewhere between determination and relief. Garrin rose to his full height, set his eyes somewhere near the middle of the battle, and he tore down the field, ready for the fight.

Joining the battle was much easier than he thought it might be. None of the Rhodhinian forces seemed to have noticed two more had joined. Two people on top of thousands of Socerians just wasn’t a noticeable change. Garrin raised his sword and struck down his first Rhodhinian intruder, who had not seen Garrin coming up behind him.

His sword fell again, and again. The element of surprise had definitely been on their side. But that was soon to end. Rhodhinian forces turned and noticed their presence. Garrin was now in a contest with a wraith of incredible speed. Instead of his sword coming down for the kill, he now found he was lifting the blade in defense. He blocked the wraith that had challenged him consistently. But the wraith was extremely fast. Defense seemed to be Garrin’s only viable move.

The wraith was backing him up. He needed a new strategy. And then he saw the wraith wind backward as though he were going to take a wide swing at Garrin. Trusting his instincts, he ducked, instead of blocking. The wraith missed by inches, and Garrin spun around, sweeping the wraith’s leg with his own. The wraith overbalanced and fell to the ground. And then a silver blade flashed before his eyes, and the wraith was impaled through the middle by another person Garrin did not know. The other person noticed Garrin’s armor, and he smiled.

“Alldel?” He asked Garrin.

“Yeah,” Garrin said through short breath. The other man nodded to him.

“Welcome to Soceria,” he said with a grin, and he turned and rejoined the battle. Garrin looked over his shoulder and saw Daea in the same trouble he had just averted with another wraith. Garrin ran to aid Daea. Together, the two of them were too much for the wraith. With Garrin’s aid, Daea quickly defeated him. His head rolled across the battlefield. The wraith’s helm had come off when his head fell to the ground. The victory bolstered Daea better than anything Garrin thought to say to him.

“Stay with me.” Garrin reminded Daea. “Come on, back-to-back. We can guard each other. I’m your partner, remember?” Daea nodded and moved into position with his superior officer. He worked well with Garrin who saw Daea’s potential and was patient with him, honing him from his green inexperience to a battle-hardened garrison. They did, indeed, stand back to back with each other, occasionally a little too close, perhaps, as Daea bumped into Garrin from time to time.

“You alright, Daea?” Garrin would say occasionally.

“Yeah!” He replied.

The Rhodhinian numbers were definitely thinning. Daea had slain more than his fair share of wraiths. Garrin could see his father’s prowess coming out in him. In theory, Daea was scared. He was timid and unsure of himself. But in practice, he was fantastic. Garrin was proud to have had Daea on his back today. Perhaps, one day, he could request Daea to be his sub scout.

Garrin thrust his sword forward for what felt like the thousandth time today. It sank itself into the back of one of the Rhodhinians, who briefly went rigid, and then fell limp. Garrin allowed him to fall to the ground and wrested the sword from the fallen soldier. And then the battle around them came to a sudden and unexpected halt.

A crackle of thunder split the air around them. It was sharp, crisp, and so loud, even Garrin clapped his hands to his ears. The Rhodhinian army was in retreat. Those who were not yet slain were fleeing the battle. But nobody was cheering. It wasn’t right. Garrin looked around as though in search of a disturbance, though he could not think why. And then a booming voice echoed through the valley, amplified so nobody would mistake his presence.

“I would speak with your king!” It announced. And then Garrin looked up. Above them hovered a man dressed in black. His short, white hair stood firm in the breeze above them. Two blue earrings hung from his ears.

“Fall back!” Another voice issued. “Fall into ranks,” It ordered. Unsure where to position themselves, Garrin placed his hand on Daea’s back and steered him to the back of the line, somewhere out of the way. King Amos stepped forward, his white cloaked wrapped tightly around him. The boots on his feet which normally would have been as white as his robes were stained with grass and blood. His face was dirty from battle, his brow wet with sweat and blood of the enemy.

Amos did not rise to meet the Old King in the air. He stood confidently beneath him, unwilling to submit to Seevus’ terms of engagement. Garrin was not sure whether or not Amos had expected Seevus’ arrival, but now that he knew who the individual was, he found his heart racing. There was nothing he could do to assist Amos. They were powerless against this foe. With the remainder of Seevus’ army in retreat, he contented himself to stand and watch the contest between the two ancient kings. The rivalry between them having festered for almost six hundred years, they stared at each other, each wondering the same thing. Who was more skilled? And then, without a single word having been uttered between them, the contest began.

A bright bolt of lightning issued from Seevus’ hands. Amos was ready for it. He stretched out the Staff of Soceria quicker than blinking, and the bolt of lightning was captured by the diamond atop the staff. Amos swung the staff around forcefully. It was as though the staff had pulled all of the energy from Seevus’ hands, and when he swung around, the energy was released from the top of the staff in the form of a flame which pushed through the sky with a mighty roar toward the Old King.

Seevus held out his hands. The wave of fire stopped suddenly at his fingertips. It compounded on top of itself. Seevus began to swirl his hands around as though molding an invisible block of clay. The amassing tongue of fire took shape into a ball. Amos ceased his attack at once, and Seevus tossed the fireball, not at Amos, but into the crowd of Socerians. Acting quickly, Amos thrust the staff into the ground below as the fireball descended upon the heads of the Socerian army. Instinctively, they all ducted to the ground, covering their heads with their arms and shields. This turned out to be unnecessary. Amos had protected his people. The fireball bounced off the white shield. The shield flashed brilliantly, and Amos guarded his eyes against the bright light.

The fireball ricocheted back toward Amos who caught it with the tip of his staff. He turned back to face Seevus, who had vanished. Amos caught sight of him on the ground some way off in the distance. He tossed the fireball in his direction, but Seevus was too quick. The fireball struck the earth. It exploded with such force, they were all blown backward. Garrin caught himself against the trunk of a tree behind him. He looked up and saw Amos and Seevus still dueling.

Seevus was again swirling his hands around in mid-air. There was no fireball in sight. This time, Garrin noticed a cloud forming above them. The cloud was descending upon them. Amos was working desperately to manipulate the air above them, trying with all his might to disrupt the order Seevus was forming in the air. If the funnel had no order, it would dissipate. Seevus surrendered. He vanished and reappeared once again above the crowd. Amos gathered what he could of the winds summoned by Seevus, and he directed them into his path.

Seevus was momentarily caught off guard. The winds forced him slightly backward. Garrin was briefly hopeful, clenching his fists in premature triumph, but Seevus recovered quickly. He created a barrier, and the wind seemed to bend around him. Garrin stamped his foot in frustration. How were you supposed to defeat an enemy like this? Amos couldn’t seem to find the upper hand in this fight. Amos and Seevus both stopped. They stared at each other for several seconds, motionless.

“What are we to do, old friend? Compete in an immortal deadlock until we destroy this world?” Seevus shouted from above. Amos did not reply. “So, be it,” Seevus said. And he held out his hands once more. Amos braced for the attack. For a moment, a brief moment, nothing seemed to be happening. And then the ground began to rumble beneath them. It was a deep, booming rumble that shook the ground. Leaves began to fall from trees. Rocks crumbled from the cliff face before them. The rumbling grew in its severity until the Socerian army began to fall to its knees, unable to maintain their balance.

“Until next time!” Rhodhinian shouted to them, and then he vanished. In the distance, Garrin could hear a crackle of thunder as Seevus fled the battle. Amos was also on his knee, shaken off balance by the quake Seevus had caused. Soon, the quake diminished, without its master nearby to control it, the quake ceased. Amos rose to his feet. He turned to face the Socerian army.

The Rhodhinians had retreated. The wraiths were gone, the Old King had fled. Amos had stood against his awesome might, and he had proven himself equal to it. Soceria was still standing. They had won the battle, but at what cost? There was a cheer among those still standing, a brief and joyous celebration of their victory. Even Garrin punched the air with his fist, a smile creeping across his face. The realization that they had survived and would soon be returning to Alldel was overwhelming him. Daea seemed too dazzled by the thought to speak. Garrin helped him to his feet as the crowd began to calm.

“Tend to the injured, we must help the living. Then we must honor the fallen.” Amos ordered. The various Socerians around them began following the commands that had been issued. Daea looked to Garrin for instruction.

“We need to help them,” Garrin told Daea.

“How?” Daea asked.

“Find the injured. Bring them water, help make them comfortable until they can be tended to. We can return home soon, but for now, we will give aid. We were too late to give warning, let us now give aid. Follow the leadership of the Socerian commanders.”