What has happened?” Kaliam asked the moment Nock and Mallik emerged from the stairs.
“Lady Trenna and Queen Illaria,” Nock replied, “their dragons fell in the aerial assault—”
“And King Brower,” said Mallik. “He was overcome as he defended the gate.”
Suddenly, a mournful howl rose over Alleble’s outer walls. Sir Warriant looked out from their vantage point atop a wide turret near the fountains. “What is that sound?” he asked. “Wolves?”
“Worse,” said Thrivenbard. “They are the Seven Sleepers!”
“If those beasts are coming now,” said Warriant, “it was wise, Kaliam, to order the knights on the front walls to fall back to the fences.” Kaliam nodded, but pensively looked upon the fences.
In the days before Paragor’s attack, the crafty Glimpses of Yewland and the Blue Mountains had erected special palisades. These fences they made tall with extremely sharp points on top and no gaps between poles so that, unless airborne, none could see beyond them. They stretched north to south all the way across the main thoroughfare of the city.
“Will they see what we have planned?” Nock asked apprehensively. He pointed to the Deathreapers still in a chaotic dogfight with the combined dragon riders of Alleble high above the city.
“Nay,” Lady Merewen replied. “The riders of Paragory do not have the keen eyes of Yewland’s Braves. And Queen Illaria’s riders will keep them too busy to search behind our palisades.”
“I hope you are right,” Kaliam said.
Suddenly, the shriek of the Wyrm Lord shattered the silence.
“The walls!” cried Mallik. There was a tremendous flash and an agonizing cry, but the wall split and began to crumble. “I hope the faercrag killed that foul serpent!” Mallik groused. Then something grabbed the first murynstil portcullis at the gate and tore it from the stone. Then the second was gone . . . and the third. The combined forces of Alleble gasped, for Paragor now wielded fire hot enough to melt adorite and might strong enough to tear murynstil!
With the gate torn and a wall thrown down, legion after legion of Paragor’s main army entered the city of Alleble. Seven huge yellow-eyed wolvins came too. But they did not press forward like Paragor’s infantry. Rather they stalked behind the legions of Paragor’s Knights, restless, chomping, salivating, wanting to attack, but restrained by an unseen hand. Then the Wyrm Lord perched on one of the towers. He shrieked and clawed at his eye. Then his body shook and it began to wreathe itself in garments of darkness. But he too seemed to be waiting. Behind all of this came one lone, defiant warrior. Standing on the rubble of the wall, he held up a flaming mace.
The legions of knights who had been marching forward saw their master’s sign and suddenly broke into a dead run.
Kaliam had taken up a position with Nock, Mallik, and many of his commanders—and waited for exactly the right moment. Kaliam nodded and Nock launched one flaming arrow into the sky toward the fountains. It was the first signal.
“They are still coming full-bore,” said King Ravelle. “How arrogant they are to think they could just stroll in unopposed.”
Kaliam watched closely as the enemy drew within fifty yards of the palisades.
“Almost there,” he whispered.
“Come on!” Mallik urged.
The clamor of the enemy was like that of a stampede. Paragor Knights spread as wide as the road and were thick all the way to the front gates. They came recklessly, laughing at the wooden palisades before them.
“They will snap like toothpicks,” yelled some of the enemy.
“We will trample them down!” answered another.
“Now, Kaliam!” yelled Sir Rogan.
“Nay! A second more!” Kaliam said.
The enemy knights were twenty-five feet away from the palisades. Twenty. Fifteen. Ten.
“Now!” Kaliam yelled. And Nock released two fiery arrows into the sky.
The very second the two arrows went up, the palisades—the entire length from one side of the road to the other—slammed down. But not flat. These palisades had been fashioned with hundreds of hanging legs that extended when the fence fell and kept the razor-sharp points of lumber at right about waist height.
Moving too fast to stop in time, and pushed from those behind, the first line of Paragor’s infantry, almost five hundred soldiers across, drove into the deadly palisades. In one moment nearly a thousand Paragor Knights died or were wounded so severely that they could not fight.
The horror did not end for the Paragor Knights, for behind the palisades stood the bulk of Alleble’s remaining armies. They had lain in wait, choking all the back ways, alleys, and side streets—the cottages, shops, and keeps. And at the sign of the first flaming arrow, they had poured behind the palisade like floodwaters. The cavalries of Alleble and its allies Mithegard and Acacia attacked.
Warriant gave the signal and his Baleneers began a deadly rain of spears upon the enemy knights. But thousands more—knights conscripted into Paragor’s service, the armies of Candleforge, Frostland, and Inferness—entered the fray. And in spite of Paragor’s losses, his was still the larger army.
Paragor’s infantry—buoyed by the advance of their reinforcements—turned to face their enemy. Shining sword raked against jagged curved blade. Heavy hammer collided with massive blunt club. And bright, twin-edged axe clashed against the arced scythe blade. Greater was the skill of the defenders, but the numbers of the enemy made up for that.
As Paragor’s archers advanced they began to take up positions on the keeps, walls—even the rooftops of cottages. Soon streams of crimson arrows soaked in mortiwraith venom arced overhead and fell among Alleble’s forces. Those hit fell dead in their tracks.
The tide had turned in Paragor’s favor, and the forces of Alleble and its allies began to be pushed back and overrun.
Kaliam was horrified, and he made ready to join the fray. “Look!” Lady Merewen yelled, and pointed toward the sky.
It was three dragons. They flew over the smashed gate, over Paragor, and just over the heads of the enemy army. And Kaliam saw and yelled, “Behold, all of Alleble: the Three Witnesses!” Just at the hearing of the legendary name, the soldiers of Alleble felt a surge of confidence. And they held at the palisades, not allowing even a single enemy to break through and gain the fountains.
Robby was the first to enter combat. He drove into the middle of a regiment from Frostland. The landing crushed many, and at the wish of her master, Splinter lashed her head and tail about until a clearing had been made. Robby dismounted, heedless of the enemy beginning to close around him. He turned and held a hand to the sky. The dragons beneath Paragor’s Deathreapers swooped suddenly as if reaching the end of an invisible chain. Then they began to fly erratically, swerving, diving—even soaring inverted! Most of the Deathreapers could not hold on. They fell out of the sky, flailing violently until they crashed into the city. The now riderless dragons plowed into Paragor’s forces, wreaking havoc upon the army they once served. Alleble’s dragon riders were now in control of the skies above the city, and they wheeled about and dove into the battle as well.
Antoinette leaped down from her steed and held the Daughter of Light aloft. Spidery veins of white lightning crawled across the underside of the roiling clouds, and an intensely bright streak shot down to strike Antoinette’s sword. Sparks flickered and surged up her blade, but by King Eliam’s power, the electricity did her no harm. The enemy would not fare so well. Antoinette charged off the edge of the palisades into battle.
A brutish warrior from Candleforge was the first to challenge her. He raised his massive club, intending to pulverize this young girl in one move. He rocked on his feet and brutally swung his club at Antoinette. But there was a strange flash of white light and a sudden breath of oily smoke. When his vision cleared, he saw Antoinette standing unharmed. As his vision began to gray at the fringes, he saw that his club had been split. It was the last thing he saw before he died.
Aidan drove his dragon steed almost sideways at the ranks of Paragor’s archers. Then he raked his sword across the backs of the archers’ necks as he careened through their ranks. A few turned, but too late. An entire rank of archers went down.
Paragor unleashed the Seven Sleepers. They snarled and bounded into the road, charging the forces of Alleble—heedlessly trampling Paragor’s Knights as they went. A team of Alleble’s infantry slashed at one wolvin’s face, rending and gouging it with angry red streaks, but the wolvin seemed not to feel it. The Seven roamed the road, laying low scores of Alleble’s knights. And at last, they broke through Alleble’s forces at the palisades and charged toward the Seven Fountains.
At Paragor’s command, the Wyrm Lord spread his wings wide and took to the air. He flew beneath the turbulent clouds like a dark blotch of smoke. The firstborn wyrm spewed streams of his lethal breath into the ranks of Alleble’s forces, incinerating dozens and leaving behind scoured trails and charred bodies. Alleble’s dragon riders came at the Wyrm Lord from all sides, but he batted them aside as if they were gnats.
Kaliam turned to the warriors assembled near him. “Stay in teams,” Kaliam said. “No less than three, for none of us alone can contend with a Sleeper or the Wyrm Lord. Mallik, Sir Rogan, and Nock, stay together. Thrivenbard, lead Warriant and Sir Valden. King Ravelle, Farix, and Oswyn, defend the fountains!”
“Now is our time!” Kaliam exclaimed. “Our armies are outnumbered by the enemy! Our odds are grim at best.” Kaliam’s eyes were ablaze, and he stared from knight to knight before he continued.
“But we do not put our faith in odds or in numbers—nor even in the prowess of our weapons. We put our faith in the might of King Eliam, who alone defeated death! We serve a King who gave everything for this kingdom—not sparing even his life! And now . . . it is our turn. Draw your weapons and do not hide them again until victory is assured. Nothing can be spared. When the sun rises between the Mountains of Glory, let there be glory given to the King. Glory and a free Alleble—whether we all live or not!”
“NEVER ALONE!” Stirred by their Sentinel’s words, the warriors of Alleble, Mithegard, Acacia, Yewland, Balesparr, and Ludgeon charged into the field of battle.
“Words well spoken, m’lord,” Lady Merewen said, drawing near to Kaliam.
“M’lady Merewen,” Kaliam said. “Do you think that the two of us together can defeat one of the Sleepers?”
“Together we can,” she said. “Or together we shall die trying.”
Kaliam nodded confidently and looked to Alleble’s main gate. Paragor was no longer there.
Mallik, Nock, and Sir Rogan came upon one of the Sleepers as it preyed upon several fallen knights. Mallik rushed in and smashed his hammer against the creature’s hindquarters. It flopped awkwardly to the side, but turned quickly. The Sleeper bared its fangs and growled at its attackers.
“Okay,” Mallik said. “So maybe that was a wee bit rash!” And then, Mallik stared. This wolvin had gouges on its neck crusted black with dried blood. “I know you, beast,” Mallik said, “and I owe you a little something for Aelic!” Sir Mallik raised his hammer and took a step toward the creature. He stopped short when he saw Nock gesturing.
Nock signaled something to Mallik and Sir Rogan. They nodded, and Mallik took off running. The wolvin’s yellow eyes flashed and it raced after Mallik, who was not particularly fast. He dodged and turned corners, occasionally swinging his hammer at the creature’s face just to slow it down. All he needed to do was give Nock and Sir Rogan enough time to get into position. The creature was nipping at Mallik’s heels as he made a final turn and raced back the way he had come.
Nock stood atop one of the broken sections of the palisades. He took aim and fired a Blackwood shaft into the creature’s left eye. The wolvin howled but kept coming. Nock’s second shaft found the Sleeper’s other eye. Blinded, it could not see Sir Rogan spring up and sweep his axe low, lopping off the wolvin’s forelegs. It faltered, crashed, and slid to a stop right at Mallik’s feet. Mallik raised his hammer and brought it down heavily on the beast’s head.
“Now there are six!” he yelled.
Thrivenbard, Warriant, and Sir Valden raced after a group of ten Paragor Knights. They chased them into a wide avenue behind the keeps off the main thoroughfare. There, the enemy knights split paths and sprinted down three narrow passages that stretched between a group of small cottages.
“Those are dead ends,” Thrivenbard said, looking at his two comrades.
“Verily, they shall be,” said Warriant, hefting a bale. When he turned, his eyes were wild, but also . . . they glinted blue.
“Sir Warriant!” Thrivenbard cried out. “Your eyes! You have chosen!”
“How could I not?” Warriant asked. “I have seen the ways of the enemy, and I know the valor of King Eliam by the deeds of his people! Now, Thrivenbard, take the three on the left-hand passage. Valden, the right. That leaves the four in the middle for me!”
“Do you now lead us, spear-meister?” Thrivenbard asked slyly.
“Nay, master woodsman,” Warriant replied. “But you owe me one for not putting a bale in your foot that evening near my village. I say this makes us even.”
Thrivenbard grinned. “Sir Valden, what do you say?”
Valden said nothing, but he nodded and raised his two long-handled axes.
“Agreed, then!” said Thrivenbard, and the three warriors split and raced into the dead-end alleys.
They emerged victorious a few moments later. But there was no time to celebrate as a Sleeper leaped down on Valden, its jaws snapping perilously close to Valden’s neck. Valden hacked at the creature’s chest with both his axes, all the while yelling like a madman. Warriant drove a spear into the creature’s side, and at last it rolled off of Valden. The wolvin turned, snarled, and lunged for Thrivenbard. The tracker rolled out of the creature’s path, but still its claws gouged a hunk of flesh out of Thrivenbard’s arm. Warriant came to his aid, but the wolvin hit him in the back with one of its heavy paws, sending Warriant flying against the wall of the other cottage. He fell in a heap. Then the monstrous creature turned its yellow eyes back to Thrivenbard.
“BACK, YOU FILTHY CUR OF PARAGOR!” came a thunderous, roaring yell. Valden had finally found his feet—and his voice! He stood and faced the monster as if daring it to move. The creature pounced. In that moment, Valden threw one of his axes at the wolvin, missed its head, but buried the blade into its humped shoulder. The wolvin bowled Valden over, howled in pain, and fled.
“You will not get away that easily!” Sir Warriant yelled, taking off after him. Thrivenbard and Valden ran around the corner of the cottage and saw Warriant landing on the back of the creature, while holding on to Valden’s axe and his own spearlike handles. The wolvin shook and bucked, trying to throw Warriant off, but he would not relent. He clambered up the creature’s back, grabbed the nape of fur behind its ears, and twisted. The wolvin turned as if steered and came running back toward the cottages.
“I will finish this!” Thrivenbard yelled. And he drew his two long fighting knives and raced toward the wolvin. Thrivenbard and Warriant made eye contact just long enough for Warriant to understand what to do. He violently steered the creature into a turn. Thrivenbard was already there holding his knives to the wolvin’s throat as he slid beneath it. The wolvin took two or three clumsy steps before collapsing in the middle of a wide alley.
Warriant leaped off the beast. He wiped his hands and turned to the others and said, “Well, that was not as bad as I thought!” But Thrivenbard and Valden were not looking at Warriant. For there, angrily sniffing the body of their dead companion, were three more gigantic wolvins.
