Page 53 of The Oracle of Dusk

Batea’s bark of laughter echoed in the courtyard.

“Let them sick their dogs on me. Nowthatwould be a real fight.”

He said nothing more on the matter, following when she led him to her stables, if the pits where she created, moulded and trained her pets could be called something so pedestrian. One pit in particular caught his eye. Her favourite pets were the giant serpents, beasts descended from dragons and great serpents who had lost their ability to fly. But the ones he saw were struggling to lift off the ground as they writhed, impressive horns radiating out from their scaly brows.

“Beautiful, aren’t they? I’m close with them. One day, you and I will ride my serpents through the very skies, like in the legends.”

The military applications alone had his heart racing with excitement. But today, it was not to be. As they passed by beasts left and right, his heart sank. They neared the cages for the flying creatures.

Not the eagles.

“These should be enough.”

A shiver of revulsion raced down Theron’s spine.

The eagles were faster than any in Batea’s stables, smarter than the average man, and could carry several soldiers each. The problem was that the beasts had taken a strong dislike to him the moment they’d laid eyes on him, and delighted in doing aerial acrobatics whenever he was in their saddle. It was hardly the most dignified way to travel, but it was the fastest. If he died, he hoped the poets skipped over his mode of transportation… and how sick he would be the moment he landed.

Think of the grain.

It was what he chanted to himself over and over as the wicked beasts took to the skies, thirty warriors on their backs, a third of those from the temples. It was what he chanted over and over during the hours the feathered bastard he was strapped to crossed the Dragon’s Spine Mountains and the trade road beyond like a drunken acrobat. And it was what he chanted when they finally set down and he nearly fell to his knees and threw up in front of his warriors. He was grateful he’d taken his spear with him, so he had something to prop himself up with.

Theron glared at the eagle. One day, he would slay that beast and make an extravagant fan of its feathers. Once plucked, he would roast the creature and serve it at a celebratory dinner.

Don’t think of food.

His gorge rose. Theron breathed deeply, concentrating on standing without dizziness sending him to his knees. When at last he felt more like a man than a tumbleweed, he got the lay of the land. The merchant’s supply caravan was sitting exactly where he’d said it would be, on the other side of the Colonnades. It was too bad Canthus hadn’t set out earlier and secured the grain before now. They’d passed overhead of his general on their way here, plodding along at a normal pace on the backs of sensible, noble, land-dwelling lopers.

“Get the grain to this side of the Colonnades,” he ordered his warriors. “The rest of you remain here while we wait for the monstrosities.”

They needed to secure the supplies before any Viridian or Nivean soldiers came around their respective mountain ranges to poach his supplies. And before anyone could arrive and accuse him of marching soldiers into the territory of another monarch. Such a thing could result in a diplomatic incident.

Theron watched with great satisfaction as the errant caravan attendants were relieved of their goods or meekly marched across the Colonnades. Hopefully, this sent a message to the other Trisian merchants that if they tried to go back on their words, Aureum would give them no choice but to uphold their bargains. If Canthus was doing his job, the merchant in charge of the operation was being dragged behind the warriors on their way here, fearing for his life every step of the way.

It was a low blow for Viridis to enlist independent merchants against him. He was ashamed not to have thought of it himself first. Perhaps, in retaliation, he should make a deal with some of the pirates plying the Viridian coastline. If the Colonnades became a place tainted by monstrosities in the minds of travellers, then perhaps the pirates could raid the Viridian cargo ships to make up for the shortfall of trade goods.

Just as the last cart laden with his grain began crossing the Colonnades, a legion of Viridian soldiers and paladins rounded the edge of the Dragon’s Tail Mountains. Theron’s smile grew. They were too late. The end of the Queen’s Road was the border of Viridis’ official control. And they hadn’t been present when his warriors had crossed, so it was too late to use their intrusion into Viridian territory as political provocation. Theron leaned against a nearby boulder, enjoying the cool shade and his triumph.

As they glared at each other from across the divide, the sun travelled through the sky, the shadows of the Dragon’s Spine Mountains beginning to stretch across the narrow valley. The grain shipment was well on its way into the winding canyon pass when the shadows began to shift. At first, Theron thought it a mere trick of the light, but then the shadows began to shift again, moving as if made of gently lapping water.

“Monstrosities, Your Majesty!” cried one of the paladins, his blade drawn.

Theron readied his spear and shield as three of his archers took to the skies on the eagles, every one of their arrows tipped in divine magic. The old texts spoke of monstrosities that could fly, and he would not be caught flatfooted against airborne foes. As the shadows began bubbling around him, he stepped into the light, his heart hammering. Batea was going to be furious that she’d missed this fight.

The paladins spread their magic over the widest possible section of shadows, dispelling the evil rising within them, but there was simply too much ground to cover. As the first monstrosity reared its ugly head, Theron thrust his spear into the beast. It dissolved back into the bubbling dark, destroyed by the divine machine infused into his weapon. Just as he wondered why his ancestors had been so troubled by the creatures, three more rose up where the last one had been felled. In a matter of moments, the monstrosities could not be beaten back before they’d fully emerged from the darkness.

Theron and his warriors began losing ground almost immediately, even with the paladins’ divine magic dispelling beasts left and right. He kept them at bay with his spear, grateful that even the ones with prodigious reach could not match his own. Step by step, they were driving his line back towards the Dragon’s Spine. If they were caught there, they would be overwhelmed from all sides. But if they retreated to the Colonnades where the natural terrain would bottleneck the enemy? They could gain the advantage without fear of being flanked.

“Retreat to the Colonnades!” Theron commanded, his voice booming across the battlefield. He signalled for his airborne archers to lay down cover as they retreated.

His warriors reformed at the narrowest chokepoint on the southern half of the Colonnades, and when the next wave came, they were ready for them. His spearmen gouged the monstrosities with every thrust, killing them with ease. Behind them, the paladins cast their magic, streamers of light like whips, dispelling individual monstrosities with a touch. The tide of battle had turned.

Theron held his position at the front, battle fervour singing through his limbs. Whenever he tired, he used his wild magic to bolster himself. As the shadows lengthened, the monstrosities thinned. In his confidence, Theron pushed forward into an empty pocket.

And immediately regretted it.

The shadows burst up underneath him like a geyser, throwing him back. He caught himself in time to see a field of massive, claw-tipped hands rising up from the shadows. One hand reached out before he could stab it with his spear, capturing him in a punishing grip. Theron healed himself as fast as the monstrosity broke him. It shrieked as its corrupted body met the divine magic in his armour, and yet unlike the others before, it remained intact long enough to throw him. Airborne, Theron sailed over the battle formation of his warriors. The landing stunned him, breaking bone after bone, his breath leaving him in a painful gush. When his head stopped spinning, he called on his magic to get him back on his feet and clear his mind.

“Keep formation!” he called before his warriors thought to do something as foolish as see to his welfare.

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