Paul Thompson - Dargonesti

She grabbed a sword from the lifeless hand of one of her soldiers and dueled with a pair of spear-armed Dargonesti. Something hard rapped Vixa sharply on the side of her head. Stunned, she went down. A wounded Silvanesti fell across her legs. The river mud gripped her. She felt herself sinking into it.

A horn blared above the clash of war. With the shouts and screams of combat around her, Vixa couldn’t tell if it was a Dargonesti conch shell or Silvanesti brass. She struggled to rise. Her borrowed sword slipped away and was swallowed by the mud.

One of her soldiers cried out, “The silver moon banner of Eriscodera! It’s the militia!”

Vixa grappled with fallen friends and foes and staggered upright. She nearly wept with relief at the sight that met her eyes. On the far shore were thousands of Silvanesti, those called to arms by the Speaker’s edict. At their head was an auburn-haired elf on horseback. Silvanost was saved!

With a concerted shout, Eriscodera and his cavalry left the marching levies and charged down the dry, cracked riverbank onto the mud flats. The white-kilted infantry, armed with pikes and halberds, came after them to the music of elven pipes and drums. The music wafted across the narrow channel that was all that remained of the mighty Thon-Thalas. Vixa watched the cavalry flounder in the heavy mud, but they kept coming. They weren’t making for the western gate of Silvanost though, but for a cluster of poles and banners in the center of the river.

“Silvanesti, rally!” she shouted hoarsely. “On your feet!”

Barely a dozen warriors remained to answer her call. The Dargonesti had fallen back when Eriscodera’s trumpets had sounded. The sea elves seemed uncertain whether to finish off Vixa’s little band or form and meet the oncoming cavalry.

Atop the city wall, Coryphene also heard the blaring of the horns, and he saw disaster looming for his army. Three-quarters of his depleted host was engaged in a wild fight along the walls. When the priests of Zura had died, the magical ramps of solidified fog had vanished. Coryphene’s troops on the wall were trapped. The Protector was committed to this battle as the will of his queen, and he would not have ordered retreat even had the ramps still been in place. He was quite prepared to fight to the last elf. However, when he saw Eriscodera’s cavalry divert from the city to Queen Uriona’s pavilion in the river, his ambition failed him. His queen was alone and undefended but for her servants. The fact that she was still covered by seven feet of water didn’t seem to register in his frantic mind. Coryphene saw drylanders bearing down upon his divine mistress, and he acted. He threw down his weapons and leapt from the wall in a graceful, arcing dive.

No land dweller could have survived so great a fall, but Coryphene’s body, accustomed to the press of the ocean’s depths, absorbed the shock of impact. He hit the sun-dried ground, rolled down to the line of mud, and got shakily to his feet. The blood streaming from his face and the cries of his officers, still atop the wall, were all ignored as he hurried toward Uriona’s pavilion.

The remaining Dimernesti mercenaries had fled upon first sighting the levies. They were back in the Thon-Thalas heading for the sea even before Coryphene’s prodigious leap. When the Dargonesti on the wall saw their leader leave the field of battle, the fight went out of them as well. Word quickly spread through their ranks that the Lord Protector had deserted them. They drew back from their exhausted enemies and grounded their arms. Amazed, Samcadaris sent an emissary forward to discover their intentions. The Silvanesti officer came back with word that the sea elves wished to surrender.

The dazed marshal accepted with alacrity. With his lieutenants at his side, Samcadaris came down from the watchtower to accept the surrender of the Dargonesti army.

“Uriona! Uriona!” Coryphene shouted. He shed breastplate and armor as he ran, limping, then dove into the brown river. Born as he was to the water, still he couldn’t cover the distance in time to reach the queen before the Silvanesti cavalry did. They surrounded her pavilion and slew any servants who tried to do battle with them. Coryphene found himself hemmed in by lance-wielding soldiers long before he set eyes upon Uriona. He drew his dagger to die fighting. At that moment Eriscodera and Gundabyr arrived, the dwarf riding double with Eriscodera’s standard-bearer.

“Take him alive,” said the dwarf. “He’s their leader.”

Coryphene still struggled to reach his queen, flailing in the chest-deep water until he was exhausted. The Silvanesti cavalry barred him from getting any closer. Uriona was out of the water now and on her way, under heavy guard, to the west bank. At last, Coryphene ceased his struggles. He bowed his head.

“I–I yield to you,” he said, holding out his dagger hilt-first to Eriscodera.

The colonel took the proffered weapon. His troopers disarmed Coryphene and bound his hands with cord.

“Put Lord Coryphene on a horse,” the colonel ordered. “We will present him and his royal mistress to the Speaker of the Stars.”

Coryphene and his escort galloped to the city. Eriscodera and his herald, with Gundabyr riding pillion, returned to the west bank where Uriona was being held by the militia.

“Why does she wear that mask?” asked the colonel.

“No one is allowed to look on her face,” Gundabyr explained. “Those that dare are killed.”

“Shall we unmask her?” suggested a grinning soldier. Uriona stiffened visibly.

“Certainly not!” Eriscodera snapped. “You will show Her Majesty every courtesy! No one shall lay hands upon her until she is presented to the Speaker. Understood?” The soldier who’d spoken nodded quickly.

By the time Eriscodera’s party reached the gate at Silvanost, a transformation had occurred within the city. Where scarcely an hour earlier only soldiers could be found in the streets, now the avenues were crowded with delighted Silvanesti. From every window in the city, flowers were thrown, filling the air with sweet-smelling petals. Vixa and her tiny band entered the city first and were showered with joyous greetings.

The cavalry, muddy but triumphant, entered the city next with the captive Coryphene. He did not look at Vixa as he passed by. Instead he scowled fiercely at the cheering Silvanesti who waved and flung flowers over their victorious troops. He shook the smothering blossoms from his own head with a violent gesture.

Three phalanxes of militia infantry, who’d never even gotten to fight, swung jauntily into the city, smiling broadly at their reception. Then came Eriscodera, his herald, and a rough cart bearing the masked Uriona. The colonel had always been popular with the common folk of Silvanost, and they went wild as he came into view, breaking their orderly lines and mobbing his horse.

Vixa waved at Gundabyr, who slid down from the standard-bearer’s saddle and pushed his way through the throng to his friend’s side.

“Forgemaster,” she said simply, gripping his hand in hers. “What a change in fortune! Can you believe it?”

“Believe it, lady.” He showed her Coryphene’s dagger. “The blueskins are finished!”

The levies finally cleared a path for Eriscodera’s horse and Uriona’s cart. After the militia came the warriors who had defended the city until Eriscodera’s arrival. Marshal Samcadaris led his weary troops in a close column of fours, divided into two bands. Between the two came the captured Dargonesti soldiers, over three thousand of them. They were shackled or tied to each other, most of them staring at the street, ignoring the shameful downpour of flowers that rained upon their heads.

Vixa and Gundabyr joined Samcadaris in the impromptu victory parade. The marshal seemed disoriented. Vixa clapped him on the shoulder and asked him how he fared.