Douglas Niles: The Crown and the Sword

He saw the aftermath of a tremendous explosion, a vast column of smoke churning into the sky. Several wagon wheels spun out of the murk, and one of the massive barrels tumbled into view, rolling down the ridge like a runaway log. Other things were flying through the air, too, and he grimaced with the realization that they were bodies, dozens of gunners, teamsters, and others caught up in the blast like rag dolls.

He knew that Dram and Sulfie had been up there. His next thought was that Coryn had been going to that place as well.

“He did it!” cried Ankhar, pumping his fists in the air. He watched in exultation as the ridgetop exploded and all the enemy’s terrible weapons erupted with all the violence of a volcano. Fire spewed into the air in great, roiling balls, and smoke billowed and surged upward so quickly that, in moments, the pillar of darkness extended more than a mile into the sky.

Ankhar blinked in surprise as Hoarst materialized before him. “Well done!” he roared, only with difficulty resisting the urge to embrace the man.

“Yes-the weapons are destroyed, and those who wield them have been killed,” Hoarst reported. He staggered slightly, and the half-giant reached out a hand to support him. “Is that enough to win the battle?” Hoarst asked, his voice a hacking croak.

“No,” Ankhar conceded. He gestured to his stepmother, who crouched on her haunches nearby, as he addressed the wizard. “But it was a tremendous blow, and now we are ready for the next step. Make ready your wand.”

“I am ready.”

“Laka will release the king. You will drive it forward.”

“I will give the device to you,” the Thorn Knight objected. “You should carry the wand yourself, my lord.”

“Me?” Ankhar responded, shocked.

“You can do it exceedingly well, I am sure,” Hoarst replied, coughing spasmodically for a moment. He wheezed, recovered his breath, and looked at his skeptical commander. “There is no magic use required. Simply brandish the device. The repulsion spell is inherent and will drive the elemental king away when you confront him.”

“And you?” growled the half-giant, squinting at his Thorn Knight suspiciously. “What will you do?”

“I will seek out the enemy commander, the lord marshal. It may be that I can strike him down with my magic-as he tried to strike me down with an arrow to the heart.”

Ankhar pondered this for a moment then threw his head back and laughed, a great bray of sound. “Very well. I will hold the wand, and you will seek the enemy commander. And we will let the king do the wholesale killing!”

Hoarst removed the slender stick of wood and handed it to Ankhar, watching closely as Laka opened the lid of the ruby-covered box. Instantly the twin specks of fire emerged, swirling upward, glowing brightly against the backdrop of a sunny sky. The shaman cackled with glee as a great spume of black smoke billowed upward, following the twin sparks into the sky. That was when the massive torso took shape, blocking out the light of the sun. The limbs of tornado and cyclone stretched outward and down. Sound wailed, a shrill keening of wind and water, and a deeper, more visceral power.

And once again, the king of the elementals took shape upon the surface of Krynn.

Jaymes saw the black vapors coalesce into the familiar humanoid shape, towering high above the raging battlefield. The lofty, clifflike face solidified, its cavernous sockets glowing with the fires of the Abyss. Those burning eyes swept across the field, flaring in anticipation of the killing to come. The sound of a whirlwind filled the air, a roar that kicked up dust and debris around the conjured giant’s lower extremities.

It was ghastly, terrifying. The monster, so long vanished, had returned in the service of the enemy commander, of that much Jaymes was certain. How Ankhar had regained control of the creature, or where it had been in the meantime, Jaymes did not know.

He did know that all of his plans for this battle would have to change. The huge column of black smoke that was conspicuous on the ridgetop marked the vulnerable spot where Coryn, Dram, and Sulfie had been directing the battery. And now this monster from the depths of the world, unassailable and incomprehensible, flicked his eyes in that direction.

The lord marshal had spurred his horse toward the front as soon as he discerned the looming shape. Now he rode directly toward the conjured monster, Giantsmiter in his hand, a look of cool detachment-utterly concealing his acute sense of despair-upon his face. He let his men see him ride past, their lusty cheers doing nothing to improve his confidence.

The struggle now raged along the front for a mile or more, the two armies entangled along that whole distance. The armored riders of the Solamnic Army, led by the Rose Knights of Palanthas, had formed close ranks to meet the charge of the wolf-riding goblin cavalry. In a bloody clash, the savage riders and their lupine mounts fell steadily back. Many riders and mounts fell on both sides. Wolves snarled and bit at the hamstrings of the knights’ warhorses, and the horses kicked and stomped their tormentors. Goblins and knights clashed desperately with clanging swords.

Meanwhile, the infantry of all three wings of Jaymes’s army drove into Ankhar’s force, pressing the hobgoblins and ogres hard. Arrows from archers on both sides plummeted into the melee, striking indiscriminately. Here a company of ogres pushed ahead, stretching the Solamnic lines; there, the Kaolyn Axers plunged through many lines of hobgoblins, gleefully hacking at their ancestral foes. The result, everywhere, was a great mass of fighting warriors with little organization or apparent pattern.

As yet, the elemental king hadn’t moved, and most of the men of Jaymes’s army-engaged in fighting enemies only a few feet in front of their faces-had not taken stock of the great figure behind them. Here and there Jaymes heard a groan of dismay or a cry of abject terror, and as these sounds grew more numerous, he knew it was only a matter of moments before the morale of his troops was shaken by the monster in their midst.

The cold hilt of the sword in his hand was not comforting-it could do little against the looming, otherworldly presence. His loyal Freemen, the two dozens knights of no sign who had sworn loyalty to him personally and now rode alongside him, did not show any hesitation to accompany their commander on his steadfast advance. Captain Powell had his own broadsword bared and held the blade across his lap, ready for use.

But Jaymes had no plan. He skirted the pockets of furious battle as much as possible, fixing his attention on the solidifying figure of the elemental. Now he could see the lashing tendrils of its liquid limbs, and he knew it was preparing for an attack. On the far side of the action, the lord marshal reined in, watching and waiting for the being to move.

“What can we do, my lord?” Powell asked, reining in close, his low voice urgent. “We Freemen are yours to command.”

“I know,” replied the lord marshal. “I wish I had an order for you. I fear that our only course will be to harry and flee, but that idea galls me more than I can say.”

Something glimmered off to the side, barely a dozen yards away. It was the Thorn Knight in the gray robe, blinking instantaneously into view. Jaymes saw that the man’s hands were gesturing, his eyes flashing hatred as his gaze focused on the lord marshal.

“Beware of sorcery!” cried Powell, wheeling his horse around and raising his sword. But he was on the wrong side of Jaymes and could only attempt to shoulder his commander out of the way as he spurred his mount into a charge toward the Thorn Knight.