Shane Porteous - The Battle of Ebulon - A Shared Anthology

She shakes off the feeling, then steps down to a lower rock for a better view.

Her eyes widen. Fangols had joined the climb and they are quick, easily out climbing the scouts. These are very handy creatures for the Orcs to have. Taking a step back, she yells at Aldoren, telling him to have the sharpshooters aim at the small humps of the Fangol’s upper backs, then she feels an abrupt tug on her tail.

The Art of Defense teaches to use your opponent’s energy against them, something Nova has taught her students for thousands of moons. This proves to be very handy, indeed.

Looking behind her, she sees who has her tail—a Fangol. He has it between his teeth and sends a low growl her way. He flings his head back, hoping to throw Nova off the mountain, off the rocky cliff. She goes with the flow, flipping as he throws her, using his energy to arch herself more toward his back than over the side of the mountain. She unsheathes her claws and sinks them deep into the Fangol’s back. She uses his back to pull herself up as he groans with pain, and then shoves her back legs against its head. He slides backward, bumping into another Fangol, causing it to lose its footing. It falls to its death.

In the next moment, a dozen Fangols and a handful of scouts climb over the lip of the cliff. For an instant, they all freeze in place, and not of their own will. It is because of Nova’s wizardry. She has them locked in an energy grip, but she lets go the moment arrows come flying, hitting the invaders. They drop to the ground and Nova looks up, eying the Elf sharp shooters. They were fast.

The flap of heavy wings pulls her attention to Attor, who is just above her. He dives, shooting blasts of flames at the climbing enemies. Nova feels confident that she isn’t needed in this area anymore and turns her attention to her right, where the road meets the closest gate. The Orcs were advancing quickly, and at any moment they might break into the city.

Seeing that the dragon had secured the cliff and realizing that no Orc would be crazy enough to continue to climb with fire blazing down on them, she turns toward the large wall and leaps to the top. The sharpshooters firing into the battle raging at the gate are picking off the Orcs with incredible speed and accuracy, while easily avoiding their battling friends.

Nova sees Palin draw back his bow. He lets his arrow fly, then he gasps. His eyes are wide as he falls to the ground. A spear has plunged into his stomach, almost penetrating through to his back.

“No!” Mark shouts. Dropping his bow, he races over to help Palin. Nova jumps from the wall, onto the walkway, and quickly pads over to the brothers. Blood leaks through Palin’s fur covered armor as puddles form around his body. Palin’s eyes are full of tears.

“No, no, no!” screams Mark, shaking his head. “Don’t fade, Palin. We’ll get you to a healer!” Mark’s eyes are full of hope, but his voice carries doubt.

Palin’s eyes dart back and forth, but no words leave his lips no matter how hard he tries. His hands grasp at the heavy spear stuck in his stomach. He pulls on it, doing his best to stop the pain.

“Keep it there, Palin,” whispers his brother. He starts to lift Palin, but Nova places her thick tail between them. Mark looks at her with confused eyes.

“Let him pull the spear out.”

Worry strikes Mark’s face. “That will surely kill him. And even if I allow it, the spear is too heavy.”

“Then help him lift it.”

Just as Mark goes to speak again, Nova places her tail on his shoulder. In an instant, Mark relaxes as understanding fills him. A tear falls from his cheek. There is no healing for his brother, not by any healer, not by any sage. The best he can do for Palin is to end it quickly by pulling out the spear.

“I love you, brother.” Mark run his fingers through his brother’s hair as Palin’s eyes continue to dart around, clearly in shock from the trauma and pain he is experiencing. Overcome by grief, Mark wails as he holds Palin’s head in his arms. He kisses his brother’s forehead. Then he stands up. In one quick motion, he lifts the spear out of Palin’s body. A cry of pain drifts from Palin’s mouth as his chest convulses. His eyes start to drift as a dull haze begins to settle over them. Mark drops to the ground on his hands and knees, next to his brother, weeping. Blood is everywhere.

But something happens. An unexplainable light radiates from the sky above. It is so bright that it distracts Mark from his dying brother. He looks up, seeing luminescent light pouring down from the heavens. It is saturating the battle and everyone within it. The light begins to move like a vast whirlpool, funneling downward. Mark is shocked when his eyes follow the funnel to the glowing snow leopard leaning over his dying brother with her eyes closed. She seems to be drawing light down from the skies into her head and through her body, where it is exuding through her paws that are laid on his dying brother. Palin begins to glow, and to Mark’s utter amazement, his brother’s stomach wound vanishes right before his very eyes! How is it possible? Then Mark notices that all of the fighting around him has ceased. Many of the participants are gazing at the heavens and many are staring at Nova and witnessing the scene of a grief stricken warrior obviously trying to save his dying brother, who is now glowing.

Nova opens her eyes and says, “Take your brother away from here. His life will now be changed forever, but he must rest for many moons.”

“How did you—”

Nova holds her tail up and says, “Prana.” Then she stands, lifting her head high, and jumps to the courtyard below. She searches for the gate. Those who had gazed at the sky and witnessed all that had just occurred only moments ago are fighting again. She roars loudly. This battle is far from over.

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The portal of woven kir let me pass, tearing like cobwebs across my arm held before my face. Fresh snow on paving stones crunched under my boot. And the moment my ears reached this new world, this place that had begged for help, the crashing and shouting of battle filled them.

I stood in a small square, at the foot of a snow-covered statue of a knight on a rearing horse, within sight of city walls and a barred gate. The battlements stood above the timber-and-shingle houses, full of men fighting and surging back and forth.

A shadow fell across me; I turned and saw a riveted brigantine over a mail shirt. Shoulders wrapped in bear fur. Above that, a scowling, scarred man in a battered helmet.

“Who else comes?” he demanded, glaring at the green cloud of kir I’d stepped through. It faded now, shedding tiny stars. “Who else! King Yadi begged for aid and you —” The knight gestured at me, half shrugging. “Who are you?”

I gripped the strap of my medicine bag, across my chest, in both hands. That steadied me. “I’m Kate Bockmann.” I straightened as much as I could, but I still didn’t reach his shoulder; he was a huge man. “Saint Qadeem heard your call for help and sent me.”

A second knight, striding across the square from a formation of some hundred, looked puzzled by me, but not so angry. “Vess, what do we have?”

“We have a girl,” Vess answered, stepping aside and presenting me with a sweep of his arm. “Fifty thousand Orcs at the gate and they send us a fucking handmaid. One with — what the hell are those?” He pointed at my Blessing ridges, which parted my blonde hair in two lines across the top of my head.