The Paladin Chronicles Book bundle 1-4 by Neil Port - HTML preview

"Why didn't the Huns keep on chasing us?"

"Aléxandros suddenly arrived and attacked them from behind. They were totally routed. And the King didn't stop there. He chased them. They set a trap for him but he sent half his men circling around behind and caught them again, really badly. Every time he faces them, he wins. Since then, what's left of them are on the run. "

"I don't know how he does that," Hakeem said admiringly. "He should lose to them with all that infantry he has. Where is this place?"

"Not too far from where you got hit. Only a small number of the original owners are still alive and have returned to live amongst us. Most were killed by the Hun. We have plenty of supplies, so we are popular neighbours."

* * *

"Hakeem, you shouldn't be cutting wood, you are not ready," she scolded.

Hakeem was bathed in sweat. The pain in his chest was a torment.

"I am mostly healed, now." He smiled, leaning against the shed as a wave of dizziness came over him. "You will need the wood for the winter. It makes me feel better to be helping."

Then he saw the man they had brought to meet him. "Persos!" he cried, and tried to move too quickly.

Persos went running to Hakeem's side to hold him up and help him to a seat. Lysandra picked up the axe and hid it in her shed.

"If you don't behave, I will tell Andromede. Or worse, I will fetch Dafina!"

Lysandra smiled as she imagined the little girl telling Hakeem off, and she would too! Hakeem was her favourite patient.

When she had time after helping her mother and looking after her new baby sister she liked to come and tell him her stories. She had lots of stories about the animals of the forest and a whole lot of new stories about a wise and loving queen of her people called Mnemosyne.

She said when she was old enough, she would visit Mnemosyne's grave to thank her for sending Hakeem to help them. She would tell her stories and sing to her and plant flowers near her grave.

"I thought you were dead, Persos," Hakeem said gruffly. "How many did you manage to save?"

Persos's face darkened. "I was only left with a hundred and fifty of ours and a hundred of the Greeks still able to sit a horse and that was only thanks to Aléxandros who chose that moment to attack. But between the Makedónes and the Hun we were on the run most of the time.

"When we heard you hadn't returned, the men all wanted to come back and search for you but I thought it was safer for one man alone. I am mostly Greek so I can pass as a local. If you still lived, I knew the people who would be hiding you."

"Thank you. What happened in Anatolē?"

"That wife of yours did so much better without you," he laughed. "Not long after the Hun arrived Elena got captured with a few of her women. Next minute we had another fifty thousand Hun on our side. I will tell you the full story later. It is a good tale and worth telling properly. How many are here with you?"

"Too few. There are still a few invalids like me. The rest are going to stay and become Makedónes, like Idra here." He exchanged a smile with Despoina who blushed. Idra took her hand and gave a proud smile. "There were fifty others that I sent away early under the command of Herodotos."

"Perhaps he might turn up later," Persos suggested.

"If you haven't heard from him by now, he didn't make it." Hakeem paused, saddened. "He was a fine soldier, one of the best. Are they still looking for me?"

"All over," Persos confirmed. "Aléxandros seems to be very anxious to make your acquaintance. You need to get to Elgard as soon as you are able to travel. The Hun will attack there in the spring."

* * *

I'm having one of those dreams again, Jacinta realised.

She was in a conical-shaped tent held up by several great wooden poles. It was lined inside by wool and animal hides. A small fire burned in the centre.

"We call it a mya," a voice in her mind said.

She was sharing a 'mya' (the Siberian version of a tepee) with a wizened old man.

She had a sense of two others present, but they were more like shadows.

The old man was dressed in a thick leather smock, the fur turned inwards with a hood pushed back and similar pants and boots. He had greying hair and dark almond eyes. His skin was dark and leathery but red and shiny on the cheeks from the subzero conditions. It made him look like he had a permanent smile. He probably did.

"I am of the N'enyts people; we are reindeer herders," the voice echoed in her mind. "I have many names as is the habit with my people but you can call me Kako Vesako (Old Man Kako); most everyone else does."

"You are a samān!" Jacinta said, projecting her thoughts.

"Our word is tádyebya," Old Man Kako said. " And I am, as are you, and as are the two others I was in contact with when you came to me. You cannot speak our language which makes it difficult, so I am helping."

He had two large dogs on either side of him. They were without any doubt the most gorgeous and friendly looking dogs Jacinta had ever seen. They had dark eyes, a dark nose and fluffy white fur. They looked alert and happy.

I would love to get me one of those!

"These are our laika, which means 'barkers' in our tongue. Laika herd our reindeer and sometimes drag sleds but our reindeer are much bigger than you are used to, so they are better for sleds. I would give you one like these dogs if you ever come here. They are usually black and white but I have been breeding these pure white ones."

Jacinta got a definite sense that wherever he lived was a long way away and she was unlikely to visit.

"We call this place 'Taiga' which means forest. It is where we come for winter. In the summer we will travel to 'Yamal'. In our tongue it means the end of the world."

Yep, he lived a long way away.

"Everyone needs a hobby, mine is my dogs."

Jacinta thought about that ... no, she didn't have a hobby.

"Why did you call me here, Šamán Kako?"

"Little ṧamánka, I didn't call you, you sought me out. In fact, I was communing with two others and you interrupted, which is something you should not be able to do."

"Oh! I'm so sorry. I will go ... but I'm not too sure how I came ... or how to leave."

"Peace be, little sister. You are welcome. We know of the Prophecy and know who you are. We just never expected you to be a ṧamánka as well. And you have taught yourself. We are glad you came to us. Without a teacher, one with your powers can venture into things that are dangerous, without knowing."

That was certainly true so far.

"Though it was a long time ago that our people fought him, your enemy is the great enemy of all of us."

He was dressed in furs and the wind outside the tent was howling. Why wasn't she cold?

As soon as she had the thought, the cold hit her like a blow.

"That is amazing, young one. It is as if you really are here with me."

Yes, I am amazing ... look what I just managed to do to myself!

He passed her some of his furs.

She couldn't pick them up. She wasn't there.

Great! Just Great!

"Oh well, we won't have much time then. You are not going to return to me so soon. I will tell you what I can. You have a strange healing magic not unlike our own but far stronger."

The paladin magic.

"Something has stretched you. It made you one of us."

It was when she strained so hard to rescue Pericles after he had died. She went so far to find him she got lost. Without Sophie she would not have found her way back.

"Then you absorbed great power, the protection spell saved you and your paladin magic allowed you to store it deep inside you, mostly separate."

So that's why she wasn't killed when she was struck by the daimôn energy. Hold on, he said the daimôn substance was stored 'mostly separate' to the rest of her, what did that mean?

"Your father still lives. Danger surrounds him everywhere. He will make for Elgard, so be ready."

Her heart leapt at the news, but her mother would be so smug.

"The elves will face daimôns and with such a flood of enemy it seems impossible that any can survive. If you and your mother go to Elgard, the seeress has seen your deaths."

Jacinta had guessed that already.

"You need to be prepared to walk a dark path, one that has never been trodden by a human before. You need to be more than any other that has gone before you. You need to be prepared to give your life, your love and your very soul if you are to succeed in your task."

"What's that?"

"Stopping Æloðulf of course."

If Ba'al couldn't defeat him, how could someone like me? According to the Prophecy, he couldn't be defeated or killed, isn't that what it said?

"That is true, but you must try to find a way."

"Not if I am dead. Is what Sophie saw false?"

"No, what she saw is true."

"Perhaps I shouldn't go to Elgard."

"I don’t think they can win without you."

"You know, you're not making this any easier."

"In truth, there seems to be no answer."

Well, you have been a great help so far.

"Perhaps Æloðulf will fall in love with me and see the error of his ways."

At that, the old man began to laugh.

"A being that has been unmentionably evil for millennia?"

I'm glad you find my little problem entertaining.

"Besides he already wants to kill you and your father and make your mother his queen."

Not a good way to start a relationship.

Her body was turning to ice! The link shattered.

She woke up shivering.

Her mother would be still awake, now all she had to do was to convince her to allow her go to Elgard. She would tell her about Hakeem first, and tell her how oh so smart she was. Maybe that would put her in a good mood.

* * *

"Mother!" Jacinta said. "You will be facing daimôns. I am the only one who has ever defeated a daimôn. You need me there."

It was only one of many such arguments. Elena tried to keep her expression blank but Jacinta could see the fear in her eyes.

"We will have to find another way. Daniel ..."

"Daniel can't do it!" Jacinta folded her arms and scowled at her mother.

Elena sighed. "Under no circumstances will you go. Please don't ask again We will just have to find another way."

"Oh, Mother," Jacinta said, exasperated.

"All right, then," she added crossly. "If I have to, I will show you."

She blew the lamp out and took her glove off. Her hand glowed faintly as tiny sparkles moved across it. She clasped the metal point of the javelin she had brought and counted to ten in Greek. "... efta ... okto ... enaya ... thehka"

Then she passed the javelin to her mother with a small smile.

"What do you think?"

There was a darkness with faint sparkles moving over it on the tip of the javelin.

"Will this kill a daimôn?" Elena looked at it, her eyes shining in the dark.

"It will." She didn't say how she knew. "Straight after I have done it, it will even kill a daimôn lord. Show them to Daniel; he will be able to confirm it. They lose power though. After a week you would probably need more than one to kill an ordinary daimôn. I doubt they will be very reliable after three weeks."

"I see," Elena said, studying it. "How many times can you do this?"

"A dozen times in a row, easily," Jacinta replied. "Then I have to rest. I haven't tried to see how many I can do in a day, at least twenty I'm guessing but I think more."

"Any sign of you losing this ability?"

Jacinta shook her head.

"And when, daughter of mine, did you intend to tell us about this?"

"I hoped you would let me come to Elgard," Jacinta admitted. "I still think—"

Elena leaned forward and put her hand firmly over Jacinta's mouth.

* * *

Hakeem, Makedonía

Greece is defined by its mountains.

Its rugged terrain carries out into the sea and causes the profusion of her wonderful islands. The shortage of arable land, the difficulty of land travel, and population pressures all led Greece to become the greatest maritime nation of its time.

Hakeem and Persos planned to travel from Aigai to Athēnai. There they had contacts that could smuggle them out. Despite their protests, Samson insisted on accompanying them for the initial part of their journey. Hakeem hoped that Samson's new wife would not let him go, but Lysandra had actually insisted, saying something silly about Hakeem not being fully recovered.

Because of the mountains in the way, the route was going to be round-about. First, they would head east to join the coastal pass then south into the plains of Thessalia (Thessalonia, called ‘Petthalia’ in the local dialect). The plains of Thessalia are famous for its horses and cavalry. Raising herds of horses needs plains, not mountains. In the south of Thessalia they would travel through one of the mountain-passes that lead to Thermopylae, the gateway to the south.

Narrow passes between borders meant border forts, soldiers and inspections.

* * *

Troia, night time

"Jacinta?"

Jacinta jerked up in bed and looked around guiltily. The small fire had burnt down to embers and the lamp by her bed side was burning low. She had fallen asleep trying to read a treatise on early Greek philosophers written by the long dead 'Lysanias of Troia'. Unlike the more modern philosophers, the philosophers just after the dark ages didn't seem to have much going for them, nor did Lysanias's tedious style of writing.

"Jacinta? Your guard said you were working late and your lamp was still on. Everyone else is asleep, can I come in?"

"Thaïs?" Jacinta swung her feet over the bed. "Of course."

Thaïs came in, wearing a simple shift, not warm enough. She was carrying a small lamp which cast deep shadows on her face. She looked thin and worn. Jacinta gestured to the bed beside her. Thaïs placed her lamp carefully and sat where Jacinta indicated so Jacinta could wrap her arms and blankets around her and tuck Thaïs's frozen feet under her legs.

"I can't sleep." Thaïs began to cry. "I knew it was possible to love a man. I just never knew it could be as strong as it was with Drakon."

It set Jacinta to crying too. Memories of Drakon flooded back to her. He loved her and he loved her girls, and yet he never said so.

"Without Drakon ..." Jacinta started to say, and then stopped.

She couldn't imagine what would have happened to her if it wasn't for Drakon.

"He was my best friend, my best friend ever," Thaïs said. "I never talked about it. I tend to joke a lot, I know. But after I was hurt so badly you and Seléne and the girls helped me so much. I will always love you for that, but it was Drakon in the end. I have been hurt by men at their very worst. Drakon showed me what men could be at their very best."

"Did you ever ..."

"No." Thaïs giggled. "The elves have different ideas. He said I was too young and he was very firm. You know what he was like." She smiled at her friend. "It really annoyed me, he was always annoying me, but it made me only love him even more. We did do other things, though."

"Lucky you didn't cut his balls off then," Jacinta reminded her.

They laughed at the memory.

"And now he is gone ..." Thaïs collapsed into helpless sobbing.

Jacinta took her head in her lap and waited with her for a long time, patting her back, smoothing her hair. "Do you need more time off from training?"

"No, training is the only thing that stops me thinking about him. Getting tired is the only thing that helps me sleep. An enemy won't leave me alone just because I am feeling sorry for myself."

"If you want to return to training you will have to eat properly whether you wish to or not; I'll be watching you."

"Yes, Mother." Thaïs gave Jacinta a ghost of her old smile.

She stood up. "Thank you, Jacinta, thank you for everything."

Thaïs kissed her forehead and with a little smile, she was gone. Jacinta wished she could have said more, but she could find no clever words this time. All she could do was share her love and grief.

Maybe it was enough.

* * *

Makedonía

Perdikkas, the Makedóne dimoiria (corporal), looked at the collection of huts and awnings in dismay.

He had just been appointed the region's tax collector, but after the raid by the Hun there was little enough tax to be had. He also had orders to search for any remaining Shantawi and see that they were conveyed with all speed to Pella.

Army command thought that the Shantawi Warlord might still be at large. It seemed unlikely. Any number of witnesses had seen him shot just before the Hun had overwhelmed his position. His body was more likely buried in the mass grave with the rest of his men who fell defending, of all things, Makedónes.

Even if Hakeem lived, he was the last person Perdikkas and his small phalanx wished to find. If only half of what they said about him was true, he would likely kill them all, just by himself.

But Perdikkas had his orders, and he had his new command. He would do a thorough inspection of these buildings he saw in front of him, no matter how distasteful the task was.

If he was uncertain what this place was, its position so far out of town should have told him and if that didn't, the stench would have.

Well, at least he had grown up on a farm so a tannery wouldn't be so bad for him.

He grinned a little. His eight-man squad were all city boys. It would be fun to show them just how tough their new dimoiria was. He started to march purposely forward. His eight soldiers followed reluctantly behind.

The only man he could see was a great giant of a man with a broad, silly, grin on his face, who waved to them in a jovial fashion. He was hanging onto an overhead bar and was standing in a great barrel, enthusiastically engaged in stomping up and down. The brown mixture inside had fouled him all the way to his knees.

Inside one of nearby sheds was the sound of thumping and slapping.

Perdikkas called out politely, "My Lord Aléxandros sends you his greetings!"

"Who?" the man yelled back cheerfully. "Do I know him?"

Never mind, Perdikkas thought. It was only slaves or simpletons who worked in these atrocious places. No prize for guessing which group this great oaf belonged to.

Perdikkas was almost knocked over by the dreadful smell.

"We have come here to collect taxes and look for fugitives," Perdikkas announced.

Then there was a puff of wind and, impossibly, the smell got even worse. Perdikkas tried to hold his breath.

"By the Gods, man, what is that stink? It smells like chicken shit," he said, gasping.

"Oh no, Lord." The man climbed out of the tub and walked over to a table and motioned him closer. "We use pigeon shit. It hardly smells at all! The diet of the pigeon you see. Let me show you what we do here, Lord."

He seemed delighted to have an audience.

It didn't bother the man that his legs were covered with shit. It was smeared all over his clothes and even his face. His hair stood out all over. Perdikkas jerked his head to his men and, holding his nose, followed.

"I'm glad you came, we don't get many visitors," he confided. "We are a little out of town, you know."

"I'm sure that's all it is."

"Where was I now?" The giant had found his way to a work table. "Oh, yes, when we get a hide it is often covered with gore so we have to scrape and pound it to get the remaining fat and loose skin off." He passed an oily piece of mouldy hide for Perdikkas and his men to inspect. "This piece wasn't fresh. We are letting it rot and then we will boil it up for glue."

Perdikkas and his men were looking for somewhere to wipe their hands.

The big oaf lifted up a heavy jar from the floor onto the bench.

"After scrapping the hide, we need to use this to clean it; go on smell it!" he invited. One of the soldiers bent forward to sniff at the jar experimentally and his head snapped back as if he had been stung. The man ran as fast as he could to a tree and soon the sound of dry retching could be heard.

The giant didn't notice; maybe he was used to visitors vomiting.

"Good, eh? Quite an ammonia kick to it." The man sniffed at the jar of ammonia with a beatific smile on his face. "Concentrated piss, well cured. This’ll clean anything," he added enthusiastically.

"We don't use any old piss. No! We collect it from the people of the village. You must have seen the barrels we leave out for them. Then we concentrate and ferment it. A bit like fine beer, really."

He smiled with pride, his eyes a little distant. "We sell it back to them for cleaning."

He chuckled a little. "We get their piss for free and then we sell it back to them."

Perdikkas didn't see any resemblance between old piss and fine beer, but three more of his men had developed chalky complexions.

"Soaking hides in piss gets all the hair off. Or, of course, you can just leave the hides to rot a bit." He gestured to some nearby racks from which an appalling smell was wafting over. It smelt like something had been dead there for quite some time.

"But then you have to use salt. I think piss is better," the man concluded with a satisfied smile.

Another of the soldiers started to drift slowly away ... and then broke into a run.

"After the piss, we use shit for softening the hide before tanning." The man was back explaining. "Not cheap chicken shit. Pigeon shit, like I said. We collect it from under where they roost in town; you need to know the best places to collect it."

He tapped his temple and winked conspiratorially as if proud of his ability to sneak up on unsuspecting pigeon shit.

Then he reached into a jar and he grabbed a handful of moist brown liquid and held it up to two of the soldiers to smell.

"Now dog shit like this. It really smells! We only use it when we have to."

He immediately lost two more of his audience. Perdikkas was starting to feel nauseated so he decided to bring this to a close. "Who owns this place?"

"Do you mean Agippos? Do you want to talk to him? We also make glue and soap; I can tell you about that too if you like."

"Call Agippos! I have to collect taxes for the king and I don't care how you make glue."

"And soap," the man said. "That's what I was trying to tell you. He's not here. I can show you how we make glue and soap while you are waiting. We make it out the back though, because it really stinks. It's not that fancy soap you can get; we use rotting meat.

"He keeps it out the back because it stinks!" Perdikkas repeated incredulous, turning to his men, but there were only two of them left ... and they didn't look good.

He felt about to vomit. He was sweating trying to hold it back and saliva kept flooding into his mouth. So much for the tough farm boy with the iron stomach.

"What about the taxes, then? Where is Agippos and when will he be back?"

"He doesn't tell me these things, but I can give you some soap."

"I don't want your damn soap!" Perdikkas said, feeling wave after wave of nausea wash over him.

He staggered a few steps to vomit on the grass.

There was a horrid taste in his mouth; the inside of his nose was burning with acid fluid that dripped from his nose. He was on his knees studying the yellow bile he had vomited as his sides heaved and heaved against an empty stomach when a voice sounded close by

"The meat doesn't have to be fresh at all."

The clown had followed him over!

"You wouldn't believe it, Lord, but many people don't realise that the oil from maggots gives the soap a nice soft feel. You have to take the heads off, of course."

"I'll come back," Perdikkas whispered huskily as he leapt up and ran, weaving an unsteady course to his horse. He called to his men who staggered after him, moving as if they had lost a battle.

"Wait!" Hakeem called out as they retreated. "Don't go! I wanted to tell you about the tanning, and you haven't searched for your fugitives yet."

The soldiers didn't even look back.

Hakeem went to the shed where the other pair had been brought to their knees from laughing.

"I don't think I could have kept a straight face much longer," Hakeem admitted as he was overcome.

"Did you see their expressions when you brought out the fresh dog shit?" Persos asked after a few moments, struggling to catch his breath.

It set them laughing again

"That dimoiria (corporal) was really tough but you finally got him with the story of the maggots in the soap," Samson said, tears rolling down his cheeks. "Would they do such a thing, do you think?"

"I don't think so."

It set Hakeem laughing again

This was so much more fun (and safer) than killing Aléxandros's soldiers, but it still hurt so much when he laughed.

* * *

Alba, Eirene and Anastasia would escort Meliboea to the Black Sea region. The rest of the girls had gathered to say goodbye, including Jacinta (who was strictly confined to Troia by her mother's orders).

At the current times of military alert, soldiers seemed to spend a great deal of time travelling back and forwards, so there was no problem getting a full military escort for the girls all the way to the Black Sea region and then another for Alba, Eirene and Anastasia to take them back to Troia.

Eirene had found out that she and all the girls were all registered at the chapter-house in the elvish Black Sea Region, where Jacinta had been initiated. They hadn't known that before.

Meliboea hugged Jacinta, tears in her eyes. "I just don't know what would have happened to us, any of us, without you, Jacinta."

"It was our God. He has a task for you: maybe more than one." Jacinta hugged her and kissed her. "You have to have faith. You girls came into my life at a time I needed you too, don't forget. You have given me a lot of happiness. They saw the best way to learn is to teach. and teaching you gave me a special sort of training I couldn't get any other way.

"I think I will need all you have given me to carry me through in the times ahead."

"I always thought we would be helping you in other ways, though." Meliboea laughed a little. "You know, fighting evil on some sort of grand scale."

"I don't think that was ever your path, Mel. You were always going to be one of the religious monks and a healer. That doesn't mean that what you do won't be important." She smiled a little sadly, looking around at the others. "Some of the others will be building and preserving the female chapter of Shayvists. It is important to me but it is something I won't be able to do for much longer."

Timo had said it from the first, the female chapter of Shayvists would outlive her.

"I will be walking a very dark road. It will likely kill me or worse. I don't want any of you following me. I love you all too much for that."

She wondered what the other girls thought of that, hearing her say it. She took a deep breath and tried to cast these gloomy thoughts aside. After all, it was Meliboea's goodbye, not hers! It was just that Meliboea was the first to leave their little family.

Jacinta would be the second, she knew, and it would be soon.

To distract them, she pushed Meliboea back a little and looked her up and down. "And if I don't hear something more positive about you and Brother Shafer, I'll thoroughly disown you, Mel."

Meliboea laughed. "I don't know about that. He is rather nice, though."

* * *

Coastal Route from Makedonía to Thessalia,

South east of Mount Olympos

Two dirty, shabby peasants sat on a dilapidated wagon drawn by a sorry-looking horse.

There were waiting in a queue at the border station. They were on the coastal route south to Thessalia, a journey past scenes of breathtaking natural beauty. In the distance, to the west, there was the snow-covered peaks of Mount Olympias dominating all around.

In the foreground could be seen other craggy peaks and closer to them was rich vegetation, towering trees and countless springs. Nearby water fell from high above them down to exquisitely beautiful pools and streams.

They had passed the turnoff to Dion, one of the holiest sites in all of the Hellas, named after the God Zeus. It was at the feet of Mount Olympos where, if one were especially blessed, one could commune directly with the gods.

Soon the pass would turn west and inland and through the beautiful Vale of Tempi which was favoured by the God Apollōn and the Muses. It ran between Mount Olympos on their right and Mount Ossa and was the final leg of the main coastal route leading to and from the plains of Thessalia.

But the two ragged travellers and their old horse were not interested in a religious pilgrimage to Mount Olympus or the Vale of Tempi. Nor were they admiring the beauty or magnificence of the greatest mountain in Greece and its magnificent scenery. They weren't really drawing their coats around them from the cold, though a chill wind was indeed blowing down from the mountains. And it was not humility and their low station in life that made them avert their faces from the guards and other travellers.

They were looking with mounting alarm (without appearing to) at the number of soldiers.

It was too late to go back. A long queue had formed behind them. And the soldiers were looking very alert and staring very closely at every face that passed them.

"Hop off your wagon!"

The pair obeyed.

"Straighten up!"

"They are big enough ... you two, join that line over there."

"But we are looking for three men."

"It doesn't matter, send them to that line."

As Hakeem and Persos shuffled reluctantly to the side, leading their scrawny-looking horse, Persos fingered the blade hidden under his rags. Hakeem shook his head slightly.

Persos looked longingly at their cart. Hakeem shook his head very firmly.

Accessing their weapons hidden there would only get them killed, assuming of course that they weren't going to be killed anyway.

Then he recognised the man making his way towards them. He was at the head of a number of grim and well-armed men. He was examining the faces of all the travellers very carefully.

Hakeem hoped he had a sense of humour.

"Dimoiria Perdikkas!" he called out welcomingly as the man came closer.

He gave the corporal what he hoped was an engaging smile.

The look Perdikkas gave him back was the look of a man who he didn't see any humour at all in being made a laughing stock on his very first assignment.

 

 

Part 4 (of 4): The Last Elf Kingdom (its Final Days)

 

Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End

 

 

The fortress of Msndr, Kohestan

Vishtaspa waited alone, standing by the battlements of the fortress as he watched the darkness steal over the land. There was a storm coming.

'Kohestan' in the Aryan tongue meant 'the land of the mountains', the Hun called it 'Dagestan', which meant the same thing in their dialect.

He loved to stand here and loved to look over this land and its mountains. This land. His land.

That the Elf Queen had come to visit Vishtaspa in this forward outpost of Kohestan was remarkable, for he was not the Šâh (Shah) of Kohestan, though he might have been. His father and his grandfather had gone to their deaths cursing the elves because of that.

Elena had asked to meet with him privately before they joined the rest of his officers and men for the welcome dinner.

Bad news, then.

The humans and elves of the Transkaukasos would be facing two hundred and sixty thousand Hunnic warriors. What news could the Elf Queen possibly have that was worse than that?

As she was announced behind him, he spun around to bow to her. Elena was even more beautiful than he remembered her. She wore no helm but was dressed in silvery and deceptively delicate looking chainmail. Her short silky blond hair was decorated with subtle highlights and her green eyes seemed to shine in the half light.

Behind her was a slender red-haired elf-girl, a young woman he corrected himself, in a plain brown travelling cloak accompanied by two women bodyguards. They were Skythians from the Steppe, he noted with surprise, stocky women, with red hair too, but cropped short and curly, not silky like an elf's. They were heavily tattooed with gazelle totems on their right cheeks. The shorter one had a crimson scar running down her forehead.

A brilliant flash of lightning lit up the purple sky.

"You should not have come here, ladies. It is no longer safe."

"Safe, Vishtaspa?" Elena laughed. "It is too late for me to seek safety. I came myself, to give you warning."

Thunder sounded. The storm was coming closer.

"What warning? That I am in danger?" It was his turn to laugh.

"Daimôns will be coming. We had thought they would be coming by the Dariel but that is not to be. Sister Alyssa here has volunteered to come here to help."

"Can you fight daimôns?" Vishtaspa asked the slender elf in surprise.

"No, Lord, all I can do is run. I suggest if you see daimôns, you do the same. I am a Seeress."

"We can use her to send messages back and forward," Elena said. "This outpost will be one of the first to sight the army that is coming by the coastal road."

There was another flash and they paused, together, waiting for the thunder.

"When my daughter destroyed his daimôn, our great enemy was almost destroyed; almost, but not quite. His pupil Gansükh has trained twelve other šamáns to raise daimôns."

"Holy God of the mountain! Twelve daimôns!"

"Thirteen," Elena corrected. "Only two of them, Gansükh and his pupil Hasad, have daimôn lords. We asked you to make secret passages from this fortress and from Tarki and the others. Alyssa can give you warning. If you are to face daimôns, I suggest you use them."

"My cousin has ordered those passages closed."

"I see." Elena paused. "And those merchants I saw when I came in?"

"Last minute supplies kindly sent by my cousin; may Ahura Mazda the one uncreated God give him all that he so richly deserves."

"So the Hun will likely know your strength to the last man," Elena said, looked grim. "I hear your mother and sister and all your women have been taken to Darband for their 'safety'. You are not meant to survive this, are you?"

"No, we are not." Vishtaspa laughed without humour. "My much-beloved cousin, Šâh (Shah) Parviz, holds our women hostage. I would have sent them to the mountains."

"The mountain people would have helped," she agreed. "Treat them with respect and they are great neighbours. Try to conquer them and they will fight you to the last man."

"It will usually be your last man." He smiled. "They have a saying."

"I know it."

They said it together, "Free and equal like wolves." and laughed.

Having her here reminded him of the trip to Elgard with his uncle.

She had been a year older than him. They had both been lonely and unhappy, and had become friends. It was then that he had fallen in love with Elena, princess of the Eastern Elves, though he doubted she ever knew.

"We see you as the rightful ruler of your people," Elena said. "As do many others."

"I'm sure my cousin thought of that." Vishtaspa gave a bitter laugh. "Our role is to delay the enemy and kill as many of them as we can. We are not to retreat or surrender."

"Our people must know all that happens here, my Queen." Alyssa moved forward a bit.

"I will stay."

Elena and Alyssa exchanged a slow glance. Then they looked at the Skythian women who also nodded. The four women turned back to watch the lightning over the hills.

"Can the daimôns be fought?" Vishtaspa asked eventually.

"Above ground: water and cold weakens them and causes a drain on any who summon them. Iron in a javelin or better a ballistra causes them pain but not arrows. We have a few with the old magic, but even they cannot kill daimôns."

"Your daughter?"

"Jacinta won't be coming." Elena sounded grim.

"With so many daimôns, I can scarcely blame her."

"Jacinta?" Elena laughed. Her eyes shone fiercely in the dark. "I almost had to bind her with chains to make her to stay in Troia. In a way that is beyond our understanding her left hand retains the magic that destroyed the daimôn in the catacombs. It allows her to spell weapons. I will get some of her special javelins sent here. They remain potent for three weeks. How effective they will really be ... we don't know."

There was another flash of lightning.

"My Lady, I am glad you came. Your presence gives heart to me and my men. It says that we are not forgotten, not at least by you. Did you know my family blamed your grandfather for the loss of our kingdom?"

Vishtaspa's grandfather had been the Šâh (Shah) of Kohestan and his father had been next in line to the throne. The Persikόs conquered their southern neighbour, Azar Pāyegān, and when they came for Kohestan his father's youngest brother rode with them.

His father and grandfather were betrayed and cut off. They had sent an appeal to the elves to rescue them.

When all his family was killed Vishtaspa, at nine, had been allowed to keep his life and some lands. In exchange, those loyal to his family and their elvish allies stopped their fighting.

His uncle had become both the Shah and his guardian. Now it was Vishtaspa's cousin Parviz who was the Shah. As Vishtaspa grew up, he often wondered how long it would be before his uncle or his cousin decided to deal with him once and for all.

In the end they wouldn’t need to, not by themselves.

Elena sighed. "We sent all we could."

The thunder followed, with the coming storm.

"What? You elves once ruled all of this land, why couldn't you send more?"

"It should have been obvious, Vishtaspa. We elves withdrew from Azar Pāyegān. Then we withdrew from Kohestan. Did you not wonder at that? Around Elgard we discouraged humans living amongst us. Did you think it was only our arrogance?"

"We have kept a secret, but it will not be a secret for much longer. When your grandfather called, we sent more than wisdom would have advised and many we sent were not professional soldiers."

He gasped in shock. They had sent less than fifty thousand warriors!

"Vishtaspa, we elves used to have great magic and we used to live long lives. Now we scarcely live longer than humans, and it seems to be getting shorter and shorter with each generation. I cannot have children. My mother had one child. My stepmother had two and one was killed. My father had two wives but only two children.

" Now do you know?"

There was another flash of lighting up the skies and mountains.

"For a while we had hope …" She stopped and her voice caught before she could continue. "It is too late for us, Vishtaspa. We elves are dying."

Vishtaspa moved closer and put his arm around her; she did not pull away.

"This will be the end of us. Even if we win, there will not be enough left."

They stood for a long time, looking out as the thunder sounded.

"So you will not come to help?"

"No, Vishtaspa. If you called, we would wish to, but I doubt we will be able. We are facing an enemy beyond counting, backed with a power unimaginable.

"The Prophecy said I will be the last of my line. I think that is what it means. It will fall to my sister to salvage what she can from whatever is left, but I think this will be the last elf kingdom."

* * *

Road to Pella

Hakeem and Persos threw themselves from their horses while the stable hands rushed to get fresh mounts. The Thessalonikeis hipparchos (Thessalonian cavalry captain) and his three score men were polite, but firm. Their orders were to convey Hakeem (and his companion) with all speed to Pella, and that is what they were going to do.

Hakeem hoped it wasn't because Aléxandros was in a hurry to hang them.

The captain couldn't enlighten him, that part wasn't included in his orders.

He supplied Hakeem and Persos with fine travel clothes and leather armour. Perhaps they had to look their best at the hanging.

They reached Pella in a tenth of the time it had taken on the journey south. It was night when they arrived and they were hurried onto one of the four war ships waiting in the harbour. It cast off as soon as they were aboard.

They were shown into what looked like a royal suite an almost impossibly handsome man stood up. He had golden hair, a rugged tanned face and a strong muscular body. He moved with the balance and grace of a great warrior as he moved across to shake their hands firmly in an iron grip. He radiated charisma and magnetism. He was the sort of man who could make women feel dizzy just by smiling at them.

"My Lord, Hakeem!" he said. "My name is Hephaestion. I am the Lokhagos of Aléxandros's personal guard. I apologise that my master could not meet you in person, but they had found some more Hun. He hadn't had the chance to meet this lot yet so he and his men are off playing host to them across a battle field.

"Besides, this matter is most urgent, I'm sure you must realise why I am ordered to convey you to Phasis without delay."

"Why?"

"Why? Haven't you heard? Jizhu is bringing a great army to join his father's. Soon they will attack the land of the Elves. I lead a Lokhos of our own companion cavalry. I hope you will allow us to join you in the defence of Elgard. We all speak fluent Attic."

He paused, looking a little apologetic. "We thought it perhaps best not to emphasise that we are Makedónes after our recent, well, misunderstanding with the rest of you."

* * *

Hakeem's party, Surami Pass, Likhi Mountains.

The Elf lands

The road was heavy with mud so over the low mountain pass they had to take it slow, leading the horses in the steeper parts.

Hephaestion gave up trying to exchange pleasantries with the big man as they trudged along. Hakeem's face was a mask of worry and every sign of the warming weather spurned him on. The thaw was established. When it reached the high pass it would bring the Huns.

Behind them came Aléxandros's own elite cavalry, the finest men from the finest army in all the Hellas and not one man amongst them doubted the desperate fight they would be joining.

* * *

Jizhu, the army of the East, crossing of the Ra

"I don't care how long it takes," Jizhu shouted at his noyans. "I don't care if it looks just like snow. We have thirteen tumen to get across. We will cross in more than ten places and spaced well apart. At each crossing there will be no more than a minghan (one thousand) on the river at any one time. If you feel ice under foot, you will lead the horses, not ride them. Am I understood?"

They quickly bowed and hurried to leave.

"Why am I surrounded by fools?" Jizhu asked Sataq, his second in command and childhood friend.

"They are brave," Sataq said simply.

Ra (the Volga) was a massive river. Jizhu had an image of his warriors galloping out in a thunder of hoofs, yelling at the top of their voices as the ice cracked beneath them.

"After we cross, I will travel so I can confer with my father. Can you lead my men for a time and keep my brave Hun from galloping to the bottom of the Ra?"

"My Prince, I will try," Sataq said, laughing. "But you know Huns, they must race their horses."

"When I return," Jizhu continued, "bring our noyans to a meeting. But remember, I wish to find a few of my men still left alive to fight my father's enemies."

* * *

The lower fortress, the Akropolis of Elgard

For a moment Elena couldn't speak, all she could do was cling to Hakeem and sob.

Hakeem held her in his arms as he introduced Hephaestion and the others to the small reception committee. They would meet with the senior commanders once they had a chance to settle in and refresh themselves.

"Seléne, you're pregnant again," Hakeem was able to disentangle himself long enough to hug his sister-in-law and then push her at arm's length and admire her. "Are you trying to boost the elf population single handed?"

He was rewarded by her blushing prettily.

"It is true what I heard." Hephaestion bowed, smiling, as he kissed Seléne and Elena's hands. "Elf women are more beautiful than any other women in the world."

Hakeem observed the hypnotic effect he had on the two women.

Little did they suspect ...

* * *

Mòdú Chányú's ordu, East of the Ra (Volga) River

Gansükh had been summoned to the Chányú's Ordu.

It was huge: fully 30 feet at the base, made of white felt and coated in a paste of ground bones to make it gleam white. It rode on a huge wagon, pulled by twenty oxen. Outside, ten hard-faced Turk warriors, with weapons drawn, gave him unfriendly looks as they checked him for weapons.

He pushed his way past the entrance flap.

There were rich Chin tapestries and gorgeous silks hanging inside. As well as this, exquisite embroidery and cloth had been expertly stitched on the walls with scenes of the Steppe come to life.

There was a stone fire place in the middle and the fire hole at the top was open but though it was still cold this early in the thaw they had left barely enough fire to see by.

In the centre sat the Chányú on an ornately carved chair. He was wearing a bright blue silk-brocade deel (tunic), decorated with silver and gold thread and belted with a thick gold silk sash. His hat was made of heavily embroidered silk and was fur lined.

Chányú means 'wolf' which is the most sacred totem of the Hun, favoured by the great sky father, Tengri himself. Mòdú Chányú's full title was 'Tengri Gutu Chányú'. It meant 'wolf, the son of (Tengri) the god of the endless sky'.

His noyons (senior commanders) sat on cushions in a semi-circle on either side of him; most were in furs and leathers, their legs crossed in front because their high boots wouldn't let them sit on the ground in any other way. His son Jizhu sat at his right hand also wearing an exquisite silk 'deel'.

When Gansükh entered, all talk ceased and every face turned and watched him without expression. He was offered no seat. He stepped up in front of the Chányú and kneeled, touching his forehead on the floor and waited.

And waited.

And waited.

"You may rise," the Chányú said eventually.

"How may I serve the great Chányú?" He willed his face, his voice, to show no emotion.

If he showed fear, he would lose whatever face he had left. If he showed anger, it would get him killed. A drop of perspiration ran down his face.

"I will be leading the direct assault on the elves myself. My son will go by the coast," the Chányú informed him. "Perhaps he will allow you and your men to follow him, perhaps not."

"But Great Kahn, the elves have powerful magic. My men and I should go with you, we will be needed."

"Gansükh, I have other šamáns, and they tell me the truth. The pointy-eared freaks with faces like ghosts are losing their power, and so is your Æloðulf," he sneered. "You wish me to make Æloðulf the master of the elves. Why should I? "

Gansükh strained to show no reaction. "My Lord, you will find the elves have magic. All my master asks is that you don't sack Elgard. The elves will offer a fabulous ransom for the city. Take that. My master and I will control the elves for you after that."

His eyes darted around to the row of expressionless faces.

"Gansükh," Mòdú Chányú smiled coldly at him. "You forgot that it is I who gives you all the luxuries you used to enjoy and that I can take them away."

He held out an open hand as if passing something to Gansükh. Then he clenched his fist.

"So, I reminded you ...

"You are to put your loyalty to me before anyone else. Must I remind you of that too?" His smile was wintry. "I conquer by the will of the great Sky God Tengri. It is he that makes my warriors like wolves and my enemies like sheep. He will not tolerate the dark Gods you worship."

He laughed and all the others laughed with him, all except Jizhu who looked thoughtful.

"It is I who will go through the great mountains. Do you think if anyone is to defeat the mighty elves, I will let it be you? Æloðulf is no longer welcome in my camp. Take your men to my son's camp and he might find a use for you, but you have my warning. Test my patience again and you will find your powers will not save you."

Gansükh bowed his obedience and left.

Æloðulf's weakness had come at a disastrous time.

* * *

The upper fortress, Elgard

It was his third day back when Hakeem told them. He didn't expect them to like it...

"How dare you!" Elena exploded in rage. "This is not some barbarian kingdom. This is the elf lands and I am their Queen!"

"And I am their Princess!" Seléne angrily drew herself up. "Tell him, Father. Tell him, Pericles."

Pericles and Cyron looked uncomfortable.

Katarina, the only other woman in the room, didn't say anything but her jaw was clamped with anger and her eyes smouldered with fire.

"Seléne, you will do your duty and you will follow orders," Hakeem told her.

He turned to Elena. "Your father is the senior royal. He appointed me as Warlord of the elves. In the matter of war, it is I whom am second in command, not you."

"But ..."

"Am I the Warlord or am I not? Or was it merely an empty title in your eyes?" He stared her down. She flushed, her eyes teared and her head bowed. She looked to her father but he wouldn't meet her gaze.

"If you try to order women to leave their men, you will face a rebellion," Elena warned him.

"That is why the order will come from you and Seléne."

Elena flushed crimson. "In defence of our homes, we always fight alongside our men."

"This is not about the defence of your homes," Hakeem said grimly. "This is the survival of your race. Men are dispensable enough. Women are not. You will both do as you are told."

"You can't send me away," Seléne said, tears came to her eyes.

She hated how weak it sounded. She opened her mouth to say more and shook her head in distress; no words would come.

"Seléne, I never expected you to be so selfish."

It was as if he had slapped her. She looked at Hakeem, raw hurt in her eyes. Her tears started to fall freely.

"You are pregnant. You have an unborn child in your womb. By the Gods! There are few enough of you elves as it is. They will be releasing daimôns against us, do you expect us to fight them and worry about you as well? You are the mother of twins, have you thought about that? How will they cope without a parent, and will you leave your people to be led by your motherless children if Elgard falls? For the sake of all the Gods, woman! You have a duty. You must stay alive. You will leave Elgard before the fighting reaches the city."

Seléne turned to Pericles. "Not a word in my defence, husband?"

Pericles turned away, shamed.

"I see. I will go to my quarters now. Don't bother following me, husband." She straightened herself up, maintaining her dignity as she left.

"You didn't have to talk to her like that," Elena said softly.

"As a matter of fact, I did," Hakeem said tiredly. "When I issue an order in the middle of a battle, I expect it to be obeyed. I don't expect a debate. Not from you and not from anyone else."

"I am the Queen. Surely you don't expect to order me to hide when my kingdom is in peril?"

"If I could I would." He sighed. "But you will stay well back from the front line."

There were things he wasn't saying.

The Prophecy, she knew.

She was tempted to say she was barren and expendable anyway, but it would be too cruel to say that to Hakeem, now or at any other time.

"Do you order this as my commander or my husband?"

"Both."

She glared at her father who avoided her gaze.

"I see," she said, blushing. "My sister and I will leave you men to your wars then." She tossed her head and then gave Pericles and Hakeem a withering gaze. "Neither of you men need think of coming to our beds. You will definitely not be welcome."

Katarina glared at Leonidas as she spun to follow her Queen.

"Hey," Leonidas pleaded. "Don't blame me."

Katarina almost spat on the floor in front of him. "I do not wish to talk to you, human." She marched out, head held high.

"Well," Cyron said. "That went better than I thought it would."

* * *

The army of the East, the Prince's Command ordu

Gansükh entered, bowed low and then stood, again, waiting.

Jizhu had summoned him the evening after he arrived in the prince's camp.

The prince was dressed in silks as rich as his father. He regarded Gansükh thoughtfully before he spoke. His official title was 'left Tuqi wang' (literally 'worthy falcon', 'left' meaning he was in charge of the East of their empire).

It meant 'the Wise Prince of the East'. He was the second most powerful man in the Xiōngnú Empire.

When his father left to conquer the Sakā, he had left his son Jizhu behind, but his father did not do it to shame his son. He made it clear that he trusted no one else. Jizhu was an able administrator, a clever diplomat and a canny general.

Since small, he was known to listen and watch, but only speak when necessary. His shrewdness, even then, was legendary. As a child, it had earned his nick name 'Laoshang': meaning wise elder.

Gansükh forced himself to meet the man's gaze.

Jizhu's mother was a Chin princess and his face was flatter with epicanthic folds on the lids. He had smooth black hair glistening with oil, divided in the middle and pulled back tight into a long braid, made longer by black horse hair.

After a moment, Jizhu turned to his servant. "Make sure we are not overheard," he ordered.

When they were alone, he turned to Gansükh.

"You seemed surprised at my father's anger, šamán."

"Æloðulf trained me, and he is my master, but I would never betray my oath to you or your father. Æloðulf can help you greatly and he asks for very little in return."

Jizhu looked at him in silence for a long while, then he nodded, satisfied.

"You believe this." His eyes glinted in the firelight. "That is your weakness. You trust your old teacher. It was I that told my father not to give Æloðulf the elves, though I am not the only one who has spoken against him."

"He can be a powerful ally!"

"You think so?" Jizhu smiled without humour. "I am told he lost a battle with a child."

"His daimôn was destroyed by magic."

"Is magic not his province then?" Jizhu laughed. "I am told he was almost destroyed as well."

"Where do you get your information?"

Jizhu laughed again "Open your eyes, Gansükh. Šamán are everywhere amongst our armies. They are united in one thing only: their hatred of you and Æloðulf. You should feel flattered. I have never known the šamán to become united before.

"So you believe Æloðulf will reward your loyal service, do you? Did he tell you of the real cost of summoning a daimôn before you set foot on that path?

"Ha! I see he did not! You were played."

Gansükh realised it only as Jizhu spoke. A young man, ambitious, of course; a powerful stranger offering wonders, flattering him, tempting him ... He was told he had to make sacrifices, but not told what they were. Not until it was too late, until it would have been shameful, ungrateful and, well ... too dangerous to show hesitation: sacrifices like his immortal soul, sacrifices like the murder of his best friend and his old teacher, sacrifices like being banished from his tribe.

So what? It was worth the cost.

"Has he told you why he wants the elves?"

"The elves are a threat," Gansükh murmured automatically.

"So why not destroy them? That is simple enough. Do you have any idea how hard it would be to rule the elves? Especially for Æloðulf; they hate him worse than the šamán do."

Gansükh had assumed it was a strange whim.

When Gansükh didn't reply, Jizhu continued softly.

"The elves have lost their magic and they are fading. Have you thought what it might mean if that could be, well, reversed?"

Gansükh felt like he had been struck by lightning.

Æloðulf must know what is wrong with the elves! Even if he didn't, he would be able to find out. It would take a long time for him to rule them and corrupt them, but if he could lead the elves and re-establish their power, he wouldn't need another daimôn.

"A powerful race controlled by the most powerful sorcerer ever known. It may have even been Æloðulf who put the curse on the elves in the first place and he has been waiting all this time for them to weaken enough." Jizhu's eyes flashed in the firelight.

"But I wonder what room there will be in this vision for his faithful servant, Gansükh? You will no longer be of use to him. We can both guess what will happen to you after that.

"You will watch that day approach, and there will be nothing you can do about it. And when he kills you, as he will, he will have already stolen your soul."

Gansükh gasped in horror. How foolish he had been.

"He mustn't get them," he said softly.

"No," Jizhu agreed. "We must destroy the elves once and for all, so they can never rise again"

* * *

The fortress of Msndr

"I don't think there is a more beautiful sunset anywhere in the world," Alyssa whispered. "I am glad you showed it to me."

"And I’m glad you came, Alyssa," Vishtaspa said, moving closer. "Though it is madness for you to be here."

"Vishtaspa, I am an elf and I will fight in any way I can for my people. Death is not the end for us." Then she laughed. "Besides, being here has its ... compensations: this sunset. My two guards love each other, so I am the only eligible woman in a fortress of passingly adequate men, such as yourself.

"Even the wine is tolerable." She held up her goblet for him to pour more.

"How dare you, you elvish witch!" He laughed. "Everyone knows at Msndr we make the best wine in all the world. Over dinner I will prove it. There is some my father kept in reserve." He chuckled again. "I suppose there is no point in keeping it for the new owners."

"Then I will be the judge." Alyssa laughed prettily. "I just wish you hadn't sent all your cooks away."

"What do you mean, woman?" he asked in mock outrage. "Is there anything wrong with corporal Zal's cooking?"

* * *

The Army of the East, North Kohestan

"So, you have to summon the daimôn each time," Jizhu asked with interest as they stood outside the portable Ordu. Inside Gansükh's pupils were chanting and beating a drum in the heat of a fire and a cloud of herbal smoke. "Isn't that dangerous?"

"To travel to the daimôn world one needs to be dying, or near enough. Once you have bonded though, it is not so difficult. My pupils need the smoke and chanting; I was trained by Æloðulf and can do it simply by concentrating. But there is always a cost, even for me. If I don't summon my daimôn I will almost live forever. Almost, but not quite. Mine is a daimôn lord which makes him both stronger and smarter, but the cost is higher. I am protected from the usual illnesses and if you wanted to kill me my daimôn would appear beforehand and stop you."

"Now that would be handy," Jizhu agreed. "Though I would not want to pay the price you have paid."

Gansükh gave him a sour look.

Meanwhile, the chanting was reaching a crescendo. "I think it is almost done."

"How long will the daimôn appear for?"

"My master was the best at that, but he is not human. For humans, not a great deal more than half the turn of a glass."

A nearby stone tower, an old elf guard-tower, had been prepared for the demonstration. They had put Skythian captives inside, given them supplies and arms, even a catapult. They were surrounded by Jizhu's army so there was no escape.

The captives knew something strange was going on. They had armed themselves and readied the catapult. Now they were nervously looking over the battlements to see what came next.

"Well." Jizhu smiled. "Let us see what a single daimôn can do against a stone fortification in only half a glass."

The daimôn appeared not far from the yurt. It was all red, eight foot and shaped vaguely like a wolf. Its mouth was a mass of blue fangs with a yellow tongue and gums. Its eyes were like white marble.

"Daimôn lords look more human but lesser daimôns vary in appearance, reflecting their nature, which can change with their mood," Gansükh said as they watched.

It turned to the tower and began running towards it. There were screams and shouts from the defenders who started rapidly to fire arrows. There was a 'thunk' as a catapult released.

Gansükh was still talking. "Some things affect them: our sun weakens them, but not seriously. Cold gives them pain as does iron, but you need more metal than is in an arrow. Nothing on this earth can kill them."

The daimôn got hit by the catapult and was knocked back, twisting as it fell.

It let out a great howl and scrambled to its feet.

It hit the stone of the tower hard with its shoulder and the western section collapsed. The men inside were screaming. The daimôn raised one paw and there was a blast of power and flame. The screams cut off.

Then it began to rapidly demolish the tower, flinging blocks of stone to either side with its head, its teeth, its claws, as the spectators watched, open mouthed. It was over in moments and then the daimôn disappeared.

Gansükh felt a little sick.

Jizhu and his men were screaming in triumph. He thumped Gansükh on the back.

"We will hurry before news of this reaches our enemies," he said. "Now you will see how fast we Hun can move."

* * *

Army of the West, North of the Dariel Pass

The Hun, even the ones that lived in cities, were in their hearts a nomadic race and it was reflected in how they made war.

Before a major campaign they sent out scouts in secret. The terrain, the strength and weakness of the enemy was understood. It was all brought back to the camp far away, and digested and argued over in large and small groups sometimes over many weeks till every warrior knew what they faced and how strategies polished over years of conquest could be adapted.

Each unit must be able to respond rapidly as part of the whole, even when it was hard to pass orders from the top. The speed, the cleverness and the responsiveness of their army was one of their greatest weapons.

After all that, they sent out their 'early men'.

They looked like traders or wanderers and they went to less travelled areas. They bought fodder and cattle. They set up way-stations and depots and sometimes they even fenced off the best pasture for the army or repaired bridges and roads. Then came a long train of ox carts with food and supplies and dismantled catapults ready for use.

When the army came it appeared suddenly. Each warrior travelled light and rode with spare horses. When they attacked, it was always when and wherever they were not expected. They split into small groups and reformed. They moved with a speed that baffled their enemies. If an enemy won a battle, they would withdraw, learn what had been done, and suddenly come at them again. This had always worked.

Until now ...

Elves and Shantawi knew what to do with enemy scouts and spies. They knew what to do with enemy supply lines and depots established in lonely places in the forest.

And they also moved very fast.

Mòdú Chányú sat in his great ordu for a moment deep in thought.

His people were horse nomads of the Great Steppe. After a long period of warring states, the Qin dynasty had emerged victorious, to rule all of the land of Cina. It was they who had finally finished the great wall. But their power only lasted fifteen years before the people revolted against their shocking cruelty.

It was the Qin dynasty that had attacked the Xiōngnú near the Hwang Ha (Yellow River) and drove them from their grazing grounds into the barren north. It was in the north that Mòdú survived a secret plot by his own father to have him murdered. It was there that he had killed his father and all other contenders to his rule. He took over the command of his defeated people and within a few short years he had united the tribes, defeated the Dōnghú (Mongols) and humbled the Chin.

He and his son had then defeated the powerful white races of Cina in the west and north (the Dingling, Yuezhi, Wusih and the Skythians). He slaughtered many and drove many back across the mountains to the West where they had come from so long ago. And then he had crossed those same mountains to defeat the famous Sakā, the Indo-Aryans.

Now he planned to cross another set of mountains to defeat the legendary elves.

"Cheya." He turned to the man waiting. "How goes it?"

Cheya was in charge of the initial assault.

"My Lord." Cheya touched his forehead to the floor. As he stood up, his eyes lit up with almost religious fervour. "Everywhere our warriors are victorious. Our enemies flee before us. Soon we will reach the entrance to the pass."

"How well do our enemies fight?" Čur (Sir) Zolban asked.

Cheya's expression clouded. "They are clever, these white faces. They move faster than any infantry should be able to. In the forest they are invisible. They shoot over long distances and it seems their arrows have not forgotten their old magic. They also have those desert vermin, those ones that sleep with horses instead of women. But they are few while we are many."

The Chányú smiled and some of his lords thought it safe to laugh.

"Have you been able to get behind them?" Čur Sigizan asked. "Can you tell us what we will face?"

"They move too fast. They have many traps and surprises. None I have sent behind them have returned." He straightened his shoulders and looked up. "I will send more men!"

"That will not be necessary, Cheya, thank you." Mòdú Chányú spoke quickly.

"Maybe they can stop our scouts but they cannot stop our army. We will know soon enough."

Cheya looked like he wanted to say more.

"Thank you, Cheya, bring word when you sight the entrance to the pass."

The initial assault was proving costly and without proper scouting it would continue to be so but as Cheya said, they had plenty of men and could get more. But that was the way the Chin waged war with their massed armies of peasants thrown carelessly at their enemies. It was not how the Xiōngnú (Turks) liked to conduct their wars.

He turned to one of his guards. "Bring Chagatai (White-Man)."

His real name was Maues. He was a captive Skythian who knew the path through the mountains. For his life, he would share his knowledge.

"Tell us about the path to the land of the ghost-people," one of the noyan ordered as he was escorted before them.

Chagatai bowed deeply. He was half-starved and ill kept. His face showed where he had been beaten.

"There are two areas the elves can fortify. The first is the Dariel gorge, which follows the Dariel River for more than three or four parasang to where the elves have built their gate

"But it is a difficult road and even in good times it can take a day and more.

"After the gate, the gorge goes on till it reaches the valley of Kazbegi, ringed by mountains, and then you have the high pass." The captive continued. "The ascending limb of the high pass will be like something out of a nightmare if they hold it against you, but if you take that I don't think they can stop you from reaching the elf lands."

"Will it be as difficult as the Darband gate?" Čur T'akan asked.

"No, the elvish gate is not built to stop armies. I don't know how anyone can conquer Darband."

"Do the Ghost People have great magic?" Mòdú asked.

"Great Khan, I have never seen the elves use magic, but they are a clever people. As their magic failed them, they learnt many other things. They are deadly in the forest and they have closed the path to all traffic for several moons."

"So you think they prepare a little welcome for us, eh?" Mòdú laughed. "We are a clever people too. They look like ghosts; let us make them into real ghosts."

Everyone in the Ordu laughed ... except Maues.

* * *

Leonidas and Katarina, just north of the Dariel Pass

Leonidas, Katarina and Algar (elf spear) were anxiously hurrying their horses. They had been inspecting some advanced defences when an elf scout had arrived and told them they had to leave, immediately. As the three raced their horses to safety, constantly checking over their shoulders, they turned a corner and came upon a scene out of a nightmare.

Leonidas stopped, frozen in horror.

"Hakeem?" he asked.

His chest was tight. He found it hard to breathe.

"Yes, it was a large scouting party, I think," Katarina replied, unconcerned. "It is a final warning."

A hundred souls had perished in indescribable agony. Staked out and tortured to death, their eyes showing the agony and horror of their final moments. One man's hands grasped the cruel spear that had ended his life, the blood staining his shirt. Another had been lowered impaled through his rear, dying in the act of trying to pull himself back up.

Another was holding his arms out in entreaty; a spear pinned him to the ground. All their eyes reflected their horror and their mouths were open in silent screams.

Leonidas tasted bile. "It has come to this!"

Drive a powerful human long enough in fear, anger and desperation and they can develop a darkness, a terrible cruelty. Hakeem, he could understand, but he had never expected anything like this from the elves.

"The garden of heads was my favourite, each as if they were screaming out." Algar laughed.

"It took a lot of work," Katarina said, studying it.

Algar snorted derisively, "I think he has overdone it, don't you think, Lord?"

Leonidas couldn't reply.

"All that cattle blood," Algar continued. "And they would have had to work quickly before the stiffness set in. It's a shame it will only last a short time, don't you think? See the faint shine? He used something that Anaxagoras invented to make the bodies hold their positions longer."

"This isn't how these people died!" Leonidas almost shouted.

A man goes limp at the time of death; the stiffness takes hours to come on and only lasts a limited time. "They were positioned like this after death!" he realised. "You know, for a moment I thought …"

The pair of elves turned together. They stared at him silently, their faces unreadable.

He realised what he was about to say.

* * *

Army of the East, outside the fortress at Msndr

The Army of the East had arrived at a pleasant, hilly region with mountains to the west and the sea to the east.

It was known for its vineyards, goats and sheep. Through the faint drizzle they could see a steep road zigzagging from the valley floor to a bridge across a narrow ravine and on towards a sturdy-looking fortress.

The stone fort was built on a rocky spur halfway up one of the steep foothills. It would have a good view of the lower reaches of the Dariel (Tergi) River as it flowed from the mountains on to the Kaspian to the north and east.

"They do not meet us," Qorchi sneered as he gestured up to the fortress.

"Would you?" Jizhu laughed.

"Their main force is in their city to the south," Qorchi said excitedly. "Prince, give me four tumen (forty thousand warriors) and siege engines. Within weeks I will present you with all these forts."

Jizhu smiled. "I will give you one tumen. I will take these forts without a fight and the men inside will join my army. Set up your men well back from the forts to protect our supply lines but do not attack them. I will go on to Darband to teach them not to resist me. When Darband falls, all these forts will surrender."

* * *

Inside the Fortress of Msndr

It was drizzling softly. Alyssa and Vishtaspa stood watching in horrified fascination as the Hun flooded across the plain down below. The great torrent of men and animals, the creak of wagons, the jingle of harness, the clatter of hoofs and the shouting of men echoed across the valley and seemed to go on and on.

Alyssa suddenly pointed at an ordu mounted on a great cart, drawn by ten oxen and surrounded by a heavy guard. "That's the daimôn summoners. The only way to defeat a daimôn is to kill the one who summoned it. So they keep them together under an enormous guard. They are not attacking us, but why haven't they surrounded us?"

"We are facing a clever man," Vishtaspa told her. "What will we do, escape? Then they will simply walk in and take what we have." Vishtaspa laughed humourlessly. "Where would we go and what would we do against so many?"

"Why are they in such a hurry to by-pass us then?"

"It is raining, soon it will stop. They want to reach Darband by then."

Alyssa shivered at the thought.

"What conditions did they offer you for surrender?" She looked at the parchment Vishtaspa held.

"They are generous ones. I will swear fealty to the Mòdú and the Prince. My men will join his army. I even get to keep my lands."

"So you would be no worse off."

"No, I would be better off. I won't have my cousin plotting to kill me. I might even be rewarded for my services. I would be tempted to join him, now, if we didn't have our families in Darband. I think he knows that. He hasn't even waited for my reply. If he conquers Darband I will have little choice. He will have beaten me without striking a blow or shooting an arrow.

"Oh, and he has expressed regret that my cousin chose to keep our women hostage in Darband. He said he cannot guarantee their safety.

"I just feel sorry for you elves."

"There is no point in you and your men dying uselessly protecting a Shah who is your enemy," Alyssa said. "If the elf kingdom falls, we who remain will need whatever friends we can get."

He took her hand and kissed it. Alyssa moved closer and he put her arm around her.

"We elves are cursed," she whispered, shivering.

"I don't care." He drew her close and kissed her. "I am falling in love with you, Alyssa. Please say you will stay with me when all this is over."

* * *

Army of the West, north of the Entrance to the Dariel Pass

Mòdú Chányú and his bodyguard climbed to a small plateau overlooking the entrance to the pass. The enemy had fought well: hit and run, lightning counter attacks and ambushes. He was surprised by the ferocity of their final defence, but they couldn't afford to lose the men he could. Finally they withdrew, leaving their dead behind.

He looked over to the crowded mountains, the mist veiling their snowy peaks. The Dariel River flowed north, before it turned to the east and on to the Kaspian. Not far from him, there was a small lake where the valley had widened.

Coming behind him, the road behind him disappeared around a nearby bend, but still he could see his army strung out like a great river of men, animals and equipment.

Everything was so fresh and green here! How had he come to this far place?

He thought of his home where the grass plains were endless and mountains distant blue shadows. It was a place he loved, but the rivers ran dry and the grass died. His people had to be strong or die.

Just like him, when he had to kill his father and fight his own enemies, and then the enemies of his people. He had to be strong or die.

After a while he trotted his horse down to join the rest of the column as it entered the pass.

* * *

Army of the West, Entrance to the Dariel Pass

The Chányú stood near his two totem bearers, one was holding the great lion totem, the totem of his tribe, and the other held his personal wolf totem. He had joined his senior noyons surrounded by their own attendants, totem bearers and signal drummers. Each noyon commanded ten thousand. Soon they would leave him to join their own men.

A scout trotted up and slid down to kiss the ground before his feet.

"Great Khan, barely half a parasang (league) ahead we came across an earth wall as tall as a tall man blocking the road where the valley narrows."

Mòdú Chányú looked at his noyons and laughed.

"Any sign of the ghost face? They should have built better than that unless they can outrun our horses."

"Great Khan, I can see men, I think Shantawi, dark like us but with Greek clothes and thick beards that they trim. They keep their horses near and just at the side. I count one hundred but some may be hiding."

"Khan, let me finish this quickly," Cheya asked excitedly. "The Shantawi killed my brothers at Karsh. May I have the honour?"

"Take three minghan," Mòdú ordered.

Cheya looked surprised and then bowed low. Three thousand, just to kill one hundred? But with the decision made he left swiftly to call to three of his own leaders to form up their men.

His signal drummer bashed his large drum that was slung in front of him. It was a third his size and he enthusiastically pounded out a loud triumphant beat. Their noyan had been given a great honour: the first assault on the pass!

Cheya would lead from the front.

He had his men trot their horses down the road, bows drawn ready for trouble. From a small rise in the path they could see the earth wall in the distance. It was crudely made, sloping at the front but seemed steeper on the far side. At the sign of so many men trotting towards them, the Shantawi jumped down and ran for their horses as fast as they could. They could be seen galloping away down the path around a bend in the road.

Cheya's Huns laughed and screamed derision at them and sped up. At a run, a steppe horse could make it over. They would need momentum, there would be stress on the forward legs of the horses as they landed on the other side. Their riders would need to stay upright or they would be unhorsed. To do it in a group required brilliant horsemanship and sure-footed horses. It was not for cowards, yet it was just these sorts of abilities which made the Hun famous.

Cheya's men would be able to continue the chase without a pause!

He yelled out his challenge, screaming at the top of his voice as he urged his horse faster and faster. Three thousand men thundered down the valley, each racing the other to be the first over the wall.

They were barely a dozen feet from the wall, galloping hard and gathering themselves for the jump when they reached the hidden spikes. The charging cavalry melted into an untidy pile of dead and dying men and horses as if an invisible scythe had cut the feet from under them.

Most of the horsemen following behind had no chance, crashing into their own men and horses. Their joyous war cries turned to screams of terror and agony. A shrill whistled command and the rear-most ranks turned to avoid the catastrophe.

The three hundred elves who were hidden on a narrow ledge on the rear wall stood up to fire rapidly and accurately. They targeted any that still sat a horse, and then any who tried to stand, and finally any still moving.

The Hun were magnificent horse archers and even as they wheeled, they returned fire but the elves were under cover; they were not riding horses ... and they were elves.

Six hundred Hun escaped. Only a handful of elves were injured. Cheya had been in the van; he had gone to join his brothers.

The Shantawi appeared from around the bend and galloped back to collect any elvish wounded. When no Hun were left moving on the ground, the remainder elves and Shantawi were seen hurrying down the road.

The first battle of the pass had been fought.

The Chányú and his commanders sat their horses and watched with disbelief as the remnants of three thousand men made their way back to the main army.

"This will be not easy, Great Khan," Chagatai said softly.

* * *

Army of the West, Dariel Pass northern section

The scouts reported a large wooden fort around the corner only a short distance from the dirt wall. It had fired at them as they approached.

So that was where the Shantawi and elves had fled to.

Lu Buwei, the commander of the Chin warriors, had been given the honour to handle the fort. He gave orders to his men not approach it. They would employ their siege equipment, as they should have done earlier with the dirt wall. Trust the Xiōngnú to charge a dirt wall.

His Chin quickly set up one of their smaller catapults and a ballistra and began rhythmically punching holes in the fort. After the first few hits a group of Shantawi and elves burst out of the fort and hurried down the road; the watching Hun let out a great cheer.

"Take no chances!" Lu Buwei ordered.

They continued to pound it till the palisade was reduced to kindling and lumber. Inside the rubble a barracks and the contents of a store room could be seen.

"So much for their fort!" Abishqa said turning to the Chányú.

Buwei sent two Zuut (hundred) of his Chin infantry to investigate.

When one of the men emerged excitedly yelling and waving one of the valuable elf long-swords the commander himself galloped down with his bodyguard to investigate.

"Nobody remove anything till I get a chance to examine it," he yelled as he dismounted. "I can smell smoke; has some fool started to torch this building already?"

The two commanders of one hundred looked at him, perplexed. None of their men were carrying fire. Then the fort exploded.

The Chányú's face was a mask of rage as he saw it happen. He waited to hear the confirmation that several hundred more of his men and his second noyan were dead in as many hours.

"Great Khan," Chagatai offered, "I think you are facing the Shantawi Warlord. That's what he did to the Athēnai. He must have thought it was worth trying against you."

The Chányú spun and grabbed Chagatai, holding a knife to his throat. "If you wish to live, tell me one more trick this pig will try that I have not thought of."

Chagatai looked terrified. "It's not really a trick, Bey," he gasped, gaining his composure as the leader released him. "His elves can see in the dark."

* * *

The great city of Darband

"This place is impregnable!" Davrameshi, the Persian commander, said with great satisfaction. "You are lucky we made it even stronger for you."

Shah Parviz laughed. "It was lucky for us that you made us pay for it, you mean. It almost bankrupted us."

"You are glad now, I'll wager." Davrameshi chuckled, as he clamped the blond Skythian on the back. They had met on one of Parviz's visits south to the great city of Parsua (which the Greeks called Persepolis, the city of the Persikόs) and they had become great friends.

The name ‘Darband’ in Skythian means 'closed gate'. The two great walls were made of stone and brick, very thick and twenty metres (66 feet) high. The northern one had no less than thirty towers facing north. The two great walls stretched parallel to each other across the narrowest point between the mountains and the Kaspian Sea.

Between the walls was the city with the main fortress on a hill hard up against the mountain side. Just below it and closer to the water was the main city, then there was a free space for pasture (now crowded with tents), and finally close to water was the fortified harbour.

Darband was a living gate across the pass and, yes, it looked invulnerable.

The city was thousands of years old. For the last hundred and fifty years it had been the Skythian capital of Kohestan. Now it was part of the Great Persian Empire. The Persikόs had hurried 40,000 extra troops to its defence but it wouldn't fall to ten times that number.

* * *

The Army of the East, North of Darband

The same thought occurred to the Hun scouts.

"Lords," the scout told Jizhu and his noyans. "We will need to wait for the siege weapons. It will take us many, many moons of hard fighting to capture this city, if we can at all."

"It will take the rest of the day and we will not wait for the siege weapons," Jizhu said. "Gansükh, use four of your lesser daimôns."

Gansükh bowed low, but he was trembling. "My Prince! Without a daimôn lord to control them, lesser daimôns will think no more of destroying a city of humans than we would of killing a nest of wasps. Are you sure you want to release four of them?"

Jizhu's smile broadened with anticipation. "If they cause enough destruction, we will get Ateshi-Bagavan without a fight. Give me Darband and Ateshi-Bagavan quickly, and you may keep them both ... after I reward my troops, of course."

A thrill of excitement passed through Gansükh.

"It shall be as you wish. By the time your father reaches the outskirts of Elgard, his son will be there to greet him. Between the father and the son, and the daimôns, there will be nothing left of the elves and the way south and west will be open."

* * *

Gansükh left the ordu to check the weather.

Inside his pupils had begun the ceremony.

He wished the Hun did not insist on attacking so early in the season. The clouds were closing in again, dark and heavy with rain. The wind was blowing chill from the north. If it rained after the daimôns had been summoned they would go, and might not be able to be resummoned for days. A little bit colder and they may get some unseasonal snow which would render them completely useless.

The daimôns when they appeared were gigantic; one was like a great black bear, two were black-winged giants, all claws and fangs, and one like a red leopard. They began running at the walls while the siege engines began to pound them with ballistae bolts and rocks. The ballistae were hurting them, but only for a moment. The red one reached the wall, arrows having no effect on it.

There was a shower of javelin fire. The daimôn stood up to its full height and plucked one out, to look at, puzzled. It bellowed. Then it was hit with another and another. There was a blinding flash and the daimôn disappeared.

There was a short pause and then a dark shape like a wisp of smoke fled towards the ordu. There was an agonised scream from a man within, then it sped back to hit one of the defenders on the wall with a clap of power.

Gansükh stood rooted to the spot.

The defenders had found a way to kill a daimôn.

A messenger galloped up to summon him to Jizhu. He only had time to see the remaining daimôns attack the city with great rage.

* * *

Army of the East, outside Darband

Jizhu's eyes were feverish with excitement.

"Energy and substance is sucked from the summoner they are bound to," Gansükh explained. "Then it goes to whoever killed it. To a human to be hit by that much energy is fatal.

"As the energy hasn't been absorbed, any surrounding daimôns absorb it. They will stay longer and will be stronger ... And they will be angry."

"To kill a daimôn you lose your soul?"

"No, the true size and power of a human soul is beyond our comprehension. Binding yourself to a daimôn is the only way I know of for you to lose your soul."

The other three daimôns had swelled in size.

Just then a second daimôn was destroyed. The remaining two began to shine with a blinding light. The surviving flying one leapt into the air, bathing the walls of the fortress city with fire like a dragon.

The other crashed through the great wall which collapsed on top of it. It heaved itself up and shook itself as if it had taken a bath of dust and stone. Then they were both into the city, destroying everything in sight, spraying the city with fire.

It was too much even for Jizhu.

"They are killing and destroying everything; can you stop them?"

"No, I cannot," Gansükh replied, his face pale, his breath coming fast. "Pray that rain comes soon."

* * *

The fortress at Elgard

Korrina threw a cloth over the mirror and gathered Sophie into her arms. The young girl was sobbing and shuddering violently. "You have seen enough, Sophie."

"You don't understand." Sophie was crying. "It isn't stopping them. Darband isn't stopping them and they are coming here."

"I understand well enough," Korrina said. "Go now and rest. I will send the message. I will use the mirror."

"I don't think I can sleep."

"I will send someone to sit with you."

"We are going to lose, aren't we?" Sophie asked.

"Yes, we are," Korrina said. "against that many men and daimôns we are going to lose."

* * *

Army of the East, Darband

It had started to drizzle but it was too late.

All of the town and the harbour was burnt to the ground, much of it still too hot to get near. A massive fire-cloud mushroomed high into the air, roaring with power.

The soldiers, the town's people, the women and children, everyone who sheltered in the city had been incinerated. The great gate, the great city and the second greatest harbour on the Kaspian were no more.

A few of the soldiers stationed in the open field had managed to get away, but that was all.

"It will take some time to get my main army past the fires," Jizhu said. His face was expressionless. "I'm sorry, Gansükh. We have left nothing for you to rule over. It will have to be rebuilt, of course."

He stopped and looked at the šamán, the fire reflected on his face.

"Will the Gods stop us, do you think, Gansükh?" he asked.

"What do you mean?"

"All the Gods: Athura Mazda of the Sakā, the Earth Mother of the elves, the Greek Gods, even our own Munkh Khukh Tengri (Eternal Blue Sky)," Jizhu said. "Surely they will stop us, you and I. For we have done something that could never have been intended."

He paused as he looked back over the devastation.

"We have released daimôns into the world."

* * *

Army of the West, Dariel Pass northern section

Mòdú’s army had camped for the night rather than to push deeper into the pass. There were several attacks on his vanguard during the night. Losses were small, more worrying was the lack of sleep. If it kept up, alertness and efficiency would suffer and that could be fatal.

This morning there had been an attack on the forward scouts. They had been ambushed and almost wiped out. It had been a relatively large group of elves, a thousand or more. It brought his losses to three and a half thousand but , for an army of thirteen tumen (130,000) it was nothing.

Both sides of the path ahead were blocked by old landslides. It didn't matter, the river was exceptionally low and they could wade through it. Mòdú ordered a full tumen (ten thousand) of Chin infantry forward. Chin crossbow archers could match elves for power, if not for accuracy or rate of fire. They were protected by a large contingent of Chin pikeman, in heavy body armour. They all went sloshing up the narrow water course as fast as they could.

Halfway up the water course they heard a strange rumbling, roaring sound like thunder. What could it be? It was coming closer.

Then someone realised.

There were screams of terror as they tried to climb the walls; some turned to try and run back. The Chányú from his vantage point saw a wall of water and mud explode out of the Dariel.

He waited, his face betraying nothing, for the report. No one dared approach him. It was only the second day. He had lost a tenth of his men and had hardly seen the enemy.

* * *

King Cyron's camp, east of Ateshi-Bagavan

Eunike hesitated at the entrance.

"May I enter, Great King?"

"Why is it, Sister, that I think you bear me even more bad news?" Cyron asked with the ghost of a smile.

Then seeing the strain on the sister's face, he immediately relented. He motioned one of his aides to offer her a chair. "Tell me," he said gently.

"I'm sorry, my Lord. Azar Pāyegān had fast ships patrolling the coast and they know what happened at Darband." Her voice caught. "The Shah has expelled our ambassador and all elves from the city. They will not fight the Hun when they come."

"Without Azar Pāyegān we cannot hold here," Cyron said, looking old and tired. "And we will eventually be fighting their army too.”

“Instead of the narrow entry from Kohestan into Azar Pāyegān we have the wide border between us and Azar Pāyegān. We have fortified the main south road but we will have to split our forces to cover all routes," Alwyn, his senior Stratēgos added.

"Should we surrender, my King?" Völundr, his other advisor asked. "against such armies and daimôns, should we surrender?"

Cyron paused for a long time before answering.

"No ... we will not surrender," he said finally. "We have a little time while the rain holds. Send word to Seléne to leave for the coast and for her to take the remainder of those leaving the city."

Elgard was going to fall.

 

Chapter 2: The End

King Cyron's forward defences, east of Ateshi-Bagavan

As the forward camp was packing up in a panic, a wild-looking courier from the north was ushered in to see the King. "The daimôns came to Darband, great King. We killed two but it only seemed to enrage the others. Only the rain saved the few that were saved."

"What of Shah Parviz?"       

"Dead, my Lord, with all his family; Vishtaspa is the new Shah. If he lives that is, and if he can hold on, but he has been left little to rule over.

"The Huns are chasing down the last few survivors, killing everyone they can find. My Lord Davrameshi has got maybe five thousand men which he is trying to keep together and fight his way out. If he can, he will come to Ateshi-Bagavan."

"He mustn't go there" Alwyn said. .""I will take him a message, my Lord"

"Take all available men who have a horse," Cyron ordered. "If Davrameshi is trying a fighting retreat against cavalry, he will need all the help we can give him. I will meet you at the entrance to the south road."

* * *

Army of the West, the Dariel Pass

The men stumbled wearily on. At night, the elves had come again. The attacks from the heights had started: single rocks, avalanches, arrows, even catapults and ballistae, all with elvish accuracy. The noyons sent out scouts, often they found no way up and when they did, there were elves waiting.

They had almost reached the elf gate. Here the gorge was narrow just before it widened in front of the gate itself. The men pressed up against the east side of the gorge as they passed, nervously eyeing a large rock overhang on the other side. It looked natural but they were taking no chances. Above them, on the east side was a sloping snowfield leading up to a peak.

Mòdú was riding well back when he heard a distinct 'pop' halfway up the snowy peak.

It was such a soft sound.

He glanced up and saw what looked like a small white cloud flowing down the mountain, picking up speed. It was still a long way off but it was starting to make a faint soaring noise, getting louder.

"Avalanche!" he yelled. "Get those men back!"

A third of the column had passed. Some ran on, some ran back, most ran to the other side of the gorge to watch, but it seemed for once the elves had miscalculated. The avalanche was exhausting itself as it spread over a wide section before the lip of the gorge. Only a light shower of snow reached the gorge.

As Mòdú watched the avalanche exhaust itself, he heard a thunderous crack echo back and forwards, back and forwards, down the valley.

He stared in horror as the overhang detached itself from the wall of the gorge. There was a rushing, crashing, rumbling sound as a mountain of earth and rock buried over two thousand of his men. One minute they were there and the next there was a pile of rock with dust funnelling up into the air.

It was the third day since entering the pass. They were in sight of the elf gate but of the thirteen tumen that had set out they had now lost three. Worse, their men were exhausted and demoralised; and after this they still had to face the high pass.

* * *

Army of the East, Ateshi-Bagavan

When Gansükh entered the command ordu camp outside the walls of Ateshi-Bagavan, the men all stood and cheered him. His hand shook as he took the offered wine which he drank in great gulps. "So many died!"

"There are more in the hills." Jizhu shrugged. "Once we released daimôns it was too late to make these people love you. Now you must make them fear you. It has got you Azar Pāyegān."

"Did you have to murder the royal family, after all they surrendered?"

"It is the wrong time to get squeamish. If you kept them alive it would only feed rebellion. Now for the good part; when will the daimôns be ready again? "

"As soon as the rain stops, my Prince, but I suggest we consolidate this kingdom. We now have the army of Azar Pāyegān, three tumen. The elves do not have much more than that, but it will be a while before we can rely on them to fight for us."

"Ah, the voice of caution." Jizhu laughed. "No, we go on. I will leave three tumen of our own men to guard here. It will be enough. The Persikόs cower behind their walls to the south. One day, we will go there, you and I, but for now we will ride against the elves to finish them once and for all.

"I wish to meet my father on the battle field and see the pride in his eyes."

He pointed to the map on his table. "The main road to Elgard is in the south. It is short and broad and well maintained. If we wished to take siege weapons and a lot of supplies we would go that way. Most of the elf army will be waiting there. I will send a tumen of warriors south with most of the spare horses, yurts, our siege weapons and as many local peasants, merchants and men from Ateshi-Bagavan that we can trust. It will make them think I am getting ready to attack there.

"But rather than attack against my enemies' strength, I will choose the point of their weakness. The northern road is difficult and narrow winding through forests and mountains. We will travel light and fast. We will take no siege weapons or heavy wagons.

"We will be almost to Elgard before the enemy even knows we are coming. We must keep them off balance. Send a message to my father; tell him I hope to join him at Elgard so we can attack the enemy from two sides."

* * *

Army of the West, the Elf Gates

"What is wrong?" the Chányú asked after a long while of waiting on the siege engines to destroy the elf gate. Fatigue was showing on his face. "Why don't the siege engines work?"

"We are trying Great Khan," the courier said. "But they have thick soil in front protecting their stone walls and they have their own siege engines that have greater range. We have tried towers but they demolished them."

The Chányú spat. "Let me look."

* * *

The lower fortress, Elgard

Sophie looked like she hadn't slept.

Her shoulders were sagging. She shook her weary head to clear it as she finished her report. "We will know more later, my Lord, but the Hun move so fast we thought to give you what warning we could."

"You did well," Neros said.

They had too many points to protect and not enough men.

Cyron had reinforced the only fortress guarding the entrance to the northern road but had sent most of their reinforcements south.

He had gambled. And he had lost. Jizhu's army was rapidly moving down the northern road. It was narrow and winding, going through dense forest country, but was lightly defended. Jizhu didn't plan to guard his supply lines so he had simply bypassed their only fort on the northern road.

"They are leaving their siege weapons and supplies. If we can bog them down in fighting and cut them off from supplies, we can cause them trouble," Neros said.

"But can we do that?" Elena asked. "Each Hun warrior has food for a week."

"At least we should be able to slow them down long enough so we can bring reinforcements back from the south."

He wondered how long they could hold out for, and there was a second army coming under the Chányú.

He turned to Seléne. "Seléne, they are ready for you to leave for Phasis."

Seléne nodded, looking pale and frightened.

"Sophie, you too," he added. "The mirror must not fall into enemy hands."

"I will stay." It was Maerwen who replied. "The mirror will go with Sister Korrina. I have returned for this, the final defence of Elgard."

Neros hesitated at the thought of two children, Daniel and Sophie staying, but then he nodded. They were needed.

"Pericles, take all your men and the whole city garrison; delay them any way you can. I think you will face daimôns. I will stay here with the wounded and my bodyguard."

Not much to defend Elgard. He hoped reinforcements from the south would come in time.

Sophie showed Pericles and his commanders the pile of javelins with red shafts.

"Take twenty-five of the charmed javelins with you. If you need more, send a rider.

"Their shafts are painted red and the date is on them. It takes three to kill a daimôn."

She didn't mention a daimôn lord which was several times more powerful. What would it take to stop one of those?

"The one who casts the third javelin gets the glory of destroying a daimôn," Atiphates said.

"And of dying!" Leonidas added.

"Yes," Sophie said. "When a daimôn dies it sucks the soul and life energy from the one who summoned it then that energy and its own is released at the one who killed it."

"Killing him," Leonidas finished for her. "And then the rest is shared by any nearby daimôns."

"Does it destroy your soul?" one of Pericles' men, Akakios, asked.

"No." Sophie moved over to him. "It takes the soul of the one who summoned it, but rest assured a human soul is tied to the greater reality. Even a daimôn blast cannot damage it."

"Well." Akakios winked at her. "That will do for me." He went over and picked up one of the javelins and other men began to line up to take one.

"Any wounded who are not able to make the journey into the mountains we will bring here to the citadel," Elena began. "I will set up a mobile field hospital back from the front. I am still the Queen. My husband cannot stop me doing my duty, no matter what he thinks."

She turned to the Greek engineers. "Atiphates and Leonidas, we elves will always remember the help you gave us."

"With your permission, my Lady, we and our men wish to stay," Atiphates said formally. "It's curiosity of course, nothing more. We want to know how well those field siege engines work." He gave a lopsided grin.

Tears came to Elena's eyes. "You would die for us?"

"We would, Queen, though dying is not part of our plan."

"May the Goddess bless you," she breathed, kissing both of them on the lips. Leonidas went bright red.

Pericles lifted each of his twins to kiss them goodbye and then passed them to Melissa, Seléne's head maid, who was now showing signs of her own pregnancy. Then he kissed his lovely wife. Everywhere women were saying goodbye to men, lovers, friends and family.

Katarina kissed Leonidas hungrily. She was crying.

"You're not angry with me?" Leonidas sounded surprised.

"Don't be a fool, Leonidas, I love you!" She hugged him as hard as she could. "Leonidas, it is early, but I'm pregnant. I'm having your baby. Please come back to me, Leonidas."

"Now I surely will." He hugged and kissed her in excitement.

Atiphates bashed his friend on the back in congratulations.

Katarina kissed Atiphates on the lips and he blushed, looking pleased.

"I still think you make a better warrior than me," Leonidas told her.

"Use those brains of yours, Leonidas, those and your strong arms. That's what we need from you." She laughed through the tears and then she began to sing.

As they left the citadel and walked to the marshalling area in the nearby theatron, all the elf women had joined in the singing. Softly at first, then louder and louder till the women's voices reached out over the citadel. Some said coloured lights appeared just above the citadel, faint in the daylight. Atiphates didn't understand the words but it was possibly the most beautiful sound he had ever heard.

If he had to die, he would do it for the elves.

* * *

Army of the East, the Northern Road

Jizhu hurried his eight tumen through narrow twisting paths, horses' hoofs mired in mud, dense forest with plenty of cover for ambush. The enemy they encountered were deadly, but they were few.

Then he turned off the main northern road to follow a tributary to the river Mt'k'uari. It was a difficult route but it would confuse the enemy and bring him halfway to Elgard.

Now it would start in earnest. As he got closer, the enemy had short communication lines, they could concentrate their forces, it would be harder to dodge them and soon they would be faced with fortifications.

As they broke out into a small plain, he saw a party of elves break cover ahead.

"It's a trap," he screamed.

It was too late. His vanguard was already hot in pursuit.

"My Prince." One of his scouts galloped up and brought his mount to a sudden stop as Jizhu watched the vanguard gallop off. "The enemy is attacking our rear in large numbers. It's cut off."

Jizhu cursed. "Tell the rear to break through and join us."

"That will be expensive," Sataq commented mildly as the scout galloped off. The rear guard always had the weaker troops.

But Jizhu had just lost control of his van and they were strung out along a narrow trail. He couldn't bring his main force around to defend his rear. He couldn't use his numerical superiority.

"We have to force the main army forward to where the path broadens."

"I think that's what they want us to do; that's where they want us." Sataq had to shout to be heard.

Jizhu nodded grimly. It meant entering a battle field of the enemy's choosing.

"They have no right to be this ready." He spat in disgust.

If they were more ready than he expected, maybe they could position him for an attack while nibbling away at him, front and rear. He would be cut off from escape and supplies.

Had his impatience to join his father led him into a mistake? He would know soon enough.

"Get the men off their horses, attack those trenches on foot!" Jizhu yelled. "Try to attack together."

The elves kept showering his men with arrows. His Hun couldn't use their speed and mobility in the crowded terrain. Their horse bows had a shorter effective range and the elves were dug in.

It was unexpected for elves in the forest to be protected behind earth walls, wooden palisades, trenches and stakes but it was very effective. It was difficult for the horsemen to get at them and many were milling in confusion.

He might be in danger of losing if this kept up.

He kept shouting, trying to get his men off their horses so they could make less of a target and they could go where horses could not, but Hun didn't let go of their horses lightly. Normally they would just ride off and leave the elves behind, but he didn't want them to do that until the rear guard had broken through.

There were regular 'thunks' from the kick of the catapults, the ratcheting and clunks from ballistra, and the 'bangs' from the smaller tripod-mounted crossbows. Men were shouting and screaming with pain and confusion.

It was by no means one sided; the Hun were superb horse archers and the elves were heavily outnumbered. Good! He saw some of his men had captured one of the enemy trenches. If only they could stop those cursed catapults.

The rear guard joined them. At last! They could start to move again

"We will win this!" Jeyhun shouted with excitement as he rode up.

Jizhu nearly snarled at his stupidity. Yes, they would win here. They had the numbers, but what was the cost in men and delay?

If he wasn't careful the elves would rush their men from the south and unless his father broke through to help him, his superior numbers may not be enough. He needed to keep up the pace and keep the enemy off balance.

Then he looked above him.

It had stopped raining.

"Bring me Gansükh!" he screamed urgently.

* * *

The Allies, the Mt'k'uari River

"I thought we were here to shovel dirt, not to fight," Leonidas yelled to Atiphates as they and some of their men worked quickly, to swing a catapult. Others were manning the remaining catapults and a ballistra.

They were clumsy to aim but effective against the massed enemy. They had hoped to trap the rear guard and scatter the van but it hadn't worked; the Hun had kept together.

For one elf or Greek dead or injured, there were two and maybe three Hun, but the Allies were still losing. There were far too few of them.

As Atiphates was about to reply a huge black, winged horror blinked into existence; it stood tall on clawed feet, its eyes glowed with fire. As it gestured with one clawed hand, there was a clap of power and dozens of men went flying through the air. It sent a jet of fire at another clump of defenders and then for good measure kicked at some unfortunate Hun and his horse while he galloped past.

"Cursed thing's like a dragon," Atiphates yelled as, grunting, they lifted the end of a catapult together to swing it around. The air was full of smoke, shouts and the screaming of horses and men.

Thunk! The daimôn was struck by a ballistra bolt and it stumbled to its knees.

"Now!" Atiphates screamed.

The daimôn staggered up, pulling the bolt from its chest. Then their catapult fired, its sling releasing a wobbling bladder in an arc. It hit the daimôn and burst, spraying it with ice water.

A massive cloud of steam obscured the daimôn.

"Wait for it," Atiphates cautioned the second team. "Now."

The daimôn was staggering up again; roaring in agony. It was hit again by the ice and water and when the steam cleared, it was hit again ... and it disappeared.

They waited for a few moments to be sure, but the daimôn had gone.

The Hun howled in dismay and the elves cheered.

"It'll be back, but not for a good while." Leonidas was panting, bent over.

"Look out!" Atiphates yelled.

A smaller daimôn had appeared, a bit like a misshapen man. One of Pericles' peltastae went running towards it and cast a charmed javelin with a mighty throw. It hit it where its groin would have been causing it to bellow in pain and frustration.

With a wave of its arm the man and all around him were engulfed in flames, but a second javelin was already in the air and buried itself in its shoulder. It turned and stumbled to get away. If a third man could hit it, it would die, though the power released would kill him too.

"Where's the other charmed javelins?" Leonidas screamed, looking desperately about.

Then he saw a phalanx of Greeks lying dead on the smoking grass; one of the distinctive red shafted weapons was nearby. With hardly time for thought Leonidas was running. One of Pericles' men was running from the other direction but he went down, an arrow buried in his side.

"No!" Atiphates screamed as he started to run after him. "Not you!"

"Tell Katarina I love her!" Leonidas yelled back.

But it had given Atiphates time to catch him and he brought him down with a flying tackle and then scrambled over him and past before he could get up.

"Tell her yourself, you fool," Atiphates yelled back as he cast the javelin and then ran towards the enemy. It was only a minute later and a great explosion showered Leonidas with dirt and gravel. His friend was gone.

"Here comes another daimôn," someone screamed.

It was amongst the ballistra and catapults killing the crews, burning and throwing equipment and men in all directions as if they were toys. A large group of Hun on horseback broke through.

"Fall back!" Pericles screamed. "We can't hold here!"

* * *

The Allies, the Elf Gate

Hakeem and Héctor looked at the Hun army waiting well back from the Elf Gate.

It was built with the elvish attention to detail: stone fortifications twenty feet high with a sturdy tower on either side of the reinforced wood and iron door.

They had packed earth against it all, except for one of the doors which had a small sally gate built into it. There they had built earth reinforced with rocks out from it, overlapping so there was a narrow twisting passage, denying the enemy a direct shot at the gate.

There were trenches to slow a charge and, on top of the wall, they had their own siege engines.

Still, the gate wasn't designed for a siege and there weren't enough defenders. The Huns would capture it. In fact, Hakeem wanted them to but before that, he wanted to make it as expensive as possible.

"That's not very clever," Hakeem said conversationally as they watched the next of the enemy's attempts.

Squads of men were running the twisting path to the sally port under four of the great horizontal shields called 'tortoises'. As they cleared the obstructions, they made a run for the gate but all they did was die.

They were richly clad and wore expensive jewels.

"They are making this just a little too obvious," Héctor agreed.

Something out of the corner of his eye made Hakeem turn; on a mountain top off to one side a light was flashing. The elves used a simple messaging system, thousands of years old. There were two water clocks: simple devices involving water draining from a container.

There was a signal and acknowledgement and then both clocks were started, one on the sending side, and one on the receiving side. Another message would stop both clocks. As the level of water dropped it began uncovering the tips of message-sticks with four predetermined messages. The last was the shortest stick.

"Did anyone notice when it stopped raining?" Héctor asked softly as they turned to watch the nearby elf with his clock.

The first message stick was uncovered.

Kohestan had fallen.

The second one: the Huns had reached elvish land.

The answer must be the daimôns. Didn't they manage to delay them at all?

Several men stopped what they were doing and came to watch as the water continued to fall.

As the third one was revealed, every eye was on the falling water in fascinated horror. The Hun had broken through and the allies were falling back towards Elgard; they were being overwhelmed.

And still the water leaked out as the level fell to the very last message of all.

* * *

The Allies, the Elf Gate

The single note of a horn rang out. Everywhere Shantawi were saying goodbye to their elvish comrades and running for their horses.

"It has been a great honour knowing you," Héctor said, hugging Hakeem.

"I regret nothing," Hakeem whispered, tears in his eyes.

He thought to say more, but then shook his head and stepped onto the rear battlements as his men formed up.

"Shantawi! Brothers!"

His voice rang out so loudly that even their enemy paused to hear what he said. "The enemy has broken through to the elf lands and the elves have been defeated in the field. Our time is upon us! This, I think, will be our last great ride together in this life.

"If we are to die, we go now you and I to sell our lives dearly."

A loud cheer rang out from his men as Hakeem ran for his horse.

The battle was lost. It might be the last great ride of the Shantawi, maybe the last ever, but they laughed as they rode. They began a great battle song. These were the fighting Shantawi, the grim men of the desert and for the Shantawi too, death was not the end.

The elves on the wall smiled and waved, and gripped their bows more strongly. The Huns who were themselves a proud warrior people stood for a moment and cheered their enemies in salute. Then they made ready to resume the attack.

Héctor turned back to regard the richly clad Hun strewn over the ground outside the elf gate with distaste. They had arrows sticking out of their backs or their fronts where they fell and were unmoving on the ground. Some were still partly hidden under the four of the tortoises and the rest in untidy heaps all around. Their assault was an apparent failure: pointless and stupid.

Even from here Héctor could see the gold, the precious stones, richly jewelled weapons flung out in lifeless hands and their unusually bulky armour.

The rest of the Huns were crowded behind some hastily erected field fortifications, well out of bowshot but not elvish ballistae and catapults.

At a signal from Héctor, most of the elves began streaming away from the wall for the next set of fortifications. They would evacuate Kazbegi now, but if the enemy broke through the next two barriers the defenders would face a run across open ground to the high pass, and they would be pursued by horsemen.

There may be nothing left to protect. Maybe when they were beaten back to the heights of the high pass the enemy would be at their rear to greet them. It didn't matter; they had a job to do.

Whatever happened, Hector would never know. He was staying at the elf gate with the older elves. "Are you sure, my Lord?" Belamus asked.

Héctor hugged Belamus and nodded. His final words were in the old tongue.

"We will meet again, my brother, but not in this life." It was what was said between the last defenders of Elvish Troia, just before the Mycenae overwhelmed them.

Héctor called out loudly, "Open the gates!"

Those who were to stay behind ran to their posts.

* * *

Army of the West, the Elf Gate

The Huns laughed. Such an old trick and the ghost faces fell for it. The small sally port opened and a group of elves issued out to pick up the treasure; they were fewer than expected and they seemed old. The enemy must be close to collapse if this was all the men they had left.

A horn sounded and the dead Hun sprang to their feet, arrows sticking out of their bulky armour as they charged for the small gate. That was the signal for the main army; with a loud roar the waiting cavalry charged.

The elvish defenders battled desperately to close the gate but one of the Hun had died there, blocking it. Then they were hit by a mighty tide of men and horses and were swept away. With a great cheer the Hun swung the main gate open wide.

The elves were falling back, slipping and sliding on an oily black liquid as they retreated.

A fine oily spray was coming down from the cliffs and from nozzles sticking out of the wall. It was spraying at the front and behind. The Hun wondered at it but whatever it was, but it was too late to stop them. They were streaming freely through the main gate now. Others were furiously digging at the earth to open the other half of the gate. The few fleeing elves were overtaken and cut down.

Belamus and his mounted bodyguard were watching from a distance; his eyes were streaming with tears. Héctor hadn't gotten away. He waited a long time as the enemy crowded in.

"They didn't get to light it," Belamus whispered. "Give me an arrow, I will shoot first."

There were nine other elves with flaming arrows waiting but he would take the first honour. Héctor had been like a father to him.

With a prayer Belamus released, sending the arrow high above the wall. They all watched as the other fire arrows arced to join it. The Hun, believing the gate was finally theirs and hearing the words of the Warlord, had committed their main strength. They were crowded in, maybe six tumen, maybe more. They had wondered what the black oily liquid was. The fire arrows fell amongst it and the liquid started to burn, slowly at first.

For a short time there was shouting and screams of terror and agony, from horses and men, then a great explosion lit up the walls of the valley.

After that, there was only the roar of the fire.

* * *

The Shantawi, the Dariel Pass

Hakeem kept up a punishing pace for man and horse.

They didn't pause till they reached the high pass. Then, despite the pressing need, they dismounted and had a guide lead them. Not a lot of work had been required to make the ascending leg of the high pass defensible and dangerous. If the Hun reached this far they would find they would have to rebuild parts of the pass after the various traps and landslides had been triggered.

It was dark by the time they reached Gudauri.

The news was that the road was open as far as Mtskheta but south of that scouts had reported great fires and a lot of smoke in the distance. Hakeem insisted on resting and feeding the men though he hardly slept himself as he waited for what the next day would bring.

* * *

The Final Day

A Field Hospital, just east of Elgard

The elves and their allies were losing badly.

Whenever they rallied or crouched behind their barricades the Hun used daimôns to punch gaping holes through their defences and followed up with overwhelming numbers.

Their line of retreat was strewn with bodies, some like broken dolls carelessly tossed aside, others staring sightlessly at where the enemy had been, their bodies riddled with arrows, others were smouldering bundles of charred flesh and smoking rags.

Reinforcements had been hurried from the south but it did nothing to halt the enemy advance. The morning had brought renewed attacks but no daimôns. They were saving them for the final assault on the fortress itself.

Cyron galloped up to the field hospital to the east of Elgard and leapt off his horse.

Elena jerked awake. She didn’t realise she had dozed off. She had had no sleep for how long? Her breakfast of cheese and bread was untouched on her lap.

She was surprised and gladdened to see her father. Thank the Goddess, he had made it back in time from the south.

"Elena, you must get these wounded back to the citadel, we are being overrun. We will make our final stand there."

"Some are too ill to move."

"I'm sorry, Elena. Don’t leave any for the enemy."

They exchanged a glance, father and daughter.

Elena nodded. Every elf healer carried a sharp knife.

"How long to get the others to safety?" he asked.

"Three hours to reach the citadel, with some of the walking wounded helping."

"I can give you two hours, maybe less."

"My Lord, the Hun are too close" An aide, called Baldur, interrupted. "They will be on us any moment."

At that Cyron laughed.

He tossed the reins of his horse to the waiting elf and lifted his great war-bow and two quivers from his horse. For this, he would go on foot.

"If I am to die, Baldur, let me die facing my enemies." He raised his voice to a shout. "Elves, our enemy are coming. Shall we give them welcome?"

There was laughter and great cheering.

"Come on, then. Let us meet this enemy and give my daughter the time she needs."

"I love you, Father," Elena screamed as she watched her father trotting swiftly away, his age forgotten. It was to be her last memory of him.

* * *

East of Elgard, the Retreat

The elves whispered to their horses and bullocks, encouraging them, telling them of their great need. And yet the wagons were heavily laden and moved slowly. Elena kept looking over her shoulder, her elf senses warning her that a large party of men was overtaking them.

Eventually she abandoned the horse she was coaxing.

She yelled an order in Elvish and grabbed for her gorytos and bow as she ran to the rear. By the time she had reached there she had shouldered her quiver, strung her bow and nocked an arrow.

She was soon joined by her six guards, four walking wounded and the other five healers. Not much, if the enemy that had caught them. Instead it was a mixed group of Greeks and elves that broke cover behind her. Pericles was leading them.

"Elena." He hugged and kissed her. "We don't have much time. The enemy is between us and the city and there is Hun cavalry coming not far behind."

"Any more daimôns?"

"Not nearby, at least, they are saving most of them for the fortress."

"Get your badly wounded onto the wagons. That cheek of yours." Elena touched it gently. "I think it is a full thickness burn. Is it numb in that pale section?"

"Numb?" He laughed at that. "It might be numb to touch in the centre, I don't know. All I know is that it burns as if the Erinyes (Furies) are attacking it, but I have bigger problems for the moment. "

"Not far from here are some old fortifications, we will go there." Elena told him.

* * *

The Shantawi, north of Elgard

The Shantawi kept their pace to a distance-eating canter as they descended from the foothills. The old fortress at Mtskheta was still in allied hands; there they got fresh horses and, with reluctance, Hakeem was forced to leave Nadir.

As they got closer to the great city they could see a dense pall of smoke reaching up like a great river flooding into the sky. Finally, they paused on a small plateau to look out over the city.

The forest to the East of the city was well alight. A daimôn could be seen in the distance; it seemed to be setting fires or sending fire at something they couldn't see.

"My Lord." Persos pointed. It was hard to pick out individual figures but out of all the chaos he had spotted a group of elves and Greeks with wagons trying to retreat to the city. "They are cut off. It looks like they are carrying a lot of wounded."

"Well, let's see if we can help them. One small thing in all this chaos. Can we get there?"

"We will have to go around, Lord." Hasna, his chief scout, gestured. "I know a path."

In answer Hakeem turned his horse to follow.

* * *

Outskirts of Elgard, The Queen's last stand

When they arrived at the old fortified manor house, there was already a well-organised encampment. A group of Greek engineers had been at work strengthening the defences. It was only supposed to have been a watch post, but the lightning advance of the Hun had cut off thirty Greek engineers and the elvish garrison of two dozen elf warriors. More stragglers were arriving all the time.

To what they had, Pericles could add two hundred mostly able-bodied men: elvish and human. They had five wounded who could draw a bow and twenty-eight others able to help in small ways, and the healers and the drivers of the carts.

Scrub had been cleared; a ditch in front of a row of sharpened stakes protected the stone wall which was twelve feet high with a walkway inside it.

There was a good well.

"Under cover it will be crowded but it will have to do," Elena said. "Raise my battle standard. Let it fly free, I think this will be its last time ever."

The flag with the Royal Dragon began to wave in the wind, crimson against a green background to indicate the queen.

"We have water, my Queen, but not enough food," the leader of her guard, Hermogenes, told her.

"Make sure we have a good stock of wood then. Begin killing the oxen first then the donkeys and then the horses." She sighed. "I don't think we will need food for very long, but keep the men well fed."

"Your horse too?"

"Yes." She nodded. "If I wished to run, we are surrounded. And besides, where would I run to?"

"If we make it through to the night perhaps we can break out; our night vision is better than theirs," Hermogenes suggested.

"I think they know that, Hermogenes. No, I will go no further."

* * *

Army of the East, outskirts of Elgard

Jizhu and Gansükh galloped up surrounded by a large contingent of warriors.

"Is that really the Elf Queen?" he asked.

On a nearby hill there was an old walled manor; the royal standard waving proudly in the wind. Could it really be this easy? Beyond a sense of disbelief and triumph, his feelings were tinged with sadness. The elves had showed so much courage. Even their allies had.

Now it was all but over.

That something that had been so magnificent would end in this way was sad. Yet he would show them no mercy; nor would they ask for any.

A blond figure dressed all in black blinked into existence on a nearby rise, surrounded by a few dozen warriors in strange garb.

"Æloðulf!" Jizhu called to Gansükh. "What is he doing here?"

"I don't know, Master," Gansükh said.

Even at the distance, the man seemed to hear them and raised a hand to wave.

"Does he still hope to possess the elves? Perhaps he hopes to capture their queen. Attack him first. Strike quickly and together; overwhelm his spells."

Two hundred Hun warriors galloped towards the sorcerer. At a shouted command they released their arrows at once. Æloðulf held his hand up. A few of the arrows got through, but most fell to the ground, harmless. He gestured at the Hun and the front rows were engulfed in flame.

"Leave him!" Jizhu screamed. "Just kill the Queen. I will press on to the city. "

* * *

The fortress of Elgard

Neros was the last commander left in Elgard.

It was a great irony that its final defender was a human, and that the number of defenders was so pitiful.

He stood on the battlements of the lower fortress, looking out. The afternoon sun cast long shadows over the city. There were still a few men making their way to the fortress, some mounted, most were on foot, many badly burnt or wounded. They would be the last men coming from the east. The enemy had breached the eastern city.

The elf seeress, Sophie, stood next to him. "My Lord, there are seven lesser daimôns left and they are using them sparingly. They haven't used the two daimôn lords yet.

"Our Queen has been surrounded. She has raised her standard in one of the old fortified manors. Your brother lives and has joined her there. They have over three hundred able warriors with them."

Just then there was a bright flash in the distance.

"Six lesser daimôns left," she corrected herself.

The nearby defenders let out a great cheer.

"What hope can there be?" Neros asked no one in particular.

"This is all I wished to avoid," Daniel cried out in anguish "All my hopes, all the suffering, all the work and sacrifice. It has been for nothing."

"Nothing lasts forever, my love." Sophie said. "Not even the elves. But we have given them a good fight. What we had was worth fighting for."

Large parts of the city across the river were burning freely now. Dense black and grey smoke billowed up to the sky above, lit by the orange rays of an angry sun.

Neros glanced at his peltastae, gripping their javelins grimly; Daniel and Sophie stood together with four of her remaining sisters. As he glanced back, in the near distance he saw two lesser daimôns blink into existence. Amongst them this time was a great daimôn lord.

That’s all it would take, the final assault on the fortress. If four lesser daimôns had levelled Darband, a daimôn lord and two others would obliterate them and leave little left.

"Why aren't they coming here? " Daniel asked after a while.

They should be running to cross the river; instead, they were wandering about, almost idly, setting fire to the trees and buildings. They kept glancing from time to time to the west.

"Why would they do that?" Neros asked Sophie, perplexed. "They are attacking empty houses. They only have a limited time."

"They're waiting for something," Sophie said.

As if reading his thoughts, the great daimôn lord stood up tall and seemed to sniff the air. He was enormous and bright red, his face a parody of a man's. As his head swivelled to the western road, he trumpeted a challenge. Then he dropped to all fours and began to run for the river.

Sophie gasped and turned to the west.

Four riders were on the road, coming fast.

She let out a moan of horror and spun for the stairs. Neros sent two men running after her and turned back to watch the daimôn lord pause and roar another challenge.

"What's happening?" he asked, but no one knew.

The elves had meant to burn the bridge, but it wouldn't have stopped a daimôn lord. He leapt the river and resumed running. The four riders had reached the road leading up to the fortress and were urging their exhausted horses up the twisting road, the great daimôn not far behind them.

The daimôn couldn't match the speed of the horses but it was ponderously scrambling straight up, where the horses followed the zigzag road as it climbed.

It paused and let out a deafening roar, "Ja-meme!" as Jacinta and her escort of Amazónes came thundering through the lower gate.

The portcullis dropped and the gate slammed with a mighty thud. The gates were sealed.

The daimôn paused halfway up the slope to let out another roar. "Jacinme!"

Jacinta quickly shoved a letter at Eirene.

"What happens if you are killed?" Eirene yelled at Jacinta as she took the papyrus roll.

Jacinta hurried back to kiss Eirene on the cheek. "Good or ill, my destiny awaits me here. If I fall, and I believe I will, our God will send someone else."

"No, I mean, what about us, what about the Amazónes?"

"I think that it was always intended that you carry on what I started. It's all in the letter, whatever money I have, my books, everything. I love you. Now stay away from the fighting, and that's an order. All of you!"

She spun away as they grabbed her lathered horse and she took to the stairs two at a time. She had four javelins in her hand and her shield across her back. She awkwardly snatched the glove from her left hand and let it fall as she ran.

As she reached the lower walkway there was someone waiting there, pale and wretched, tears streaming down her cheeks.

"Jacinta! You cannot defeat Æloðulf." Sophie told her.

"He's for later," Jacinta gave her a feral grin. "I am the only one who can kill one of their daimôn lords, you know that Sophie; now step aside."

"But you are going to die here!" Sophie cried. "I've seen it. You will be betrayed."

"I don't care." She kissed her friend fiercely. Then she pushed past. "I need you on that wall, Sophie."

She was breathless by the time she reached the wide walkway, pulling her shield and its shoulder strap from off her back and arranging her javelins in her shield hand.

All along the battlements there were the great engines of war: ballistae, catapults and hastily improvised water cannon. On one side were the elven archers with Daniel and some sisters from the temple. Sophie moved to join them. On the other side was a group of Greek peltastae, all javelins with red shafts.

Across the river she could see a couple of lesser daimôns. Horsemen, elves and Greeks were trying to attack them. Below the daimôn lord had almost reached the gate; it raised its head and let out a chilling scream.

"Ja- meme." It screamed. "Member."

A huge catapult released and the daimôn was hit and stumbled. Then a ballistra hit him full in the chest.

That must have hurt!

The daimôn staggered, pulling at the smouldering bolt. It smacked its open palm to the fortifications in a crash of thunder and a ball of flame.

Jacinta was thrown off her feet.

As she struggled through the smoke and the dust to reach the forward battlements again, she saw a flash of light. It seemed to run along the outside wall from where the daimôn was, as if it was searching her out.

Her javelins were already charged but she touched the point of the one she was going to use, more for luck than anything. She hefted her shield more from habit than any hope it would protect her.

She was as ready as she ever would be.

"Jacinta!" Sophie screamed a warning. "It was waiting for you! They were all waiting for you."

"Well, here I am!" Jacinta yelled, laughing. A battle madness had seized her. Had they waited all this time just to kill her? Well, she would just see about that!

"Leave this one to me, it's a daimôn lord."

Her arm moved back cocked, ready.

The daimôn had moved around to where she was and reared up, its full height. It looked up at her, a great demon lord.

It had moved a few feet back from the wall which gave her a better target and it flung its arm to skyward and then pointed straight to her, staring at her, eye to eye. The javelin that she had charged flew into an arc towards it. It made no effort to avoid it. Time stood still for that moment as she and the daimôn stared at each other eye to eye.

And then she knew.

"Aṯtaru, name Aṯtaru, member Jacinta."

One of the greatest daimôn lords to have ever lived took the javelin full in the chest and, with a smile, took the shaft and thrust it deeper inside.

"Jacinta … member!"

"Aṯtaru." She screamed desperately. "I will remember! I will remember Aṯtaru!"

He smiled serenely at her, and then he was covered with black sparkling light which was swirling faster and faster.

"Get down, for the sake of the Mother!" Daniel screamed.

She was about to release the power of a daimôn lord.

Jacinta dropped flat and a blue haze covered her. Not a moment too soon! The world erupted in a mighty blast of power. Stone flew and Jacinta was flung back. Where the daimôn had stood there was a figure made of smoke; it made a gesture that could have been a wave and then it was gone.

A small dark cloud swelled up and then it began to fly, faster and faster back to where the Hun army waited, to the special ordos, back to the one who summoned it. The other daimôns paused, standing to watch the death of a daimôn lord. A mighty whirlwind of force hit the hill where the daimôn summoners were: roaring, boiling, black and crackling with power. It sucked everything in: trees, men, animals, anything at all.

And it began to spin faster and faster.

"Run, all of you," Jacinta screamed urgently as she slowly and painfully limped forward to the ruin of the battlement. "Run for your lives!"

She didn't run. There was no point.

The great black shadow started to move towards her, slowly at first, picking up speed. She had just enough time enough to be afraid. A great blue arc sprang out to meet it but the black flying shape went through it as if it wasn't there. Jacinta could feel something gathering her up.

And then it was all thunder, fire, darkness and pain.

* * *

Outskirts of Elgard, The Elf Queen's final stand

The Hun might be good horse archers but they had not, until the defence of Elgard, faced elf archers and Greek peltastae behind well-made fortifications.

They had no siege weapons and no daimôns to help them this time.

They had been beaten back with their first two charges and had started the third when Hakeem and his men burst out from the cover and attacked their rear.

Pericles' men sallied forth and attacked them from the front. Outflanked and caught by surprise, the Hun were rapidly cut down.

"Hakeem!" Elena screamed. "You're back!"

Hakeem caught her up for a hug as she threw herself at him.

He hardly paused, Æloðulf was still to be dealt with.

"Persos, you stay here with half our men to help guard the wounded. Pericles, I will take the rest of my bodyguard and circle around to attack Æloðulf from the other side; it'll only be a diversion to allow you and your peltastae to get closer.

"He can stop arrows; let's see how he does with those special javelins and cavalry swords coming at him from opposite sides." Pericles gave him a nod and a grin. "Elena, stay here with your elves; Pericles and I will come back for you as soon as we can."

As the Greek and Shantawi raced to where Æloðulf stood, Elena moved to one side to talk quietly and urgently to her elves.

"Æloðulf nearly destroyed our race once, now he has returned with these Huns and daimôns to finish us for ever. Do you think we should leave him to a bunch of humans to deal with him?"

Before Persos knew anything was happening, Elena and her elves had vanished.

One minute they were there, the next minute they were not.

* * *

Outside the fortress of Elgard

Jacinta woke in Ba'al's arms.

They were in the forest some distance from the castle. Some trees around them were still burning. She felt huge and unaccountably light, as if she would float up into the air with the next puff of breeze.

"Jacinta, you destroyed Aṯtaru. The power released destroyed all the šamán except Gansükh; the daimôns are gone." He paused.

"What hit me?" Jacinta tried to shake herself out of her confusion "I feel huge."

"You absorbed all that energy from Aṯtaru. He was the biggest of all of us. You should not, you could not, have survived that."

"Ba'al, it was planned. Aṯtaru sacrificed himself to destroy the daimôn summoners."

"Yes, I saw that. Shame he didn't catch Gansükh as well. Well, we can honour his memory later. Æloðulf's control of me is weakening."

"You bound yourself to him? How can that be weakening?"

"I don't know, the act of bonding is part of our nature and creates something more powerful than any spell you could imagine. It has never been known to weaken before. There is something wrong with him."

"My mother is in great danger," Jacinta gasped. "The prophecy says she will die here!"

"Where is she?"

"I don't know!" Jacinta looked helplessly towards the east bank of the city, now much of it on fire. "I think Æloðulf is after her. She will likely be across the river working with the wounded."

"I think it's time I faced him."

"You can't kill him. You are bonded to him, and besides no one can."

"The Prophecy." Ba'al nodded. "And there is an even older prophecy. A great elf hero is supposed to return to fight him in the final battle of the Illvættir war. Well, I don't see any ancient armour lying around, but I do see the two of us. Are you ready?" He cupped his two hands and pointed to the east and gently blew on them. "But first this."

"What did you do?"

"It will fill your enemy's hearts with fear and cause the illusion of a daimôn army chasing them."

"Couldn't you have done that just a little bit sooner?"

Ba'al looked at her blankly.

"Oh, I see!" He laughed. "It would have been handy, I suppose. Unfortunately, it is too easily countered by another daimôn. All we need to do now is to keep Gansükh and Æloðulf too busy to do anything to counter it. I will carry you inside me. Æloðulf will try to command me, so when I say for you to come out, you must be quick."

He stretched out his hand to her. Her glove and a javelin appeared in it.

"Make sure your javelin is spelled and then cover it and your hand with leather or thick cloth. You will feel a strange sensation as our substances mix, but it will do you no harm, I promise you that."

Jacinta struggled into the glove and wound the tip of her javelin with her cloak. "Let's go."

Ba'al assumed his main form, he was gigantic.

Jacinta checked she still had her sword and knife as he grabbed her up. Then she almost fell as Ba'al started to run down the mountain, in thunderous strides, blasting his way through the trees. He seemed to be made of something like swirling smoke inside, but by touch she found something like a seat and felt it mould itself comfortably to her shape.

So daimôns could carry smaller daimôns inside themselves. Why would they want to do that?

Ba'al was rapidly running down the great road and leapt across the river. He seemed to be flying across the ground. Elves and horsemen were frantically scurrying out of his road. Without any warning he spun dizzyingly to the left.

He clapped his hands and the Hun began screaming and fleeing. "This is fun," he chuckled.

She caught an image of Pericles and his men. It was a bit like she saw them from underwater. Ba'al did something and they all fell down as if they fainted...

"For their own good. Oh, oh! ..." He swerved in his dizzy way, weaving past something. She saw her mother for an instant.

"What are you doing?"

"Gansükh!" Ba'al's voice echoed loudly in her head. He was picking up speed and then she saw he was charging a man on a horse. The man's mouth opened in an unheard scream and he spun this horse and ... he disappeared. Jacinta blinked; she wondered if she imagined it.

Ba'al slowed. The whole world seemed to be rocking.

"Are you laughing? All right, you smarty daimôn, what did you do?"

The world kept rocking. "I threatened Gansükh. Namatar has taken him to safety, probably using as much energy as possible. Gansükh won't be able to summon him again for days and he has no way to get back here. It is perfectly legal, and Gansükh can't complain."

"You knew Namatar would do that?"

"I thought he might." He seemed to gather himself. "One left, Æloðulf is strangely weakened. I think we can defeat him."

"One way to find out," Jacinta whispered, tightening her grip on her javelin.

But she was finding it hard to concentrate. She felt unaccountably warm and breathless and tingly all over. It was an absolutely delicious feeling. Was this what Ba'al had said she might feel? What was causing this feeling? Something about their essences mingling ...

Oh no! Not that! Anything but that!

THAT was why a large daimôn would carry a small one inside.

"It was the only way," he said, reading her thoughts.

And yet she could feel him laughing at her.

"Ba'al, I'm going to kill you after this! I really am going to kill you!"

* * *

Pericles

Pericles opened his eyes cautiously. It took some time to realise he wasn't dead, or hurt; at least no more than he had been. He sat up and he saw some of his men cautiously sitting up around him, astounded to be alive.

Elena bent over him, concerned. "Pericles, are you all right?"

And what are you doing out here?

"I think so. I just thought I was going to be killed, er, again. Where's Æloðulf?"

Elena gestured nearby. A massive black daimôn was trying to approach the blond wizard. Just then the wizard sent a bolt of red energy straight at the daimôn.

"Incredibly, the battle has turned against the enemy. This daimôn seems to have joined our side. I think it is a daimôn lord, a very powerful one, but Æloðulf is giving it trouble," Elena told him.

"Stay well away from both of them," Pericles said.

He turned back, but Elena and her elves were gone.

* * *

Outskirts of Elgard, battle with Æloðulf

A bolt of force hit Ba'al like a thunderclap. Jacinta felt him shudder and stumble but he kept moving towards Æloðulf slowly, as if wading through deep mud. He lifted up his arm and an orange shield appeared in his hand, glowing with power.

There was a series of explosions getting louder and brighter. Jacinta was momentarily blinded. Halfway up the hill Ba'al seemed unable to move.

"Not yet! Something is definitely wrong with him."

She clenched her teeth. The delicious feeling was almost overwhelming.

"Shut your eyes!" Ba'al said.

There was another flash. Æloðulf stood alone; all his guards were dead at his feet.

"So you come to betray your oath to me, monster."

"It is you that played us false!" Ba'al thundered. "With one hand you make a compact, with the other you want to destroy us."

"Come out running," Ba'al whispered in her mind.

From a stationary start, Jacinta leapt forward and cast almost in one motion. Æloðulf was busy laughing at Ba'al accusations, but he was too quick. He knocked her javelin to one side with a sneer.

She didn't have another.

"So, my daimôn plots to kill me, as if I didn't know."

He raised his hand to send a counter. Jacinta was clawing at her sword as she ran.

She wouldn't make it.

Thunk! Thunk! Thunk! Arrows began to shower Æloðulf's back. He spun around to see the elves had gathered on the other side of the hill, Elena at their head.

Hakeem had appeared on another side with a few men waving his sword and running flat out. Greeks were coming from a fourth direction with red shafted javelins.

Æloðulf looked between them and Jacinta running for all she was worth, charging her sword as she ran. And he ... hesitated.

Jacinta was on him first, swinging her sword but her blade went through him as if he was made of air. He had his mouth open to scream but he was dissolving in a swirl of black smoke.

"A double!" Ba'al said, in a fury.

"Æloðulf has used a daimôn to create a double. He has power like unto a god, but this is a betrayal, a terrible one. He has just declared war on every free daimôn lord in the entire daimôn realm." Then he shouted, "Jacinta, look out!"

Jacinta was hit by a bolt of power. It felt like something exploded inside her.

She gasped. More energy!

It felt as if her thinly stretched skin was all that was holding her together.

"Jacinta." Ba'al helped her up. "You absorbed it! I felt you store the daimôn energy inside you somewhere."

Jacinta bent over, panting, trying to hug herself together so she wouldn't explode.

Great, I'm filled with a whole mountain weight of daimôn substance and if it doesn't contaminate my life essence I'll burst like an overfilled bladder and spray myself over half the countryside.

"Elena!" Hakeem shrieked.

Jacinta looked up as she heard the anguish in her father's voice and a second, real, Æloðulf had appeared beside Elena. She was screaming and trying to fight him. A ball of energy surrounded them and then there was a great explosion. It left only scorched grass, and the charred bodies of her escort.

Ba'al was just in time to throw a shield around Jacinta.

"Jacinta, he's taking her to the daimôn realm. He has found a way already. I must follow him and I must do it now!"

"Ba'al! Take me with you."

She yelled across to her father. "Father, I will follow her! I promise I will find Mother and bring her back to you."

Ba'al stepped forward to gather her up. "Wow, Jacinta. You are like a thunderstorm. I can't contain all this loose energy if we are going to transit. I'll have to channel some of it into the ground, where it won't hit your father."

She heard her father shouting but there was no time to reply.

In a flash of bright light they were gone.

* * *

Hakeem, moments before

Æloðulf gestured and there was an explosion that threw Hakeem from his horse. He staggered up, ears ringing. Only half a dozen of his men were able to stand, and they made their way slowly and unsteadily to join him. He gathered himself and begun to jog to where Æloðulf was.

Halfway there he saw something that made his blood run cold; Elena and Jacinta were there. Elena's elves were shooting arrows. Jacinta was running at Æloðulf, a huge black daimôn was stopped just behind her. As Jacinta hit him with her sword, Æloðulf disappeared in a cloud of smoke.

Then there was an explosion near where Jacinta stood and Hakeem was blinded and deafened. While he was struggling to clear the after image and his ringing ears, some figure appeared next to Elena and attacked her.

He couldn't see who or what it was.

He saw her struggling and yelled a warning but couldn't get there fast enough. An explosion cleared the hill of anything living: only smouldering bodies and scorched earth was left.