The Last Stand of Daronwy Read online

  “What was that on the altar today?”

  Jeremy swallowed. John answered, “Jeremy crushed his fingers in the door when he was helping me get the chalices out of the back room.”

  “I don’t care if you crushed your head in it. You were inattentive, unresponsive, and distracting to the congregation. You two will never serve together again. Do I make myself perfectly clear?”

  “Yes, sir,” they both said, looking down.

  Boylston’s head swiveled like an owl. He tore an unused wooden coat hanger from the closet. “Extend your hands.” They did, palms up. He rolled his eyes. “Turn them over.” The boys complied. Jeremy’s right hand was purple across the first joint of his fingers. Boylston slapped their knuckles with the wooden coat hanger. Jeremy held his breath, but the priest spared his right hand. His left hand ached, but nothing like his right. “Let that be a lesson to you to show the proper reverence and attentiveness while you are on the altar. Now, get out of here.”

  They bolted out of the Sacristy and collided with a sea of churchgoers, eager to get home for supper. They stumbled into the acolyte’s cloakroom and slammed the door behind them.

  John leaned against the door, doubled over, holding his hands. Tears dripped down his cheeks.

  “Let me see your hands. You okay?”

  John extended his hands. The knuckles were purple on both hands. “It hurts.”

  “Wiggle your fingers.”

  He did.

  “They’re not broken; you’ll be okay.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  Jeremy sighed, collapsing onto the ground, back against the lockers. “I don’t know. Pray that Father Pat gets well?” He coughed around the tears in his throat.

  “No one’s going to believe Father hit us.”

  Jeremy shook his head, untying the woven belt around his robe with stiff, aching fingers.

  “Jeremy, what am I going to tell my mom and dad?” He sniffled, rubbing his nose with the back of his hand. “I don’t want to be in more trouble… ”

  “Calm down. Dry your eyes.” Jeremy scanned for a tissue, but didn’t find one. “Just use the bottom of the robe.” John started to calm down. “Tell your parents that you smashed your hands in the hidden door.”

  “But you did. What if they find out?”

  “They won’t. It’ll be okay, I promise.”

  “I can’t untie it… ”

  Jeremy untied John’s belt and hung both robes. John rubbed his eyes once more and left the room. Would it really be okay? What if Father Pat didn’t come back? Jeremy swallowed, took a breath, and went to find his parents.

  Every day, the specter of school marched closer. Jeremy walked with his head down, following Daniel along Faker. He could tell that Daniel watched for any indication of a trap, but Loren and Roland hadn’t set any traps since football practice had started. While it was obviously stupid to put traps on the trails, Jeremy missed them; they were fun to disarm. The oppressive heat closed around them like a giant’s sweaty fist. They stopped at Dry Creek to rest for a moment before Daniel made to head back to Twin Hills.

  “Let’s go this way,” Jeremy said, leading Daniel down a rabbit warren and deeper into Helter Skelter. They came to a place where Dry Creek bent before them again, cutting deeper. The walls of the creek towered over their heads. Jeremy sat on its edge, dangling his legs over the side. Daniel sat next to him. Birds chirped in the trees and squirrels ferreted through the underbrush. It felt like the evil, tingling presence had taken a day off. Jeremy lay back on the pine needles and stared up into the canopy. He said, “I still think Kronshar should attack Hrad’din.”

  Daniel sighed. “I suppose. How will we survive? I don’t want him killing all the people and turning them into the living dead.”

  It was a fair point. “What if we put all the people in the castle, hidden down in the secret passageways, and when we realize we can’t hold the walls from him, we take the Stones and escape, making him chase us.”

  “That sounds good.”

  They picked their way out of Helter Skelter and climbed to the top of the Twin Hills. “Let’s play that this is the top of the castle wall in Hrad’din. It’s the middle of the night and I was walking around and you found me.”

  “Can’t sleep either?” said Lightningbolt.

  Eaglewing shook his head. “There is something wrong with this night.”

  “Yeah, look at the light up there. The Midnight Wizard is awake in his tower.”

  As Eaglewing looked in the direction that Lightningbolt pointed, the light in the tower winked out, then shone again, as if some dark shadow had passed. He turned to his brother. “Did you see that?”

  “I was hoping it was just me.”

  “Sound the alarm! We are under attack!”

  The guard on the wall glanced up at him, as though seeing him for the first time. “Sir?”

  “Now! Sound the alarm. Bring the people inside the gates. Go! Go!”

  The guard ran down the wall to light the warning pyre of dry sticks at the corner battlement. Corresponding fires flared across the castle and bells began to toll down in the city. As the last of the pyres came to light, Lightningbolt grabbed his brother’s arm. “Look!”

  A swarming rampage of dragons slithered through the sky on silent leathery wings, riding high air currents, circling over the unsuspecting city.

  “Kronshar—”

  An explosion finished his sentence. They looked down to see orange flames consuming the village at the base of the palace.

  “That’s not a natural fire.”

  Eaglewing, Lightningbolt, to the Stones!

  “Let’s play that we go to the room where the Stones are kept and Mayflure, Naranthor, and Kavarine are arguing with the Midnight Wizard and Niritan,” said Daniel.

  “Let’s play that they want to use the Stones, but Niritan says we aren’t ready.” Jeremy pitched his voice in the commanding tone of Naranthor. “It is madness to have the Stones and not use them.”

  “It is better to get them out of the castle, because Kronshar will be invincible if he obtains them,” said Niritan.

  Lightningbolt shook his head. “Do you mean we are not going to use the Stones?”

  “We should get them out of the castle,” Niritan said again, crossing all four arms in a complex knot of stubbornness.

  “But the people are down there.” As if to make Eaglewing’s point, another explosion shook the room. Dust sifted from the ceiling in a soft gray rain.

  “And Kronshar will enslave them all if he gains the Stones. Is that what you want, warrior?”

  Elder Raaven came into the room. “What is happening? We are being attacked and you are standing around talking?”

  The Midnight Wizard held his hand up. “The Edenkiri says that the Stones are useless against Kronshar because we do not have the Capstone. He advocates we take the Stones and flee.”

  “I am not conceding defeat to that maggot wizard before we have even begun to fight,” Naranthor said.

  “Who among you can use these Stones?”

  Lightningbolt, the Midnight Wizard, Naranthor, Kavarine, and Niritan answered.

  “Then do what you must to fight these hordes. We shall not retreat.”

  “May I speak, Elder?”

  “Go on, Edenkiri, but make it brief.”

  “We need the Red Stone, otherwise all of these will fall into his hands. Send one of the adepts behind the enemy lines, to Kronshar, to try to take it from him.”

  “I will do it,” said Mayflure.

  Eaglewing shot her a glance.

  “Mayflure, are you certain?” Naranthor said.

  “Yes.” She looked down.

  “All right then. Eaglewing, you lead the men on the lower wall.” />
  Elder Raaven glanced from face to face. “Are we done? Yes. Good. Time is wasting. To your stations. And Mayflure, may the gods go with you.”

  Eaglewing and Mayflure left the room at a run.

  Lightningbolt and the other wizards took the Stones and their guards onto the highest battlements overlooking the inner castle. Below them, the walls of the city blazed with fire, backlighting thousands of shapes: goblins, ogres, and the walking dead.

  Niritan guided the wizards. “Clear your mind; meld your energy with that of your Stone.”

  Lightningbolt did as the ancient Edenkiri instructed.

  Eaglewing and Mayflure flew low, gliding toward the lower keep of Hrad’din. She saluted toward Eaglewing and flew into the night, looking for the rear of the enemy’s line. As Eaglewing flew, he wondered why Kronshar had not attacked with the dragons. What were they waiting for? Eaglewing reminded the Midnight Wizard and Lightningbolt about the dragons with a quick thought, but couldn’t be sure if they heard him—their presence, normally so clear in his mind, fizzled away when they worked with the Stones. It was as though he were addressing a featureless mist. He landed on the palace’s lowest wall, frightening the guards, who turned on him, weapons drawn.

  “Sir,” said the commander, stepping forward, motioning the men to return to their duties.

  “You’ve seen them?”

  “Yes.” The commander involuntarily glanced up at the cloud. “What are they waiting for?”

  “I don’t know. How fares the village?”

  They stepped to the edge of the crenellation. “That line of torches is General Joaquin’s cavalry.”

  “They are falling back fast.”

  The commander nodded.

  Eaglewing leaned forward. A chaotic flood of people shoved across the bridge below. Statues of ancient adepts watched the panic with implacable gazes. “When we close the gates, destroy the bridge.”

  “But sir… surely you don’t think it will come to that.”

  “Destroy the bridge; that’s an order.” Hopefully that would disrupt Kronshar’s plans long enough for Mayflure to steal the Red Stone.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’m going to the front.” Eaglewing stepped off the crenellation, extended his wings, and soared down into the village. Acrid smoke from burning houses on the outskirts of the village choked him, forcing him to fly low. He alit on a roof and watched ogres lead their charge against the mounted men, fighting their way street by street.

  Where are you? The amplified force of Lightningbolt’s thought sent Eaglewing tumbling off the steep gable of the house. He sent back his position as a visual image.

  Hold on to something.

  Eaglewing felt a wave of energy that rolled through the air like a giant boulder. It set the hairs on his neck on end. He dropped off the gable and slid down behind the roof, holding on to the top ridge of terracotta tiles. An explosion of blue light rocked through the city. The roof caved and its house collapsed beneath him in a pile of bricks. More blue explosions vaporized the enemy ranks and entire city blocks were flattened. Joaquin’s cavalry held their line, uncertain whether to charge or fall back. Eaglewing saw dark shapes slinking down another street, heading to the main avenue that climbed to the castle gates. He dove to Joaquin, frightening the horse. “General Joaquin!”

  “Adept Eaglewing!”

  “They are going up Market Avenue. They will cut you off. Fall back.”

  Joaquin turned his horse as they ran back up the roads, picking up the garrisons he had left behind. Eaglewing beat his wings, struggling to keep up with the galloping horses as they clattered across the cobblestone avenues.

  “I have told the wall commander to destroy the bridge,” Eaglewing shouted.

  Joaquin nodded.

  At the Market Square, they found the garrison murdered and a swarming tide of ogres chopping at screaming commoners with battle-axes. Joaquin’s trumpet sounded the charge. They rode across the parade ground and took control of the edge of the bridge.

  “Hold the bridge!” screamed Joaquin. “Hold the bridge!”

  Ogres multiplied out of the darkness, forcing the defenders back onto the bridge. For every ogre cut down, five more materialized out of the fire-lit shadows.

  “Retreat!” Joaquin cried, blowing staccato notes on his horn. They ran across the bridge into the castle gates beneath a rain of arrows. The portcullises fell, clanging into the ancient cobblestones. Eaglewing and Joaquin ran to the top of the wall as a fireball shot away from the wizards, exploding into the bridge in a blinding flash of light. Ogres shrieked, rocks slid against each other, crumbling into the chasm. The soldiers on the wall cheered. Eaglewing didn’t. He looked up and noticed that the dragons that had been circling among the clouds were gone.

  Lightningbolt directed the wizards to take aim at the amassed front line hidden among the houses that lined the long parade ground before the gates. Explosions thundered across, following his thought, flattening monsters and buildings alike.

  “Prepare for an attack from the air! Prepare for dragons!” Eaglewing shouted.

  “Let’s play that it was too late,” said Daniel. “They came in real low over the houses, like a hundred of them.”

  General Joaquin trumpeted the command, and the archers and wizards along the wall swiveled, looking for the next attack from the sky. Orange and blue fire roared across the walls. Wizards threw up shields. Some men jumped from the wall to escape the inferno. Others choked beneath the heat, gasping for air. The air stank of charred flesh. Eaglewing glanced up as the first line of dragons passed overhead and saw Kronshar. He rode a giant dragon, holding the Red Stone while the other blue ones whizzed about, orbiting his body.

  Mayflure, Kronshar is on one of the dragons!

  I know!

  Lagging behind on a disagreeable dragon, she raced after them, following their line as they wheeled overhead for another attack. Eaglewing’s heart skipped with admiration for her bravery.

  “Ready the shields!” shouted a wizard general. A golden shield glittered in the night, enveloping the entire castle. The dragons returned, bellowing their flames against that shield, but the fire was deflected in harmless tendrils and wisps. Kronshar’s dragon slowed somewhat.

  “Run!” yelled Eaglewing. “Run! Run!”

  Warriors and wizards scrambled. Eaglewing grabbed Joaquin under the arms and pumped his wings. The gate wall exploded behind them. The force of the blast threw Eaglewing and the general into the square behind the gatehouse, sliding across cobblestones into a panicked crowd of townsfolk. When they stood, Eaglewing and Joaquin watched the entire outer wall fall in one unbroken piece, bridging the chasm with a heart-stopping thud. A shout rose from the other side of the parade ground and a black line of beasts ran forward, brandishing weapons.

  “Get these people out of here!” screamed Joaquin, unsheathing his sword and running forward. The wizards regrouped, trying to propel their own magic into the charging line. A soldier ran out onto fallen wall and green fire surged upward, incinerating him. Eaglewing grabbed Joaquin’s shoulder as they reached the wall. “Don’t touch it!”

  They formed a line across the wall, waiting.

  Lightningbolt, destroy this wall-turned-bridge!

  We are trying! None of our spells are working. It’s like the bricks are held together by fear. I don’t know what Kronshar did to make such a bridge.

  Kronshar’s horde ran across it unscathed. Eaglewing and Joaquin met them at the edge where the wall had once stood. Eaglewing spun in place, fighting four ogres with two swords. For every one he stabbed, three took its place. “Fall back!” shouted Joaquin. An axe bit into the general’s shoulder. Eaglewing fought his way to him, protecting him. A young wizard rushed to them, working to heal Joaquin while his own leg bled profusely.

  “Heal your
self, fool!” The wizard did so, but it brought down his shield. A spear jabbed toward him. Eaglewing saw the movement from the corner of his eye and tried to block it, but was too late. It crushed through the wizard’s rib cage from his side. A half-healed Joaquin staggered to his feet, parrying a strike that would have taken off Eaglewing’s head as an ogre caught him in the chest with another spear. “No!” Black hordes of ogres swarmed around Eaglewing.

  Lightningbolt’s voice was clear: Get out of there!

  Eaglewing flew upward, beating his wings, but a black hand grabbed his foot, dragging him down. He kicked the ogre in the head, then beat his wings again. A wind rushed past him as a giant dragon flashed across the front of the castle, turning toward the inner keep. A hundred dragons attacked the shields protecting the inner palace, lashing their tails against them between bursts of incinerating fire. Another blue explosion rocked the outer keep, somersaulting Eaglewing through the air. He slammed into a roof, fingers raking across tile as he slid down one side. The outer keep was already in ruins. Dragons chased people through the lanes of the lower palace, transforming streets into rivers of flame. Beneath him, ogres and goblins sprinted toward the inner keep; mail clinked as the men of Kronshar’s second army crossed the enchanted wall. Eaglewing shook his head; the defenders were grievously outnumbered. Lightningbolt, tell Niritan we have to retreat. Get the Stones out of here. There are too many of them.

  A roar split the air above him, and Eaglewing flinched. The huge dragon cut a deft bank in mid-air, bringing its jaws down on the neck of Mayflure’s dragon. She vaulted off her beast and onto Kronshar’s. Eaglewing pumped his wings to reach them. Mayflure’s dragon thrashed in mid-air, struggling to fight back. Eaglewing ducked past the frantic wings and claws as the dragon began to still. He caught a tail-spine on Kronshar’s beast and began moving up the tail, from spine to spine.

  Eaglewing closed the distance to the wizard, but Mayflure reached Kronshar first. Her dagger missed its mark, grazing Kronshar’s shoulder. Eaglewing created a shield before himself and stabbed toward Kronshar’s black heart. Like a star exploding, a white blast filled the night sky. Thunder resounded, echoing off the inside of his head. Blinded, Eaglewing fell. He instinctively jutted out his wings, slowing slightly before he crashed into a roof and tumbled into an alleyway. He lay there on the cobblestone, slipping into blackness as the outer keep crumbled around him in a cloud of dust and stone.