Possessing the Grimstone

chapter Fourteen


“We don’t have time for this,” Tolan said to the others as dusk settled over the beach. They walked down the castle’s road toward the edge of the craggy cliffs as red and violet hues cascaded across the sky.

“We have no choice,” Drith said. “It is just, and gets us what we want.”

“You cannot really believe that this city would fall because of a few Brigand raids?”

“You talk of working with others and fighting a common evil, but this, you struggle with?” Drith challenged.

“We can do this,” Shannara interrupted. “It does not have to delay us long. I have a plan.”

“Really?” Tolan stopped before the edge of the cliffs. “Do share it with us.” He smiled at her, looking into her eyes.

“Would I keep a secret from you?”

Pim shook his head and rolled his eyes.

“The seers must remain on the beach,” Shannara continued. “The rest, follow me.”

###

When the purple veil of night fell over the docks, the Brigands came. A ship with red sails ripped through the waves and pulled into the nearest port. They boarded the ship beside them. The men aboard tried to defend their ship, but they were outnumbered.

The Brigands cut them down and cast them into the water. The rest ran off into Fionngall, screaming for help.

The raiders laughed, hauling boxes of cargo onto their backs. “The cargo be heavy tonight,” the ugliest grunted.

“Ah, must be filled with more silver and coin than before!” Another answered.

“All the more to spend!”

With grunts and moans, they moved the boxes and barrels onto their ship.

They set a host of barrels down on the decks with a thud. One of them shimmied. The Brigand looked down and cocked his head as a gauntlet punched right through the top of the barrel, nailng him in the jaw. Tolan burst out of the barrel and drove his sword through the stunned Brigand.

Another barrel exploded, pieces of wood sailing across the ship, and Shannara flipped out of it, spinning into the air, and landing on her feet. A raider rushed her and swung his hatchet. She ducked and slashed out with her dagblades, severing his hatchet hand.

The Brigand screamed with agony before Shannara sliced open his throat with a flick of her wrist.

The deck filled with pirates, screaming madly, swinging hatchets, cutlasses, and hooks with reckless abandon.

Drith burst out of his box and climbed the mast, cutting the ropes and dropping the sails upon the charging men. Confusion and chaos ensued.

Pim climbed out of his box and used his fleet to dash down the length of the boat. He threw all of his weight onto the struggling Brigands beneath the sails, sending most of them over the side of the ship and crashing into the dark waters below.

A raider rose behind the distracted Wivering, but Tolan rescued him with a thrust of his sword, running the man through. His lifeless body tumbled into the sea.



Shannara and her warriors danced and slashed, leaping over their enemies’ heads, and slicing open their legs from behind, crippling them. One of the D’Elkyrie women was caught off guard, and took a hatchet to the chest, hitting the deck hard.

Drith jumped from pole to pole, kicking men off the deck and tearing the ship down piece by piece, incapacitating it. Lastly, he severed the anchor from the ship before leaping into the air. He joined Shannara, Tolan, and the others on the city’s ship.

Shannara and Tolan fetched a pair of bows hidden on the deck, and fired flaming arrows onto the Brigand ship, igniting the deck and sails.

It drifted off into the sea, glowing red as the rising moon bathed the horizon in silvery light.

Cheers erupted on the beach. The citizens of Fionngall rallied around the group.

“That will send a message to the others,” “Tolan said. “You will not lay down and let your city be pillaged. They will believe you can now defend yourselves.”

“And you shall,” Shannara called. She handed a clutch of bows to various men. “Tale the bows and set the arrows ablaze. If other Brigand ships dock in your city, fire at their sails. With no sails to catch the wind, they will be helpless.”

Clapping resounded across the beach. Custodian Chariss approached the group. “Well done! Well done! Fionngall thanks you.”

“We are running out of time, Custodian.” Tolan said. “May we have a ship?”

“Fear not, we will lend you the fastest ship in Fionngall! Sail with the Gods, and may your quest be a success.”

“There’s something slippery about that man,” Drith whispered to Tolan. “I do not like him.”

“I am sure the feeling is mutual,” replied Tolan, returning the Custodian’s waves.

###

The ship was indeed, fast: it was Custodian Charris’s personal ship. Its sails caught the wind like no other, and it propelled across the waves like a dagger through warm butter.

Tolan figured it might only take them six days to reach Norrow, as opposed to ten. Fionngall had been good to them, stocking them up with food and water, including more of that goat cheese everyone had enjoyed in the Custodian’s castle.

Between Fionngall and Norrow lay the Western Isles. They weren’t the friendliest of islands, as the Brigand hailed from one of them. The isles were also home to the largest penal colony in Athora—it seemed ironic that the plundering Brigands were from the same region. Tolan wondered if the colony, home to traitors, murderers, and the insane, was still in operation, or if it had overrun by criminals. He prayed it was still in good order; they couldn’t afford any more delays.

The ship lurched and dipped, waves crashed against it, and the thing rocked dangerously. Pim sat on the deck, trying to stay dry. He looked to his left to see Drith leaning over the side of the boat, vomiting. A gurgle would erupt from the painted king, followed by a series of low grunts, and a splatter. Pim snickered. The fierce Drith was seasick.

The Wivering hopped to his feet and reached into his pack. He walked up to Drith, who’d just finished another round of retching. “Are you hungry?” Pim asked. “I have plenty of goat cheese left.”

Drith got one whiff of the cheese, and dove for the railing again. “I… I…” he coughed and gagged. “Will… throw… you into the sea… get away from me!”

Pim laughed before stuffing the cheese away and walking along the side of the ship. He spotted one of the men from Fionngall steering the ship while he heard the rowers churning below the decks.

Tolan spoke to the captain at the wheel for a few moments, examining a map before joining Shannara at the bow. Pim stopped and stared at Shannara, her long legs, and her dark hair glinting in the sunlight. He waited, eavesdropping.

“I’m sorry about the loss of your warriors,” Tolan said to Shannara.

She turned to him, her face soft, eyes bright. “My heart weeps for them. Since the time we are young girls, we are prepared for this. We always know we will be called into battle; it is the life of a warrior. Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.”

“Aye, nothing does. A soldier never enjoys the battle, and he never forgets it.”

“Sometimes I wish we could forget.”

“Maybe for a little while, we can.” Tolan put his hand over hers.

Pim’s blood boiled, and his stomach was in knots. He watched them: Tolan moved closer to her. Pim dropped his pack and raced toward the two.

Shannara was just about to remove Tolan’s hand when Pim collided with Tolan. The two of them stumbled. Pim looked up at Tolan, seething. “Why must you always have her attention?”

Tolan’s jaw dropped. “Pim, I…”

The Wivering dashed behind Tolan with his fleet, and swept the soldier’s legs out from under him. Tolan crashed onto the deck, and Pim leaped onto his chest.

“Pim, you’ve gone mad!”

“You won’t let me get close to her! You won’t let me talk to her!” Pim swung his fists, but Tolan blocked the blows.

The warrior locked onto Pim’s shoulders and used his foot to flip the boy over him and onto his back. Tolan jumped to his feet. “Pim, enough! I am not keeping you from anyone. Shannara can follow her own heart.”

“You’re always sticking yourself in front of her!” Pim unleashed his fleet again, but Tolan was prepared.

He side-stepped the Wivering and drove him into a fishing net. “I told you that only works once, boy. You need more strategy.”

Pim growled, struggling to get out of the net. His feet were tangled, and crashed down onto the deck.He saw Tolan grinning at him, and lunged for him.

Tolan backhanded the young Wivering, sending him down again. “Pim, stay down. This is foolish! Why are we fighting? Shannara has made no choice.”

Pim tasted salt in his mouth, and wiped blood from his lips. He got up again and balled his fists, preparing to lunge for Tolan again. The man braced for the attack.

“I have no choice to make!” Shannara called, stopping both men cold. “My choice was made a long time ago.” She looked over at the threshold and below the deck. The seers, Panno and Jodan, stood there. Moving down to them, and she kissed them, both. “I am married! These are my husbands.”

“Husbands?” Tolan asked, shock in his voice.

“Yes. D’Elkyrie women may take more than one husband. I choose to stop at two. I must divide my time between leadership and marriage. Two is enough.”

“My apologies, Queen of the D’Elkyrie, I did not know.”

“Two…” Pim whispered. He shook his head and began walking away.

“Any woman would be glad to have such brave warriors as you two for her own,” Shannara called. Pim stopped and looked back, feeling the blood rush to his face as he grew warm.

Shannara turned to Panno. “The fight roused you from your sleep?”

“No,” Panno answered. “There is danger.”

“Brigands!” The captain yelled from the wheel.

Tolan, Pim, and Shannara rushed to the side of the boat.

A ship with red sails raced toward them. The air filled with the barks of men shouting to their rowers.

“You bring revenge down on us!” The captain yelled, “You said you would stop the Brigands, not bring more!”

Tolan drew his sword, Pim and Shannara following his lead. The last three D’Elkyrie warriors braced for attack, and the last Cardoon soldier waited for orders.

Drith looked up, retched again, and reached for his sword. Instead, he lost his balance, and collapsed.

The ship drew closer. “Let them come,” Shannara said.

A roar cut through the sea, and something even more dangerous exploded from the waters. A gigantic, green-scaled sea serpent leaped from the ocean.

The Brigand ship was tossed about: men screamed, and the scaly serpent wrapped its horned tail around the ship.

Jaws dropped on the Fionngall ship as they watched the creature crush the enemy. The hull tore in half, the sails collapsed. Men fell into the tempestuous sea. The creature snapped flailing men up with a forked tongue, shredding flesh with razor-sharp teeth.

The sea ran red with blood as pieces of wood sailed through the air and floated on the waves.

“By Thet, himself,” Shannara said “Look at the size of it.”

“That beast is heading right for us,” Tolan said.

The serpent thrashed its tail through the water and dove beneath the sea as the whirlpool in its wake swallowed the remains of the Brigand ship.

“Everyone down!” Tolan screamed.

Everyone hit the deck as a rumble echoed beneath them. Pim got his leg caught in the anchor’s ropes, struggling to free himself as a massive wave came at the ship.

“Pim, down!” Tolan cried. The wave was nearly upon them. Tolan jumped to his feet again and threw his body over the Wivering. The two of them crashed to the deck as the wave washed over them.

The entire ship tilted on its side. Drith hung on for dear life, his screams muffled by the salt water.

Shannara held onto the sails, her warriors hanging with her. Tolan looked up to see his last soldier swept out into the sea, gone in a flash.

A moment later, the terrible wave passed, and the ship settled back down. Everyone rolled to the other side of the ship, soaking wet, battered, and bruised. Tolan climbed up and saw the serpent in the distance, swatting its tail one last time before vanishing into the water.

“Thet has spared us today,” Tolan said.

Everyone climbed to their feet, and Pim caught his breath. Shannara wiped the water from her face and eyes. “It is a miracle,” she said.

“Land…” the captain yelled from his perpetual spot at the wheel. “The Western Isles!”

The cluster of islands was like a belt across the sea. They were half way to Norrow.

###

The sea was but a glimpse through the trees. Hundreds of horses flanked Jorrel on both sides. He drove his steed hard, a burning in his heart. He could not forget, nor could he forgive himself. How many lives were lost because he refused to believe?

He was determined to set things right, or die trying. The latter would most likely be the outcome, for the beach came up fast, and the Neshing choked the coast like locusts ravaging Wivering crops.

The Cardoon cavalry stormed the beach, rushing from the edge of the forest, thunder in their charge, just like the rumbling over the Fifling Sea.

Charcoal-sailed Neshing barges and ships flooded the waters and beached themselves along the coast. Bonfires glowed with fiery haze and gray smoke, fashioning a blurry trick of the eye laced with hallucinations and nightmares both real and imagined.

Jorrel heard himself scream before he even realized his mouth had dropped open. He smelled charred death, and even tasted it on his tongue. A hail of spears and stones greeted him and his men.

Dozens fell, bones cracked, and horses crashed into each other. Other men raised their shields, protecting themselves as the Neshing rushed to assail them. In mere moments, both men and Neshing were engulfed in green fire.

Jorrel fell from his horse, fire eating away his left arm. His screams were drowned out by a thousand men screaming in much worse agony. Nothing but ashes now, the lot of them. Jorrel crawled across the beach, its sand wet with blood and water.

He saw the circle of mages, clawed hands bent over the ultimate tool of power: the piece of the Grimstone. They drew ancient magic from it, ethereal energy surging through their bodies, slithering up and out, and feeding the dark army in all corners of Athora.

Jorrel pushed himself, leaning on his sword and charging through the chaos. Mud, blood, and weapons whipped at him. Green energy illuminated the sea. Men died around him. Some joined him fighting against impossible numbers of Neshing.

The skies ripped open, and cold rain joined the fight. Jorrel welcomed it: it soothed the stump that was now his left arm.

The circle of mages grew closer. Their power made his flesh crawl. Jorrel stumbled toward their brawny, haunched bodies, robes littered with bones rippling in the sea breeze.

Waves crashed. Thunder cracked. Jorrel eyed the piece of stone, sitting proudly on a pedestal of bone. He lunged.

He was struck back by an energy bolt; his ribs snapped, his nose bled, and his sword was thrown.

The blade cut through the air and smashed the pedestal, sending the stone flying into the air.

###

Olani fired her crossbow and watched the quarrel glide into the carnage below. It found its mark in the forehead of a Neshing warrior. He howled and his familiar spirit shrieked with glee as it disappeared.

“Quite a shot, young lady,” Sooth-Malesh said.

“My father taught me.” She reloaded her weapon.

She watched the painted warriors of the South wade into battle, slashing and kicking, rolling over Neshings only to be pulled to the ground by ghostly familiars. Drith’s twin, Gyrn, led more warriors into the fray. Olani noticed that he had painted himself to look just like his brother: a curious decision. Olani surmised that those leading a fight must dress in certain colors, although there was much she didn’t understand about the South.

She took aim again, and a fireball screamed straight at her. Dropping her bow, she pulled back. A shield formed around her, and the fire exploded upon impact on the barrier. Olani looked over at Sooth-Malesh: he’d protected her from certain death.

“I owe you my life.”

“You own me nothing. You have saved me too, believe it or not.”

Boulders roared over them, crushing stone arches and collapsing a bridge. Soldiers tumbled to their death. Olani fired again, as did the hundreds of other bowmen around her.

Down below, the battle raged. The sounds of war were deafening. Cardoon soliders emerged onto the batllefield. Axemen, swordsmen, and warriors with halberds rushed from the city’s hidden side gate, pressing through the waves of creatures.

Repitlian riders swept the field, their own weapons catching men in the face, and throat, crushing helmets, tearing ears, and ripping cheeks. The reptilian mounts bit into Southern warriors, tossing them into the air. Tails swung hard, cracking ribs.

Neshing mages took position on catapults and other war machines, launching fireball after fireball. They even ignited the boulders that were slung into the air. Southern warriors attempted to overtake the catapults and mages, but even their ferocity was no match for the dark magic that reduced their bodies to ashes.

Stone and fire assaulted the city’s gates, but the great doors held.

Gyrn saw a rider decapitate another of his brothers. The deed moved him. His body seethed, and he leaped through the air, tackling the rider.

The Neshing swung and nipped at him, its familiar raked its wraith-like fingers across his chest. Gyrn howled in a mixture of anger and pain. He dodged the spirit’s next slash, but the Neshing host seized him by the throat. Gyrn spat in its face. He jerked his blades up, tore open the creature’s chest, and then pushed down, running it through. He felt the ghostly claws tickling the back of his bald head before vanishing.

Gyrn jumped up and mounted the lizard steed. It bucked to shake him off, but he held strong, charging it toward the Neshing’s ranks. He led dozens of yelling men behind him, both Southern and Cardoon.

Galloping on, he caught a glimpse of mages, catapults launching fiery boulders, crossbow quarrels falling. He let out a war cry, and charged.

A pair of spears downed his scaly steed, an the behemoth crashed onto its side, rolling on top of Gyrn. The men behind him froze. An arm punched from under the scaly blubber, and Gyrn, blood-soaked and wild-eyed, crawled from under the beast, growling, and raced on into the battle.

The men followed him.

Wave after wave of Neshing flooded the area; their vast numbers went on as far as the eye could see. Monstrous, grey-fleshed creatures lumbered in bone-covered armor, misty forms hovering just above their broad shoulders. Black saliva drooled from jagged teeth as the creatures worked themselves into a frenzy.

Massive wheels squeaked and churned, driving the catapults closer and closer to the city. Slings with huge spikes followed behind the catapults, and more riders galloped onto the field. Their numbers seemed endless, but the united forces joined at Cardoon refused to back down.

“Power of their stone, be damned!” Sooth-Malesh called. He launched a lightning attack down on the battle, but it was weak, and only fried a small amount of the Neshing.

“You can match them,” Olani said. “Reach into your soul. Your power is still there.”

Men fell screaming around them, exploding into ashes. Olani armed her crossbow, but a lance hit her right shoulder. A scream escaped her, and the crossbow toppled as she went down.

“No!” Sooth-Malesh screamed. He rushed to her, heart pounding. Magic surged through his veins. His hands ignited as he bent to heal her.

“I’m alright. I’m fine. It just grazed me.” She put her arms up: a slice on her shoulder was revealed. Sooth-Malesh’s anger was not satiated. Olani saw his eyes gleam with blue light.

The crimson mage turned to the wall and lifted his hands into the air. Every flame from every torch and sconce in the city shot to Sooth-Malesh and obeyed his call. He directed the fire down into the battle.

Fireballs exploded on the ground, arms and legs sprouted out of them, and fiery orange figures elementals joined the battle. Standing taller than any being on the field, they unleashed crackling screeches and attacked the Neshing, setting them ablaze. Howls and screams rose, catapults burned, and mages turned their attention from the city walls to the elementals wreaking havoc among them.

“Told you…” Olani grinned.

“Long unused, but still there,” he said. “I only needed some incentive.”

Olani laughed and struggled to get up. When she looked down into the courtyard, she saw Nachin peeking out of the shadows. Once she made eye contact with him, he stepped out of hiding, and rushed to her.

“M’lady… I have been searching all over for you. This is no place for you. Please come with me, return to your room.”

“I cannot leave. I am needed here. I…”

“I agree with him,” Sooth-Malesh said. “You should not be here. It is far too dangerous. You are not a warrior.”

“Neither are you, mage.”

“You are wounded. Go to your room, Lady Olani.”

“Very well. I will see to my wound, and then return.”

Sooth-Malesh shook his head and moved back to the wall. The elementals burned through the Neshing ranks, but the attacks continued. Fire against fire, strength against strength, the battle intensified.

###

Nachin escorted Olani back to her room. She rinsed her shoulder and bandaged it.

“I shall make you your tea,” Nachin said.

“Now is not the time. I do not want to relax. We are under siege.”

“What better time to have it, M’lady? You must take it. It does your soul good.”

“Must you always contradict me?”

“You misunderstand my intentions, M’lady. I have always known what is best for you. Now please, rest while I prepare you a cup.”

Olani removed her rings and bracelets. She brushed the hair from her eyes. Outside, she heard a rumble. She thought of it as thunder, but knew it was the war. A tremor rippled through the palace. She wondered what the King was doing right now. Where was he? Why did he not care of the attack upon his city?

There was a clatter behind her as Nachin fixed her tea. Her back was to him as he stood in an alcove, tending the fire in the hearth. The pot above it steamed and whistled.

Dishes clanked. The scent of jasmine filled the air. The candles in the room flickered to life, flames sparking in the wicks. The fire had returned to the city. Olani looked up and out of the window closest to her. The sky outside flashed, and as she went for a closer look, she caught Nachin’s reflection.

She watched him fiddle over her cup, a vial in his hand. She squinted and saw him pour white powder into her tea.

He returned to her, the cup in his hand.

“You always know what’s best for me, Nachin?”

“Of course, always, M’lady. Drink your tea, now.”

“Now? Leave it on the table. I’ll drink it when it cools.”

“I think you should take some now, so you can rest.” He pushed the cup toward her.

“Rest in peace, Nachin?”

“M’lady?”

She smashed the cup from his hand. It crashed to the floor in a tidal wave of hot tea.

“I trusted you!” She screamed. “You have been part of my family for years. You were to guide me!”

“Lady Olani, I am shocked. You have lost your senses…”

“Stop lying to me. I saw you. I saw you put it in my tea.”

“You are mistaken…”

“I’m summoning the gaurds.”

She took a step, and Nachin backhanded her. Olani collided with the reading table beside her, and tumbled onto the floor.

“Utter half-wit!” Nachin wailed. “I am not going to let a sniveling, weak girl take away my rule! I have waited too long for this; I’ve lived in servitiude to the most passive, ineffective leaders. That time is over!”

She attempted to crawl to her feet, but Nachin delivered a kick to her ribs. Olani hit the floor again, rolling over.

Nachin pulled a blade from his belt and stormed over to her. He whipped her onto her back and put the knife to her throat. “You were taking forever to die… you just kept recovering and recovering. I had to keep harvesting that damn herb in the mud and the stink. This will be much quicker!”

“You will simply be a casualty of the battle, my dear. They’ll discover your body under a pile of burning rubble. He leaned in with the dagger, and Olani sunk her teeth in his hand, between his thumb and index finger.

Nachin howled in agony, dropping the knife. Olani pushed hm aside and jumped to her feet, trying to run. He grabbed hold of her leg and tripped her, pulling her back down to the floor.

Olani landed a foot in his face. He fell backward as she crawled across the floor. Nachin shook his head, wiped his bloodied nose, and started for her again.

He came upon her and stopped short as she held the blade against him.

“Now, M’lady… do not act in haste.”

“Who offered you my position? The council? Have they conspired with you?”

“They cannot stand another day of your rule. They have begged me to rid them of you. Then together, we will rule Bhrungach and bring it back to glory.”

“Rulers of a fallen city. They will all pay for their treachery.”

“Do not get ahead of yourself, M’lady. You are not safe, yet.”

He lunged to take the knife from her, but she jabbed him in the throat. His eyes widened. Blood streamed from his neck. He stumbled backwards.

Olani advanced on him. “Am I safe now?” She brought the blade aross his throat and he fell to the floor. A puddle of blood now formed beneath him. She turned away from him and left the room.

###

The council sat and whispered amongst each other. They waited for Nachin’s return and for his good news. Instead, when the doors to the chamber burst open, they were greeted by a furious Olani, and a host of guards who took the old men into custody.

“What is the meaning of this?” One of the men cried.

“You are all under arrest for plotting to murder me! I hearby dissolve the council of the North. It will be no more.”

“You cannot do this! Hundreds of years of law… you cannot…”

“I can, and I have. There is no more North. No Bhrungach. I begin a new Bhrungach, one that will rise with honor and justice, one that will no longer be ruled by a council, but by a queen. A queen who is strong and loved.”

The men’s mouthes gaped, they clamored about, attempting to protest.

Olani directed the guards. “Any who resist will be executed. Take them away.”