The War of the Gilded Beasts Read online

  “Die! Vermin! Die!” Valton howled as he continued to stab his attacker repeatedly.

  By the time Valton stopped stabbing, he lifted his dead foe to the candlelight and gasped at what he saw. The assassin was a boy who was either eleven or twelve years old. The dead boy stared back at Valton with an emotionless expression as blood slithered from his lips. In the child’s death grip was a small hunting knife.

  Shaken, Valton harshly whispered, “What kind of monsters would send children to murder their foes in their sleep?”

  At that moment, one of Valton’s men-at-arms burst into the tent and shouted, “My prince, we have a fire!”

  The soldier was so distraught that he did not seem to notice Valton covered in blood and the dead child at his feet. Valton followed his soldier to find dozens of tents set ablaze. The horses were cut loose and sent across the camp in a stampede that trampled every soldier and tent in their path.

  “Did they send children to do this too?” Valton asked himself in disbelief.

  Suddenly, a high-pitched howling filled the air as shapes and torchlight formed beyond the tree line. About six thousand figures on unicorns were charging towards the Imperial camp, dressed in animal hides and leather armor, shrieking as they rode. Beside the riders were reptilians being herded by the riders’ torches.

  The reptiles that were being guided by the enemy forces galloped on all fours like horses and were covered in pitch-black scales. Their throats were red and their underbellies were gold. A collection of spiky crests sprouted along the back of their armored heads and necks and their long snouts had jaws equipped with interlocking fangs like a crocodile. Sickle-shaped talons tipped their all of their feet like those of an eagle. What was most frightening about these beasts were their eyes, which glowed like angry embers in the darkness.

  “Theropods!” Valton exclaimed.

  Upon entering the Imperial camp, the theropods pounced on every soldier that crossed their path. They ripped at their prey like rabid wolves. Men screamed as they were eaten alive like lambs to the slaughter. The Imperial Army was so off guard that they offered little resistance against the ambush.

  Then another series of noises echoed from the other side of the encampment. Valton turned to find dozens of giants crashing through the trees, brandishing crude wooden clubs. The giants crushed every Imperial who attempted to escape. Some were stepped on, some were ripped in half like rag dolls, and some were splattered the striking force of the wooden clubs.

  While the giants and theropods were causing chaos, the mysterious riders charged through the encampment with swords, spears, and axes. They easily mowed down any man who stood in their way. All the while, they were screaming their distinctive war cries, which chilled Valton to the bone.

  Desperate to defend himself, Valton seized a sword and axe from some of his fallen soldiers and fought his way through the increasingly mad melee. All around him, his army was being wiped out and routed. At one point, Valton ran into a man on fire and pushed him away before continuing on his way. The enemies’ unicorns were more intimidating than any horse, roaring and snarling as their impaled one man-at-arms after another. Valton barely managed to dodge a number of unicorn charges. All throughout the battle, Valton did not slay a single opponent. Instead, he merely used his weapons like talismans that he hoped would defend him.

  Within an hour, Valton realized he was all alone on the battlefield and surrounded by the enemy riders. The theropods and giants had left the scene, apparently satisfied their bloodlust.

  Still holding his sword and axe, Valton demanded, “Who are you?”

  The riders removed their masks to reveal themselves as women with blue war paint on their faces. They glared at Valton with bitter hatred. Just by looking at them, Valton could tell that these were not mere housewives. These were battle-hardened warriors defending their home.

  Raising his weapons in defiance, Valton declared, “I challenge your best fighter to single combat! If I win, you let me go!”

  In response, the Storuukan women drew multiple recurved bows and aimed them at Valton. Before Valton could protest, the shield maidens launched a barrage of arrows that punctured Valton in the chest. The pain of the impacts and the discomfort of blood filling his lungs were so extreme that Valton found it unpleasant to breathe. His innards burned as his stomach acid ate away at them. Valton tried to say one final word of defiance against the shield maidens, but his words were drowned by his own blood. With his world fading fast, Valton watched himself fall backwards and soundlessly hit the ground. Then Valton’s world went black.

  CHAPTER 22

  A day since their escape from Regan’s clutches, Faxia landed outside of the ruins of the original Magnus Keep. Ymir tended to Faxia’s wound while her sisters-in-law watched. The bolt that was used to injure the dragon was as long as Ymir was tall with black fletching sticking around the butt end. Ymir tried to pull the shaft out, but the blade was wedged tight and Faxia let out a howl of anguish.

  “Sorry,” Ymir said.

  “Just pull the bloody thing out as hard as you can!” Faxia pleaded.

  Taking a deep breath, Ymir gripped the bolt with both hands and yanked it out of Faxia’s armpit. A geyser of foul-smelling gas spouted out of the dragon’s wound, causing everyone in a hundred yards to gag. Faxia shrieked so loudly that Ymir’s ears rang violently for several moments.

  When her hearing returned, Ymir examined the blade of the bolt and was shocked by what she saw. The blade was leaf-shaped and forged from Ferruman that glittered white in the moonlight. Faxia’s blood dripped from it as though it were water.

  Putting down the weapon, Ymir placed her hands on Faxia’s wound and summoned her Druid magic. In her mind, Ymir pictured Faxia’s wound ceasing to exist, and she could feel the dragon’s flesh slither between her fingers. After a few minutes, Ymir lifted her hands and saw a gnarled scar replace the open wound that existed moments ago.

  Looking up at Faxia, Ymir asked, “How do you feel? Can you fly again?”

  Growling irritably, Faxia answered, “My flight bladder is healed, but it will be some time before it will allow me to fly again. I don’t know if I will be much use to fight Regan for now.”

  Picking up the bolt, Ymir instructed, “I am going to address the situation with my sisters-in-law. You just stay put and get some rest.”

  Faxia obediently rested her head on the ground and started to snore. With Faxia taken care of, Ymir approached her sisters-in-law and held up the shaft.

  “This thing is made of Ferruman!” Ymir exclaimed.

  “What is the significance of that?” Lyra asked, popping her ears.

  Before Ymir could answer, Freya said, “According to legend, blades made of Ferruman were the only ones that could pierce a dragon’s hide. Apparently, Regan and his fellow traitors took the legends literally. Before the Magnuses made dragons their friends, the hunters of Storuuk saw dragons as the ultimate quarry.”

  “Well, the legends are clearly true,” Yarma sighed, sagging her shoulders in depression.

  Fuming, Mya added, “We have an even bigger problem. Regan said he and his allies shared the designs of that scorpion with the Sylvas. That means they have one or more of their own to use against the sons of Magnus and their dragons. They could be dead down south for all we know!”

  The five girls felt their souls freeze as they contemplated the potential fates of their companions. Lyra, Yarma, Freya, and Mya clutched their growing bellies as they entered a state of deep emotion and thought.

  “I hope nothing bad has happened to my Caelum. I know he would make a wonderful father and husband. If he is still alive when the war is over, I want us to live out our days by the sea with all the fruits of the jungle and sea in our reach. In the name of all the gods, I pray for his return to my arms,” Yarma said, looking up at the stars with hope.

  “Agreed. I want to raise strong sons and daughters with Vaeron. We will hunt the forests of the Empire as a family. We will slay the mighties
t of beastsI swear if anything happens to Vaeron, I will hunt down his murderers and plant their heads on spikes!” Freya snarled bitterly.

  “I never thought much of Daegar initially. At first, I thought he was just a dumb brute who was only interested in fighting. Now, I want him to fight as hard as he can. After much thought, I admire his strength and I want him to use that strength to fullest so he can return to me,” Mya said, sighing as she mused.

  “Kemrin may have been faithless to me before we got married, but after the Sylvas attacked, I sensed something change in him. I don’t know what it was and I cannot put it in words, but I felt drawn to it like a bee drawn to a flower. It was like that one change in his personality had placed a spell on me that I cannot escape. I want Kemrin to come home so I can experience that change once more. Hopefully, the harshness of war has not changed him too much,” Lyra mused.

  Distressed, Ymir insisted, “Sisters! All that daydreaming is all well and good, but we still need to find a way to defeat Regan!”

  “What would you suggest? Regan is holding a hostage from every baron in the kingdom; they will not side with us without endangering their loved ones. We have no army and Regan has a weapon that can kill a dragon. The odds are not in our favor!” Mya pointed out.

  Suddenly, before Ymir could protest further, Faxia roared, “I see men approaching from the west!”

  The group gathered to see a collection of torches lighting up the road in the distance. As they drew closer, it was clear the newcomers were on horseback and heavily armed. On their surcoats was the sigil of House Baal, a red skull on a purple field.

  “Those are Regan’s men!” Ymir exclaimed.

  “What do we do? We have no weapons to defend ourselves!” Yarma cried.

  “We have to make do with what we have!” Freya countered, preparing to fight with her fists.

  Faxia tried to breathe fire, but only sparks came out. The dragon was apparently more weakened than everyone thought. Upon seeing Faxia’s powerlessness, the riders laughed maniacally as they charged at full tilt.

  All of a sudden, a series of shrilling war cries filled the air as new combatants emerged from the trees on the other side of the clearing. From the shadows came at least two hundred Welts riding shaggy horses. They brandished bronze weapons as they intercepted the Baal soldiers. Even though their weapons were inferior, the Welts more than made up for it in ferocity as they cut down their foes left and right. Outnumbered ten to one, the surviving Baal men-at-arms fled for their lives into the night.

  With the onslaught over, the Welts rode towards Ymir and company. When her sisters-in-law displayed alarm, Ymir assured, “It’s all right. They are on our side.”

  “How can you be sure? They’re savages!” Lyra countered.

  Irritated, Ymir said, “If you recall, my brothers and I had a mother who was a Welt. We have Welt blood in our veins. Also, the Welts are indebted to our family after my father saved the Jarl’s children from the Graega. Just relax and let them approach. Leave the talking to me.”

  A minute later, the Welts finally reached Ymir and company. The Welts’ leader had red hair, a shaggy beard, and broad features. In his hands was a bronze falcata that had a blood-drenched blade. Beside the leader was a young man who was slightly older than Ymir, bare-chested, and had his wild crimson hair tied in a messy ponytail. In the youth’s hands was a bronze short spear with a leaf-shaped blade dripping with gore.

  Immediately recognizing the Welt leader, Ymir cried, “Uncle Hondo! Cousin Holdyn! What are you doing here?”

  “We heard Regan staged a coup against you. I brought these men to safeguard the remaining dragon eggs before organizing a rescue team to get you. Since you’re here, I suppose I can call off the rescue effort,” Hondo explained.

  “You guys escaped Regan all by yourselves?” Holdyn asked, astonished.

  “If it wasn’t for Faxia, we wouldn’t have gotten out alive. So what do we do now?” Ymir asked.

  “We take you to the forest. After my father died and I became the new Jarl, your father and I made a pact. If House Magnus loses control of Umbran, the Welts are to shelter any surviving members of Numen’s bloodline. In our forests, no enemy army can pursue you. Due to recent events, that time has come,” Hondo said.

  “And what are we supposed to do after that? Live out our days in exile like our ancestors did when they lost the Imperial Throne?” Ymir demanded.

  “If that is what needs to happen. The bottom line is that the late Monster Slayer has charged us with securing the continuity of his legacy. Besides, I have to protect my favorite niece,” Hondo replied, smiling.

  Ymir contemplated on Hondo’s words. She could imagine herself living in the woods in peace like a forest nymph. However, this idealistic vision faded when Ymir considered the possible reality she and her sisters-in-law could face if they go with the Welts.

  “You can take my sisters-in-law with you. They are carrying my nieces and nephews, so I am counting on you to keep them safe. As for me, I have no desire to sit quietly while Umbran is desecrated by that traitor Regan. How many men can you summon, uncle?” Ymir asked.

  After thinking for a moment, Hondo replied, “About two thousand can be summoned within a week. Of those two thousand, three hundred will guard our forests and two hundred will guard the dragon eggs here. That will leave around one thousand five hundred warriors that are free to engage in battle. Why do you ask?”

  “I am going to take the fight to Regan and mount his head on a spike for his treachery! Can I count on your army, uncle?” Ymir asked hopefully.

  Hesitating briefly, Hondo answered, “Aye. You are indeed the daughter of the Monster Slayer. I will supply my army and we will sever the Baal bloodline once and for all.”

  “Then let’s get to work!” Ymir declared.

  ______

  A couple of days later, Regan sat quietly on the throne with his freshly forged crown resting on his brow. His crown was a circlet of black iron with arrowhead-shaped spikes made from bronze sprouting from the top and decorated with rubies. Throughout the halls, banners displaying the Baal sigil hung proudly.

  While watching the banners flutter in the breeze, Regan murmured, “I wonder if this was what Blood Arrow was like when my father ruled. They say he was a tyrant, murderer, and cannibal. As for my mother, they whisper that she was a commoner who had no place in the royal court. Now that I am king of Umbran, I will outlaw such talk about my family. With that as my base, I will forge my own legacy and become an even greater king than my father ever was. That can only happen when I completely bring this kingdom to heel.”

  At that moment, Regan’s thoughts were disrupted when three of his men burst into the throne room in a panic. The man-at-arms was drenched in blood, his armor nearly torn to pieces. He panted heavily as though running from a great distance. Alarmed by the soldier’s demeanor, Regan rose from his throne and went to meet his visitor.

  Adopting a calm voice, Regan asked, “What happened? Did you find Ymir? Did you destroy the dragon eggs?”

  Once the man regained his breath, he answered, “Your Majesty, the dragon Faxia still lives. We were about to finish it off and capture the missing princesses, but we were ambushed by Welts. Two others and I barely escaped with our lives.”

  Regan digested the news that he was presented and said, “If Ymir has made contact with the Welt scum, that means she can summon their army whenever she wants. We may have hostages to ensure the loyalty of the barons and knights, but we hold no sway over the Welts. Go to the physician and I will summon the barons to rally what remains of their armies. When the Welts come, we will be ready for them.”

  “Yes, Your Majesty,” the soldier said before limping out of the chamber.

  Once he was alone, Regan muttered, “It looks like we will finally get rid of the Welt vermin once and for all. I’m sure my father would be proud. I am already on my way to being a better ruler than him.”

  ______

  In the ruins of Chainho
rn Castle, eight cloaked figures gathered under the cover of night. They met in the ravaged privy council chamber, where a half-burnt round table sat. Once everyone was present, the figures lifted their hoods and revealed their faces.

  It was Willa of House Letum, a willowy girl with black hair and dark eyes, who spoke first, saying, “You all know why you’re here. Regan Baal has betrayed us all, usurped the throne, and is holding our loved ones hostage. We are here to discuss what we should do. Any ideas?”

  “The usurper has commanded every knight and baron to summon what is left of their armies. Apparently, Ymir and the other princesses escaped and are amassing an army of Welts,” Wilber of House Marmor said. Wilber was a stout youth with curly blond hair and squinty eyes.

  “We are not seriously going to answer a traitor’s call like dogs answering to a whistle, are we?” demanded Lara of House Drada. Lara was a ten-year-old girl with stoic eyes and small mouth.

  “What choice do we have? If we don’t do what the traitor says, he will kill our loved ones!” exclaimed Robert of House Galber. Robert was a middle-aged man who was slightly overweight with sleepy eyes and graying hair.

  “How many men can we muster? With most of our fighting men gone, we may not have enough men to challenge Regan if the time came. Last I checked, House Torren has four hundred men, which is fifty cavalry, fifty archers, and three hundred infantry. What about the rest of you?” Brigga of House Torren asked. Brigga was a slender young woman with auburn hair and blue eyes.

  After thinking for a few moments, Willa answered, “House Letum has about four hundred and fifty men. That is ten cavalry, forty archers, and four hundred infantry.”