Where Darkness Treads: Book Two—Of Tears & Darkness

Chapter Twenty-One: Deathriders

The shadowed horsemen were suddenly thrown into complete disarray, by the powerful flare of light, which was released as Brenna cast a powerful spell. Upon rearing mounts, the vague features of an evil host enshrouded by dark shadows, were hurled backward. Whatever they were, the Neeri's light caused them great pain. For, the Wind Walker could hear them screaming in agony.

Aberith rushed over to Brenna and Donovan, with a face filled with deep concern. "You and Brenna must retreat to the center of the camp, for they have come for both of you. Prepare yourselves, this will be no easy battle. Quickly now," Aberith urged, with a wave of his arm. Changa followed them, filled with grim determination to protect them.

The Wind Walker stopped and held his staff high, while speaking words which filled his mind. The wind swiftly grew into a roar, as vivid lightning flashed, and the sound of thunder filled the air; a searing-white bolt forked from the stave and impacted charging shadow-riders and their mounts. Screams of agony, filled the air as their forms became tendrils of smoke, dissipating in the air.

Repeatedly, vivid white bolts arced outward, to strike more of the mounted evil. Still, the dark riders approached, for they had but one purpose, which was to destroy them. Changa stood with staff in hand, waiting tensely, while Aberith's words echoed in his mind. "Prepare yourselves, for this will be no easy battle."

Before the galloping mass of evil horsemen, stepped a lone figure who held a blazing pure white blade. The sword made the malevolent riders pause before they charged. With a mighty glowing sweep, the great blade cleaved a shadowed-rider and its mount in two. The enemy's armor had not even slowed the passage of the sword. Incredulous, Changa suddenly realized it was Aberith who was standing still as a rock and resolute to the task at hand.

Another figure, even larger, ran up to stand beside Aberith and became Sir Alfred. In his hands, he held his great-sword and it too glowed with a bright white heat. With a mighty blow, his glaring blade chopped the forelegs out from beneath a shadowy mount. The rider crashed to the ground and was slain by two Dreena, before it could rise.

Everywhere, Changa looked, soldiers were hacking away at the riders. It seemed to take most of them forever before they could cut the enemy down. Many of their own men were wavering and collapsing, instead. Yet, Aberith and Alfred's white gleaming blades seemed to slay the evil-ones, with little difficulty. If the Wind Walker survived, he meant to know the secret of their weapons.

One of the shadow-riders, parted from a group and charged directly at Brenna and Donovan. Changa felt a great weariness filling him, as he remembered what Brenna had said. "Do not tarry long when fighting them, for they leech life from you, without landing a blow."

Something whooshed over the Wind Walker's head and formed into a covering of silvery-blue light around the death rider. The figure before him began screaming horribly, while trying to claw it off. In a rush of energy, the being fell, consumed by the light. As soon, as it disappeared, Changa felt a great deal of the heaviness fade away.

"Against such as these, steel blades do little to stop them. Donovan, extend your sword towards me," Brenna shouted and looked at the prince expectantly.

"What?" Donovan looked at her, incredulously, then at the sword he held.

"I AM THE ONE LIGHT OF ELLIANA. DO AS I COMMAND!" Brenna had barely raised her voice, yet the power contained in her words, shook Changa and everyone close by. It seemed as if the heavens echoed with her command.

Prince Donovan raised his sword. An arc of searing silvery-blue energy split the air between Brenna's staff and his sword, as she spoke softly with her eyes closed. The blade quickly turned an intense slivery-blue.

"I HAVE BLESSED YOUR WEAPON. GO NOW AND SOW RUIN AMONGST THIS EVIL," Brenna spoke once more, in the voice which made the air tremble. Shortly afterward, she did the same to Morgan's twin swords. Together, they stood side to side, protecting the Neeri from any harm.

From the side, a mounted dark-rider jumped the defensive barrier in front of it and charged Donovan. He spun out of the way of the enemy's sword and struck upwards at an angle. His blade, passed through his foe effortlessly and its form became dark smoke, drifting through the air.

The white lightning, from Changa's spell, continued to strike the dark riders. The bright bolts were helping to thin the numbers of the shadow-riders, but there were too many. If matters did not improve, it was doubtful they would survive.

Another group abruptly appeared out of the darkness and charged straight at them. They were closing fast. An immense flow of power surged outward from Brenna's staff, which nearly knocked the wind out of Changa. The Wind Walker watched a small brilliant ball of light race toward the charging dark riders, from the Neeri's staff. The glaring orb of light exploded in front of the charging enemy, with a loud boom. Bright gleaming shards arrowed into the shadowy forms. The riders and their mounts screamed, as their forms were shredded into gossamer threads of shadow, which dissipated in the air. Brenna was maintaining a near steady barrage of the balls of light, into the enemy's ranks.

Still, it was not near enough to turn the tide. Everywhere Changa looked, the enemy riders were advancing. Whoever the shadow-riders were, they were too much to handle at this point. The enemies repeated attacks were beginning to overwhelm and drive the men back, in increasing numbers.

Anna walked up, to stand before Brenna and pulled back her hood. "You cannot hope to defeat this evil, by force of arms and your powers, Neeri. You must ask for that which was freely offered. 'You shall not fight this battle alone, Neeri.' It is time." Brenna looked silently at Anna for a moment, smiled and nodded. "I had forgotten," She said tiredly, and shakily walked over to kneel beside the stream, with bowed head and began to pray.

Changa's lightning spell finally spent itself, for he had used all his power. He staggered over to stand beside Donovan and knew beyond a shadow of a doubt their situation was now hopeless. The enemy had broken through their perimeter, nearly everywhere and was now, amongst the troops.

"Lenaya, Lady of the Waters, I am the Neeri called Brenna. We are in dire need of your help, for the evil of Bemenah is about to destroy us," Brenna prayed, with eyes closed.

From the babbling brook, arose a silvery-white mist, which glowed brightly with an inner light. The mist became brighter, coalescing into the shape of a beautiful woman, with long brown hair, clad in bright-gleaming armor.

"Child do not despair, for it is at times such as these when you shall walk beside giants of bravery and courage. Do not grieve for those who have fallen; instead, give thanks for those who have not yet been born."

Within Lenaya's hand, a golden horn appeared which she placed to her lips. The blare of the horn cut through the sounds of battle. Its peal, echoed with perfect pitch through the night air, as Changa stared in awe at her visage, wondering what it could mean. A calm voice filled the air. "Do not despair, defenders of the light, for help has arrived."

An enormous cloud of silvery mist formed and grew along the flowing stream. As the mist rose, it revealed a great host of gleaming silvery knights, mounted upon snow white steeds.

"She has summoned the Fetwyn," Brenna said in awe, rising to stand once more with renewed confidence. Soft tears glistened upon her face, as relief replaced the despair which had been written upon her face.

"Who, are they?" Prince Donovan asked. He stepped upon a small boulder and gazed down upon the gleaming entities.

"Help has arrived." Brenna sniffed and wiped the tears of joy from her eyes.

Another golden horn sounded from the shining ranks of the knights. In the next instant, the silvery knights charged with gleaming lances, lowered. The air was filled with the thunder of their hooves and shouted orders.

In Lenaya's hand, a beautifully carved bow appeared. She drew back the bow, even though Changa could see no arrow upon the string. She released the string, sending a gleaming shaft to strike a shadow-rider square in the chest. With a cry, it dissipated as smoke in the wind.

Whoever, the Fetwyn were, the death-riders did not like them. Wherever, the gleaming knights struck, the evil horsemen were falling and not getting back up. One group of dark riders attempted to charge past the gleaming knights. The foul horsemen were immediately savaged by the silvery fighters. In a rush, the evil-riders were sent crashing to the ground, where their remains became wisps of shadow, vanishing into the night.

Brenna sent an arc of energy crackling to Morgan's bow, blessing it as well. "About time," Morgan said. Now, both Lenaya and Morgan began downing Darkriders, one after another. Their aim was unerring, the enemy's deaths were swift.

Changa had just slid his bow out of its leather case, when it immediately glowed with brilliant bluish-silvery light. "Thank you, sister, we need you to bless as many of our forces weapons as you can!" Immediately, he withdrew an arrow from his quiver, pulled back his bowstring, and sent the feathered shaft on its way. Moments later, the chest of a broad-shouldered Kang sprouted feathers and spun off its mount, to crash into a tree and slump to the ground.

"Lenaya, what was freely offered, has been gratefully received, I thank thee for thy gift," Brenna said. Immediately, she resumed her bombardment, with the orbs of light from her staff and occasionally blessing weapons as well.

From atop the ridge, Changa watched as the enemy was attacked relentlessly, by their shining saviors. The enemy's spirit had been broken this night by Lenaya, the Fetwyn, and men and women of the alliance.

The sound of crying drew the Wind Walker's attention to Etony, who sat weeping beside the clear waters of the stream.

"The battle is over, and we have prevailed this night. Those who died, gave their lives gallantly for a just cause. Because of their sacrifice, they have bought us much needed time, to finish our quest," Changa said gently. "The enemy has taken their lives; they can never take away our memories of them.

"I grieve, not just for our dead, but also for the shadowy ones who attacked us. During the battle, I attempted to direct them away and instead, discovered a horror beyond my imagining," Etony replied, while shaking. "Long ago, they were twice cursed by powers which rendered them into these horrible beings. They are driven to kill and by doing this, they gain life to once again warm themselves. The second curse drains life away from them, for each victim they kill."

Despite Changa's assurances, Etony trembled, uncontrollably. "They suffer a never-ending madness which compels them onward."

"Evil tends to come in many forms, child. Many have fallen to the siren calls of the needy, only to find themselves lured to darkness by a supposed just cause or honeyed voice. This enemy which we fight, recognizes no boundaries," Aberith said gently to Etony. "Be careful of those who seem in most need, oft times they are the most dangerous enemies you will encounter."

The sound of galloping hooves once again filled the air, as the Fetwyn galloped to where they had first appeared. Lenaya walked over to stand before the silvery-knights and raised her gold horn to her lips. Another blare from the horn filled the air with its sweet notes. As the peal of the horn echoed through the air, both Lenaya and the Fetwyn vanished into thin air.

Changa looked towards the horizon, noting dawn was not far off. The sky was beginning to lighten and from the looks of it, the day would be bright and sunny. With head lowered, the Wind Walker joined the others, who were searching for survivors. Among all the bodies lying on the ground, only twenty-two of their men were still alive. Many of those standing, were sorely fatigued, obviously an after effect of fighting the shadow-riders. He tossed another log on one of the fires, attempting to get warm. The heat was not helping any; what he needed was sleep. The Centaur would have to wait awhile, though, before he could rest. It was going to be a long day.