Changelings Book1 Dragons & Demons

Chapter 14

Belthor stood alone, arms crossed and stony faced. Silently watching the very last of the heavy carts rumbling down the ramp, onto the eastern bank of the Ulfen.

He had sat through their initial horror and outrage, then their bickering, as, one by one, each of the Tower Lords decided not to send help westwards, to Ness. They had debated and schemed long into the night, before finally agreeing with Riznar's plan to assist in the building of the wall, and the new garrison towns needed, at intervals, along the thousand-mile riverbank.

Thousands of the common bridge-folk spilled down the ramp, carrying their treasures, but weighed far heavier with fears. They headed into an uncertain life of upheaval and hardship, in the massive, tented refugee camps springing up all along the riverside.

Belthor raised his staff, and far below, each of the gathered Tower Lords raised an arm in answer. "Lift," he intoned, magically. The huge drawbridge groaned as it slowly lifted, and the tower beneath him shuddered as it finally slammed shut.

The empty structure resounded with a hollow boom.

Belthor, heaving a sorrowful sigh, gave a last glance at the gathered Lords, before turning and heading for the west bank of the Ulfen.

Walking along the wide bridges, he couldn't help but feel for the thousands of homeless. The dark windows, of their empty homes, echoed a gloomy sadness.

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As he arrived at the parapets of the last tower, he was astounded to see a single warrior holding the reins of two large horses, waiting for him on the road far below. Belthor's heart lifted, and for the first time in many days he smiled. He picked up his pace and hurried down through the tower and across the drawbridge. Belthor stopped short when he was met by a grim, but familiar faced, girl.

She was dressed in tight-fitting, black, leather armour, with a scabbard at her hip and a long bow across her back. Her blond hair was cropped short in a boyish style, but she was still beautiful.

"Samanthiel," Belthor began, "you cannot..."

She raised her hand, and as if from nowhere, a slender-bladed longsword appeared, the point held, unwaveringly, at his throat.

"Silence, mage!"

"My Father is the Captain...," she began, then swallowed and blinked. "...was the Captain of the Guard, and I have been trained well in the martial arts. I am here to take my revenge on the Demon that has slain my Father and Brothers."

Belthor smiled sadly and closed his eyes. He slowly lifted his fingers to the blade and pushed it gently downwards. She lowered it, and with a swift, fluid movement, slid the blade into the scabbard.

"I will get the chance to join my family in the afterlife soon, and hopefully help someone in doing so," she added.

Belthor placed a hand on her padded shoulder. "Thank you, Samanthiel. May the Great Goddess, Danu bless and protect you in these hard days to come."

The blessing caught her off guard, and tears sprang to her eyes. She set her jaw and blinked away the tears with determination.

Holding both shoulders tight and staring deep into her watery eyes, Belthor spoke softly, "Samanthiel, you have taken the first steps on a dreadful path. But it is a path you will not be treading alone. For one way or another, these terrible days of darkness must end soon, and Goddess willing, we will triumph," he paused drawing a deep breath. "Now I must end this sad chapter in our civilisation's history and destroy the city of Ulfenspan. I and all the people of the west wish to thank you, Samanthiel. Thank you for standing with us, when all your city and the east turned their backs."

Pride lit her face, as Belthor turned slowly to face the rushing waters. He lifted his staff high into the air, slowly sweeping it in a wide circle above his head, whispering softly. A small ball of blue light formed above their head's and Samanthiel gave a small gasp.

"Sink!" the simple command echoed unnaturally loudly, as the ball flew into the water. Loud cracks sounded as the waters boiled. The mighty structure vibrated violently, as huge chunks of stone fell from the bridges above. The splashes sent waves rushing over the bank.

Belthor and Samanthiel led the horses away, heading quickly from the riverside, up the steep, grassy slope, to a safer vantage point. The view of the collapsing bridges was both breathtaking and tragic. Samanthiel gave a cry of despair as her home vanished beneath the water.

Finally the towers themselves began to fall, collapsing slowly into the boiling froth; severing the ancient link between the two halves of the country forever.

Belthor turned his back on the river, with tears in his eyes. He reached for the reins, leading the horse up the hill, towards the west, and a future darkened with doubts and sadness. As the last tower fell, the ground began to shake in a massive earthquake.

Belthor had to grip his staff tightly to remain standing.

"No!" he cried, as a howling winds sprang up from the northwest, filling the skies with dark storm clouds. He stiffened, feeling a glimpse of the tremendous pain one of his brethren suffered in the distance.

"LA OLAHM," the mighty word cracked the skies with terrible lightning.

The day slowly vanished, transforming into oppressive and over-cast gloom.

"For all eternity," Belthor whispered in fear, staggering weakly.

Samanthiel gripped his arm, steadying the old mage. "One more word of power and you'll be reunited with your family sooner than you might hope," Belthor shouted above the

storm. Samanthiel smiled as the heavens opened. Torrential rain began to bucket down, plastering her short hair to her head. "Come, Belthor. We have a few more Demons to slay."