Chapter 500: Howl (Patreon)

…Dusk Valley Grasslands… Near the Great City of Hollow Shade…

In the dark hours of the night, the army of the Sylvan marched through the tall grass in solemn silence. Four battalions, comprising a total of 4,200 Sylvan warriors, marched in formation. They were divided into small groups, mostly of their own tribes. Many of the 63 Sylvan tribes had their differences, but every single one of them would follow without hesitation the word of the Warrior Elect.

A little ahead of the 4 battalions marched the 5th battalion, the cavalry of Sylvan; deep forest wolves, twice the size of the wolves roaming across the realm. And their bonded riders, the elite of the Sylvan warriors and hunters.

Ahead of the cavalry was a small pack of frost wolves, each standing a little over 3 meters tall. The frost wolves walked in solitude, save for four who carried riders of their own.

At the very front, leading the army, was the goddess of the moon. Her wolfen form towered over even the frost wolves. Stryg sat atop her head, in a small nook of white fur. He felt like a squirrel nesting atop a bear’s head, but it felt strangely familiar.

Stryg sat cross-legged, Krikolm resting atop his legs. He tried to meditate, to prepare for what was coming, but his nerves felt frayed, ready to explode at the slightest touch. 

Hoping Lunae could shed some wisdom on the matter, he threw Krikolm over his back and crawled over towards Lunae’s brow. Grabbing tufts of fur on each hand, he leaned over her brow and looked directly into her face. 

Her wolfen face was a still calm, impossible to read, yet somehow the minute expressions in her silver eyes told him she was troubled by something.

Perhaps it had something to do with the new moon. He knew her powers were at their weakest on such nights. But maybe it was more than just her powers that were affected. Her fur usually glowed brightly under the moonlight. Yet tonight her fur seemed a dull grey. 

Lunae’s large silver eyes focused on the tiny figure hanging over her face. “What is it, little one?”

It suddenly felt petty to speak about one’s own problems when the goddess carrying him had problems of her own. “Nothing,” Stryg hastily replied. “Just… Are you alright?”

She smiled. “You need not worry about me, little one. I will be fine. You should focus on the battle ahead.”

“Are we near?”

“Yes.”

Stryg sighed in relief and fell back on her fur. “We made it. We can help reinforce the wall before the valley armies attack the city.”

“They are already there.”

“What? What are you talking about?”

“The forces of Caligo arrived at dusk. His army is waging battle as we speak.”

“Has the wall been breached?” he asked anxiously.

“...Yes, but all is not lost. The dragon brood of the Azure Sky has arrived at the city. Even now they battle the dragonbane above the skies.”

“Dragons? Really? Who is the Azure Sky? Why have they come?”

“The Azure Sky is one of the few remaining dragonlords left in the world and the only one who calls the Ebon Realm his home. Truthfully, I find it strange he has involved himself at all in this battle. Lord Kaleidrog has always kept his brood out of the realm’s problems for all the years I’ve known him.”

“But now he fights for us? That’s a good thing, right?”

“Hm. The fact that he is willing to fight means the situation is more dire than I anticipated. Still, Kaleidrog is more powerful than I. If anyone can stop Caligo, it is him.”

“Is he fighting Caligo now?”

“Yes, but I cannot see them. A dark storm brews over the city. My vision cannot seem to penetrate it.”

“Are my friends safe? Is my tribe safe? What of the orphans at the temple?”

“Now is not the time to worry. It is the time for strength. Our people will be looking at both of us for assurance. We cannot afford to have a single crack of doubt in our visage.”

Stryg nodded reluctantly in understanding. Steeling his thoughts he glanced back at the army marching behind them.

His honor guard followed from a respectful distance atop their wolves. Their captain, Elayne, was coating her spear, in what he assumed was some sort of poison.

His mother, Aurelia, the chosen of the Moon, rode on a frost wolf, as did the Warrior and Shaman Elects. Plum and Tauri shared a saddle atop a single frost wolf. The creature was more than large enough to carry both of them, but there was little that could be done to save Plum from Tauri’s cold anger.

Ever since Plum had walked in on Stryg and Tauri having sex, the orc warrior had been livid with her. Still, when Lunae offered one of her own frost wolves to serve as a mount for their protection, neither drow nor orc dared to decline.

Stryg wondered if the anxious look on Plum’s face as she sat in front of Tauri was for fear of the upcoming battle or fear the orc might just snap and kill her.

The rest of the frost wolves walked silently behind Lunae, without a single noise. It always amazed Stryg how such large creatures could be so quiet.

At the very end of the pack, Stryg potted a dark coat of fur hiding in the shadows. Blueberry stalked low to the ground behind the rest. Stryg couldn’t help but smile wryly. His childhood friend had decided to follow them after all.

Lunae climbed up to the top of the hill overlooking the grasslands and turned to face her army. She lowered her head and Stryg hopped off. He walked up next to her giant paw and waited as the rest of the army slowed to a halt.

“My children,” Lunae spoke in a soft voice, yet it carried clearly over the wind.

The Sylvan goblins stood at attention and stared at their Mother Moon in awe, hanging at her every word. 

“Beyond these hills lies the greatest battle of this century,” said Lunae somberly. “None of you are strangers to death, it has been a constant companion in the very forest you grew up in. Struggle and strife are all you have ever known. But I still remember a time when the Sapphire City was full of life and promise.”

Lunae’s eyes grew sad. “In many ways, I had given up on our city, our people, on myself, long ago… But I was wrong to do so.” She glanced down at Stryg, “This little one reminded me of why we must fight. Why we risk everything for the things we believe in.”

“Tonight, many will die. Our enemies… and our own. But for all the death tonight brings, something else will be born. Something that hasn’t been seen in the last 300 years.”

“Tonight, we remind the people of the Ebon Realm that darkness came to the lands, and Lunis did not fade into the shadows. We ran into the storm and we howled for the world to hear. LUNIS LIVES ONCE MORE!”

The Sylvan people broke into a storm of cheers and the wolves howled at the night sky in agreement.

~~~

…Grasslands Outskirts… The Great City of Hollow Shade…

The Adder Tribe’s chieftess, the vampiress, Sylaril stood in silent consternation and watched the unnatural storm gathering over the city in the distance.

The engineer commander walked up to her and looked at her questioningly, “My Lady?”

“I am not a Lady,” she said coldly.

“Yes, of course, forgive me, chieftess,” he bowed. “We are ready to fire.”

Sylaril gripped the golden snake cap of her cane tightly and sighed in defeat. “Then what are you waiting for? Fire.”

The commander bowed and waved his torch in the air. The rest of the engineers saw the signal and released the trebuchets. With a crack of whip, the trebuchets fired massive boulders into the air.

Sylaril watched grimly as they crashed into the city gates, not only on the enemy but on their own warriors; men and women who had lived their lives and given all for the Valley Tribes. To have a foreign queen command Sylaril to have the trebuchets fire upon them, all the while her own undergrowth soldiers stood in reserves not 40 paces away…

Sylaril squeezed her cane until her knuckles were stark white. Someday she would find a way to avenge her people. Someday she would make Queen Ophelia pay.

The voices of panicked engineers broke Sylaril from her thoughts. She turned around at their words. A thick fog was rising behind them as far and wide as the eye could see.

“Wait, is this…?” Sylaril muttered. She stretched out her hand and a snowflake fell on her palm. Her eyes widened in fear. She spun around and sprinted towards the drow commanders relaxing next to their battalions. “We’re under attack! We’re under attack!” she screamed.

The drow commanders glanced at each other uncertainly. But in the army of the Dusk King and Queen, Sylaril was still their commanding officer. Without waiting for their disagreements, she ordered them to move their battalions and form a line behind the trebuchets.

“The battle is that way, you stupid barbarian,” a commander muttered and pointed his thumb behind him.

Sylaril hissed at him, “You fucking pointy-eared imbecile—!”

An arrow whizzed through the frost-mist and pierced the commander in his neck. The soldiers around him jumped back in shock as he clutched at his throat and collapsed.

The soldiers turned to each other, panic in their eyes. A volley of arrows riddled the line of drows in an instant. A hundred soldiers fell to the ground, dead.

“Shields up, shields up!” Sylaril shouted.

Small shadows slipped through the mist, moving through the tall grass in a blur.

“What is that—!?” a drow soldier screamed.

Spears slipped through the tall grass and were thrust low to the ground, below the drows’ shields, and pierced their shins. Short swords moved in close and slashed across the drow’s ankles. The soldiers cried out in pain and collapsed, only to be jumped upon by shadowy figures and silenced by several quick stabbings.

“Hold the line!” Sylaril screamed.

“Hold the line! Hold the line!” echoed several commanders.

The frost-mist flowed past and swept over the soldiers, bathing them in a sudden winter. They could hardly see past their chilled breath. The soldiers clumped together, shivering from fear and the cold.

Drows gasped and cried out here and there all around them as small shadows flitted through the mist, cutting them down like wheat. 

“What are they!? We can’t see anything!” a commander yelled.

“I’ll make an opening!” Sylaril raised her cane and channeled White. A brilliant light burst from the golden snake head of the cane and illuminated the frost-mist. “Now attack—!?” her voice caught in her throat.

The light reflected across a sea of bloodthirsty yellow eyes throughout the frost-mist. Warriors wrapped in dark green armor. Steel spears and blades in hand. And above them flew banners of a sapphire city.

“Lunis…!?” Sylaril gasped in disbelief.

The bright spell died out and their world was bathed in darkness once more.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE:)

We have finally reached chapter 500! I could never have done this without all of your support! Thank you so much for joining me on this journey.

Today we have officially entered the 3rd and last phase of the 5th book of RoM. There is so much in store in the upcoming chapters and I can't wait to share it all with you.

Cheers for the 500th!