The Endërland Chronicles: Book of Daniel

Rising tall and forbidding before them, the giant ice wall hid the City of the Lords from their sight and reach. Sealing the sequoia trees inside this thick and incredibly high and slippery block of ice, Winter had effectively blocked all access routes in and out of Arba. Where the road previously entered the citadel, there now stood tall a white gate sealed shut, with only a straight vertical crease appearing where the two huge blocks of ice met.

  Daniel could not help but think of Heli, he would have melted this gate open in no time. As it were, he could think of no other way to get inside the city, except for the wingmen flying over it and opening the gate from the other side. Of course that meant they would have to deal with whoever or whatever Winter had protecting the gates, which was most likely his entire army.

  The troops stopped about five hundred feet from the white gate, with everyone falling into pre-ordained positions and waiting for instructions. Ari, Diane and Damien rode ahead to join Daniel and the oracle in front of the troops. Nathaniel, who now was Séraphin’s second in command, accompanied his prince. The seven stood facing the ice barrier that separated them and the city. Daniel imagined that by now the other part of their army were looking at a similar picture before them.

  Snow had stopped falling and the wind had died down. An eerie calm reigned all around them, with no sign of life or movement anywhere. Nothing and no one appeared at the gates, acknowledging their presence. It was as if they were too insignificant to even be noticed, let alone dealt with. Daniel had not known what to expect once before these gates, but this was even more nerve wrecking. Minutes passed since the army settled and stood there, waiting for a sign from the ice wall. Finally, Ari rode forward a few feet and called aloud.

  ‘In the name of the Great Lord, open these gates.’

  His voice roared over the stillness, carrying his words as far down as the sea. No response came for about a minute or so, and he called again.

  ‘In the name of the Great Lord, open these gates.’

  Again, no movement. He was about to call out for a third time, when from high above the gates, three wingmen were seen flying down in their direction. Soon enough Daniel recognized Azariel in the middle; the other two he did not know. They landed before them, tall and proud, their wings half spread, a sign that they were ready to attack at any moment. Apart from the two fighting knives hanging on his belt, Azariel carried no other weapon, but each of the other two held a loaded bow in their hands.

  Daniel had never seen wingmen use bows before; anything but a knife was too inconvenient for them to use while in flight, and their wings did not allow them to carry much. The circumstances however, required that they adapted their fighting ways, so Ari had convinced Séraphin to equip at least part of his legion with crossbows, so they could be able to attack from a distance. They would tie an extra quiver with spare bolts to one of their long legs instead of their shoulders, and when they could no longer use the weapon, they’d just abandon it. That and a custom made breastplate was all the armor the wingmen would have in the forthcoming battle.

  Azariel looked at the seven people before him one by one, his eyes resting a bit longer on Nathaniel. An evil grin formed at the corner of his mouth, but he did not linger. He returned his gaze upon Ari, who was still a few steps ahead of his companions.

  ‘Who is in charge of this mob?’ he asked, an arrogant tone in his voice.

  Ari gave him a disapproving look, and answered.

  ‘You stand before all the people of Endërland, who have marched before these gates led by the Great Lord himself. Humble yourself, Azariel, son of Ariel, and pledge your loyalty to him.’

  Azariel chuckled.

  ‘You must be confused, old king; I see no Great Lord before me. The only Lord I know is the one sitting on the Silver Throne, behind these walls, the one who commands that you disperse and go back to your homes, lest you get what you come here seeking.’

  ‘Then you are blind, as well as misguided, Azariel,’ Séraphin spoke this time, with a harsh tone of voice, ‘a traitor to your queen and people. Your master is an imposter and a murderer, and you are no better than him.’

  Azariel appeared unfazed by his words. Ari continued.

  ‘In the name of the one true Great Lord, we demand that the White Lord open the gates of Arba and release those he holds as prisoners. He is then to appear before the Great Lord and all the people of Endërland to answer for his crimes.’

  ‘Be careful, old king, my master is the only one who does the demanding around here. He will open no gates and release no prisoners, much less appear before anyone to answer for his actions. And if you think this mob of farmers you’ve dragged before these walls and this fool of a pretender can threaten him, think again. I would pray that these gates stay shut if I were you, there’s nothing behind them but your doom. If you do not turn around and walk away, these people’s blood will be on your hands.’

  ‘Everyone comes here of their own accord, and they’ve come too far to go back. Now, I’m done exchanging words with you, call your master to show himself.’

  ‘That’s just as well, old king, I’ve said all that my master has commanded me to say. You have been warned and the choice is now in your hands: depart from here and you may live; stay and you will all die.’

  The three wingmen stretched their wings and rose up in the air, turning their backs on the army. Only a few feet from the ground, Azariel stopped in mid-air and turned towards his former friend.

  ‘Oh, Nathaniel, your father sends his regards.’

  Opening his right hand, he dropped something small in Nathaniel’s direction, who reached and caught it, before it fell on the ground. A dreadful realization came to him, as he recognized his father’s ring. Burning tears filled his eyes and for a moment he felt lightheaded and almost fell to the ground. Struggling to retain his composure, he closed his fist around the ring, and he looked up, disgust and anger churning up his insides. Azariel continued to fly away, grinning with malice.

  Séraphin, who understood all too well what had just happened, placed one hand on Nathaniel’s shoulder and spoke softly.

  ‘Do not despair just yet, brother; we don’t know for sure that he’s really done this.’

  Head down, Nathaniel could barely make himself heard.

  ‘I don’t know him anymore; I fear he’s gone where he can no longer come back from, and he blames me for it. There’s not much a man like that wouldn’t do.’

  ‘Then let us stop him,’ Séraphin said, ‘together. Hold on to your anger, brother, the right time will come.’

  Nathaniel put his father’s ring on his finger and followed Séraphin as they joined the rest of the group.

  ‘What now?’ Daniel asked, looking to Ari for guidance. It was Diane who answered him, gripping the hilt of her own gold-finished sword.

  ‘We do what we came here to do, there’s no turning back now.’

  Séraphin added his voice to hers.

  ‘This is about all of us, my lord; we might die in battle here today, but if we turn back now and do nothing, we will die all the same. My wingmen are ready; they will go all the way.’

  ‘Good,’ Ari replied, ‘because it will have to be your wingmen who take the first risk. This gates will not open unless from the inside, and your people are the only ones who can cross over. But once there, you are on your own and we won’t be able to help you face whatever forces stand against you. Are you sure you are ready for this?’

  Séraphin looked to Daniel.

  ‘What other way is there?’

  Daniel knew what he was asking and wished he had a different answer. But it was too late now to reconsider, and he had no right to be selfish about this; it was their lives, their homes, their whole world these people had come here to fight for, not him. And they knew that, just like they knew they stood no chance, yet still refused to give up and turn around.

  ‘None, I guess,’ he said, barely looking at the Sky-Prince in the eye. Lightning then trotted closer to Séraphin, and he
and Daniel were now face to face. Daniel extended his right hand and the wingman shook it. ‘It has been an honor and privilege to know you, my friend; go with my blessing and make us proud yet another time.’

  ‘The honor has been all mine, my lord. We will not fail you.’

  Both he and Nathaniel bowed and headed back to their troops. Less than a minute passed and then almost three thousand wingmen - including Gabriel’s legion - filled up the sky above them, flying in formations towards the city of the Lords. Only, this time, they flew not towards merriment and feasting, they flew knowingly towards battle and possible death.

  Those carrying crossbows were lined up first; the rest of them held up their knives and readied themselves for battle. A sense of dread came over Daniel, as he watched them fly over the ice wall.

  ‘I fear I’ve sent them to their death,’ he said loud enough only for the oracle to hear.

  ‘They go willingly to claim back their honor and make things right again. It was a fellow wingman that brought about this doom, and they feel responsible for it. It has already begun, Daniel, and it can only end in blood and tears; we knew this.’

  ‘That doesn’t make it any easier to bear. What am I doing here, Alfie? If I’m the Great Lord, then where is my power?’

  ‘It will come to you when you are ready,’ the oracle replied, just as the first sounds of the battle began to echo through all of Endërland.

  Simultaneously, the wind picked up again, stronger than ever, clashing with fury and rage against the wingmen’s wings. At the same time, hail began to drop heavily from the skies on top of them, prompting whoever could to shield themselves. As the first lines of wingmen crossed into enemy territory, they were met with endless waves of arrows and cross bolts flying in their direction from the ground. Many fell, unable to avoid their deadly darts, while the rest continued to fly ahead towards the ground, firing their own cross bolts, and targeting invisible enemies from the air. More were hurt from the huge chunks of ice that kept on falling upon them from the sky, but they kept advancing.

  When at last the wave of arrows coming from the ground ceased, leaving behind hundreds of wounded or killed wingmen, those who were still flying faced a new kind of danger. Hordes of mountain ravens, the same kind that Daniel and his friends had fought by the seaside, launched a full attack against the remaining wingmen, trying to keep them from reaching the ground. They seemed to be coming from everywhere, turning the sky black like the darkest night. The wingmen, whose numbers were dropping fast, engaged into a long and brutal fight with the giant birds. Blood and feathers rained from the sky, along with a growing number of lifeless bodies, which continued to fall as the battle grew wilder and more chaotic. For every remaining wingman, there were tens of ravens that surrounded them, attacking mercilessly and tirelessly. And still the wingmen kept advancing.

  Séraphin and Nathaniel, fighting side by side once again, watched with alarm as their numbers kept dropping, while it did not seem to matter how many ravens they slew. Hordes of black birds kept on coming, as numerous as snowflakes in an avalanche, filling the air with their hideous croaking and floating black feathers. Séraphin knew that they would not last long; and even if by some miracle they managed to kill all the ravens, they would still have to face the thousands of wolfmen that they knew were waiting on the ground. They needed a strategy, a plan.

  ‘I have an idea,’ Nathaniel shouted over his shoulder, caught in a battle against three ravens all at once. ‘We need to find Azariel and force him to open the gates.’

  ‘How do you know he will do it?’

  ‘I don’t; we’re just gonna have to make him.’

  ‘And how do you suppose we find him?’ Séraphin asked, slashing with his knife upside the approaching beak of an enormous ugly bird.

  ‘He will find me,’ Nathaniel answered and having killed the last of the ravens attacking him, let out a thunderous cry that drowned out all other noises.

  ‘Azariel.’

  His call seemed to draw the attention of every bird around him that was not engaged in a fight, and all at once they turned and threw themselves in his direction. Unperturbed, Nathaniel called again, this time even louder: ‘Azariel.’

  Within seconds, both he and Séraphin found themselves surrounded by over a hundred ravens that kept on closing the circle around them. As they braced themselves to make their last stand, another loud and angry voice echoed over all the commotion.

  ‘Nooo…, he’s mine.’

  Collectively obeying his command, the ravens all scattered and dispersed, flying away from Nathaniel and Séraphin, and leaving them to face Azariel alone.

  ‘Stand back, Sky-Prince,’ Azariel howled at Séraphin, as his two companions hovered in the air behind him, bows at hand. ‘This is between him and me. You’re free to hang around and watch him die’.

  Séraphin looked to Nathaniel, who nodded. He then drew back and after giving his friend an encouraging smile, said.

  ‘He’s all yours.’

  The air buzzed with dueling wingmen and ravens, while on the ground the multitudes of wolfmen that anxiously awaited their turn, now looked up to watch their winged general fighting his own duel.

  Azariel advanced slowly towards Nathaniel, knives in hand.

  ‘I warned you not to go against me, Nathaniel, but you didn’t listen; you just had to play the hero. Well, I bet you regret that now.’

  ‘The only thing I regret is that I didn’t do it before, Azariel; none of this would have happened if I had. No matter, this ends here one way or the other.’

  ‘You’re right about that,’ Azariel hissed, getting ever closer. ‘This ends here…, with your death.’ He screamed and launched himself at his former friend, aiming both knives at his heart. Nathaniel swerved in the air, avoiding the sharp metal with ease. Turning around swiftly, Azariel swung his left arm, and as he did so, his knife cut through the upper part of both of Nathaniel’s wings. A number of blue feathers fell down, with even more drops of blood racing them to the ground. Nathaniel winced from the pain, but ignored it and recovered quickly. He kicked Azariel in the chest with both his feet, thus pushing himself from him and gaining a bit of distance, long enough to evaluate his wounds. The cut wasn’t too deep and no vital arteries had been damaged. He was still able to move his wings without too much pain.

  He looked at Azariel who was staring at him with an evil grin on his face. Even now Nathaniel could not believe how things had gotten to this point; he did not recognize this person who was once his best friend. They had grown up together, played together, trained and made plans for their future together; how had it come to this, that they were now trying to kill each other? In a moment of clarity, he realized that he was as much to blame for this, as Winter or Azariel himself was. He had given up on his best friend, and abandoned him at the mercy of the White Lord and his lies. He had not been a good enough friend, and now it was too late to change things. Azariel was lost and so was their friendship.

  All around them the battle continued brutally with both wingmen and ravens dropping from the sky like rain. Outside the gates, the ground troops could see very little of what was happening as they waited anxiously, while inside thousands of wolfmen bread and armed for war, busied themselves slaying any wounded wingman that fell among them. Séraphin’s heart began to bleed watching his brothers die one by one, while they were no closer to getting those gates open. He began to despair, thinking that he might have made a mistake leading his people into a battle they never had a chance of winning.

  Then just like that, it happened; without an audible command, a good number of the ravens engaged with his wingmen split and flew with urgency towards the Northern Gate. Relief entered Séraphin’s whole being, as he realized that his mother’s army had begun their attack from the North. Hopefully, this would even the odds a little.

  With renewed strength and hope, the wingmen pushed on with their aerial fight against the black monstrous birds, while before him, Azariel launched hi
s attack anew against Nathaniel. This time Nathaniel was more careful, anticipating his friend’s moves. He knew how Azariel fought, they had sparred together countless times. But even though Azariel had always been stronger and faster, he had one disadvantage, he was overconfident and careless. It was this that Nathaniel intended to use against his friend; he would watch out for that right moment and make his move.

  He didn’t have to wait long.

  Having landed a number of blows and caused numerous cuts and bruises all over Nathaniel's body, Azariel seemed to be growing ever thirstier for his friend’s blood. His eyes had now turned red and frenzy seemed to have taken over him as he continued to swing and slash with both hands without resting. Blinded by his uncontrollable hate for his former friend, and thinking he had him just where he wanted him, Azariel launched what he hoped would be the final blow, aiming his knives straight for Nathaniel’s heart once more.

  Nathaniel was badly wounded and his muscles were beginning to fail him, but, seizing the opportunity, he called on to the last bits of energy he had left, for one final move. He rolled swiftly 360 degrees in the air, letting the knives swing past him, and thus managed to get behind Azariel, grabbing him from the back and resting his own knife against his neck. Using his other arm as well as his legs, he imprisoned Azariel firmly within his own body and held him tight, using his battered wings to keep them both in the air.

  Caught completely by surprise, Azariel began to wriggle, trying to get out of Nathaniel’s grip. But the knife in his friend’s hand, pierced through the skin of his neck, and caused him to stop.

  ‘I would stay still if I were you,’ Nathaniel hissed behind his ear. ‘Now, order the gates open.’

  As he spoke, two arrows originating from Azariel’s two companions, latched themselves on his back, going in deep. Unbearable pain brought tears to his eyes and began to weaken him rapidly, but he did not let go.

  Azariel chuckled, as if something funny had just happened and relaxed himself.

  ‘Do not make me ask again, Azariel,’ Nathaniel threatened, making the knife cut a bit deeper into Azariel’s throat.

  ‘You want the gates to open?’ Azariel managed to speak, and Nathaniel eased his hand a bit. ‘You got it. They can all die, for all I care.

  ‘Open the gates,’ he bellowed with a voice that had now lost its former power. There was commotion on the ground as his orders were obeyed instantly and without question. The multitudes of wolfmen began moving to open the ice gates and be ready to march out of them.

  Watching the white gates open inwards and the army of Endërland appear at the entrance, Nathaniel finally decided to release whatever energy was holding him and Azariel glued together in the air. He was too tired to keep on moving his wings, and already his limbs had started to turn numb and disobey his commands. Only, as he made to detach himself from Azariel and let him go, he found that they were still stuck together. The arrows that had pierced through his back had come out of his chest and inserted themselves into Azariel’s body, one of them grazing his heart.

  Nathaniel looked up at his friend, whose grin was beginning to fade fast as they began to free-fall towards the ground. At that very last moment, he felt sadness come over him, and regret for everything he had allowed to happen and that eventually led to this. With one last effort, he embraced his friend once again, but this time with compassion, and whispered in his ear.

  ‘Forgive me!’

  His eyes then closed, sparing him the sight of Azariel’s disgust, as he tried to get out of his friend’s embrace, just before they both plunged hard to the ground and certain death.

  Séraphin was once again engaged into battle with a number of black ravens that were trying to tear at his wings. He saw with a braking heart his second in command go down, and his heart bled. Unable to fly to his aid, he silently said goodbye to his friend, who sacrificed his own life to give them a fighting chance. He promised himself he would honor the brave wingman properly should they eventually win this war, and then focused on the enemy before him.

  Below them, the wolfmen now moved out to meet the army of Endërland into battle, and whatever joy he felt at the opening of the gates, quickly vanished. There must have been at least six thousand troops on this side of Arba alone; his mother’s army was probably facing similar numbers at the Northern Gate, without including the countless birds that seemed to be going nowhere. It did not look very promising.

  Outside the gate, Daniel was thinking the same, as he watched the huge number of wolfmen pouring towards them in a frenzied attack. But there was no time to sit and think; the battle was finally happening and they had to fight or die. Taking one last look at the people beside him, he saw that they were all ready with weapons in their hands, and they were all waiting on him.

  His heart skipped a beat when he spotted Hëna, who had quietly positioned herself next to his brother, sword in hand. She was dressed in her battle garment and her hair was tied back in a tight single braid. Her gaze was focused on the approaching army before her, and the focus on the battle seemed to have replaced all her recent sorrow. And still, she looked breathtakingly beautiful to him. He smiled at her as their eyes met for a single moment, and then gave a little nudge to Lightning, who began sprinting towards the approaching wolfmen. Lifting up his sword, he let out a war cry that was echoed and repeated by every single warrior as they charged behind him, heading towards certain death or eternal glory.

  The distance between them and the swarming wolfmen was small, and it took but a few seconds for the first swords to meet each other and fill the air with sparkles of fire and light. Soon, both armies were merged into one, and thus the battle for the fate of Endërland officially began.

  It was weird for Sam, being back in London. She had spent the last few months of her life with Daniel and Freddie, and this place was so exclusively associated with them. So to wander the streets of the city alone, felt a bit depressing. Her stomach wound did not help things either; the pain was ever-present, even though it mostly irritated, rather than cripple her. But whenever she thought about it, she was glad for the pain, because she should have been dead; she would have been, if not for the oracle. So, she ignored all the unpleasant feelings and thoughts that kept inviting themselves into her brain and instead tried to focus on a strategy to save Daniel.

  It was true that she had the element of surprise, Butler was not expecting her, but there were still at least three of them, well-armed and dangerous. Her recent near-death experience had made her more cautious than she was by nature, but again it was not herself she was worried about. She had promised to protect Daniel, and she had failed. But fate had given her a second chance, and she would not mess it up.

  She could not count on having help either, Freddie was gone and she had no idea how to contact anyone from the Order, or even if they would be willing to intervene. No, she would have to do this all on her own. She knew where Daniel would be, she just had to sneak in there and take him out, much like the last time. Of course, Freddie was with her then, and it had been easy to carry Daniel outside. She had neither him, nor his Mini now.

  Then it came to her; there was one other person who could help her, one who wanted Daniel safe as much as she did, his father. She searched her brain, trying to recall Daniel’s home address; she was sure he had mentioned it at some point. About a half hour later, a taxi dropped her just outside Daniel’s flat. The Lewisham neighborhood, with two-storey houses on both sides of the street where David lived, seemed quiet tonight.

  She climbed up the few steps that led to the door and rang the bell. Shortly after, the hall light came on inside, and the silhouette of someone tall appeared through the glass. When the door opened, Sam was face to face with a good-looking man in his early forties, black wavy hair very much like Daniel’s, and dark brown puffy eyes. She had no doubt this was David.

  ‘Yes?’ David’s voice matched the tiredness in his eyes.

  ‘Mr. Adams?’

  ‘Yes?’ r />
  ‘My name’s Sam. I’m a friend of Daniel.’

  David gave her a weary look.

  ‘I’m sorry, honey, but Daniel isn’t here.’

  ‘I know,’ Sam interrupted him, before he continued with the story he no doubt had told many times ever since Daniel had left. ‘And I know where he is. He needs your help.’

  David’s eyes lit up, as it appeared newfound energy surged through his whole body. He immediately led Sam in, where they talked for a good while. Sam decided she would tell him everything she knew; she didn’t care much about any rules she might be breaking. Freddie wasn’t around to tell her off, after all, and she had no time to come up with a whole new story that would answer all his questions. Besides, she believed David deserved to know the truth.

  After having heard everything she had to say and having asked a number of questions to better understand certain things, David got up and began pacing around the living room. Sam decided he needed the time to process everything, so she stopped talking for a while. Inside though, she was anxious to move, knowing Daniel didn’t have much time.

  A few minutes passed and David stopped pacing and turned to look at her.

  ‘I’m sorry, a lot of this seems to make sense and explain a great many things, but I can’t just start believing in this whole other world parallel to ours, and all this Visitor business. It’s all just too….’

  ‘Crazy?’ Sam finished the sentence for him. ‘I know. Still, that doesn’t really matter right now,’ she continued. ‘What matters is that Daniel needs our help and he is running out of time. So grab your gun and your car keys, and let’s go.’

  ‘My gun?’ David asked doubtful.

  ‘These guys are dangerous, Mr. Adams; they shot me and left me for dead and they will have no problem trying it a second time. We can’t go waltzing in there without some kind of protection.’

  David hesitated for another moment, but then turned and sped up the stairs to his bedroom, returning less than a minute later with a small handgun. Then, heading for the door, he grabbed his keys from the hanger on the wall and they both walked out of the house without wasting any more time.

  Climbing in his car, they sped off in the dark, destination Central London.

  The battle had been going on for what felt like ages, with massive losses on both sides. Daniel was proud of his people; even though they lacked experience and training, they were fighting bravely and not backing down, despite their unnatural opponents.

  Winter’s wolfmen were huge. Whatever magic had turned these animals into half-human, had also given them a bad attitude, as well as a complete disregard for their own safety. Appropriately armed with only a spiked mace, and then set loose, these creatures seemed to be after one thing alone, killing who and whatever crossed their path. True, they were disorganized and uncoordinated, and they did not seem to have much training either, but they did not really need it to hurt, or worse, kill someone; their bare hands did the job just fine. It looked like the only reason they were given the weapon, was so they could intimidate even more, if that were possible. Most of them used the mace for the first few blows, but once they got close enough to their enemy, they did away with it and then it was all claws and teeth.

  The army learned this the hard way early in the battle, and tried as best they could to kill the wolfmen from a distance, throwing cross bolts, arrows, or spears at them. The wolfmen numbers, however, were overwhelming, and very soon they were overrun, having to fight more than one of them at a time.

  As the battle raged on for hours, Daniel’s army began to diminish significantly, and the remaining soldiers were getting too exhausted from the ceaseless fighting. Daniel himself had not stopped to rest for a single moment; the wolfmen kept on coming at him from all sides. His body was covered in cuts and bruises, and a few times he’d almost let the wolfmen overtake him. But Lightning, who never left his side, always stepped in and held them off. The brave stallion had accrued a large number of wounds, most of them aimed at his rider, but nothing seemed to slow him down. He was fearless and had managed to kill more wolfmen than any single warrior on that battlefield.

  Every now and again, Daniel managed to get a glimpse of his mother and brother fighting side by side, and he couldn’t help but feel anxious. He didn’t want to lose them again. Diane had trained with Ari for a long time and she was formidable in battle, but Damien was very inexperienced, and Daniel feared he would not last long. Were he not trying to concentrate in the wolfmen constantly attacking him, he would have seen Hëna fighting next to Damien, never leaving his side. It seemed, she had taken it upon herself to look after his brother and make sure he was alright.

  It was not very difficult to kill the wolfmen, once they learned how; they weren’t very bright or agile, and they did not protect themselves well. The problem was that there were just too many of them, and more kept on coming out of the city gates, as if the earth itself was spawning them. At this point, it was more about sheer numbers, than it was about strength or fighting skills. And even the most experienced among them, did not stand a chance against too many wolfmen at the same time.

  Daniel witnessed with his own eyes as his great-grandfather was surrounded by tens of wolfmen all at once, overpowering him, while his soldiers tried in vain to get them off of him. Ari did not make it easy on the creatures; he put up an amazing fight, slaying more than a dozen of them with only a few blows. But more kept on coming, and eventually, the once king of Endër fell to the ground, never to get back up again. Daniel’s heart felt like it would split in half as he watched his great-grandfather go down, grief and desperation washing over him. If someone as strong and experienced as Ari did not survive, what chance did the rest of them have?

  After many hours of continuous fighting and people dying, Daniel began to feel exhausted and exasperated. Their numbers were growing less and less, while the wolfmen seemed to still be counting in thousands. The earth had turned red and seemed to be drowning in the blood of all the fallen; while everywhere they went, they stepped on corpses and severed limps. Up in the sky, the remaining wingmen continued to fight their own battle against the huge black ravens, unable to aid the ground troops.

  Benefitting from a short respite, during which no wolfmen seemed to be coming his way; Daniel took the chance to look around him. His mother and brother were still alive and caught up in the battle, but they and everyone else showed in their faces the same despair and fear that he felt in his bones. They could not keep this going for long; soon the wolfmen would overtake them and that would be it. There was no way out of it, they could not retreat now; they were surely going to lose.

  He had no time to ponder things any longer; a fresh wave of wolfmen heading towards them saw that he was not engaged, and advanced towards him. Daniel braced himself and raised his sword again to meet them, when a loud horn sounded from inside the walls of Arba. All at once, the wolfmen stopped advancing, while those that were still engaged in battle, simply stood still. His soldiers took the chance to slay them where they stood, and to their surprise they did not defend themselves, nor fight back. They just stood there and accepted their death, as if they didn’t know or care. Daniel almost felt sorry for the creatures, being used by Winter and discarded in this manner. They had no clue as to why they were fighting or who they were fighting; they just blindly obeyed the commands of someone they didn’t even know.

  Both on the ground and in the sky, the armies began to regroup, with the wolfmen and ravens heading back inside the city walls. Everyone else fell into formation behind their leaders. Only then did Daniel see just how many of their people had been lost. All around him, the ground was hidden under a blanket of mutilated bodies and blood as far as the eye could see. The entire field, which was previously covered by unspoiled white snow, had now turned dark red. They would have to search the entire arena for any wounded soldiers, if this truce, or whatever it was, lasted long enough.

  Diane and Damien came to join him and the oracle, just
as Séraphin landed beside them, covered in blood and black feathers. Right then, the sound of a chariot coming out of the ice gates drew their attention. Turning, they saw the White Lord himself heading towards them, accompanied by Butler, who was using his one good hand to lead the two horses drawing the small chariot. It looked very much like the ones Daniel remembered seeing in old gladiator movies. The two wingmen they had seen earlier with Azariel, were also flying on either side of them, like two bodyguards.

  As they waited, Diane took a quick moment to check on him and make sure he was alright. While she did that, Daniel subtly checked on both of them. His mother’s eyes were red; she had obviously witnessed Ari’s death, just as he had. He wanted to say something, to comfort her somehow, but did not know what. Instead, he just took both her and Damien into his embrace and hugged them tight, neither of them saying a word.

  Winter’s chariot finally stopped only a few feet from them, but Winter did not step out of it. Slowly and deliberately, he took a good long and wide look before him, as if assessing all the damages caused by the battle. He had a serene, almost satisfied look on his face, badly hidden under a false concerned expression. When it seemed he was done evaluating the situation, he turned to them.

  ‘So, is this what you were hoping for, when you decided to bring these poor souls before my gates?’ He motioned towards the dead lying in the field.

  ‘Your gates?’ Diane could not help but retort, with clear disdain in her voice.

  ‘Yes, my gates, my dear Lady of the Land,’ Winter replied, seemingly unfazed by her tone. ‘You better than anyone else here should know that regimes change all the time, and finally the time has come for just such a change in this kingdom. No more following and obeying the rule of a long forgotten lord. We make our own future from here on, a future that need not be feared, nor fought; not as far as I’m concerned. I’ve always wanted the best for our kingdom, and now I am finally in the position to make it happen.’

  ‘You have a strange way of showing your affection,’ Diane continued to challenge him. Daniel could not be more proud of her right now; she had amazed him with her courage and skills in the battle, and even more so as she openly and bravely stood up to Winter. ‘Is this how you imagined “the best” for the kingdom? The whole land has plunged into cold and darkness, and all life is fading by the minute. You’ve turned the animals into horrible creatures that you’re using against the very people that you claim to love. You’ve had people murdered and imprisoned, and have now declared open war on all Endërland. I dread to think what other “improvements” you have in mind for us.’

  ‘Change never comes without pain and sacrifice, my lady, but it is not me who is to blame for all of this. It was not me who shut down the Lightbringers and brought about cold and darkness, nor have I murdered or imprisoned anyone. Whatever blood has been shed, has been a direct result of your actions alone. All I desire is for us to peacefully walk together into the new era. Will you not even consider that?’

  ‘Are you really that deluded, or do you think we are fools that you can dupe with your words?’

  Diane’s words were as harsh as her tone of voice, and Daniel could see she had grown angry. Winter’s eyes grew small and dark.

  ‘Careful, dear lady, I do not suffer disrespect from my subjects.’

  ‘We are not afraid of you, and we’re no longer your subjects; you gave up that right when you decided to usurp the Silver Throne.’

  Sensing that the conversation had taken an ugly turn, the oracle stepped forward and smartly intervened.

  ‘If I may, my lord Winter, there’s still the issue of the Great Lord…’

  Winter now set his gaze upon him, and as he did so, darkness and malice shadowed his face. His eyes lost their bright white and blue colors, and for a split second it was as if they were empty.

  ‘You,’ he hissed, and his face and voice changed as if he was suddenly someone else. Daniel found his animosity towards the oracle quite surprising, and once again felt as if he was missing something. Winter continued. ‘Did you really think you’d keep me locked away forever? Well, I’ll show you what forever really means soon enough.’

  This short exchange between the two, had the others mystified. As the realization of a truth known only to the two of them became evident on his face, the oracle took a step back, unable to hide his total shock and fear.

  Seeing that he wasn’t going to say anything else, Séraphin decided to speak up.

  ‘The oracle is right, the Great Lord is no longer missing; he has returned and is here to claim his rightful place.’

  Taking his gaze off the oracle, Winter became his old self once again and smiled defiantly, as they finally came to the point. He looked down on Daniel, who was standing next to Lightning; feeling like everyone else was fighting his battles for him. He knew that the eyes and hopes of all the people in that field were upon him; he had promised that he would deliver them, and now was his chance. But how?

  ‘Yes,’ Winter continued, ‘I heard the rumors that the Great Lord has returned. Well, where is he? Why doesn’t he show himself?’

  Daniel literally felt everyone’s eyes on him and knew it was now his turn to speak. He stepped forward and said boldly, yet without much conviction.

  ‘I’m here. I am the Great Lord.’

  Winter’s chuckle was followed immediately by laughter from his two bodyguards. Only Butler continued to remain impassive and expressionless.

  Daniel felt angry at this reaction, but also afraid. Hearing himself pronounce those five words, he realized that they just weren’t true. He saw it on Winter’s amused face, and felt it in the eyes of the people gathered around him. If he had truly been the Great Lord, none of this would have happened; no one would have had to die, and Winter would be cowering before him right now. Instead, he was laughing, as if this was just a child’s innocent role-play.

  ‘Who is fooling who now, my dear Lady of the Land? Do you really want everyone here to believe that your son is the long lost Lord of Endërland? How very motherly of you!’

  ‘We believe in him,’ Séraphin intervened, ‘and the signs cannot be refuted.’

  ‘The signs, Sky-Prince? Which signs would that be, pray tell?’ Winter asked mockingly.

  ‘The light from the Golden Throne, the star above Arba; only the Great Lord could make that happen.’

  ‘True,’ Winter said, ‘but can you prove that it was this boy who made these things happen? As far as I’m concerned, the star over Arba returned when I took up the Silver Throne and declared myself Great Lord and King over Endërland. And after the Lightbringers were taken down, I couldn’t just leave the kingdom in darkness, so I brought forth this light temporarily, just until the replacements for the sun and moon are chosen.’

  ‘You brought forth the light?’ Séraphin asked, his turn to mock the White Lord.

  Winter ignored his tone.

  ‘You would say just about anything to have your way,’ Diane said, refusing to believe even for a moment that he was telling the truth.

  ‘I could say the same for you, my lady,’ Winter replied, ‘however, it doesn’t have to be my word against yours. The boy is here; if he is indeed the Great Lord, let him prove it, and I will step down and submit to his judgment.’

  His triumphant look fell upon Daniel again, challenging him, just as much as his words did. Daniel was afraid of this; he had no tricks, no power, no magic in him to prove that he was the Great Lord. He could not explain the light from the Golden Throne, nor the star above Arba. Maybe it had been Winter after all.

  Now, more than ever, he wished he had more time at his disposal. He looked at his loved ones around him, waiting for him to show them that Winter was wrong, but he couldn’t. He spotted Hëna again somewhere between the soldiers in the first row, but did not have the courage to look into her eyes. He felt like a fraud; worst, he felt guilty and responsible for having given everyone false hope and leading them to certain defeat.

  Winter saw the
hesitation in him and his grin widened.

  ‘Well?’ he asked, expectantly.

  There was nothing Daniel could say or do. He lowered his head in shame and whispered.

  ‘I can’t.’

  Murmurs and whispers of disappointment broke out throughout the ranks behind him, but he dared not raise his head. He had never felt like such a failure and disappointment before.

  Winter shifted his gaze back to Diane.

  ‘There goes your savior, my lady. I hope you are as proud of him as I am.’

  Diane tightened the grip around her sword and stared back at him with fire in her eyes, but said nothing. No one else spoke either.

  ‘Right,’ Winter continued, raising his voice and addressing all of them now. ‘If there is nothing else to say, then this is my proposal. End this now; go back to your homes and everything will be forgiven. No more people will have to die and no one will be punished for this rebellion. In time the doors of the citadel will reopen, the sun and moon will shine again and life will return to normal for everyone, provided you all accept and recognize me as the only Lord and ruler over the kingdom. In return, I ask only for two things. First, the oracle is to be handed over to me, no questions asked. Second,’ he now turned to Daniel, ‘you will leave our world immediately and never return. Should you fail to comply and insist on continuing this meaningless and futile battle, I guaranty that you will never see your world again. I have it on very good authority that your body is already giving up and dying. If you go back now, you might be able to save yourself, but you will never be allowed to return. You have one hour to decide.’

  From somewhere inside the chariot, Winter produced an hourglass, the very same one he kept in his hall, near his throne. He turned it so that the sand began to run from one bulb into the other, and had Butler place it on the muddy ground before them. He then signaled for Butler to move, and the chariot headed back inside Arba, leaving behind the remains of an army that seemed defeated in more ways than one.