Beyond the Dream

  *

  Captain Asgoth had served in the upper circle of the silver claw legion for many years and through all those years he never forgot the early days after he'd been woken in Avalen. The inception of the silver claw was something which was known only within the legion. The kings of Avalen had never questioned the manner by which the legion replenished its ranks and the legion had never made the process known of their own volition. This secrecy was well deserved, for if it became known then the King’s reaction might have been to disband the order altogether.

  The silver claws had been made by Soren Lyng, he for whom the Lyng library was named and one of the first dreams from the early days. He'd presented the great Fenn with the first silver claw and told him it was a gift, an ardent guardian of stalwart loyalty who would never surrender, never back down and never allow harm to come to those of royal blood.

  Asgoth remembered the day when he'd been woken, back when the Silver Chamber had been in the Palace of Night. It had since been moved to the Hell Tower, the silver claws own abode which stood on one of the main bridges between the first pillar and the fourth. His eyes had opened and he'd seen several grey-robed acolytes standing near. He'd already been armoured, completely covered in thick plate steel, gun-metal grey and dipped in Chalcidian fire to harden it with the durability of dragon scales.

  That was his first memory. The red lens of the eyes of the silver claws covered his vision, the heavy armour seemed as light as air about him and there standing before him was his Lord Captain, Vulthian, who greeted all new arrivals. He told him that his name was Asgoth, that he had been a lost dream who was now found and whose days would be spent in protection of the King and serving the silver claw legion.

  Training had followed, then war and more war. Asgoth had shown prestige and valour and risen through the ranks. He was considered by many to be second only in authority to Vulthian in the legion. Thus was he awarded great responsibility and thus had he accepted proudly when the King had tasked him with taking a hundred sky-ships to Eredyss to lay waste to the Lair and permanently end the threat of the talented jackal.

  The journey had been eventful, and slow. Following the return from the Forest of Fenngaard after visiting the Mercurial Chambers with Mortiune, Asgoth had watched the bodies of five of The Lonely Ghost’s Gravitas be carried away. The struggle of keeping the Ghost level and under control whilst navigating a ferocious storm had proved too much for some of the younger members of the navigators’ order.

  Thus when they'd set out from Fenn, Asgoth had ordered that they proceed slowly with less emphasis on maintaining a stable and serene gravitational level and more on simply staying in the air and progressing at a steady speed. Thanks to his caution they had not lost any navigators and once they moved beyond the Mercurial Chambers and the mountains the storms had lessened. There was still permanent cloud cover and almost constant precipitation, be it snow or rain, but the wind had died down and they were able to increase speed without putting too much strain on those responsible for propulsion.

  They flew for many days over a snow-covered canvas of a land. They also started to see many oddities. At one point he'd rushed up on deck after the lookout reported seeing a floating mountain. The lookout was just a boy who'd only been part of the crew of Asgoth’s own ship The Gentle Death for a few years and Asgoth suspected exaggeration. But when he walked up on deck what he saw he could only have been described as a floating mountain. The piece of rock was leagues across, jagged with a faintly triangular shape. Asgoth was not sure what he was more concerned with, one of his ships hitting the object or what must have happened wherever the mountain was originally.

  He had navigated the fleet around the rock, which span slowly in the air on the same spot, before regrouping and continuing on. They had seen other things as they flew too, lakes and rivers floating in the sky, clouds which looked like they were on fire. He'd maintained contact with Lord Captain Vulthian on the ground for as long as possible, keeping him up to speed with their discoveries until eventually the distance had become too great.

  The whole legion looked to Vulthian as a father, despite what might be going on in the kingdom at the time he made a point of being there for each of their births, or 'awakenings'. He was the first person they spoke to when their red glowing eyes opened and it was he who taught then to lift a sword during their first days of training. Following that he was someone who always made an effort to keep up a personal link with those under his command. Vulthian was someone with who all doubt could be discussed and dismissed.

  When he had lost the telepathic link with the legion’s commander Asgoth felt the same loss he always did. Vulthian spoke to him with barely disguised criticism for both the primary mission with which he'd been charged and the way in which Prince Karmalaine had taken charge of their party and was conducting the operation.

  The scathing assessment which Vulthian gave of the Prince’s leadership was not the first which other members of the legion had been privy to. Asgoth still remembered the Binding and the manner with which Vulthian had portrayed the fate of the talented jackals to the rest of the legion. “Our wise King is letting the dogs have the run of the forest”, were his exact words. Vulthian’s loyalty to the crown was unquestioning, as judged by his actions and unfailing obedience, but knowing the undeniable feelings of his heart and mind there was often underlying disapproval conveyed in the way he spoke to his brothers. The heart was more difficult to disguise when one claw spoke to another by the mind-link.

  Asgoth went regularly down into the control room beneath the deck of The Gentle Death and the Gravitas reported that steady progress was being made. The ship’s captain, Ramone, had served under Asgoth for many years; he knew which matters to bring before the silver claw and which to deal with himself but even so Asgoth liked to be involved in as many aspects of life of those he commanded as possible.

  It was a grey cold day when they finally came in sight of the jackal. Though he'd never been on any of the King’s scout ships which had come this far before he had had it described to him many times, even so there was a slight sense of shock and awe. Externally you would have never known that he was feeling such sensations, but internally they were there, such was the way of the silver claw.

  It looked like the jackal’s head was erupting from the side of the mountain. As soon as he saw it in the distance, Asgoth told his signalmen to inform the rest of the fleet. The telepathic link was one of the primary tactical advantages that the silver claws possessed on the battlefield, orders were issued and obeyed in an instant, there was no flag waving and no need for coloured flares and trumpets. Though they stood far apart on the decks of their own vessels it was as if his brothers stood by him, linked arm in arm within the corridors of the mind.

  Asgoth felt the heavy internal murmur as the signalmen told the silver claws on the other ships to form up and prepare for a strafing bombardment. The Empty Talon and The Eaglebane came up alongside The Gentle Death, with the other ninety-seven vessels under Asgoth’s command gradually following suit.

  The Lair of Eredyss was situated on a peak which sat nested in a circle of other mountains and beyond it Asgoth saw the Dreamstone Wall rising to meet the sky. He could not help but admire the place the jackals had chosen to build their fortress, easily defended from all angles against most conventional foes. It was a shame for the jackals that on this day they would be assaulted not by a conventional foe but by the armed might of the Palace of Fenngaard.

  There was a distinct change in the sounds coming from the lead vessel as they closed in on their target. The familiar drone of the sky-ship cutting through the air was joined by a higher pitched whining noise as the thirty sabre cannons mounted around The Gentle Death started to charge. Each cannon was attended by a team of two silver claws who were well versed in their use.

  First blood on this day, however, was not shed by the silver claws. As they crossed the mountain range surrounding the jackal-head’s peak, which got larger with ever
y second, Asgoth heard a noise. It could be heard above the ship and the primed weapons on board and it could be heard above Asgoth’s own thoughts concentrated totally on the fortress below. It was the sound of sadness, an elongated note of melancholy which filled the sky around the ships.

  Asgoth recognised the sound at the last second, so long had it been since such a noise dared to approach his ears. Using his mind like a megaphone he bellowed out to his fellow silver claws, those on The Gentle Death and those on the other ninety-nine ships of the fleet. 'Sorrow Hawk', was all he shouted, disregarding his own signalmen who were normally responsible for passing commands between the vessels.

  No sooner had the words left his mind than he looked up to see furious silver descending from the grey clouds and battle was joined. Doubt vanished from the mind of Captain Asgoth. He was a sword and a silver claw, he was death.

  The birds funnelled down from the clouds and spread out over the fleet. There were hundreds, maybe even thousands of them. Some bore a single jackal on their back, focused pilots who clung with one long-fingered paw to the back of the hawk whilst lobbing fireballs down onto the decks of the ships with the other. Other hawks bore multiple jackals who leapt down onto the decks of the ships as they swooped over them. The wise jackals used their dream weaves to throw fire and smoke into the eyes of the silver claws they faced, the more foolish amongst the jackals chose to draw swords against the gun-metal grey ones. Two such fools rushed across the deck of The Gentle Death towards Asgoth.

  As they drew thin blades which could not hope to pierce his armour, they cloaked themselves with invisibility. Asgoth imagined that they'd spent years learning such a skill but sadly it had little practical implication in a fight against the paramount warriors of Avalen. In battle instinct was the most valuable weapon possessed by a silver claw. To his left he struck out into the air with claws of silver almost a foot long, at the same time he slashed to his right with his silver-steel sword.

  Both weapons struck home and blue blood poured forth from him invisible foes that became all too visible as they fell to the floor clutching at wounds to the midsection. The curses which they spat at Asgoth lingered before dripping harmlessly from his armour as he finished them both off.

  He took a moment to study the sky which had become a portrait of battle, a scene painted by the hand of time which saw the sky filled with sorrow hawks screaming through the air with talented jackals on their back.

  Being able to admit defeat is not a weakness, it is what one does with that knowledge that matters. A number of the sky-ships were already falling from the heavens, transformed from ships into burning wrecks which would soon scorch the earth with their failure. For every hawk and hound which fell ten more took their place. As he surveyed the battle it became apparent to Asgoth that the Palace of Fenngaard had dramatically underestimated the strength of Eredyss.

  He considered his options, attempt to flee? Though the sky-ships could no doubt outrun the hawks they would not escape unscathed and would lose many vessels as they tried to run. Even so, Asgoth knew that he must try to at least send some word to Fenn that the jackals were far more advanced in their plotting than was known.

  Asgoth sent a signal to one in every ten ships left to rally on him and proceed onwards down to the Lair. It was a source of great pride to hear his sub-commanders report back their compliance immediately. The rest of the fleet he told to turn back and make with all possible haste to friendly skies to warn the palace. He was just as proud to hear these commanders affirm their obedience with regret in their voices, regret at leaving the battle, regret at leaving their brothers to die.

  Only six ships convened on the position of The Gentle Death, sixty turned to go home. Five of those fell in the act of fleeing under the ceaseless rain of fire coming from the hands of the jackals. Forty-five ships destroyed within minutes, when the King leads his armies back here to victory they will need to bring hundreds more sky-ships, mused Asgoth, barely dodging a globe of fire thrown in his direction. His threw his sword in retort, watching with satisfaction as it sunk into the side of a jackal, his death pulling him from his saddle on board a sorrow hawk.

  Asgoth turned back to the jackal’s head as from all around The Gentle Death he heard the rumble of cannons, purple balls of fire shredding the sky and heading towards the Lair as Asgoth closed in on death.