Burton took Montague by the arm. Simon Atikan and a dozen other Graleon knights formed a circle around them.
Above, a plethora of gargoyles escaped from Rayne’s wrath and were sweeping down, taking men up into the sky and dropping them from high altitudes. Montague gasped. He was horrified by the guttural screams of men falling to their deaths, the sounds of limbs breaking.
Spiders were still scurrying from the preoccupied trolls, eating dead bodies and biting the living to death.
The circle of safety within soldiers was thinning; the men surrounding Burton and Montague were now outnumbered by spiders. Even the trolls couldn’t contain them. To Burton’s left there was a large, hairy-legged spider that had a Graleon soldier clutched by the legs. It climbed up to his belly and was about to slam its pincers into his gut. But Burton shot a small spark from the tip of Vandagelle, and the arachnid exploded. Then, the rest of the spiders targeted him and Montague. Although Burton was weak and limited in what he could do, his words were just as dangerous as his wand. “Vacuuma!” he shouted, trouncing the rushing spiders with a single word. Their bodies shriveled and collapsed like their innards were sucked out of them.
“Sensei!” Montague shouted, pulling on Burton’s robe. “Simon!” He pointed.
When Burton turned, he saw the shadow of a gargoyle diving down on his son, its talons extended. Before Burton could react, the beast snared Simon by the knight’s shoulder plates, lifting him up into the smoke-filled sky.
The human in Burton wanted to aim his wand at the flying beast, but if he did, the spiders would close in on him and Montague. And Montague was most important. All of this, the reason why Burton had incarnated, was to connect the carrier of the Volpi gene to the Nekrum ship. Since Montague was the carrier of this generation, he was the only one who could end the Nekrums’ madness.
Before Burton was forced to choose, Indrid Cole, the count of Grale, jumped from the back of the giant cat, Apollo, and grabbed Simon’s legs, causing the flying beast to fall to the ground. Maul, the larger cat from the Ikarus arena, joined the offense. The cats mangled the gargoyle before biting it in half. Roaring deep and loud, their tongues and teeth dripped a mixture of saliva and blood. Their power revitalized the Resistance.
With the strength of Graleon steel, Illyrium-forged armor, the trolls, and the light of Vandagelle, the rushing spiders were slaughtered. But the mages and dead elders were closing in.
Burton was thankful for what Indrid had done for his son. It was good to see the disgruntled count join the Resistance, he thought. The spell that Indrid had been under must have worn off, lost its potency. There was no influence left lingering. He was now clear-minded.
Indrid looked doleful, almost in tears. He looked to Montague. “Please, forgive me. I lost my way. How could I have been so foolish to lock you away like that?”
“There is nothing to forgive. You did what you thought was right. I’m just glad that you found your way back.” Montague smiled.
“As am I,” Burton included.
“But it wasn’t right,” said Indrid.
“Everyone makes mistakes; even the most respected kings. I understand that my actions caused a great suspicion,” Montague said.
“No such thing as coincidence, right?” Indrid asked, uplifted.
“Right.” said Montague. “I hope you know now that I would never do anything to compromise the kingdom of Men.”
“I do,” said Indrid.
Between heavy breaths, Burton nearly collapsed. The old wizard steadied himself holding Montague’s shoulder. He caught a drop of blood with his finger before it dripped from his nose.
MONTAGUE LA-ROSE was overjoyed to see Indrid again. The young man that looked back at him reflected the boy that he knew and raised. Indrid’s eyes held remorse. But Montague placed no blame.
Simon and Indrid went off, fighting the last werewolf pack. Apollo and Maul hunted the alpha.
Burton placed Vandagelle in Montague’s hand. “Take her,” he said then kneeled to catch his breath.
Montague hesitated. The wand scared him more than it made him feel safe. He didn’t think that he would be able to control the colossal power of Vandagelle. “Sensei, I can’t. What if—”
“Take it!” Burton shouted with a gravelly voice. “You can. You have to. There is no ‘what if’. Put your steel away. She’ll guide you.”
From the moment Montague accepted the wand, he felt connected to it. It knew him intimately as if it had imbedded in his mind, fusing with his thoughts. Vandagelle shared the same master as he.
A dead elder with a large, flat forehead and pointy teeth like a shark came charging, leading a group of mages toward them.
Montague pointed the wand, but it did nothing. “What do I do?” he asked, turning to Burton.
“Show her what you want her to do,” Burton said in a tired breath. An Ikarus soldier took him by the arm to help him stand. But he collapsed. He fell unconscious.
“Show her?” The thought seemed ludicrous. How do you show a wand how to ‘do’ something? How can I communicate with it? Although inanimate, Montague knew that Vandagelle possessed a special intelligence, one of the spiritual realm. He yelled, “Fire! Attack! Shoot!” But it did nothing. Then, he tried to plead. “Please! Protect us! I beg you.” Again, it did nothing. A cold shiver rushed down his spine. He could now hear the grunting of the blood-thirsty spell casters closing in. Finally, at wits end, he shouted, “By God, I command you! Fire!” Yet still, the wand did nothing.
Hopelessness had set in. Montague believed that he was going to die, right there with Burton, in the middle of the battlefield. The Ikarus soldier propping Burton set him down and prepared to engage.
Now a stone’s throw away, the dead elder, riding a large konganroo, began swinging a chain above his head, a blood-coated spiked ball at its end. The mages who followed hissed and carried shaved-bone daggers in
