“I am now. The more distance between the ruins and us the better. They set me on edge. I couldn’t breathe. It was like the rocks screamed in agony, replaying the death of the city.” Alex swallowed a gulp of tepid water from her canteen and wished for an ice cube. “Do you know where this trail ends?”

  “It goes all the way to Maywyn, but we’ll leave it long before that.” The rocky road circled around a grove of apple trees, and they happened upon a strange sight. The trail ended at a four-lane highway. “This section of highway just showed up about 50 years ago, but it could be 60. I lose track sometimes.”

  The clip-clop of horse hooves on the highway comforted Alex. She was glad for the even surface and the familiar surroundings, even if it was a different world. The highway followed the path of the May River, a vast body of slow moving water, and on the opposite shore, the Deepwood Forest skirted the river like a green curtain. The trees soared to skyscraper heights, and everything beneath them struggled for light; those unlucky enough to live at the bottom languished in perpetual twilight, thick with decay and insects.

  Sam tipped his cavalry hat and said, “Imagine it: you traveled this highway a thousand times, and one day, you’re on your way to work, your thoughts consumed by chores that need doing, and you shift to another world. It staggers the mind.”

  “That’s how I got here, so I know it all too well. What did they do?” asked Alex.

  “They founded Treetop City.” Sam removed his hat and wiped the sweat from his brow. “I say that like it was nothing. They paid for it in lives, but they won the right to survive. Most of the founders are still alive. Humans live 700 to 900 years on Eden, if they aren’t killed by accident, injury, or illness.”

  “Nice to hear, but my impression is that a great many things are trying to kill you.” She saw a flock of birds coming from the east. They skirted around the forest and followed the river east. A great eagle descended like a fighter jet, grabbed some creature from off a branch, and flew toward the mountains. It dropped the creature, and it plummeted like a skydiver without a parachute, disappearing behind the peak of a nearby hill.

  “That was a giant sloth,” Sam said. “The eagles feed on them now and again, but they leave men alone. We have a non-aggression treaty.”

  “With birds?”

  “Strange as it may seem, yes. Great Eagles are intelligent, but their language is difficult for men to speak, so we speak our respective native tongues.” Sam lapsed into silence, as a distant memory resurfaced. When his eyes became glassy, he dried them with a handkerchief and sighed. “I lost a good friend … my best friend to a drake: it’s a type of dragon, which there are many. It snatched him up, soared high, and dropped him. I watched him fall to his death. I never felt so helpless in all my life. We never found the body.”

  The road took a sharp left turn, and a bridge spanned the river as if made for it. However, from the concrete and steel construction, it was of Earth design. Since its arrival, both men and dwarves augmented its structure with stone from a local quarry. This gave it a strange, mishmash appearance, but it appeared solid, much stronger than the original design.

  As they neared the bridge, Alex's eyes brightened, and she asked, “So are you going to show me around the city?”

  “I sure am, and I plan to —,” he said, but the thunder of hooves stole Sam’s smile. He caressed his sword’s grip. Socks froze for a second and then scrambled onto a rock. Sam considered drawing one of his swords, but it seemed premature.

  The thunder of hooves drew near, and they saw human riders galloping at pell-mell. Sam pulled on his horse’s reins. After he had removed his hat, he put on his helmet and tightened the chinstrap. Alex cringed and stood in her stirrups. “Do you think they’re dangerous? They look angry.”

  For a few seconds, the shiny curve of Alex’s leather wrapped ass and the shiny silver maiden’s belt that cleaved between them mesmerized Sam, but breaking the trances, he said, “They’re galloping at full speed with their weapons drawn, eyes wide for battle. That makes them dangerous.” Sam drew his sword and tightened his grip on the reins. “Get behind me.”

  His stomach churned, and he scowled, ready for battle. He hoped he was wrong, but it seemed that too soon danger once again found them. After Alex tightened her chinstrap, she too drew one of her swords.

  The highway safety railing left little maneuvering room. Unlike Sam, Alex favored a swift but dignified retreat. Socks lingered at the edge of the road, waiting for the battle to commence.

  The riders charged: elbows and knees flying, coats flapping, terror in their eyes. They swept past Sam and Alex. “RUN!” shouted the leader, Hank Lutz. They dug in their spurs and raced after the men. They turned left onto the bridge, and when they were midway across, Sam saw daemia riding Ta’raks: reptile-like creatures, swift as jaguars, claws like a lion, and sharp teeth. There were hundreds of mounted riders: spears, swords, and bows at the ready.

  Alex and the others charged across the river. Hooves thundered and kicked up clods of soil. They sped through the forest, racing along the serpentine trail. Guards at a checkpoint – established to collect taxes – strolled out from their shack and moved onto the roadway. “Daemia riders, RUN,” shouted Hank. The guards grabbed their weapons, mounted their steeds, and sped away.

  When the trail straightened, Alex made the mistake of looking over her shoulder. The daemia riders closed the gap and drew near enough for a bow shot. They screamed and shouted obscenities in their native language. Raw terror caused a primal rush within Alex. She jabbed her heels into the horse’s flanks and rose up from the saddle. She raced through the other riders, screaming “Go!” The horses moved as one, sensing the collective terror, and fled from the pursuing danger.

  The trail divided into a “Y”, and they raced to the left. Men and woman paused from their tasks, standing amid pallets filled with goods: crates of wine, nuts, gourd oil, and other food stores. “Daemia,” shouted Hank. They pulled back on their reins and rode into a rectangular barn. Hank leaped from his horse and sprinted to the barn door. Men and women scrambled into the barn; he glanced out to see if everyone was inside the barn. A little girl sat on the ground and cried. She held her dolly and searched for her mother. Hank sprinted from the barn and snatched up the girl. When he ran back into the barn, he threw the girl into Alex’s arms. He shouted, “Hold on,” and threw a lever. Since there were so many predators on the ground, the barns moved like elevators, rising to the housing level in the trees.

  Gravity pulled on them, making their weight double. The ground rushed away, and a blur of green sped past the open doors. The horses skittered about and whinnied as the barn rocketed into the canopy. Hank struggled to close the brake, and Sam joined him. Using all their might, teeth gritted, muscle straining, they pushed on the lever and slowed the barn. The outer world slowed, branches as large as a city bus passed by the open doorway, and then it rose up through a platform – a community spread across the upper branches.

  “Hank, what the hell is going on?” Russell Rodgers strode into the barn. “The whole community is on alert. The militia is arming for war.”

  “Daemia riders are at our roots — again. There had to be at least a hundred of them,” Hank said. “They chased us for twenty miles.”

  “Are they the same ones?” asked.

  “Yeah, they are.” Hank wiped the sheen of sweat and grime from his face with a rag. “They are ugly and armed to kill.”

  Russell said, “There must be fewer of them this time.”

  “I wouldn’t bet my silver on that,” said Sam. He moved around his horse and handed the reins to Alex. “There are a whole lot of them, and they are armed for war, all wearing plate armor and armed with serious blades.”

  “Sam, when did you get back? We were starting to worry about you,” said Russell.

  “You can thank Alex Dubois for my rescue. I was stuck in the Dragon Head Monument, but she and Socks set me free … not that the dwarves were so happy to see us,” Sam said, and Socks moved around him and danced, greeting the residents with joy.

  “It’s good to see you,” Russell said. The wolf danced for joy and raced about the barn, glad for the reunion. When he tried to pet Socks, the wolf perked his ears, backed away, and sniffed the air. Russell chuckled. “I was picking juniper berries for the ambrosia wine. Wolves are allergic to it, makes them sneeze.” When a group of children rushed to Socks and began to pet him, Socks decided that playtime was in order and pranced around with the children.

  “You can have a grand reunion later,” Hank said. “The daemia are coming up the tree.”

  “I can’t believe this. I thought we were done with all this,” Russell said. “This is the fifth time in 9 months.”

  A slender teenage girl scrambled into the barn and said, “Russell, Marcus signaled ground control. An entire daemia army is on its way.”

  Chapter 2

  Trolls pounded an angry beat upon flesh drums and thundered, “WAR!” They followed the river south and marched before the army, shaking the ground. Trog urged his Ta’rak to climb up a small precipice. His army flowed like a river of death that flowed from the mountains. Treetop City was busy with their fight and would have no time to help the Elves. Maywyn stood alone.

  His scout, Gor, galloped his Ta’rak past the army. Trog watched Gor circle around the escarpment and drove his Ta’rak up the inclined slope. Trog turned his stead toward Gor and raised his chin. “Master Scout, report your findings,” he commanded.

  “Sir, they detected our approach, and the city is on high alert. My troops control the ground,” he said.

  “Control the ground? The ground is worthless. They live in the trees, apes that they are.” Trog saw his captain, Krall, charge up the slope. “Battle Master, report.”

  “My troops are hungry for battle, but the Drake Rider’s failed us. The great eagles delayed them, and the human Air Corps flew east and warned Maywyn. The city is mobilizing for war. We lost the advantage of surprise.”

  “Surprise? Can such a great army move in the shadows. Your words lack wisdom.” Trog threw his left hand toward a rising column of acrid smoke. “They receive no assistance from men south of the mountains or from the dwarves. We take Maywyn this time, and their cities will burn. Their dead will fill our larders, and we will feast on their flesh. All goes according to plan.”

  _____

  Alex stood in the middle of Treetop City and gaped. Bells clanged, and the citizens fled in panic, but she remained motionless, mesmerized by the Elven inspired city. It spread out and around and rose up to dizzying heights. Circular homes at staggered levels sat atop massive branches, and razor thin bridges spanned the gap between them. Great white towers passing through leaves and jutting into clear blue skies, expansive plazas surrounded by quaint shops, sweeping architectural lines as much art as structure, a kaleidoscope of birds winging in grand array, the city possessed a beauty that made her eyes well with tears. Treetop City inspired her soul, and she knew that this was home.

  “Get your head out of the clouds,” Sam shouted. “I’m going to join the defenders. We’re mounting a defense of the city. Reports say a large force is attacking the city. The air corps is evacuating as many as they can.”

  A red, football shaped balloon descended from the sky and cruised toward a spire. A drake rider banked and dove. It spat red acid, and the balloon burst into flames. A crew leaped off the burning airship, tiny figures tumbling into the forest. The flaming debris crashed into the city, and Treetop City shuddered.

  Alex said, “I want to fight.”

  Sam jogged backward and said, “Come on then,” with a wave. She chased after him. They approached Russell and Hank, both human: Russell being the elder with thinning red hair, stubble upon his chin, and world-weary eyes; Hank had shaggy brown hair, a trimmed beard, and eyes so fierce that Alex’s steps faltered when his gaze fell upon her. The pair spoke in whispers and looked about the city.

  As Sam approached them, he opened his mouth to speak, but before the words left his mouth, the ironwood tree that supported them shook. Salvos of blue rhunite ballistas impacted the tree and burned with wild blue flames. The ironwood tree refused to bend, break, or burn; and the flames soon extinguished. “Alexis, take up archery position on that branch.”

  Russell rubbed the stubble on his chin and scratched an itch from his nose. “We are all battle fatigued,” he shouted. Salvos exploded, and warriors shouted as the fought the enemy off their branches. “They’re easy pickings on the lower branches.”

  Sam furrowed his brow and narrowed his eyes. “They can’t have so many troops that they can afford to throw them away. It makes no sense to fight up the tree.”

  “It’s the same damn ones!” He pointed down at a daemia clad in a blood red coat, clearly visible against the steel gray tree. “I’ve killed that one three times.” He slotted an arrow, took aim, and let it fly. The arrow streaked through the air and struck the daemia in the back. The creature grimaced in pain, bent backward, and exploded into a black cloud, blowing away in the wind, its clothes and weapon falling to the ground. “Four times,” he said. “I’m beginning to feel like we are old friends. Maybe one time I should let him reach the top just so I can see what he wants.” He finger-combed his thinning locks and mumbled a curse.

  “Have you ever questioned any of them?” asked Alex. “Coming back from the dead must be weird.”

  “Yeah,” Hank mumbled and shook his head. “Russell and I questioned a few of them. They’ve got no idea. Their commander ordered them to attack, so they attacked. Daemia don’t ask questions when it comes to killing.” He began to pace and rub the back of his neck. “I can’t believe this. It makes no sense. What are we supposed to do? This is our home but —“

  The sound of a dirigible’s prop caused Russell lifted his face to the open skies and listen. “We’ve lost so many friends and comrades. We can’t keep up this pace. If this doesn’t stop soon, we’ll have to abandon Treetop City and go south to Atlantis.”

  “Even the elves are beginning to whine,” Hank said. “They have to deal with the brunt of the attack. The attack on Treetop is just a diversion to keep us busy.”

  “It’s like watching the same damn movie over and over and over again.” With an upraised chin, Russell gazed at the wonder that was Treetop City. “I love this place, but I can’t take much more.” When his gaze lowered to Sam, he asked, “I’m worried about Big Ed. He should have arrived a month ago.”

  Sam’s jaw tightened; he lowered his gaze and shook his head. “Big Ed and the others … they’re dead. Alex found them and buried the bodies. They were having some sort of celebration when the daemia attacked. No one survived.”

  Russell bowed his head and lingered in silence. “We’ll grieve their passing. He was a good man.” Another rhunite projectile shook the tree, and blue flames erupted behind them. “You say that you were inside the Dragon’s Head Monument?”

  “Yup barely made it out,” Sam said.

  “I need you to go back and contact the dwarves. The daemia keep coming out of the Mornkul Mountain, and the dwarves control it. We need their help to track down whatever the hell keeps bringing the daemia back to life.” He put his right hand on Sam’s left shoulder. “We really need this. Can we count on you to help us?”

  “Sure you can, but … um.” Sam cast a sideways glance at Alex. “Alex has already been through an ordeal.”

  “Don’t even think about it,” Alex said. “If you’re going, so am I. Besides, who’s going to get you out of all those traps?”

  Sam grinned and said, “Yes, ma’am.” Alex pouted, and darksome thoughts vexed her. She crossed her arms and glared at the deck. However, every sensation of her body — the rise of her breasts upon inhaling, the new shape of her body, and the female armor that protected her — insisted that his description was accurate.

  “I’m going too,” said Hank. “The real battle is out there.”

  Chapter 3

  The battle for Treetop City lasted two weeks and the battle for Maywyn a month. They concluded as the four previous battles with victory, but there was no victory parade, no feast in the great hall, no celebration of any kind. A vague weariness and general malaise permeated both cities, and the citizenry grumbled. A few families used the break in combat to sell their homes and purchase passage on a ship going south.

 

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