Nage raised a brow but didn’t take his eyes from the wall. “Tea?”
“Yes,” Kezra replied. “Tea. And who pours for whom when foreign dignitaries meet.”
Nage grinned at that, but Gara seemed unwilling to join in their humor. The reedy girl fidgeted atop her ashen mare. “I hope the Shirites surrender. Can’t they see we have the upper hand?”
Kezra scanned the army, looking from one white mage-robe to the next, searching for one with a red turban. Where was Zandi? She had hoped she’d be able to keep an eye on him, but she couldn’t find her brother anywhere. “No. They’ll never surrender. They will protect their city with all they have.”
Nage huffed, shaking his head. “They’ll die doin’ that.”
“Wouldn’t you?” Kezra fired back harder than she meant to. She lowered her voice and added, “Wouldn’t any of us do the same to protect Silver?”
Nage and Gara stared guilty into the distance, but neither replied.
They waited in silence, watching and waiting for something to happen. Morathi’s cape fluttered in the breeze as he spoke, but Kezra couldn’t make out the general’s words. She shifted restlessly in Epona’s saddle, frustration clawing at her insides. She hated waiting. It was quite possibly worse than engaging in battle. At least if she was swinging a blade, she wouldn’t have time to worry.
“Gara’s right though,” Nage sighed. “They’re too few. They don’t got a chance unless they can summon up an army out of the sand an’ surround our arses—”
Nage’s mouth sank into a severe frown, and he turned, quite deliberately, to stare at Kezra. She scowled back at him, refusing to humor such a ridiculous notion. They held each other’s gaze for an eternity before Kezra groaned and finally relented. In unison, she and Nage craned their necks, looking into the distance behind the army.
Nothing. Just an endless sea of sand stretching into the distance.
It would have been a lie to say Kezra wasn’t relieved, as unfounded as her fear might have been. Nage’s lopsided grin made her chuckle, and Kezra rolled her eyes at her own silliness. Were they children now, trying to scare each other with ghost stories? Armies were not conjured out of the sand.
“Look!” Gara exclaimed, pointing ahead. “The Shirites are retreating.”
Kezra watched as the golden riders disappeared inside the city and the gates slid shut. She could barely hear the metal hinges grinding as the heavy door settled into place against the wall, and then—nothing.
Nage let out a snort. “Well, now what? I’m gonna be an old man before I ever get to see Nia again.”
Kezra opened her mouth, meaning to jest with him, but paused when she felt a strange vibration stirring beneath Epona’s hooves. Slight at first, it surged to a thundering tremor, rattling Kezra to her core. Startled gasps rippled through the ranks as the trembling wave rolled past, reaching the outskirts of the army in a matter of seconds.
Chhaya’s bane!
“What in the two worlds was that?” Gara asked.
Nage pulled his reins tighter, trying to quiet his balking gelding. “An earthquake, maybe? Hell of a time for one.”
Kezra’s guts roiled as a second tremor struck so violently it made her teeth clank. In her heart, she knew this was no act of nature. This was something much worse.
She barely had time to grab for her sword before all hell broke loose.
A boundless rumble gurgled up from the depths. The sound was everywhere and nowhere at once, above and below, and all around. It was louder than a thousand marching feet and deeper than the roll of distant thunder. Never in Joel’s life had he heard something more terrifying. And the ground! The ground was shaking!
Ivory whickered in alarm and threw her head, stumbling from side to side, unable to regain stable footing atop the shifting sand.
“Go!” Koal screamed. He reached out and gave Ivory’s rump a smack. “Go to Deegan!”
Ivory took off like a bolt, lumbering back toward the army. Joel clung to her neck, praying the filly didn’t go down. Soldiers shouted along the front, trying to steady their panicking mounts. Some men were even looking for a way to escape, but there was nowhere to go. The tremors were all around them.
Ivory broke through the line. Joel looked around wildly, trying to orient himself amid the chaos. Koal’s voice still rang in his ears.
Deegan! I have to find Deegan!
“Ivory!” he yelled. “To the back—”
Joel’s breath was ripped away from him as the first wave of dark power surged past. He barely had time to fling up a shield around himself, and even then, the magic still breached his barrier spell. It hit him like a gust of glass shards to the face, and he cried out and doubled over in his saddle. His skin burned in agony. Oh gods, it hurt! It hurt so badly! What was this? What could possibly feel so evil?
Joel fortified his shields, wrapping the magic bonds over and over again until the darkness pressing onto his body and soul was lessened to a dull ache. But he could still feel it. Oh gods, he could feel it in his bones.
“Look out!” screamed a nearby soldier. “The ground! The ground is opening!”
Joel managed to lift his head, and all color drained from his face.
Just ahead, the earth buckled, and a jagged fissure sliced through the crust. Sand poured into the widening gap. The larger the crevasse grew, the more quickly the powder rushed to fill it. Men were scrambling back, pushing and shoving each other in their haste to get away from the rift. One soldier was too slow. The ground gave out beneath his feet, and he tumbled down.
His fingers dug into the sand as he tried to climb to safety. His legs dangled precariously over the edge of the chasm. “Help! Help me—”
The man’s eyes bulged with shock. The scream that tore from his gaping mouth a moment later was nothing short of blood-curdling. Joel could only watch, frozen in terror, as the thrashing soldier was lifted from the ground, his lower torso hopelessly trapped within a maw of razor-sharp teeth.
Chapter Sixteen
Over the rumble of sand and his own rushing pulse, Gib could hear nothing else. He teetered on the unsteady ground, watching as rubble and dust skittered around his boots as if the world itself were tilting. Astora and the other horses, tethered together in a nearby circle, pranced in place and nickered nervously. What was going on up there to make the ground shake so? Not even the march of the entire Shirite army could cause such a roar.
Hasain’s panic-stricken voice reached Gib’s ears above the noise. “What is that?”
“Earth tremor?” Gib replied, uncertain. He’d never experienced one himself, but his Pa had told stories about the one he’d lived through as a boy. He said the entire cottage had shaken like it was a ragdoll.
Deegan clung to Tular’s arm. “A quake could swallow our army whole!”
Gib widened his stance as the ground jostled him. Was that true? Could the desert really drop out from beneath their feet and send them to Eternity? He sent a silent prayer to The Two.
Natori stood amid Deegan’s Royal Guardsmen, her ethereal blade aflame. The guards were as unsteady on their feet as Gib, but the Blessed Mage barely moved. Every muscle in her lissome body was pulled taut.
“This is no quake,” she said in a hollow voice.
The fine hairs on the back of Gib’s neck and arms stood on end. The air grew static, like the stirrings of a fierce midsummer storm. The swell of magic was so strong even he could feel the tinge.
Hasain stumbled back, clutching his dark hair in his hands. “The magic—it’s massive! It’s everywhere! Natori, what is this?”
Gib tightened his hands around Oathbinder and looked to the Blessed Mage for guidance. Cold dread barred his heart.
Natori stood frozen, white as death. Her irises clouded over until they disappeared entirely and the whole of her eyes became lanterns of violet light. She said nothing as she stared ahead, her sole focus locked onto a dune, rising in the distance.
Gib’s breaths hitched.
Rising. The dune was rising.
“Chhaya’s bane,” one of Morathi’s thugs exclaimed. He cowered with bulging eyes behind Deegan.
The second of the pair jabbed a meaty finger, terror lining his face. “Look!”
But everyone was already looking. Gib stared, gaping in horror, as a creature straight from the darkest Tale of Fae imaginable broke free of the sand.
At the peak of its back, the creature stood taller than any two men. Scaly white plates covered the massive body, from the wedge-shaped head to a whip-like tail topped with sharp barbs. The dirt crunched beneath the weight of four limbs thicker than they were long. Dusky claws jutted out from the tips, each talon the length of a dagger.
A tear rolled down Gib’s cheek. He might have even screamed. Never in his deepest nightmares could his mind conjure something so terrifying. What was this? What was this terrible monster? His knees knocked together, and he wavered. Gloom lined the edges of his vision.
No. He couldn’t pass out. Not here and not now. He would stay awake and fight for this world. Gib lifted Oathbinder and pressed closer to Deegan. Hasain and Tular flanked the prince’s opposite side. Blue fire swirled around Hasain’s hands, and Tular stood with sword drawn high. Live or die, they were in this together.
Gib turned bravely to face the monster of nightmares.
The creature shook itself free of sand. A cloud of dust flew into the sky and blotted out the sunlight. The beast’s bulky head moved from side to side, slowly and intently, fire in the beady eyes sitting low on the creature’s snout. Its gaze passed over rows of scrambling soldiers until the black orbs settled solely onto Deegan’s party. Slitted nostrils flared, the only warning, and then the beast sprang forward.
“Shield the prince!” Natori yelled, her sapphire blade a beacon for all. “Royal soldiers with me!”
In all his life—in all the books he’d read and all the places he’d been—never before had Joel seen something like this. This was something from beyond the world Joel knew.
The creature climbed out of the ground, each jagged row of teeth crunching down on the soldier’s midriff, ripping through armor and flesh like both were made of parchment. The man’s gurgled screams filled the air. He flailed his arms and clawed at the beast’s scales, but the creature didn’t release its hold.
Most of the nearby soldiers fled in terror, but a precious few stayed behind, shooting arrows that bounced harmlessly off the creature’s thick hide. Others slashed at its limbs. They fought desperately to save their comrade, but their efforts seemed to further infuriate the creature.
The beast tossed its first victim aside, the body mangled and bloodied beyond recognition. A dreadful hiss rose over dying heaves as lidless black eyes searched for new prey.
Joel screamed along with the other soldiers when the monster’s massive head jutted forward. Jaws snapped around the neck of a second soldier, his cries snuffed in an instant. Claws raked down another who couldn’t jump away in time. Two more lives, taken in the blink of an eye. Blood smeared the sand.
Ivory’s nostrils flared. She’d caught the death scent. Before Joel could reach to soothe her, she reared and jerked forward. Letting out a startled cry, Joel toppled from the filly’s saddle.
He landed hard on his stomach, the impact so great it pushed the air from his lungs with an audible whoosh. For a moment he couldn’t breathe. He lay there, stunned, until a horrible shriek reached his ears and woke him from his daze.
Ivory!
Joel could do nothing to save her. By the time he’d pulled himself upright, the monster already held the filly in its clutches. Ivory kicked and thrashed to no avail. Blade-sharp talons sank into her silver coat, slicing a gorge across the exposed underbelly. The horse slumped into the sand, wide eyes already glazing over as blood pooled around her broken body.
No! Ivory!
Caught somewhere between shock and rage, Joel called magic to his hands. The energy pooled in an instant, anger stoking the magic into a blazing sphere. Setting furious eyes on the monster, Joel hurled the flaming orb.
The sphere crashed into a magic barrier just before it touched the beast. Joel cried out in frustration.
The creature whirled about, searching for its attacker. Saliva dripped from its open maw. The roar that rumbled from within made tears form in Joel’s eyes.
He stumbled back, putting more distance between himself and the beast. Another bolt of magic lashed from his hands, and again, it faltered. He couldn’t break through! He couldn’t reach the monster!
“Joel, don’t!” a shrill voice called, and Joel raised his face in time to see Zandi riding closer. The mage’s turban was twisted to one side and bits of onyx hair breezed out from beneath the crimson fabric, but he didn’t care or notice. His eyes were wide; the whites of them were nearly the same color as his drained face. Zandi’s horse pawed the air as he pulled the gelding to a stop.
“Get on!” Zandi leaned over the side of his saddle and offered a trembling hand. “Come with me!”
Joel reached for the offered hand without thinking and was hoisted up. He fell into place behind Zandi on the saddle. All Joel could do was hold on for dear life as the gelding took off running.
“You mustn’t use magic,” Zandi said over his shoulder. “It absorbs the magic! It takes the energy into itself! Magic will only make it stronger!”
Joel squeezed his eyes shut. The world was whirling too fast. “What is it?”
“They are Zhal’mohr, demonspawn from the Otherealm. I read about them in a tome in the Royal Archives. Daya, help us! They are here!”
“They?” Joel gasped. “There is more than one?”
Zandi’s shoulders quivered even before Joel opened his eyes and saw the horrible truth for himself.
Dozens of them towered above the broken ranks, ashen scales gleaming like snowdrifts beneath a late afternoon sun. Despite their colossal size, the creature’s movements were swift, catlike. Talons and teeth cut bloody paths through the army, leaving lumps of mauled flesh in their wake.
A desperate whimper pushed its way out of Joel’s mouth. “There are so many of them.”
“I don’t understand,” Zandi said, shaking his head in disbelief. “Legend says The Two imprisoned them in the Otherealm after the Great War. Their magic was too destructive for the human realm. They were wreaking havoc—”
A serpentine tail whipped into their path. Zandi jerked the reins to one side, and his gelding barely dodged the devastating blow. Another mounted soldier wasn’t so lucky. Sickle-shaped barbs glistened scarlet as the horse came crashing down on top of its rider.
“They’re wreaking havoc now! They’re killing our soldiers!” Joel cried. “We have to stop them!”
Tears poured down Zandi’s cheeks. “We can’t.”
“Hasain!”
Someone shouted his name, but Hasain wasn’t listening. He could only stare, transfixed by horror, as the monstrous creature lumbered closer. It barreled through sentinels like they were insects, tearing into armor and smashing bodies against the ground. Swords and arrows alike barely left a mark on the beast’s scaly hide.
Natori and six Royal Guardsmen strode bravely toward the thing, the Blessed Mage’s sword a streak of brilliance against the white sand. Her footsteps seemed unhurried, but that could have been because time had slowed to an uncanny crawl. Each shifting muscle in Natori’s face, every granule of dust gusting in the air, the sharp sheen of sunlight on the guardsmen’s blades—Hasain saw all of it in intricate detail, as if he were a god, looking down upon the world.
His racing heart sputtered. If he were a god, he’d have the power to end this madness. But he wasn’t. He couldn’t stop this.
“But you can,” the demon hissed in his head. “All you need do is ask.”
Hasain shuddered, unable to tear his gaze from the massacre. Is this what it felt like to stare death in the face?
Selfishly, in the moment Hasain could think only of himself. He reflected on the life he’d lived
so far and mourned the one he would leave behind, should he die. He thought of his fine belongings, his elegant estate, and even the girl he was promised to wed. Would he never see any of it again? Would every last scrap of who he was be washed away—erased—just like that? Had his father feared the same while his essence wilted away upon the deathbed?
No. Rishi’s bravery was as steadfast as Hasain’s cowardice. The dying king’s thoughts hadn’t included himself—only the loved ones he was forced to leave behind.
“You’re weak,” said Leviticus.
“Hasain!” Tular’s snarl reached Hasain this time.
He blinked, and his thoughts finally leapt to where they should have been all along—to his brothers.
Deegan! Tular! I have to protect them!
Time resumed its normal pace.
The ground thundered as the beast bore down on Natori. Rivulets of hot saliva dripped from its maw, tinged red by the blood of fallen soldiers. Natori issued a fierce challenge and swung her ethereal sword high. The creature’s eyes followed the sapphire flash as if mesmerized. Closer and closer it prowled, hissing madly, the sound like a pit of angry vipers.
“We should get Deegan out of here,” Hasain gasped. “Let’s take the horses and run—”
Tular’s ruddy hair flew around his eyes. “The horses are gone! They scattered when the beast came up!”
“Then we can escape on foot—”
Tular grabbed the front of Hasain’s robe. “If Natori falls, we won’t get ten steps before we’re cut down. We have to stand together! You’re a mage, now help!”
“We have to fight,” Deegan said in a brittle voice. “We don’t have any choice.”
Standing next to Deegan, Gib nodded. “For Arden,” he whispered.
Hasain didn’t know how he heard the words above Natori’s war cry.
Kezra thought she’d been ready. Before she’d defied her father and joined the sentinels, before she’d broken her mother’s heart by choosing to go to war, before she’d packed her rucksack and left behind the only home she knew, Kezra thought she’d been ready to face whatever foe stood in her way. When the ambush along the river struck, she’d been one of the first to answer the call. She fought knowing she could die, yet she hadn’t been afraid.
Battle Dawn: Book Three of the Chronicles of Arden Page 33