For untold hundreds of years that tree had stood in the heart of Tressia, the root of a black legend whose power had grown stronger with passing generations. Now that legend was on the move, roused to battle by Jack's power. Constans had told me earlier that the trees of the palace grounds had insufficient hate to wreak much damage on Jack's enemies. If the stories were true, that wouldn't be a problem for the Shaddra.
As I watched, the limbs of the great tree flailed with murderous purpose. Boughs slammed fallen into the flagstones, or throttled the life from them. Roots tore free and threshed wildly, dragging luckless foes beneath the ground to Ashana knows what fate. What had been a formidable horde of fallen became a disorganised and scattered rabble. It would never have worked if Malgyne hadn't merged the living realm with Otherworld. In the living realm, the Shaddra was a stunted and malignant tree, scarcely twice the height of a man. Here, she was mighty, and an opponent to be feared.
Slowly, the fallen overcame their surprise and fought back. They hacked at the thrashing limbs, and the braver ones carried their weapons against the Shaddra's trunk. This only made her angry. Branches tore chunks of stone from nearby buildings, and hurled them into her attacker's ranks.
"She's magnificent," I breathed.
Constans nodded. "That she is, but she can't keep this up."
I glanced over my shoulder. Jamar and the royal guard waited in silence, their faces as awestruck as I knew mine to be.
"She won't have to," I said. "Let's end this."
Fourteen
We burst into the square with a fury that wouldn't be denied. The fallen, scattered by the Shaddra's attack, didn't stand a chance. We were still badly outnumbered, and couldn't have hoped to drive them from the square entirely, but then we didn't need to. All we needed was reach the cathedral, and this we did in short order. As Jamar and I led the royal guard up the steps to the cathedral doors, Morecet formed a loose line of Tressian and Hadari soldiers at the stairway's foot.
The great doors were shut fast. Malgyne had sealed them.
I kicked uselessly at the timbers. Jamar, ever of a more practical mind, tossed his sword to one side and seized the brass handle on the rightmost door. Bracing his feet, the havildar hauled with all his might, beads of sweat appearing on his forehead. The door didn't move an inch.
Arianwyn, pushed her way forward. "Let me try".
"No," I said. "Save your strength for when we're inside."
"That won't matter if we die on these steps!"
"That's true, but there's another way. Isn't there, Constans?"
The eternal nodded. "Yes, I think she has just enough left."
Turning to the Shaddra, he shouted something in an incomprehensible tongue. The giant tree paused in its rampage, and Constans shouted again, this time more urgently.
"Might I suggest we stand somewhere else?"
Jamar bellowed at the royal guard to clear the steps, then bundled myself and Arianwyn out of the way. I landed badly, but a few bruises were by far preferable to standing in the path of what had just unleashed itself against the cathedral.
The Shaddra lurched, her whole body shifting back towards the cathedral. A half-dozen of her boughs speared into the doors. It would have taken us an age to break through those timbers, but the Shaddra's limbs punched effortlessly through. A moment later, more branches surged forward, seeking cracks in the stonework around the doors. Finding them, they burrowed deep, sending shards of marble flying in all directions.
The limbs went taut as the Shaddra focused her enormous strength. With an ear-splitting crash, the cathedral doors wrenched free of their hinges. The arch above collapsed, sending great blocks of stone slamming into the steps. Clouds of dust billowed across the square. With one last effort, the Shaddra hurled the remains of the door across the square, the pieces scattering a warband of fallen as it formed up to charge Morecet's company. Then, the great tree's branches drooped, and she went still.
Constans coughed up dust. "She's done. We're on our own."
"Is she dead?" asked Arianwyn, with an odd note of concern.
"Just resting. Hatred can only carry you so far."
We ran up the stairs, careful to avoid the rubble still falling from the shattered walls. Jamar brought the royal guard in after us, then called out for Morecet to follow. Our casualties had been light so far – blessedly so – but that wouldn't last. We still had no idea what waited for us in the cathedral itself.
The abyss still swirled before the altar, and the chamber was thick with mist. The robed and hooded figure of Malgyne was hovering silently above it all. He seemed larger and grander than before, and I guessed he was at least three times my height. A side-effect of Otherworld's growing encroachment? I didn't know, and I certainly didn't like it. At least the God of the Dead seemed distracted, and certainly paid no attention to the clamour at his gates.
Most worryingly of all, scores of skull-masked revenants roamed the mists. Fortunately for us, the revenants too showed no interest in the battle on their threshold. That, unfortunately, wasn't likely to last.
"What's the matter? What do you see?" Constans asked.
"Revenants. Lots and lots of revenants."
"Aye," muttered Quintus. "Too much to ask that they'd still be patrolling the towers."
"Apparently so," I agreed. "But we always knew this was a possibility." I turned to address the royal guard. "You can't hurt these things, so don't even try." A few eyes widened at that, but most stared impassively back. "Just parry and defend. Constans and I will take them out as quickly as we can." I glanced at Constans. "Jack can help you do that, can't he?"
Constans gave a small nod.
"Actually, I think we can do better." Arianwyn's eyes glowed. "Hold out your weapons."
The royal guard obeyed, and she moved quickly through their ranks, deftly laying her hands on the blades of swords and axes.
Wherever her touch fell, white light dripped from her fingers and flowed along the metal. Quintus' sword was the last she blessed in this way, and the old man smiled grimly.
Arianwyn staggered as she rejoined me. Not much, not even enough for anyone else to have noticed, but I'd been watching for it. She'd told me how hard it was to reach the magic in Otherworld, and I'd guessed she wasn't yet fully recovered from her confrontation with Droshna.
I turned to Jamar. "Detail four men to protect Arianwyn."
The havildar nodded, and began making the arrangements.
Arianwyn stared at me in much the same way she had when I'd tried to have Morecet to safeguard her in the battle outside the walls.
"Please don't fight me on this," I whispered. "As your friend, I don't want you to come to harm. As commander of this attack, I need for you not to come to harm. Choose whichever reason you like, but don't refuse protection."
To my everlasting relief, Arianwyn gave a small, sharp nod.
Morecet's group reached the top of the steps, and he pulled them into a rough battle line across the ruined arch. "If you're going to do this," he called, "you need to do it now. Our friends in the square are looking for new playmates."
Reaching his side, I saw the cause of his concern. The fallen were reforming around the foot of the now-motionless Shaddra. Worse, as the mists shifted, more fallen ran into the square from the south.
"We're going," I told Morecet. "Hold them if you can."
He nodded, and I ran back into the cathedral. Even the dull-witted revenants had recognised something was amiss. I hauled myself up onto a plinth and addressed the royal guard. "The Tressians may have started this mess, but we'll finish it." I raised my sword in salute. "For the Empire."
"FOR THE EMPIRE!"
Constans shouted with them, though I suspected he did so in mockery, rather than comradeship.
I jumped down from the plinth, caught Quintus' stony gaze upon me, and charged into the cathedral's heart.
"For the Empire!" came the battle cry again, and then the royal guard were hard on my heels.
&n
bsp; Arianwyn's enchantments carried us deep into the cathedral. The revenants scattered before us as soon as they discovered they were vulnerable to our blades, but they lost dozens of their fellows before the lesson finally took.
Indeed, had revenants been all that opposed us, we'd have settled the matter in a handful of minutes. Unfortunately, there were fallen legionaries in the cathedral as well, and these proved a harder foe.
As we brought the fallen to battle, I couldn't help but draw comparison with the minutes following Malgyne's grand entrance. Then, I'd been accompanied by a small band of demoralised praetorians. Now I had the finest warriors in the Hadari Empire at my back. Alas, I had only fifty royal guard, and Malgyne's fallen were endless. The God of the Dead's attention was back from wherever it had wandered. Even as we fought, he raised fresh troops from the abyss.
Whenever we were in danger of being overwhelmed Arianwyn sent streams of white fire raging through the attackers' ranks. As ever, I worried she'd overreach herself, but wasn't sure how to phrase the concern in a way that wouldn't do more harm than good.
It happened as we pushed deeper into the cathedral. We found Zorya cracked and lifeless at the foot of a pillar. Her body was battered, and smeared with all manner of unnameable filth. Like Jamar, she'd been used as an object of vile amusement. Unlike Jamar, there'd been no one to keep her alive. Her face was covered in the spiderweb lines I'd seen before. Unlike before, I saw no blue light emanating from the cracks. Whatever spark of life had driven her was gone or buried so deep it couldn't be seen.
Arianwyn broke from our ranks and sped to the sentinel's side. The four guards Jamar had assigned to her protection rushed to her, forming a half circle as she cradled Zorya's lifeless head. Leaving the others to press on, I ducked back towards Arianwyn.
Arianwyn's protectors stepped aside as I approached. I knelt beside her. "You can't help her now," I said softly, one eye ever on the battle raging about us.
Arianwyn's breathing steadied, then slowed. "You're right. I can't help Zorya. But I can make them pay."
She stood, white fire gathering in her outstretched hands. The enchantments upon the royal guards' blade flickered and died as Arianwyn instinctively drew back the magic she'd lent them.
"Arianwyn, no!"
Throwing off my restraining hand, Arianwyn stepped past her protectors and sent fire coursing into the battle.
Revenants burst into ash as it tore through their spectral forms. The fallen screamed in agony as the flames ravaged their skin. Only our allies were untouched. The vengeful fires passed over them like a warm breeze.
The fires guttered and died. Arianwyn collapsed, drained by her vengeance. I caught her, carried her from the fight and propped her against the pillar next to Zorya. This was precisely what I'd hoped to avoid. Arianwyn was alive, but completely dead to the world, her breathing low and shallow. Jaspyr and Fredrik sat beside her, staring intently at their unconscious mistress.
"You stay with her," I ordered the nearby guards, my voice ragged. "It doesn't matter if Malgyne himself comes to claim her: you stay and keep her safe. Do you understand me?"
I went wearily back to the fight, cursing Arianwyn's recklessness. Her flames had destroyed many revenants, but in so doing she'd rendered the royal guards' blades useless against those that remained. As the only two now capable of destroying the spectres, Constans and I grew sorely pressed, and had to roam about the brawl to wherever we were needed. We'd gained ground when the flames ripped the heart from Malgyne's ranks, but our progress slowed as yet more fallen emerged from the abyss.
Constans caught my arm. "I think things just got worse."
I followed his gaze and saw as a giant shadow lurch from of the mists, a brute of a man with charred armour and a face of fire-blackened flesh.
Droshna.
Like an animal, he'd fled to his lair to lick his wounds, but now he'd returned to slake his pain with that of his enemies. I didn't know how we'd bring him down. It had taken Arianwyn's magic last time, and she was in no condition to oppose him. Jamar might take him, but I doubted it.
Yet Droshna didn't come towards my desperate circle of Hadari. Instead, he lurched purposefully towards Arianwyn. The giant had unfinished business with the house of Trelan, and he meant to settle it.
Constans realised what Droshna intended at the same moment I did. We fought like madmen, as we tried to reach him, but the fallen pressed their attack, trapping us in a press of bodies. I shouted a warning to Jamar, but the tumult of battle swallowed my words.
Droshna reached Arianwyn, or at least he reached the royal guards I'd left in her defence. They died defending her, hacked down by a man who didn't feel their blows.
I battered at the shields around me in a desperate frenzy, but couldn't break free. Constans fared no better. We could do nothing but steal glances as Droshna advanced on Arianwyn.
Wake up, I willed her, wake up and blast the fiend into oblivion. She remained stubbornly unconscious. Would the lions stop Droshna? They'd made no move to do so – perhaps they didn't realise the danger.
Then I saw that Droshna wore one of the guardian amulets. He must have taken it off one of his many victims. Certainly there was every chance that Alfric or one of the other fallen had told him of the guardians' intervention in the palace. In fact, with Droshna's long and terrible vendetta against Tressia, he might well have encountered the creatures before. Or perhaps he'd just seen one lying around and taken a fancy to it. I didn't know, and right now it didn't matter. What concerned me was the fact the amulet's presence meant he could happily cut Arianwyn into little pieces without fearing reprisals from Jaspyr or Fredrik.
Suddenly, Quintus was there. I'd lost track of the commander until that moment, but I didn't care. What mattered was that he now stood between Droshna and his prey.
Quintus looked old, old and tired. In his prime, he'd never have stood a chance against Droshna, and that time lay many years in the past. Quintus would die, then Arianwyn would die, and there was nothing that I could do about it.
"Back again, old man?" Droshna crowed. "I recall we fought only yesterday. You fled that fight. Are you going to run again?"
At last, I realised the other half of the burden Quintus carried.
"Do I look like I'm running?" Quintus asked through gritted teeth.
"No," Droshna allowed. "Dead men don't run."
With a great shout, the giant swung his blade at Quintus' head. It was swift, far quicker than any I could have parried, but Quintus' sword somehow did what mine never could, striking the steel with just enough force to deflect Droshna's blow.
Droshna laughed. "One lucky parry is hardly salvation."
Quintus shook his head. "This isn't luck: it's skill and discipline: two things a thug like you would know nothing about." The commander's sword flashed out, and came away black with the giant's blood. "I ran yesterday because I'd have served no one by dying alongside the others, but I'll not let you hurt this lassie."
Droshna put a hand to his wound and licked the blood off his fingers. "As you wish."
It is to my eternal regret I didn't see the whole of the fight that followed. Quintus fought Droshna to a standstill. How he did it, I never knew, and I'm certain that no other amongst us could have duplicated that feat. None of Droshna's strikes, no matter how swift or mighty, broke Quintus' guard. Each time the commander parried, his riposte opened a fresh wound on the giant's hide. Sadly, these small harms seemed to slow Droshna not at all. It was inevitable that Quintus would finally tire.
I strove to reach the commander's side before he finally made a mistake, but each time I felled an opponent, another sprang forward to block my path.
Even so, I almost made it. I was only a dozen paces away when Quintus made his mistake.
It was a simple thing. Droshna feinted, and the commander missed the trap until it was too late. Droshna's sword hacked deep into his shoulder. Quintus collapsed, blood gushing from his wound. Even then, twitching and bleeding, he tried
to stand.
"Still here, old man? Good." Droshna bent over his foe. "See your failure etched in this witch's blood."
The giant turned towards Arianwyn and raised his sword.
"No!"
With a desperate shout, I threw myself at Droshna. He might have been at the bottom of the ocean, for all the hope I had of interceding. Droshna had but one goal now, and I was as helpless to stop it as poor dying Quintus.
Droshna bellowed and fell to his knees, pale stone fingers around his ankle. The sword with which he'd meant to end Arianwyn's life dropped from nerveless hands.
A faint sheen of blue light flared in the mist at Droshna's feet. We'd been wrong – a spark of life still endured in Zorya's body. She roused it to defend Arianwyn one more time. Lurching upright, the sentinel closed a second hand around Droshna's leg, and crushed his ankle.
The fallen warlord roared in agony. Her last energy spent, Zorya fell back into the mist.
Gasping with rage, Droshna reached for Arianwyn's throat.
I never found out whether the giant meant to choke the life from her or simply snap her neck. The point of Quintus' sword took him low in the back, lanced up through his ribcage and burst through his chest.
How Quintus had found the energy to stand, I will never know. Like Zorya, he'd marshalled one last effort of will, and in his case it had been enough to drive him two staggering steps and strike one final blow.
"It looks like it's not me that gets to see failure etched in blood," Quintus breathed. Droshna made no reply, but gazed blankly at the blade protruding from his chest. Then, both men toppled sideways.
I caught Quintus as he fell, and lowered him softly to the ground. He was still breathing – a terrible, hacking sound – but his eyes stared glassily at the ceiling.
"Late as ever, my lord," he breathed. "Is he dead?"
"Very," I said quietly.
Shadow of the Raven (The Reckoning Book 1) Page 51