The Spirit War: The Legend of Eli Monpress Volume 4

by Rachel Aaron

  “What can we do on the wall?” the admiral said. “We’ve a hundred royal guard left, but the rest of these men are sailors, not infantry.”

  “Then it’s time to switch vocations,” Josef said. “We’ve five hundred men here. That many of the enemy are lying facedown in the water already, and we haven’t even made a dent in their numbers. But we’ve still got terrain on our side. If Eli’s message got through, the Council fleet should be on its way right now. All we have to do is hold a little longer.”

  “If we go down there we’ll be slaughtered!” the admiral shouted.

  “We’ll be slaughtered anyway!” Josef shouted back. “If you want roll over for it, be my guest, but I mean to die as an Oseran should: fighting.”

  And with that, he left the admiral gaping and stomped down to the storm wall.

  Eli was waiting for him at the base of the cliff, though he didn’t look as smug as Josef had expected. He was smiling, but his face was pale and his eyes were dark with exhaustion.

  “You all right?” Josef said as the thief fell in beside him.

  “Fantastic,” Eli said.

  Josef didn’t buy it. “You look like you’ve been running for three days straight. If you can’t keep it up, say something. I’d rather fight without a lava spirit than have it go out on me at a bad time.”

  “I can keep this up as long I have to,” Eli said firmly, glancing up at the lava giant as it stepped aside to make room on the storm wall for the gathering troops. “It’s just that there’s not much for Karon to burn for energy here, so I’m having to feed him some of my own.” He laughed. “It’s disgustingly Spiritualist-like, actually. My only comfort is that Miranda isn’t here to see it.”

  “Just don’t push yourself,” Josef said. “I can’t have you and Nico down at the same time.”

  “Don’t worry about me,” Eli said, his voice suddenly serious. “Think of this as my chance to pay a little back for all the blood you’ve spilled for me.”

  “I don’t reckon debts in blood,” Josef said, reaching out to grab Eli’s shoulder. “Watch yourself, thief.”

  “You too, king,” Eli said, breaking off from Josef with a salute.

  Josef shook his head and jogged over to join the soldiers.

  The Oserans crowded the storm wall. The royal guardsmen were already in formation by the stair, but the rest of the men stood in loose knots, some still clutching their empty crossbows. They parted to make a path for Josef as he climbed onto the storm wall’s lip and turned to face his army, such as it was.

  “Listen up!” Josef shouted. “I’m not going to waste time with kingly speeches. All I’ll say is this. We did our best to hold the enemy back, but it was never more than a dyke against the flood. Now we’re up to our necks, and the only chance we have to stop the Empress from crushing this island and our lives under her feet is the stone under ours.” He stomped hard on the storm wall. “We are not dead yet. Reinforcements are coming from the mainland even as I speak. Our job now is to buy those slow Council bastards time enough to get here. Fortunately, Osera herself is on our side. We’ve got a choke hold.” He pointed at the narrow stair leading up from the beach. “We’ve got the sun at our backs, and we’re forcing them to fight uphill. These are our weapons, and with them, we are going to hold this wall.”

  But even as he pointed out their terrain advantage, many of the men still looked doubtful. Some even looked like they were about to cry. Josef took a deep breath. The storm wall might be strong, but the men were a brittle barrier, easily broken. He was going to need them to be stronger if this was going to work, and so, with nothing left to lose and Eli too far away to hear him, Josef decided to throw it all in.

  “Men of Osera!” he shouted, doing his best to infuse his voice with the deep, proud sincerity he remembered from his mother’s speeches. “I’ve been a horrible prince to you my entire life, but though I might be your king for only another few minutes, I mean to make them count. As a swordsman, I learned that the two most dangerous enemies are the desperate man and the man defending his home. Right now, we are both. We are the worst enemy the Empress has ever met. We will hold this wall and make her remember the cost of fighting Osera!”

  The cry that came when he finished made Josef jump. The men screamed with a fury he could feel to his bones, raising their blades as they did. Josef raised his sword in answer and shouted for them to get in position. The men scrambled to obey, the sailors lining up on the storm wall while the guard fell in around Josef at the top of the stair. The royal guard saluted their king as he passed, following Josef as he climbed down the stair until he was halfway between the beach and the top of storm wall. Here Josef stopped, planting his sword as the guard fell into formation behind him.

  Down below, the first boats had made it to the shore. The enemy jumped into the surf with a blood-curdling scream, surging up the beach like a black tide. They hit the storm wall and began crowding into the bottleneck of the narrow stair. When the first enemies came in range, Josef stepped forward, swinging the Heart with a shout. Behind him, the Oserans answered with a scream that shook the stones of the storm wall itself.

  “Eli,” Karon rumbled, pressing his hand to the ground. “The rock says there are ships coming across the channel from the mainland.”

  “Please tell me it’s the Council,” Eli moaned.

  “Sad showing if it is,” Karon said. “Only two boats.”

  “I’d take a rowboat and a mule at this point,” Eli said. “Meanwhile, you ready to give our swordsman some cover?”

  “Sure,” Karon said, grinning as he grabbed another boulder from the cliff. “Where do you want this one?”

  “I’m thinking middle of the bay,” Eli said, his voice breathy. Karon was pulling hard on him now. “Make some waves. See if we can’t capsize a few boats.”

  “Easy enough,” Karon said, firing the stone in his fist until it was red hot. But as he reached back to throw, a crash made them both jump.

  Eli spun around, eyes wide as a spout of water erupted from the sea. It thrust from the bay like a spear, shooting up the storm wall straight at Karon. Eli threw out his hands, but the water was too fast, and he, exhausted, was too slow. The geyser of water hit his lava spirit full in the chest. Some of it hit Eli as well, and he gasped as the icy-cold shock took his breath away. This was no mere ocean water; it was a deep-sea current flowing full force, thrown up from the sea.

  Karon fell as the water drenched him, screaming as his light went out. The ground trembled when he landed, and the impact threw Eli off his feet. He landed on the sandy ground by the road, tumbling hard. But before he was done falling, he was scrambling to his feet. Beside him, Karon’s body was no longer glowing, but a black heap of steaming rubble. Eli rushed forward with a curse, plunging his hands into the hissing stone. It burned as he touched it, but not nearly as much as it should have. Cursing louder, Eli dug down, stabbing his spirit through the cooling rock as he dug toward Karon’s molten core.

  He caught it just in time. Eli tugged his hands out of the stone and pressed the lava spirit’s flickering heart to his own chest. His skin burned when Karon touched it, but Eli had never welcomed the pain so much. He clenched his teeth and pushed harder, forcing the lava’s heart into his own. Karon went without a sound, and, for a long moment, Eli knew he’d lost him. Then the lava’s heat flashed as Karon’s pulse merged with Eli’s, and the burning heart began to beat.

  Eli fell to the soaked ground, panting and clutching his burning chest. “Karon,” he whispered. “Say something.”

  The silence stretched on.

  “Please,” Eli pleaded. “Please say something.”

  But the lava spirit didn’t answer. Eli could feel Karon’s heat in his chest, but it was so small, so fragile. Before he could panic further, Eli forced himself to stand. He teetered toward the watchtower, desperately searching for somewhere to collapse. If Karon was going to survive, he needed all of Eli’s strength, which meant Eli couldn’t have any of it f
or a while.

  “Hang on,” he whispered, pushing open the watchtower door. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you, but that cuts both ways, you know? Don’t go out on me now.”

  His only answer was silence as he pulled himself up the watchtower stairs.

  Meanwhile, halfway down the storm wall, Josef met the first of the Empress’s soldiers with a clash that echoed across the bay.

  CHAPTER

  23

  Hold the line!” Josef screamed, swinging the Heart at the seething wall of soldiers.

  The enemy covered the beach in a solid mass, but only a few could go up the stairs at a time. These Josef held off easily, but the enemy, realizing the obvious path was blocked, was now climbing the jagged stone of the storm wall itself.

  “Spread out!” Josef shouted to the soldiers behind him. “Half left, half right! Knock them off as they climb. Don’t let them reach the top!”

  The orders were swallowed as he gave them, overwhelmed by the war cries of the enemy as they surged forward and the dying screams of his soldiers as they shot the last of their bolts at the climbers only to find that the enemy had bows of their own.

  Josef swung again, knocking three enemy soldiers down the stairs with a curse. For every man he knocked down, two more popped up. The crashed palace ships were still vomiting up troops, and the bloody bay was full of boats. The storm wall was alive with the enemy. They swarmed the stairs, swarmed the wall; some were even climbing the cliffs themselves, pulling themselves hand over hand up the vertical stone toward the abandoned archer lines. Meanwhile, the Oseran sailors had spread themselves thin in an attempt to hold the storm wall. They screamed as they fought, their eyes wide with the wildness of men pushed past their limits. The only place the enemy sailors weren’t attacking was the blackened stretch where Karon had stood, but the lava spirit himself was nowhere to be seen. Instead, a great pile of black stone blocked the storm wall, the boulders still and quiet. Josef knew little of wizardry and nothing about the link between Eli and the giant, but even he knew those dark, cold rocks were not a good sign.

  Unfortunately, Josef had bigger worries than the lava spirit. As more and more soldiers began to climb the storm wall, the Oserans were starting to fold. The fragile line he’d drawn as their last stand was cracking. Any second now it would break completely and he would fail his mother one last time.

  The Heart jerked in his hands, bringing him back to the fight in front of him. He could feel the blade thrumming against his fingers, and Josef blinked as the Heart’s plan became clear in his mind. It was risky, but he trusted the Heart to know its own limits, and they had precious little else to call on. Decision made, Josef swung wide to scatter the enemy and then brought his sword back, holding the blade in front of him with both hands. Down the stairs, the Empress’s soldiers hesitated, watching for the strike. When it didn’t come, they surged into the opening, swords rising to cut him down. When they were a step away, Josef slammed the Heart into the stair. Iron hit stone with a resounding gong, and the weight of a mountain fell on the beach.

  As far as he could see, the Empress’s soldiers collapsed, slammed to the ground by the pressure. The Heart’s force spread wider than Josef had ever seen. It filled the bay, sweeping the soldiers off the storm wall and crushing them into the hard sand below. Infantry boats sank into water pressed glassy by the enormous weight, and a sudden, deafening stillness descended. Even the Oserans were silent, staring down the storm wall at the prone bodies of the Empress’s troops in dumb amazement.

  Finally, a guardsman behind Josef snapped out of the trance, reaching out to press his shaking hand against the invisible wall of the Heart’s weight. “Are they dead, sire?” he whispered, eyes wide.

  Josef raised his head, careful to keep his hands on the Heart’s hilt. “No,” he said. “The ones forced underwater may drown, but no one will die from the pressure. I don’t understand it myself, but my wizard friend says it’s impossible to kill a human with spirit pressure alone.”

  The sailor blinked. “Spirit pressure?”

  “Don’t ask me,” Josef said. “I don’t do that wizard stuff.” He looked over his shoulder, raising his voice. “Everyone!” he shouted. “Stop gawking! We’re falling back to the watchtower.”

  “But we have no more bolts!” a sailor cried. “What are we going to do in the tower?”

  “You want to stay out here?” Josef bellowed back.

  The man didn’t answer, and Josef took the chance to push the guards behind him up the stairs. “Get the wounded to the tower. The rest of you, prepare to hold the road. We’ll fight these bastards for every inch!”

  The men sprang into action, grabbing the wounded and dragging them back. They swarmed the watchtower, carrying their fallen comrades on their backs as they climbed the stairs. Those who could still fight gathered at the head of the road to the city and began piling barrels, empty arrow crates, anything they could find into a makeshift barricade.

  Of the Oserans, Josef alone did not move. He watched his men climb the stairs, hands clenched around the Heart’s hilt. Down in the bay, nothing stirred, but as the minutes ticked by, the Heart began to quiver against his palm. Josef gripped it harder and stood firm, trying to press his strength into the Heart as the sword had done for him so many times before. He didn’t know if it worked, but the Heart held. Five minutes. Seven minutes. At ten minutes Josef knew as surely as though the blade had shouted that time was up. It was just enough. The sailor’s retreat was finished. He was now alone on the stairs with the flattened invaders.

  In one smooth motion, Josef ripped the Heart out of the step and turned to run, charging up the stairs toward the Oseran line. Behind him, the sword’s weight vanished like mist, and the silent air filled with the angry, confused roar of the Empress’s army as it got to its feet and began to give chase. Josef reached the top of the stairs and ran full-out toward the makeshift barricade. Yelling for his men to get out of the way, he jumped the piled barrels. The second his feet hit the dirt, he turned and took stock of their new position.

  It was bad. Osera’s primary defense on this side had always been the sea and the cliffs. Here, behind those walls, they had precious little. The tower with its thick stone and reinforced doors was safe, but the road was another matter. The wall of junk the soldiers had cobbled together wouldn’t stop a charge, only delay it. After that…

  Josef glanced over his shoulder. The road ran up the mountain behind him, through the shoddy neighborhoods of the eastern slope to the castle and the city beyond. A straight shot. Josef gritted his teeth. He could feel his men watching him, their eyes wide and terrified. Raising his sword, Josef forced himself to look confident. He wasn’t sure if it worked. The men didn’t look reassured, but they didn’t run away either. That would have to be good enough, Josef decided. He wasn’t his mother, after all.

  “We hold here,” he said, planting his feet firmly on the sandy road. “Get ready.”

  He felt the line tighten around him. The royal guardsmen moved to take the road’s center, locking together in tight formation with their short swords ready. The sailors hovered at the edges, clutching their knives with wild-eyed intensity as the first enemy reached the top of the storm wall.

  For a few seconds, it was just one man, and then the Empress’s army poured over the wall. They came in a black wave, armor rattling like an avalanche, their raised swords gleaming in the last rays of the evening sun. When they opened their mouths to shout, the air itself seemed to thicken with the rage of their battle cry.

  “Hold!” Josef shouted, but the command was lost in the enemy’s roar. It didn’t matter. His men were frozen in place by fear. They couldn’t have moved now if they’d tried, not even to run. All they could do was bunker down and scream their last defiance as their death charged forward to crush them under a thousand booted feet.

  Josef gripped the Heart. Even his sword couldn’t beat so many, but he would hold as long as he could. The Heart weighed heavy in his hands, echoin
g his resolve. They would go down as a swordsman should, in glorious battle surrounded by the bodies of their enemies. But even as he braced for his final stand, Josef heard a cry that stopped him cold. It was a high-pitched shout, not panicked or afraid, but commanding. A woman’s shout, and as it sounded, a great wave of water shot through the air above his head and landed on the charging army.

  The wave swept the soldiers off their feet, washing them back over the storm wall and down to the beach in the space of a breath. Josef lowered his sword, staring dumbfounded at the now-clear storm wall. He was so shocked, he didn’t even flinch as the lithe, silvery, canine shape sailed through the air and landed right in front of him.

  Gin landed neatly and turned to flash Josef the smuggest, toothiest grin he’d ever seen, but the dog’s grin was nothing compared to the haughty smile on his rider’s face.

  “Well, well,” Miranda said, looking down on him from her ghosthound’s back. “If it isn’t Josef Liechten.”

  “Miranda,” Josef said, leaning on his sword. “Took you long enough.”

  Miranda sniffed. “Is that any way to greet your savior?”

  Josef shrugged. “Better late than never, I suppose.”

  She shook her head and turned Gin back toward the city. Josef moved to follow her and stopped, eyes wide. The road from Osera, which had been empty not a minute before, was now filled with the strangest creatures he’d ever seen. There were cats made of living wood, birds shaped from clouds, and even what looked like a long, flat snake made of mud. There must have been a hundred at least, each different, and each carrying a rider whose hands flashed with enormous, gaudy rings.

  “Powers,” Josef whispered. “What in the world is that?”

  “That is your salvation,” Miranda said proudly. “The Spirit Court comes to face the Empress.”

  “Lucky us,” Josef muttered, taking a step back as the lead rider, an intense man mounted on an enormous jade horse, came to a halt beside Miranda.