Savage Empire se-1

by Jean Lorrah

  “We can’t let our people die this way!” said Aradia, as Lenardo and Wulfston reached the other Adepts.

  “Drakonius wants a direct confrontation,” said Nerius, “or he wouldn’t be wasting power like that. Aradia-”

  “This way!” She led them again, through a patch of woods and out into the last large area of cleared land before the rocky hills. They pulled up in the middle of a field-the middle of nowhere, Lenardo realized as he looked around. Fields stretched in every direction. How could Galen describe their exact location now?

  With a surge of glee such as he hadn’t felt since the last time he had fought sword to sword with the savages, Lenardo slid off his horse. “Good choice, Aradia-I wouldn’t know how to pinpoint this place verbally.”

  “Where is Drakonius now?” demanded Nerius.

  “He and Galen are off to the north of the trail, almost at the bottom of the slope.”

  The four Adepts joined hands, circling Lenardo, and as Galen cried, “Get down!” a mass of rock seemed to��� explode!��� showering Drakonius’ party with debris.

  “No one hurt,” Lenardo reported. “Try south about fifteen paces.” A burst of flame scorched Drakonius’ and Galen’s retreating heels. “They’re moving southwest-”

  “Where are the others?” demanded Nerius.

  “One man about ten paces east-”

  Another instant of pain and death while he was Reading fully sent Lenardo to his knees in shock. “You got him,” he choked out, feeling unwanted strength pouring back into his limbs as the Adepts supported him. Climbing to his feet, he said, “The rest are all moving again. Galen says you’ve formed a circle. Drakonius demanding where. Galen trying-”

  Off in the distance, a corner of a field burst into flame. Aradia turned her head to look at it, and the fire went out.

  “They’ll try to circle in on us,” said Nerius. “Quick-destroy them before we must move again. Lenardo-”

  “The other men are above Drakonius and Galen on the slope, coming toward them-”

  Another fire, roaring through a group of soldiers just off the road, killing them more slowly than before, in wrenching agony that Lenardo shared until the last one died.

  “Fire the entire canyon,” Nerius said grimly.

  “Father, it’s against nature!” said Aradia. “There’s nothing there to burn!”

  “Drakonius and his minions will burn! Lend me strength.”

  “You’re not well enough!”

  But as another thunderbolt struck close by, Nerius was already at the task-not just a momentary burst of flame but a roaring continuous blaze scorching through the canyon with the white heat of a funeral pyre, the Adepts and Galen caught, trapped, screaming in agony Lenardo could not stand it, retreating to Read the power draining from the circle around him, through Nerius, taking his last reserves “No!” shouted the old Adept, “you’ll not escape me!”

  In their death throes, Drakonius and his Adepts were throwing flame, thunderbolts, explosions, all around the circle. Lilith’s dress caught fire-a break in concentration as she put it out. Nerius sagged. Aradia cried, “Father!” as suddenly Nerius lunged sideways, knocking his daughter aside as one last thunderbolt tore through that very spot-tore through Nerius’ frail body, burning out the core, leaving only a scorched shell.

  Chapter Eight

  A New Outlook

  The last rays of the setting sun showed what Lenardo as easily Read: Nerius dead; Aradia, unhurt, bending over him in disbelief; Wulfston, also unharmed, kneeling beside her with tears stinging his eyes; Lilith, already starting to heal superficial burns along one arm and leg, looking sadly down at Nerius.

  Aradia raised her head, a hard glint in her eyes. “Lenardo-did we get them all? If anyone is left alive, he’ll pay for this!”

  Reluctantly, he Read the scene in the canyon. At this distance he could not seek for the faintest signs of life unless he left his body-but there was no need to. There could be no life in those five charred forms still baking in the intense heat held by the rocks they lay among.

  “They’re all dead,” he reported.

  “Then we must go with our army. With no Adepts, the enemy troops will be easily taken.”

  “Aradia-” Wulfston began.

  “Take Father home,” she told him, “and then join us.”

  “You go home, Aradia. The rest of the fighting will be no more than cleaning up. We’ll take Drakonius’ troops easily, once they realize they no longer have Adepts.”

  Aradia shook her head. “My people must see that I am alive and able to lead them. If both Nerius and I disappear, they will fear we are both dead.”

  Weakened by the battle of Adepts, Aradia was clearly Readable at the emotional level. Lenardo felt her tense control as she put her duty to her people before her personal grief. He rode beside her, wondering if she would break under the strain.

  Then he Read ahead. The two armies had met head on while the Adepts were fighting each other. Battle raged just this side of the hills where he had suffered, in a tangle of small valleys and rocky canyons. Reading the banners with the white wolf’s head, Aradia’s sign, he remembered seeing the wolf in his delirium and thinking it a dream. Had I been able to follow, would he have led me to Aradia?

  A sense of destiny rode with him as he remembered Nerius’ dream. Perhaps it was prophetic, after all. Perhaps he was meant to help Aradia unite the warring lands of the savages with the empire. Now that her father was dead, people would turn to her for leadership, and she would require counselors.

  But he was getting ahead of himself. Up ahead, Aradia and Lilith’s combined army was outnumbered, and although they fought valiantly, they were being pressed steadily backward. A standard bearing Lilith’s blue lion went down, only to be snatched up again and waved tauntingly by one of her men.

  He saw the golden boar, signifying the troops of Hron, who had betrayed Aradia, as well as a brown horse’s head and a green spear adorning other banners, but the largest, most numerous, and gaudiest banners bore the head of a dragon, black, on a field of gold. Drakonius’ troops fought on, ignorant that their lord was dead.

  Don’t they know? he wondered. Didn’t they wonder at the absence of Adept tricks? But then, there was little magic on either side-they must think the Adepts were still busy fighting one another.

  There was some Adept activity, however. On both sides horses stumbled, foot soldiers found their swords heavy and awkward, and small fires surged up in what little brush there was. Volleys of arrows flew, many swerving to find their mark-but others were deflected in midair. Minor tricks, all of them, Lenardo now recognized, although a few short weeks ago he would have trembled before any one of them, thinking it the work of an Adept lord.

  The majority of the soldiers on both sides simply fought, well and bravely. When they came within sound of the battle, Aradia spurred her horse. “Aradia!” Lilith called, “we must climb up where we can see the fighting!”

  “My people need to know I’m here!” Aradia shouted back, riding harder.

  Lenardo watched her in concern, and he saw the same expression in Lilith’s eyes. Adept or no, Aradia had just lost her father and had exhausted a good deal of energy destroying Drakonius and his minions. How much strength could she have left?

  He urged his horse closer to hers and said, “Aradia, your people will know you’re there when they start getting your help. Lilith is right-let’s ride up to the top of that hill-”

  “You two go if you want to,” Aradia replied without taking her eyes off the road ahead. “I’m going to the aid of my people!” And she kicked her tired horse again, spurring him out ahead of her companions’.

  By now they could see the torches moving in the valley ahead, the nickering reflection of fire on metal. As they galloped along the road, a-sheet of flame suddenly flared before them. Their horses reared, and in the scuffle of regaining control Lenardo heard Lilith exclaim, “Who did that?”

  “Drakonius’ apprentice,”
he supplied. “I forgot about her.” Indeed, he soon found the young woman on the opposite slope, watching the battle from behind a rocky outcropping. “Why wasn’t she helping them before?”

  “Conserving her strength,” Aradia replied. “She won’t be much trouble-she’s hardly more than a child. Where is she, Lenardo?”

  At the grim tone of her voice, he hesitated. Aradia reached out to grasp the bridle of his horse, pulling them both to a halt, the horses snorting at each other as their riders sat eye to eye. “What will you do to her?” Lenardo asked warily.

  “Will you leave the dragon spawn to grow up and attack us again?” Aradia demanded.

  “You said she’s hardly more than a child. Can’t you-?”

  “After she’s been trained by Drakonius? Lenardo, she knows that if I’m here, Drakonius is dead. But she doesn’t flee-she fights! That is a grown woman, loyal to death to her lord. Where is your loyalty, Lenardo?”

  To the empire, but that was not the issue here. To his Reader’s Oath, which forbade him to use his powers to harm others-except, of course, the enemies of the empire. And Aradia need not be such an enemy. “With you, my lady.”

  “Then point the Adept out to me.”

  “You can’t see her from here, but she can see you.” As if to confirm his words, another wall of flame shot out of the earth before them, singeing the flailing-hoofs of Aradia’s rearing horse.

  “Get down!” cried Lilith, abandoning her own horse to dart behind some rocks.

  Aradia scrambled down, and Lenardo followed her to shelter. “Drakonius’ apprentice is almost directly opposite us now,” he said. “Have you the strength between you to topple the rocks she’s hiding behind?”

  “It is simpler to create a fire than to move those rocks,” said Lilith. “Even after we destroy that Adept, our armies are still outnumbered.”

  “Yes-fire,” said Aradia. “Turn her own weapon back on her. I don’t think she has the strength for much else.”

  “She’s moved,” said Lenardo. “There’s a kind of trail-maybe just a rabbit track-and she’s peering out just to the left over there-”

  He was looking to where he was Reading. As he spoke, a blaze roared up behind the young Adept woman, trapping her, climbing the rock faster than she could. Her pain as the fire consumed her clothing, hair, Sash, was open to him as if she were non-Adept. Relief came only as the woman died, and there was nothing more to Read but continued charring of her remains. “You can stop,” he gasped. “She’s dead.”

  The blaze died, and both women slumped. Lilith sat down on the ground, panting. Aradia kept her feet, but Lenardo could Read her weariness. She took a few deep breaths, though, and said, “The rest will be easy. The few with minor Adept talents cannot harm us, and soon Wulfston will be here.”

  “Good,” said Lenardo. “Then you can rest for a while.”

  “While my people die?” she asked in astonishment. “Lilith, we should separate.”

  The other woman nodded and climbed to her feet. “I’ll go this way. I saw my banners over there. I’ll circle around and join my troops.”

  Where do they get their strength? Lenardo wondered.

  “Come with me,” Aradia told him. “You can Read better than I can see. Tell me where I’m needed.”

  They descended into the fray on foot, their horses having strayed too far to chase without wasting precious time. For Aradia’s troops were being slaughtered. At first Lenardo didn’t have to say a thing; a horseman wielding a battle-ax collapsed and fell from his horse just as he was about to swing down upon one of Aradia’s men who was engaged with another of the enemy. In another skirmish of three on one, two suddenly turned and began fighting one another, although both wore the black dragon of Drakonius’ livery.

  Unsure of how much protection Aradia would need, Lenardo drew in$ sword. Instantly, one of the savages was on him, hiding behind a stout leather shield as he hacked at Lenardo. The Reader thrust, his blade was knocked aside, and he stepped back-to feel his footing give way as his boot sole slid in the mud created by blood mixed with the dry earth. As if stout arms had caught him, he was set upright, able to skewer his opponent, who had dropped his shield to give his own sword arm free swing, thrusting at the man he expected to be down and floundering.

  Pulling his weapon from the groaning savage, Lenardo looked up to see Aradia’s wolfish smile. At that moment another man knelt, pointing at Aradia, sighting along his arm as if along an arrow. “Aradia,” Lenardo warned, pointing, “what’s he-?”

  She turned swiftly, and the man groaned, clutched at his chest, and collapsed. “Had others joined,” she said grimly, “a group of even these very minor Adepts could destroy a weakened Lord Adept. Thank you, Lenardo.”

  Then they were moving on, Lenardo finding himself fighting off those who tried to reach Aradia whenever she paused to concentrate-and her pauses became longer and more intent as she grew more tired. She became more and more Readable, her panting breath roaring in her ears as she expended her energy, not to-win a decisive victory through her Adept powers, but to even the odds so that her troops could win for themselves. The word that she was there was spreading rapidly; her soldiers redoubled their efforts, and slowly the battle turned, the enemy driven back.

  Aradia moved off to one side, where several of her men were crowded into a tight little circle, back to back, presenting a bristle of weapons to a far larger force of the enemy. Enemy troops began to drop, one by one, as Aradia approached. Someone turned, saw her, and cried, “Get the bitch!” Another man grabbed a pikestaff, and flung it like a javelin, while beyond them several bowmen heard the cry and nocked their arrows despite the poor visibility. The rain of weapons was deflected as if an iron shield were placed an arm’s length before Aradia’s face, but Lenardo felt the effort drain her. She stumbled, then sagged in a faint.

  Lenardo leaped to her side, with one blow slicing off the arm of a man thrusting at her. He snatched her up and backed off as her own men broke their tight formation to race to her rescue. As the enemy were concentrating on the chance to kill Aradia, her men came up behind them, killing several before they were aware. Lenardo dragged the Adept’s dead weight toward the rocky outcropping where he could shelter her, hampered in using his sword until he finally stumbled through the rocks and dropped Aradia, turning to defend the narrow opening that could be held by a single swordsman-for a while, anyway. He cast about for Lilith, but she was in a distant part of the valley, fully occupied.

  Aradia’s men were attacking from behind, but between them and Lenardo were at least a dozen men who did not care if they died if they could kill Aradia in doing so. They were more skilled than Lenardo in the use of the heavier sword, but he had the advantage of a Reader, knowing their moves even as they did. In this position, he had to take only one at a time; it was possible he could hold out until help reached him.

  By the time he had dispatched two of the men, however, the energy of excitement was beginning to fade. His muscles quivered, and rivers of sweat poured down his body. He stopped trying to Read whether Aradia was recovering, and concentrated on the new opponent coming up before him.

  The force of the man’s rush drove Lenardo back a step into the narrow passage between the rocks. A bit further, and he would trip over Aradia’s still form-or give the man a chance to reach her with his blade.

  The savage before him was taller than Lenardo and muscled like a bull-pure fighting machine. His swordplay was not skillful-he was trying to hack his way in on strength alone, butting with his shield as much as cutting with his sword. Against such tactics Lenardo’s Reading was not nearly as much of an advantage as against technique.

  The enemy warrior had forced his way to a position where he was buttressed behind his shield, his longer reach keeping Lenardo at bay, although the Reader was determined he should not get through the passage.

  I should learn to use one of those shields, Lenardo thought, the weariness in his sword arm making him long for the lighter, swifte
r blade the bandits had stolen. And but for that one skirmish with Helmuth’s men, he was a month out of practice. It was telling badly. How often I drilled into my students the importance of daily practice!

  Forced back step by step, Lenardo finally reached the narrowest part of the short passage, too narrow for his opponent to get through without turning sideways, his sword arm unshielded. Quickly Lenardo engaged, swords sliding along one another until the crossguards met He could not hold thus against the other’s brute strength but had no intention to. He held long enough, he hoped, then let his arm fall as if all the strength were gone from it, gasping in feigned dismay.

  The savage raised his sword to slash down on Lenardo, but the Reader swiftly brought his blade up beneath the man’s arm, the warrior’s own strength slicing through flesh, cutting to the bone, impaling his forearm on Lenardo’s sword.

  With a roar like a wounded bull, the savage warrior swung his injured arm, spraying blood, so swiftly that Lenardo was thrown off balance, forced to let go of his sword, which, caught between the bones of the man’s arm, was flung with such fury against the rock wall that the blade shattered.

  Disarmed, unshielded, Lenardo faced the wounded giant. Berserk with rage, the man did not know his life was spurting away through the severed arteries in his sword arm. When that arm would not obey him, although its fingers remained tightly clasped about his sword. He charged Lenardo with his shield, knocking the Reader back behind Aradia’s limp form.

  Even as he fell, Lenardo was twisting to scramble up, breathless, leaping at the savage giant as he stood over Aradia, raising his shield to smash her face. Lenardo threw his whole weight at the man’s knees and was kicked off. As he picked himself up to charge again, he saw that the giant had abandoned his shield and was clumsily transferring his sword to his left hand. Loss of blood was beginning to tell, but he was determined to kill Aradia before he died. Other men were coming through the unguarded passage. It was hopeless-but Lenardo nonetheless flung himself upon the savage warrior, trying to wrest the sword from his fumbling fingers, succeeding only in making nun drop it.