by Lara Morgan
‘Sir.’ She jogged away to shout at the stubborn-faced youths.
‘Almost time,’ Balkis said, and Tallis saw in his eyes the same calm readiness tinged with the beginnings of battle lust.
He held out a hand to him. ‘Watch your back.’
Balkis hesitated, then took his hand in a short, hard clasp. ‘You too.’ His blue eyes were dark and Tallis thought he would say something else, but then he only nodded and walked away, and Tallis wondered if he would see him alive again.
The army was assembling in the open space where most had been camping. All tents had been dismantled, cooking fires kicked out and the wide area was now filled with warriors standing in their squads, armed and ready. The sun was starting to rise in front of them, grey light creeping across the earth, spreading shadow before it. There was still a faint sense of coolness in the air, of the lingering night, but already he could tell the day would be hot. There was no wind and the sound of steel being sharpened and shouts of the squad captains carried in the stillness.
Off to one side, beneath the old orchard, his mother and Irissa were talking. A few others clustered around them, some women and a few older men who had come with the recruits to help as they could. They would be waiting for the wounded — if there were any. As he watched, Irissa embraced Mailun then walked toward the army. She didn’t see him and he thought that if she died today, this was how he would remember her: beautiful, strong, facing her fear. He caught his mother’s glance and she held up a hand to him, fingers curled in a fist. Hunt well, he thought she was saying. He turned away to where Attar and the riders waited and they made their way up the steep path to the top of the plateau.
There were seven men and three women, including Attar, and all were the most experienced riders, but Tallis worried how they would fare against Azoth’s army.
Arak-si, Marathin hissed. The eleven serpents were crowding the top of the scarp, their eagerness and fear loud in his mind, and he felt the echoes of their greetings.
The sun had topped the mountains and now he could see the dark mass of Azoth’s army coming toward them. He put a hand on Marathin’s hide, feeling the comforting thrumming of her blood running with his own.
Fight or die, she hissed.
Fight. He looked into her eye.
The riders were ready by their mounts when Rorc came up to the plateau to see Azoth’s army in the sunlight. The pale red plains that stretched away before them were dark with the number of marching Scanorians and Alhanti, still far enough away to seem a procession of ants or a black tide creeping toward them. Above serpents flew, their long bodies trailing behind them, and the occasional faint cry reached them on the wind.
Rorc passed him to go back down to the army and as he walked by, he gave Tallis a nod of determination or goodbye, he couldn’t be sure which.
The sun felt hot as he tied his haldar over his head, waving away the leather helmet Attar offered. Today he would go to battle like a clansman, even though he rode a serpent and commanded a power alien to his kind.
‘Mount!’ he shouted, and the small group climbed the backs of the serpents. Fly high, fight well, he called to the beasts around him, and to the riders he shouted, ‘Listen to your serpents. I’ll send them commands and they will pass them on to you. Remember the plan.’
The men and women looked back at him, their faces set, the fear hardly showing. And in a rush, one after the other with Marathin in the lead, the serpents flung themselves into the air.
They flew high, circling above the army. Forty-five men were mounted on muthu while the other four hundred and fifty walked, Rorc and Balkis in their centre. Tallis imagined he could see Irissa in the squad on the left wing among a group of spear throwers. He was glad Rorc had placed her there; the right wing would be at the front of the attack, so perhaps it would buy her more time to live. Behind them Mailun and her small contingent of rudimentary healers came with two muthu, which pulled carts loaded with water, extra weapons and other supplies.
It was a small force, hardly a force at all when he looked at what they travelled to meet. He adjusted the crossbow in his grip and checked the arrows strapped to Marathin’s harness. Already he felt the oncoming horde of serpents, and somewhere among them Azoth. Shaan was barely a spark of awareness deep inside.
Tallis urged Marathin to fly lower, skimming across the army. Behind him he heard the other serpents follow, their wings beating the air then gliding as they circled across and back. Their fear was mixed with a hunger for battle and he sensed their blood flowing through muscle and wing. It stirred the battle lust in him, heightened his senses. A flicker of movement and Haraka drew alongside. Attar was grinning, a light of ferocity in his eyes.
Arak-ferish, we fly for blood, we kill for freedom. Haraka’s mind voice was filled with his need to strike and he shrieked, inciting the Isles serpents to echo his call. Power-filled fury raced through Tallis’s veins and he grinned back at Attar. The wrath of the serpents was infectious, or was it his power riding through them? Tallis could feel them: man, woman and serpent, flowing through him, all connected. There was a vastness inside him, a well of power that kept on unfurling, reaching out to encompass them so he felt their hearts beating almost as one.
A new Hive.
Your Hive! Marathin shrieked, flapping her wings and driving them higher.
Looking back he saw the faces of the other riders, feral grins and fearless eyes as they followed him, ready to strike, the serpents’ blood drumming in his mind. It was dizzying — it felt right.
A good day to fight, wetlander! He reached out to Attar’s mind.
A good day to die, the rider answered. Filled with the connection of the Hive, Tallis was not surprised that they should be able to communicate like the serpents. They were all one now, of one mind. Tallis looked toward the oncoming dark mass. The smell of dust and oiled leather rose from the army below, and across the plains he heard the rumble of thousands of feet thundering across the earth. I’m coming for you, sister, he sent. I’m coming for us both.
Chapter 51
Shaan was sitting in front of Azoth on Nuathin as the serpent flew slowly above the army and almost lost her balance when Tallis’s voice whispered in her mind, echoing through her in a powerful spike. Azoth laughed as he sensed it and leaned toward her, his chest pressing against her back.
‘Your brother is ambitious if he thinks he can match me,’ he said. ‘I could kill them all now, if I wanted to.’
She knew he was touching the Birthstone, slung now in a pouch at his waist. ‘Why do you need this army then?’ she said.
‘Loyalty must be proven — power displayed by force.’ He put an arm around her waist and spoke in her ear. ‘They must see they cannot defy me.’
Shaan stared down at the vast army spread out below them. Thousands of marching feet whipped dust up in clouds and around them the serpents’ wings beat through the air like strange drums.
Alterin had been left behind in the pavilions with the slave women and a handful of Scanorians to guard them, but Jared was below, ready to fight against his own. Shaan fought down her despair. The serpents’ desire to serve their master was so strong it made the energy build in her chest as they drew closer to the small force.
The line was so short compared to Azoth’s vast army that she feared they would simply move forward and trample them. Above was the small band of serpents commanded by Tallis. She could sense him now; he was so close she could almost make out the figure that must be him on the back of a serpent. Fear suspended all other feelings and she had a sudden urge to take the Stone from Azoth and hurl it away, as if that could stop the madness. Azoth’s arm around her waist was tight and a thunder started below as his army began to run, feet pounding the earth, the air filling with their shouts.
‘Watch now,’ he whispered in her ear, ‘watch the end of your time.’
Nuathin slowed, holding back while the rest of the serpents flew forward around them, shrieking, and she heard the answering ca
ll from Tallis’s serpents as they sped to meet them.
***
The wave of the coming beasts was like a physical blow. Tallis heaved and fell forward onto Marathin’s neck, shuddering as the Hive mind of Azoth’s serpents slammed into the wall of protection he’d fashioned around his own small band.
It almost overwhelmed him, but he forced himself upright and, roaring aloud, pushed it back then fired his crossbow at the oncoming mass. Arrows whistled in the air as the others followed his lead.
There were so many, the sky full of wing and talon. But as they closed in two thirds of Azoth’s serpents dove away toward their warriors on foot. From below came a tremendous thunder of muscle and steel clashing as the armies met, the screeching calls of the Scanorians rising above the chaos.
‘Protect the ground!’ Tallis shouted aloud and in their minds. Immediately, his team split, dropping down toward the army and leaving him alone to face the fifty or so serpents. Tallis twisted one hand through the leather ties of Marathin’s harness and drew hard on his power, feeling for the attacking serpents before they could reach him.
Surrender to me! He threw the ancient words out like a net.
Pain squeezed a band around his skull as his command smashed into the minds of Azoth’s beasts. The serpents howled. Some reeled back, confused, and others turned away, shrieking, to fly back the way they had come.
Arak-ferish? A chorus of questioning calls came from a group of them. Tallis felt them wavering and pressed his command harder. A dozen hovered in the air as if confused and he thought he had succeeded, at least with some, but then he felt them ripped away. The serpents scattered, plunging down to attack the rest of his Hive, and a larger serpent appeared, flying toward him. With despair he recognised it. Nuathin.
You won’t take them. Azoth’s voice pierced his mind and Tallis screamed as agony bored like a finger into his skull. He lost his connection with his Hive, falling forward onto Marathin’s neck, and from between eyes narrowed in pain he saw Azoth riding the old serpent, with Shaan sitting before him. Horror was clear on her face and she was shouting something at Azoth that Tallis couldn’t hear. Then the god lifted his hand and he was ripped from Marathin’s back by an invisible force.
Shaan’s scream followed him as he plunged down toward the armies fighting below. Marathin! Tallis flung out a desperate command. Wind ripped past his face, the mass of fighting men and creatures coming toward him with terrific speed. A wing smacked him hard in the side, then sharp talons seized his thigh and his fall was sharply arrested as the serpent caught him, her blade-like feet slicing shallow cuts in his flesh.
The father! Marathin shrieked but, his mind split with pain, Tallis could barely summon a command. He hung upside down, arrows whistling past him and the air filled with the screeching and tumbling of serpent attacking serpent. Below was a roiling field of sword and spear. Blood spattered his shoulder as Marathin wheeled sideways and he saw three riders fall to their deaths past him, then a huge dark shape collided with her. Another serpent, raking at her side with its talons. She shrieked again and he felt himself slipping. The fighting mass of armies swept past barely a few feet beneath them as Marathin tried to recover her grip, but the serpent attacked again, her talons ripped through his trousers and he fell into the midst of Azoth’s army.
The backs of Scanorians broke his fall as Tallis plunged down on top of them. An elbow caught him in the face and a foot kicked his ribs as he rolled to his feet, gasping for breath. He drew his sword, looking around. He was surrounded by Scanorians, all shoving toward Rorc’s front line. Four lay dead near his feet, their necks broken. Another struggled upright and its eyes widened in recognition.
‘The son!’ it shrieked, and ran at him, sword raised.
The power he’d momentarily lost came rushing back and Tallis reacted on instinct, striking out. The world was reduced to the slashing clang of blades, blood and screams. His strokes flowed like water as more Scanorians rushed him. The enemy’s slashes opened cuts on his arms and legs, but he felt no pain as he fought two-handed with knife and sword, consumed by battle lust.
Time became unknown, his forearms slick with blood. In brief flashes he glimpsed other fighters of his army surrounded, and he tried to cut his way to them. Their faces were grim or manic with killing and the enemy swarmed, pressing them ever back. Alhanti towered above all, their powerful swings of blade and axe cutting wide swathes through the lines of fighters, Hunters and Seducers falling under their blows. Despair began to fill his heart and the enemy, smelling victory, doubled their efforts. Men and women screamed, the scent of death was in the air.
But then, rising above the din, came the battle cry of the Clans. It was a savage ferocious roar — For honour, for Clan — and five thousand warriors swarmed in a tide of fury over the low hills. Their cry was like the coming of dawn after an endless night, breaking over the ranks of the enemy and leaving fear in its wake. The Scanorians couldn’t turn to meet them in time and the Clans ran at their backs, sunlight catching on the clean steel of their blades, dust raised in clouds beneath their feet. Tallis saw Hashmael in the lead, a feral grin on his face, and then he was gone, ploughing into the mass of Scanorians and men, who tried and failed to stand against them. Then all turned to chaos.
Tallis was thrust backward in the crowd of panicking bodies as some tried to run and others to turn and fight. He saw Rorc briefly and Balkis, his sword, blood spattered, raised high, then he forced his way back around and began to hack toward the Clans, Scanorians falling under his blades like cut grass. The power ran through him freely now, the Clans’ arrival spurring him on.
The two armies had become one seething mass stumbling over a ground littered with the dead and dying, while above the serpents screamed and shrieked, locked in their own terrible battle. Some fell shredded and bleeding to the ground, while others tumbled in pairs locked in combat. One had fallen onto the battle ground, crushing twenty men beneath it.
Tallis sent up a searching arc. Marathin! He tried to look for her but more blades were coming at him and his mind was filled with a cacophony of serpents. He lost all sense of where Shaan and Azoth were. Screams and cries meshed with the clash of steel. A blade and a shrieking face came at him and he cut the man down, then saw Irissa fighting two Scanorians a few feet away. He dodged past another Scanorian and ran toward her. She dispatched them both before she saw Tallis and grinned a ferocious smile, but then her gaze went beyond him and changed to anguish.
‘No!’ she screamed.
Tallis turned swiftly, his sword raised. A clansman was fighting an Alhanti, but it was not just any Alhanti.
‘Jared!’ Tallis could not stop himself from shouting his name. But it was no longer his earth brother. It was the figure from his nightmare made flesh. Tallis was filled with horror.
The Alhanti looked up over the head of the man he fought and saw him. In his eyes was fury, pain and something else: wildness, despair. With a roar, he picked up the man he was fighting, threw him into a group of Scanorians and ran toward them, his sword raised.
Tallis had no time to think as Jared attacked, swinging his weapon wildly as he charged. His familiar face was distorted, an animal cry coming from his lips. Tallis parried the blow and the force shuddered through his arms. Jared struck at him again and again. In shock, Tallis could do nothing but defend himself, blocking the blade.
‘Jared, stop!’ Tallis screamed, but it made no difference.
Taller, stronger, his changed face a mask of anguish and fury, his earth brother kept attacking him.
‘Wound me! Fight me!’ Jared roared as he slashed at him. But Tallis could not.
He turned Jared’s blade aside again and again, ignoring every opportunity it gave him to close in. This was his earth brother, his saviour and friend, and he could not harm him.
‘Fight, bane of Azoth! Pretender!’ Jared’s voice was deeper suddenly and with shock Tallis felt the serpent inside him, saw its hatred in Jared’s eyes. He hesitated and
Jared’s fist lashed out and caught his jaw, knocking him to the ground.
‘Fight!’ Jared roared, and the point of the sword came at Tallis’s neck. Irissa threw herself at Jared, grabbing her brother’s arm.
‘Jared, no!’ she cried, and he grasped her by the throat, lifting her off her feet with his free hand. ‘Brother!’ She was choking. Tears ran down her face and she pried at his fingers.
In desperation, Tallis reached for his power and launched up, throwing all his weight against Jared and punching down on the arm that held Irissa. Jared staggered, dropping his sister, and Tallis leaped back. They circled each other.
In every direction the battle was still raging, but a space had opened around them as if the Scanorians were too afraid to come close. Pretender! A serpentine hiss pushed into Tallis’s mind and he saw the serpent behind Jared’s eyes, felt the loathing and recognised it. It was one of the black serpents who had first attacked him, who had killed Haldane. Fury filled him.
‘I don’t want to fight you,’ he said.
Jared’s lip curled. ‘You cannot live, pretender! Only the father lives.’ He raised his sword, but as he did so Tallis saw the echo of the clansman in the Alhanti’s eyes, still there trying to stop the serpent from taking over.
‘Jared!’ Tallis said as he raised his own sword. ‘Fight it, stop it!’
‘No Jared left,’ the Alhanti said, but Tallis could still see him in his eyes like a ghost.
The Alhanti swung and their swords rang again, blade sliding against blade until they were face to face, close enough to feel each other’s breath.
‘I know you’re still there, Jared,’ Tallis said, trying to push into his friend’s mind. ‘Fight it!’
‘No!’ the Alhanti roared, then shuddered as his face suddenly changed. ‘Kill me, Tallis!’ The voice was Jared’s, pleading, begging. ‘Kill me.’
Horrified, Tallis drew back, pushing him away with all his strength, but it was barely enough. The Alhanti came at him again, this time the sword more controlled, swinging at his neck. Tallis barely ducked in time. Another swing and the sword just missed his gut.