Dance of Battle: A Dark Fantasy (Shedim Rebellion Book 4)

by Burke Fitzpatrick

  The others recovered quickly, but Marah’s eyes burned. They felt as though someone had kicked sand in them. She had missed the warmth of the sun but had forgotten how obnoxiously bright the plains were.

  Tyrus carried her to the surface, and she used more sorcery to close the passageway behind them. While everyone else luxuriated in the warmth of the plains and the lightness of the endless blue sky, Marah’s mood darkened. The familiar misery of Shinar and all its many ghosts greeted her. However, the voices weren’t as bad as the ones in the Deep, and she took a moment to appreciate that. Shinar was still surrounded by suffering, but it wasn’t as old and layered as the centuries of cruelty found in the Underworld.

  Silas said, “You have mastered the stone song faster than anyone I’ve ever known.”

  “They are just runes.”

  The stone song didn’t matter. The real knowledge she needed remained hidden from her, and she hated being toyed with. The dead whispered that ignorant children were easier to control, and Marah wanted to argue that she wasn’t a child. She knew that if she dared defend herself, they would mock her more.

  She did not know how to train herself, but that was her task. If Ithuriel would not tell her what she needed to know, then she had to find someone else who knew his secrets. And Kennet had hinted at talking to grigorns, so her failure was more miserable than abject.

  The elves headed toward Paltiel, and Klay went with them. He said his goodbyes to Tyrus, but Marah paid more attention to the dead. The world had changed while she was gone. Breonna’s thanes and the Islanders had scattered across the Shinari Kingdom.

  Klay told Marah, “I’ll share your greetings with Chobar for you.”

  Marah nodded. She wanted to travel to Ironwall with Klay to see her friend, but the Gadarans would try to kill her and the Ghost Clan. She would have to kill other rangers to protect them, and she didn’t like all the feuds that surrounded her every decision. Anything she did involved the death of someone else.

  Klay hurried to catch the elves. Even with her poor eyesight, she could see the great blur of the tallest mountain in the world. Tyrus took them in the opposite direction, toward a burned wreck of a city.

  Tyrus said, “I’m so tired of traveling to Shinar.”

  “It is an ugly place.”

  “Do you know how Olroth and Lahar are doing?”

  “They’re not dead yet.”

  Tyrus asked about the siege and the Norsil and the supplies. He wanted to know a bunch of useless details about King’s Rest. Marah ignored him. She did not want to return to the city, but if she went to Paltiel, the Ghost Clan would die. The world kept trying to kill everyone she knew, which made her angry.

  She wanted to know why it had become her burden to protect everyone. She wanted to be left alone because she might succeed in protecting herself.

  A strange voice found her. The thing was deep and old, and she recognized it as the dragon atop Mount Teles.

  So, child, did you learn the Riddle of Runes?

  Marah refused to answer, and the dragon’s throaty laughter followed her across the plains. Returning in defeat made her hate herself more, but being mocked by the voices made her want to lash out. She didn’t know how to fight a dragon, but she would make Ashtaroth pay.

  Ashtaroth asked, Do you understand the world between worlds now? Have you learned the difference between voices and unanchored souls?

  Marah admitted her defeat. I know that I know nothing.

  Clever girl. You’re smarter than a few of the prophets.

  Marah hissed. I’m not a girl.

  Hold on to that anger. There’s hope for you yet.

  The air chilled as Marah used sorcery to block the voices. She wove every rune for every ward she knew to block out demons and the dead. She hoped that was enough to silence Ashtaroth, and the world became silent again. Either the wards worked, or the dragon returned to her slumber. Marah maintained the wards, finding some solace in silencing the dead.

  Tyrus asked, “What is it?”

  “Nothing.”

  “Do you have a plan?”

  “For what?”

  “Getting back into Shinar. We don’t have an army or any siege equipment.”

  Marah glared at the city. “We have me.”

  Norsil horns sounded the alarm, and Marah lowered her wards to ask the teeming dead what had happened. She was surprised to find that the horns were for her. Breonna had blocked the gates and was debating with the Islanders about how best to deal with Marah and her dozen thanes. When she grew weary of the voices, Marah banished them again. Breaking down doors had to be easier than destroying a dwarven city.

  VII

  Upon emerging from the Deep, Klay wanted to enjoy the fresh air and the warm sunshine, but the price they had paid to see it again weighed him down. He was the only ranger to survive the Deep, and Lord Nemuel’s loss would be as shocking to Ironwall as Dura’s. Nemuel had been the protector of the Paltiel Woods for ages.

  Klay smelled the sea in the distance. The tangy scent of saltwater washed over him like a fine wine. He had not smelled rain or anything green in almost a year. When he considered how close he had come to staying in Ros Tolamor, the beauty of the surface became richer. If he didn’t need to hurry home or worry about traveling across Norsil-infested plains all alone, he might have taken the long way home just to prolong the experience.

  The elves headed to their woods. Klay needed to follow them for safety, and he exchanged an awkward goodbye with Tyrus. They said little. Klay wanted to forget the things he had seen Marah do, but she had saved his life.

  Klay asked, “Do you know what waits for you in Shinar?”

  “I’m sure she does, but it can’t be worse than Ros Tolamor.”

  Klay nodded. “I never said thanks.”

  “We’re even now.”

  “I’ve lost count of the battles… but I don’t think we are. Next time we meet—”

  “Your king will want to kill the Norsil.”

  “Most likely.” Klay glanced at Marah. “I’ll try to talk some sense into him.”

  “Best of luck with that.”

  Marah’s eyes were vacant, as though she was sleeping with them open. He offered to greet Chobar for her, and she gave him a slight acknowledgement. Then he clasped Tyrus’s forearm and chased after the elves.

  They hurried away from the Norsil and did not relax until they passed into the woods. Klay had forgotten the sickly sweet smells of decaying leaves and the wonderful humidity of the dense woods. Shade was just as enjoyable as sunlight. He noted the elves took a moment to stand with closed eyes raised toward Mount Teles. They looked as though they were showering in a waterfall.

  He asked a sentinel, “What will you do about Lord Nemuel?”

  “A new lord will be chosen. Nothing changes.”

  “Just like that?”

  “Nemuel had many apprentices.”

  “He never said anything about apprentices.”

  “Why would you need to know?”

  Klay knew little of the Ashen Elves. Lord Nemuel had spoken to him freely though, and the elves tended to shun the peoples of Ironwall and Shinar. For him to have made a friend among them, and to know that he could travel to Paltiel and not be shunned, had elevated Klay’s status in Ironwall. While their relationship had been kept at a distance, he had considered Nemuel a friend—as friendly as the Ashen Elves allowed.

  He asked, “Is there a way to send word to Ironwall?”

  “What is your message?”

  “I’ll need an escort on the other side of Paltiel. With the Norsil war bands, getting home is going to be a trick.”

  “We will send a bird to the Red Tower.”

  “Thank you.”

  The elves hurried toward their mountain, and moments after they left, Klay lost sight of them in the foliage. He made his way toward the far side of the woods. With
out Chobar to push through the underbrush, the trip would take weeks, and some of the shorter routes required a bear’s claws to get past the landscape.

  Klay tried to enjoy the hike, but he spent most of his time rehearsing what he would say to King Samos. The dwarves accepted Marah as a prophet, but she had made beasts, just as her father had. He debated telling people that part, and he wished he had never seen such a thing. If the crown had debated killing Marah before, they would be certain to kill her if they knew about the beasts. Samos would place a bounty on her head.

  When he made it to the far side of Paltiel, he found a dozen rangers waiting for him. Annrin greeted him with Chobar, who surged past her to tackle Klay. The giant bear had grown fat, and he smothered Klay, pinning him to the ground to lick his face.

  “Off, Chobar. Come on, get off me.”

  The bear kept licking him though, and his rough tongue was going to leave Klay’s cheeks scuffed red. Annrin called him off, and to Klay’s horror, he bounded to her side.

  “What is this?”

  Annrin smiled. “We had time to bond. And I took him with me and Laban on a few patrols.”

  “You took him on patrols?”

  “He was getting fat.”

  Chobar growled, but it was playful. Annrin tugged on his jowls, and they acted as though it was an inside joke. Klay put his hands on his hips and fought an urge to insult his bear. Then he noticed the other rangers grinning at him.

  He asked, “What news from Ironwall?”

  “A new warlord is in the west. The Islanders and the Norsil are spreading across the east. The crown and the temple are raising armies of mercenaries to fight them all off. They brought in sellswords from Erez and Kaldo.”

  Klay listened to the report as he scratched Chobar’s ears, then he slowed as he became more confused. Sellswords would not be enough to fight the Ghost Clan.

  “I thought the Islanders joined the Norsil in Shinar?”

  “Not all of them.”

  “Buzzard’s gut… More battles plagued by infighting.”

  “What did you learn about Marah?”

  “She saved the Deep Ward, and the dwarves fawn at her feet.”

  “That’s good, though. You make it sound like it isn’t good.”

  “She won’t abandon the Norsil, and if she wants to conquer Ironwall, we can’t stop her. Sellswords won’t be enough.”

  “Are you certain?”

  “She is much stronger than we thought.”

  Klay would have to find a better way to say that to King Samos. Annrin appeared dumbfounded. Klay knew that if Ironwall was to survive, they must not provoke Marah. If they could find common ground, some kind of arrangement with the Norsil, that would save thousands of lives. No one would want to hear such a thing. Asking to negotiate with the Norsil would be more difficult than climbing back out of the Underworld, but if they took an army to Shinar, Marah would rip it apart just as she had the demon tribes.

  VIII

  Breonna watched the trebuchets pound King’s Rest. Her people assured her the fortress would break before the sun set. She longed to see her sons again and waited as the boulders battered the keep doors. Everyone, Islander and Norsil alike, anticipated the moment when the front of the keep would finally break. They had worked for months to get at the Ghost Clan, and just as the moment of victory neared, horns sounded across the city.

  An enemy approached.

  They stopped the assault to climb Shinar’s tall walls. All the stairs had become tiresome, and Breonna didn’t understand the Kassiri obsession with stone buildings. She missed the simplicity of the huts and thorn walls on the plains. Castles and walls frustrated Breonna—they took too long to break, and they required armies of laborers to repair.

  From the top of the walls, she heard the whispers before she saw the threat. Several people said “Dark Walker” and “Ghost Warrior.” At the battlements, she saw them for herself. A dark man was carrying a ghost of a girl.

  Orfeo asked, “How did they survive?”

  “Tyrus found a way. That bastard always finds a way.”

  They had paid a price to survive though. Breonna counted a dozen thanes with them, so whatever had happened in the underworld had claimed the lives of hundreds of followers. She checked the plains to make sure, and she called thanes to her and told them to check the other walls.

  “Make sure that is all of them.”

  Men hurried across the walls. Breonna fixed her glare on the tiny shape of Marah being carried toward Shinar. They would not reach the wall for some time, so she had time to prepare. Her first instinct was to send a force to kill her, but she had tried that already and failed. Marah had also wreaked havoc on the demon tribes. Breonna drummed the battlement with her fingers as she tried to decide the best way to deal with the freaks.

  She asked Orfeo, “Shinar is protected against sorcery?”

  “Yes.”

  “Even her sorcery?”

  “The city is protected… There are stories that she cracked the walls once.”

  Breonna chewed on that. “Bar the gates. Put archers on the walls.”

  “Archers won’t stop her.”

  “They’ll challenge her if she comes within range. It sends a message.”

  “Such a thing will anger her.”

  Breonna rolled her eyes. “Locking her out will anger her. The mess we’ve made of King’s Rest will anger her. Nothing is going to make that right.”

  “They are so few. We could attack and finish them.”

  “That didn’t work before.”

  Breonna waited, half hoping the sorcerers had a better idea. No one spoke, and they all watched the small party walk toward Shinar. If they had to kill her, that would probably do irreparable damage to her clan. She would rather free her sons from King’s Rest and retreat from Marah. They could cut off supplies to the Ghost Clan and regroup with the Islanders.

  She said, “We will deal with them after I have King’s Rest.”

  “What if she attacks the gates?”

  “I want my sons back before the gates fall.”

  Tension filled the faces of the men around her. She could tell she had asked for a difficult thing, but she would not leave her sons behind. After a few moments, the group hurried back to the siege engines. Breonna followed, knowing what they were all thinking. They had no way of knowing if her sons were still alive. The unasked question weighed her down, threatening her resolve. If they were dead, she wanted their bodies. They deserved to burn on a funeral pyre with honor, not to rot in a Kassiri fortress.

  IX

  Lahar watched Shinar from the keep’s battlements. A small party approached on the plains, and Breonna’s clans hurried to the walls to see what was wrong. Marah’s appearance gave him hope, but he knew she would never pass the gates in time to help them. They had to help her before the keep fell.

  Lahar told Olroth, “We need to open those gates.”

  “There’s too many thanes.”

  Lahar turned to Larz. “How close can we get to that gate?”

  “From the tunnels? I’ll go check.”

  Larz rushed for the stairs. Lahar assumed he was going for the map and chased after him. He paused at the door.

  “Olroth, get the families. Pack whatever you can. We’re leaving the keep.”

  Olroth nodded and slowed. “We were told—”

  “Once she is inside the city, this will end. None of the Islanders can fight her sorcery. We just need to get to the gate. Bring them to the cellars as fast as you can.”

  Everyone hurried down the stairs and went their separate ways. Lahar went to Larz’s chambers and found him poring over the map. They found a path that put them close to the gate.

  Larz traced the path. “It’s two streets away from the gate.”

  “Two streets in the open.” Lahar studied the other gates but didn’t see anything better.
“Can you find that route in the tunnels?”

  “Of course.”

  “I’ll need your help when we get to the tunnels. Breonna will have guards watching them, and we need to get past them without raising the alarm.”

  “She’ll reinforce the gates. Whichever one Marah is at will have the most guards.”

  “We’ll have one chance at it before all of the clans fall on us.”

  Larz asked, “How many are we taking?”

  “Everyone. We’re abandoning the keep.”

  “But why?”

  “She’ll send thanes to search the place, and while they’re doing that, we take the gate.”

  “We should leave someone behind to stall her.”

  Lahar agreed. “First, we have to get into the tunnels without raising the alarm.”

  The keep buzzed with activity. Lahar had no idea how long they might be in the tunnels, so they packed what food they could. The families busied themselves with provisions and children, the noise of which bothered Lahar. He wasn’t sure if they could sneak everyone through the tunnels.

  Olroth met him in the cellars. They weren’t sure what they would face on the other side, but they agreed six thanes would rush forward, with sorcerers and archers following. Whatever they found had to be silenced on sight. One runner, one blow of a horn, and they were all dead.

  Sir Mors smeared lard on the door’s hinges, and when Lahar gave the signal, he swung the door open. Lahar and Olroth’s sons stepped into the tunnels. They stalked the passageway as quietly as they could, but the water was ankle deep. A long tunnel stretched before them. More thanes followed, then the sorcerers and a handful of archers.

  At the end of the passage was a junction that connected several other tunnels. Lahar heard men talking before they saw them. He didn’t speak their tongue, but he guessed they were talking about the alarm.

  Lahar reached the end of the tunnel, and motioned for the thanes to stop. He pointed at the archers, and the women crept forward. He counted three thanes partially hidden by a wooden barricade.