Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3)

by Philip C. Quaintrell

  When he was finished, Doran spat the blood out of his mouth and turned to Asher. “I can't believe ye started without me!”

  Asher rolled his eyes and gestured down the wall. “You’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

  Doran sneered and climbed on to the nearest bridge between the wall and the siege tower. “I am Doran son of Dorain of clan Heavybelly! Ye are gonna’ rue the day ye ever clapped eyes on me!” The dwarf laughed with manic glee and charged into the top of the siege tower. His display was just as impressive as that of the elves, if somewhat gorier.

  Asher and Faylen left the dwarf to do what he did best and pushed their way further down the battlements. It wasn't long, however, before the wall began to shake rhythmically and the nearest siege tower wobbled. The ranger tilted his head to better hear what was happening when the sound of a monstrous growl came from the other side of the wall. One bloody, three-fingered hand gripped the top of the siege tower while another, four-finger hand latched onto the wall. A head, the size of Asher, peered over the lip with greedy eyes and a breath that could choke a donkey. The giant smiled with delight as it used the siege tower to clamber onto the battlements. The destruction that could be caused by so one big would be catastrophic for Velia.

  “Look out!” the Velian soldiers screamed.

  Asher reacted without thought, something he never used to do. Stepping on fallen bodies to gain height, the ranger charged at the giant’s head as it came over. With his broadsword held firmly in both hands, he leaped over the wall and plunged his blade through the giant’s eye and deep into its skull. The monster’s agonising scream was short as death found it quickly, but so too did gravity. The giant went limp and released its grip on the tower, falling back into the field with Asher still attached to its face.

  “NO!” Faylen’s voice carried over the din, but Asher barely heard it over his own yell.

  The ranger crouched into the giant’s face and held onto his impaled sword as tightly as he could. The drop was short and sudden, sending a shockwave up Asher’s legs that had him tumbling off the giant’s face and onto his chest of cobbled shields. A fresh cut bled from his hairline and his right knee pulsed with pain, but he had no time to take stock of his injuries.

  He was on the other side of the wall now…

  There was no way he could make it up any of the ladders, ropes, or siege towers without being killed on the way up. Laid out before him was the rippling mass of Darkakin and white-cloaks from the north. Trolls were still being marched through the ranks and other giants took note of their fallen comrade and decided against climbing the towers.

  The immediate danger, however, came from the savages who hadn't been crushed by the dead giant and were now scrambling to reach the ranger. The broadsword was too far for him to parry the first attack, but the silvyr short-sword on his back was never far. With one hand, Asher grasped the wrist of the Darkakin, holding the savage’s blade at bay, while he rammed the silvyr sword up into the man’s jaw and head. The next two died in rapid motions of his sword arm, the next three took longer with each attacking from different sides, but death had been ready for them from the moment they climbed onto the giant. The ranger removed Alidyr’s sword from his back as the final Darkakin lunged at him. The foolish man was parried by the silvyr blade and cut almost in half by the diamond-tipped short-sword.

  Asher glanced at the two short-swords in his hands and knew what he had to do if he was going to survive longer than five minutes. As yet more Darkakin climbed onto the giant’s corpse, the ranger momentarily ploughed his blades into the gaps between the shields, freeing his hands. The red cloth was damp, partially soaked by the blood of others, but he had no choice. With only seconds before the next axe or sword found his head, the cloth wrapped around his eyes, shutting out the light and bringing the world to life.

  Using the Nightseye elixir while surrounded by so many was often advised against in the halls of Nightfall. The sounds, smells, tastes, and even the pressure he felt against his skin threatened to undo him, as his senses took in too much information at once. The unique sound of a serrated blade cutting through the air, inches from his face, couldn't be ignored, and the ranger dropped into a roll and came back up with both short-swords in his hands.

  “Come on!” he growled.

  Six heartbeats increased their rhythm around him, giving away their intentions in the precious seconds before they attacked. Asher’s senses were so attuned that the ranger could predict the direction of every weapon, as well as the force behind them. This told him who to parry and who to evade, but the sound of their armour told him where the openings were. Silvyr cut through flesh with ease, but the diamond-tipped blade tore through armour just as easily.

  The giant’s corpse was quickly becoming a burial mound, littered with smaller bodies. Asher was forced to kick many so that they would roll off and give him space to move. He was on an island in the middle of an ocean of enemies and he intended to keep it for himself.

  “ASHER!” His name was called from atop the wall and his acute senses had no trouble identifying Faylen as well as locating her position on the battlements.

  Three more Darkakin came to claim his head, but all three were broken and dismembered in the clash of weapons. The ranger headbutted another and kicked a knight of Namdhor off the giant’s body before turning his attention to Faylen again.

  “RANGER!” This time, the voice came from further down the northern wall, where Ezeric was now perched on the edge of the battlements like a cat. The elf was too far for Asher’s senses to pick up what he was holding in his hands, but his intentions soon became clear.

  “GRAB HOLD!” Faylen shouted from her position above him.

  Performing a feat that could only be done by an elf, Ezeric stepped off the wall, pushing himself towards Asher to give him a pendulum motion. The warrior-elf ran across the bottom of the wall while holding onto the rope with one hand, and in a few seconds, his swing would have him passing the giant’s feet. Asher sheathed his blades, leaving the broadsword behind, and sprinted along the giant’s corpse and down its leg. A shoulder-barge had one Darkakin pushed out of his path but another required a fist to the face.

  Ezeric’s momentum had gathered immense speed now and the elf was hurtling across the outer wall with his hand outstretched. Aware that his added weight would slow them down, Asher jumped off the top of the giant’s foot in the same direction as Ezeric. Both clasped their hands around the other’s bracer and held on tight as the pendulum reached its apex. The top of the wall, however, was still too far from reach when they let go. The ranger’s hands slapped against the stone, desperate to find a hold, but it was another who found a hold on him.

  “I’ve got you!” Faylen was bent over the rampart with one hand grasping his own. Beside her, Nalmar had done the same for Ezeric.

  The two were pulled over the wall just as the first arrows rebounded off of the stone, narrowly missing them both. They all fell into a jumble of limbs amid a cluster of Velians who had taken to setting the nearest drawbridge on fire to keep the Darkakin at bay.

  “Thank you,” Asher panted, removing his blindfold. “Both of you…” Ezeric nodded and stood up without a word.

  “Come on, Outlander.” Faylen pulled him up. “This fight isn't over yet.”

  Doran came barrelling by with a blood-stained beard. “It will be if ye keep jumping over the wall!” he told Asher. “ And don’t be thinking that giant counts for any more than just one!”

  Asher shook his head. “I have far too many dead on my conscience to start counting these savages among them.”

  Thunder bellowed and rumbled overhead. Finally, Asher thought. Rain fell from the sky and lashed against the Velians’ armour with a clatter. Flashes of light fired through the dark clouds in a staccato of thunder and rage.

  “Asher!” The ranger turned to the king’s platform, where Nathaniel had screamed his name.

  Trailing Faylen, Doran, and the elves, Asher fought his way through
the Darkakin who spilled from the siege tower beside the platform. His short-swords had no trouble shattering the savages’ blades and piercing their new armour. The ranger ran full pelt into the Darkakin blocking his way and shoved both blades into the man’s stomach. Asher roared in the face of his enemy as he hefted the savage’s weight and threw him over the side, into the city. Another charged at him from an awkward angle, but a single-bladed axe whistled past his head and found its end in the face of the Darkakin.

  “I’ve got ye back, laddy!” Doran hollered.

  Asher would have offered thanks had he not caught sight of Nathaniel standing over Reyna’s still form. The knight proved that any Graycoat was a formidable warrior, with training as unique as an Arakesh when it came to combat. Nathaniel moved in every direction, swinging his sword with elven techniques. There were too many Darkakin, however, and the knight was forced to use every limb as a weapon to keep them at bay. Most attacked the Graycoat, but some of the cowardly savages dared to bring their blades down on the princess.

  The familiar sight of Ned Fennick dragging a semiconscious Lord Marshal enraged Asher, giving the ranger more cause to snap the bastard’s neck. The two of them should have died with their fellow Graycoats in West Fellion, but they always managed to slink away instead of helping.

  Faylen and the other elves took the stairs onto the platform four at a time and beat the ranger and the dwarf. When Asher found his first opponent, the elves had already unleashed their legendary talents on the Darkakin, creating a perimeter around the princess and the knight. Asher ducked a savage’s swing and swiped the diamond-tipped blade across the man’s waist, emptying his guts in one move. Using his momentum, the ranger continued forward and kicked the next Darkakin over the wall.

  “Faylen!” Nathaniel called with Reyna in his arms.

  Doran swapped places with Faylen and worked alongside Ezeric and Nalmar to push the savages back. The three became an impenetrable wall of superior strength and speed.

  “We need to get her off the battlements!” Faylen said with grave urgency.

  A flash as bright as the sun blinded them all when the heavens cracked open with a sound just as overwhelming to the senses. Lightning erupted from the sky and struck the nearest siege tower with all the might of a god. The bolt was powerful enough to blow through the top and descend all the way to the ground. The tower burst apart with a magnificent effect before catching fire. The screams from inside were few, most having died when the lightning struck, but those that survived now had smoke and fire to contend with.

  Two more flashes and an ear-splitting crack saw more siege towers reduced to kindling. A few bolts landed in the field beyond, missing the towers. The stray bolts still created havoc, with one piercing a giant’s chest like a spear, sending the monstrous creature tumbling into the Darkakin horde.

  “Asher!” Faylen cried. “We need to go!”

  Doran and the elves were retreating now. Ezeric had an unconscious Hadavad over his shoulder while Nalmar carried her staff. They had taken a great many casualties, but losing the mage and Reyna in the fight would be a victory for Valanis’ forces. More lightning shot down from the dark clouds and obliterated another tower on the southern wall. This would stem the flow, he thought. Give them some time to lick their wounds, take stock of the dead, and plan the next defence. Already, the northern wall was free of the siege towers, allowing the Velians, Graycoats, and Karathans to thin the invading Darkakin.

  “Asher!” Faylen called again.

  The ranger nodded absently, torn between staying and following his friends. With the towers out of action and the chaos dying down, it would be suicide for the Darkakin to climb the ladders and ropes. Finishing off the remaining savages was all he could think of, his mind filled with images of the diamond-tipped blade slicing through every one of them. The ranger looked down at Alidyr’s short-sword and wondered if the enchanted blade was the source of his bloodlust, driving him into action without thought. Asher immediately sheathed it on his back and met Faylen’s eyes, where he always found clarity. They had stuck together and kept each other alive this long, and so he would remain by their side.

  “Back to the palace,” Asher suggested. “Doran, find Tauren and bring him.” The group ran along the battlements together, watching the unlucky Darkakin, who were now trapped on the wall, becoming swamped by red-cloaks.

  Asher knew the battle was far from over. Many had died defending the wall, and despite Velia’s victory this day, the Darkakin would soon break through the gates, opening the city up to a fight that would only end with one side on top. Valanis had the numbers to make sure he always came out on top, and that was without him even showing up. The ranger tried not to think about that outcome or the possibility of facing the dark elf, but instead put his mind to work on new defences.

  Things were only to get worse, after all…

  38

  Blood in the rain

  Finding the source of magic was easy for Alidyr, whose senses had been attuned to the realm of wonders for over a thousand years. As the first clouds formed unnaturally over Velia, the hairs on the back of his neck had stood on end. The elf had followed the channels of magic to the palace, at the eastern edge of the city, atop the rise. Over the centuries, Alidyr had infiltrated many fortified buildings and castles alike, but today he had only to walk through the doors. Every man who could lift a sword was on the wall, a place Alidyr didn't wish to venture.

  The palace was all but abandoned, with only a few of the king’s staff dashing about, gathering valuables that needed storing away. One man challenged the elf, calling him a vagabond and a thief, an easy assumption to make in the middle of a battle, coupled with his ragged appearance. Alidyr back-handed the man so hard his neck snapped. Tearing him apart with magic had been tempting, but he didn't want to take the chance that he would be detected by the storm caster. Besides, he thought, killing humans with his bare hands never became tiresome.

  Pausing at the entranceway to a large chamber, Alidyr heard the voice of King Rengar talking frantically to his generals.

  “Where is my mage?” the king asked. “Where is Galkarus Vod? I need to speak with Queen Isabella…”

  “The Lirians haven't even crossed The Unmar yet, Your Grace,” one of the generals replied.

  “The towers have been destroyed!” someone shouted as they entered the chamber through an unseen door. “It was as if the gods themselves struck them down!”

  “Atilan is on our side!” another general cheered.

  “It must be the elves,” Rengar reasoned. “Has there been any sign of their sails on the horizon?”

  “No, Your Grace.”

  Alidyr couldn't keep the smirk off of his face. The Velians would know when the elves had arrived. It had been a lifetime since he had seen his kin in battle, but Valanis’ spies in Ayda had told of their rigorous training and preparations for the invasion. They would help to decimate mankind, but ultimately even the elves would fall to the number of Darkakin and his master’s power. In truth, Alidyr hoped to see many of his kin pledge allegiance to Valanis and help them prepare the way for the gods.

  “Have the battlements cleared of the dead and see the wall restocked with arrows,” Rengar continued. “I want oil and fire above the gates.”

  “What should we do with the Darkakin bodies, Your Grace? There are a lot of them.”

  The king paused. “Use them to fill the northern catapults and send them back from whence they came!”

  Alidyr slunk past the open door and moved on, satisfied that leaving these whelps alive would secure their own doom. The magic that had been used from somewhere inside the palace was palpable, like a thick fog that the elf had only to follow. It ultimately led him to a garden situated near the top of the palace, resting on a balcony. Of course they were here, he thought. Elves always sought out nature while harmonising with magic. It wasn't a practice Alidyr had ever adhered to, believing that the slither of Naius’ power flowing through his body was en
ough to bend magic to his will.

  At the end of the garden, by the stone rail, stood an elf in flowing grey and blue robes. Despite the wind and rain, his hair remained perfectly still and his clothes dry. A certain degree of power emanated from the elf, giving Alidyr and idea of the magic at his command. He was confident this new opponent didn't possess the same level of control and knowledge as himself, but he wasn't about to underestimate him either. If nothing else, failing to defeat the ranger, a human, time and time again gave Alidyr some degree of humility. His brothers and sister of the Hand would laugh at him if they could hear his thoughts now, though two of them had already fallen under the belief that they were invincible.

  “So you’re what passes for an elder these days...” Alidyr slowly walked up the path, between the flowers, taking no care of the relentless rain.

  “And you are what passes for a general of the Hand.” The elder turned around without any sense of alarm.

  “I am Alidyr Yalathanil, head of the Hand,” he lied. That was a title he would have to earn back, yet again.

  “I am Elder Tai’garn of King Elym’s council. But you shouldn't concern yourself with remembering my name or title. After today, you won't need to recall anything ever again.” The elder removed his hands from inside his sleeves and summoned lightning to envelop his fingers.

  “You don't scare me, boy. I was around to see your predecessors fall.” Alidyr fell into a circling motion with Tai’garn as the two sized each other up. “I will grant you a quick death, however, should you tell me where the ranger is.”

  Tai’garn came to a stop with his back to the garden, facing Alidyr in front of the rail. “Paldora’s gem is beyond your reach now. Surely this is a concept you have become familiar with…”