Alidyr couldn't count all the threats he had received in his lifetime, and so he shrugged them off like dust, but reminding him of his failures infuriated the elf. Without warning, as Tai’garn had given, Alidyr unleashed a spell with the flick of his hand, sending a wave of condensed air over the elder. Every raindrop between them was pushed towards Tai’garn, though its true force collapsed his pitiful shield and launched the elf across the garden. When he found his feet again, the rain had already soaked him through and robbed him of his regal posture.
The two locked eyes for a heated moment before dashing in opposite directions, both firing destructive spells between the hedges. Some caught fire, some froze, and others were blown from their roots. Alidyr conjured a spear of pure ice and telekinetically threw it between the small trees. Tai’garn was faster than expected, reminding Alidyr that he wasn't fighting Princess Reyna or Faylen Haldӧr. The spear of ice impaled the tree and pinned the elder’s sleeve, leaving the elf to abandon his outer robe before Alidyr could follow up with a fire spell.
Tai’garn rolled away from the flaming tree and popped up with lightning exploding from his palms. Evading the spell wasn't an option for Alidyr, close as they were, but his raised arm erected a shield strong enough to keep the bolts of energy at bay. Using the flare to conceal his free hand, the dark elf formed a ball of super-heated energy that could only be compared to lava. The spell rippled in the palm of his hand, eager to be released. In the same second Tai’garn ceased his barrage, Alidyr let fly his deadly spell. The elder dived, saving his life, but not his leg. The spell collided with his knee and melted everything through and through.
The screams were satisfying.
Alidyr strolled around the hedge and came to stand over the injured elf. “There is nothing that can save you from what is coming. Even the gods have forsaken your cause.”
Tai’garn was clamping his teeth together in what could only be searing agony. Alidyr expected no reply, least of all in the form of a spell. Roots broke free from the ground and coiled around his limbs, cutting his skin and threatening to snap the dark elf’s bones. Alidyr thrashed to release himself, but the roots only squeezed tighter, spreading all over his body, some even piercing his flesh.
The spell required to free himself was on the edge of his lips when the elder held up his hand and cast a ball of bright light. Alidyr was thrown back, taking the torn roots with him. He rolled to a stop by the railing, feeling as if he had been struck by lightning, his robes scorched and smoking. It took several moments to catch his breath when a new voice caught his attention. A bald man of dark skin came running to Tai’garn’s aid. Though dressed to fight, he was no Velian or Karathan soldier, his armour a mixture of leather and chainmail. Either way, he appeared exhausted with a brow of sweat and sagging limbs.
“Run…” Tai’garn hissed.
Alidyr was already standing again, recovered. The bald man looked about, finding the elf’s white robes easily through the rain. There it was. That look in his eyes that told Alidyr he was about to be challenged.
“Run!” Tai’garn pleaded now, himself unable to stand.
“You should have listened to him,” Alidyr said, striding to meet the man.
His first swipe was sluggish and predictable, making it even easier for Alidyr to side-step and watch the sword dig into the ground. The dark elf was more concerned with any more reprisals from Tai’garn who, despite his severe injury, had still managed to conjure a spell with a sting. The elder had lost a considerable amount of blood now, however, and his eyes rolled about his head with little control.
The human warrior came at him again and again, each attack slower than the last. Judging by the blood on his armour, Alidyr guessed the man to have come from the battle on the wall, some distance away for a man of his age. The dark elf grew tired of playing with him and snatched the man’s wrist in a vice. The bone shattered with ease and Alidyr pinned him to the tree with another hand around his neck.
“Perhaps you know of the ranger?” he teased. The truth was plain to see in his eyes. “You do know him… Asher. Tell me where he is and I will give you the same offer I gave to him.” Alidyr gestured to Tai’garn, who was all but unconscious. “A swift death is not to be overlooked. Elder Tai’garn here will testify to that before I’m finished with him.”
The bald man gargled in response. “Asher… will kill… you.”
Alidyr sighed, growing tired of the stubbornness of man. The elf decided that snapping the warrior’s neck with one hand would bring him just enough joy to keep going. A rustling from behind him gave Alidyr enough time to turn around and avoid the sword swinging for his head. The bald man dropped to the ground with his life intact, for now, while a new human faced the dark elf.
“You want to fight old men, do ya’?” the man asked, his breath detectable through the rain. “Well let’s see how you fare against this old bugger!”
Dressed in a mismatch of leather and iron armour, the old drunk came at Alidyr with notable finesse, his style that of the Graycoats. His bushy hair and long forgotten moustache had the man appear a beggar, but his swordplay was that of a knight.
“I am Kaleb Jordain, son of Rolan and a knight of the Graycoats. Let my name be remembered as -” His last words were garbled by a mouth filling with blood. Alidyr slid his diamond-tipped blade from the man’s lung and watched him fall to the ground. The rain washed the blood from his short-sword, leaving it clean again.
Confident that there were no more attackers waiting in the bushes, Alidyr turned his attention back to the bald man, collapsed in a heap under the tree. He clutched his broken wrist, staring at the dark elf with wide eyes. It wasn't fear, for that was a look he had seen many times. It was something much worse; defiance. It would take time to break his will and a great deal of pain.
He didn't have time.
The sound of several feet pounding down the corridor beside the garden reached his ears. Some were heavy, those of men, while some were light and swift. Elves! It seemed the ranger had found him, but with company in tow. With no time to finish him off, Alidyr could only offer the injured man a glare that told of his wrath and the promise of death should they ever meet again.
Pausing by the edge of the garden, Alidyr waited just a moment to see Asher run out into the rain. He was accompanied by the knight, who carried the princess in his arms, as well as Faylen, who looked to have recovered from the strains he had put on her. Alarmingly, there were two more elves, a dwarf, and a young Karathan by the look of him.
Alidyr didn't doubt his ability to slaughter them all, but the elves would prove a magical challenge and dwarves were known for their natural resistance, not to mention Asher’s immunity to any and all spells. There were too many variables to assure him that he could walk away from the confrontation with all of his limbs and the gem. What good would it do to claim the gem and die from blood loss before he could return the black crystal to its rightful master?
No, he thought. Alidyr was content to stalk his prey now he had the ranger’s scent. Velia was locked in a battle that would see them all stuck within its walls together. When the moment was right, he would strike...
39
The price of war
Nathaniel was feeling the strain of carrying Reyna all the way back up to the palace garden, but he refused to let Ezeric or Nalmar hold her. A fresh cut had blood trickling out of his sleeve, leaving a trail behind him. Everything would have to wait. Reyna needed somewhere safe to rest where hopefully Tai’garn could heal her. Thankfully, Hadavad no longer required assistance from the elves, having found her feet again on the journey through the city.
Asher was the first to stride out onto the balcony, though the ranger quickly turned it into a concerning sprint. Nathaniel couldn't make sense of what they found in the garden. The greenery was burnt, frozen, and uprooted, with several of the smaller trees set alight, their flames flickering in the rain. Sprawled out before them, on the main path, lay the still body of Kaleb Jordain. The bl
ood pooling under the ranger was kicked up by the raindrops and dispersed across his face and tattered coat.
Nathaniel had felt nothing but pity for the ranger when first they met, back in Lirian, but it filled the knight with shame seeing him now. Kaleb Jordain had been a Graycoat for many years, serving the realm, saving lives, and teaching others beneath him; he didn't deserve pity. The man’s greatest sin had been to fall in love, just as Nathaniel’s father had done.
Asher only stood over the dead ranger for a moment, his attention pulled to the largest tree, off the main path. Reyna was beginning to stir in Nathaniel’s arms, but the knight kept her firmly pressed against his body as they followed Asher under the canopy.
“Glaide!” Tauren blurted.
“I’ll live,” the old ranger replied. “See to him…”
Nathaniel turned around and saw Tai’garn lying face down in the wet grass. Disturbingly, everything below his left leg was several feet away, charred and smoking. Ezeric and Nalmar were by his side in an instant, their hands checking the elder from head-to-toe for further injury. Their calls fell on deaf ears.
“Will he live?” Faylen asked them.
“Nothing is certain,” Ezeric replied cryptically.
“How could this have happened?” Nathaniel mused. “There were Darkakin who broke through but none got this far.”
“Even if they had,” Faylen replied, “no Darkakin could best Tai’garn.”
“It wasn't a Darkakin…” The pain in Glaide’s voice was unmistakable. “He had a sword like that one.” The ranger nodded his chin at the diamond-tipped short-sword on Asher’s back. “Kaleb saved my life.”
“Alidyr…” Surprisingly, the croaky voice came from Reyna. Nathaniel looked down and found the princess alert, if a little groggy. The knight attempted to lay her down, but the elf’s feet found the ground first and he offered a supporting arm instead.
“He’s inside the walls.” Asher stood up after examining Glaide’s wrist, his gaze now fixed on the horizon of Darkakin and Northmen.
“How could he be inside the city?” Reyna asked, gripping onto Nathaniel’s shoulder to keep her steady.
“It doesn't matter now,” Asher replied, scanning the garden. “He’s here, which makes this place unsafe.”
“We can't move Elder Tai’garn,” Nalmar announced. The elf’s hand glowed from within as he rested it over the bloody stump on Tai’garn’s leg.
“And we can't stay here,” Asher argued. “We’re exposed on all sides and he knows where we rest now.”
Nathaniel agreed. The weather was already improving, with rays of sunshine poking through Tai’garn’s dying spell and the rain had taken a lighter touch, but the garden was no place to find rest. They needed shelter from the elements as well as Alidyr’s blade in the back.
“We won't find any refuge in the palace,” the knight explained. “Too many ways in and out.”
Asher met his eyes. “You have an idea.”
Nathaniel nodded, pleased that the ranger could read him so well. “The Graycoat sector house isn't that far from here. It will be filled with warriors, warriors capable enough to give Alidyr pause before attacking again.”
Ezeric scoffed. “You believe that one so powerful enough to defeat an elder would hesitate to attack a few wounded knights?”
“He fled when he heard you coming,” Glaide said through the pain. “I’d say adding a few more to our number won't hurt.”
“Bah!” Doran snorted. “Let the shit taste my axe! I say we stay and wait for the coward to return.”
The distant booming drew everyone’s attention to the vista beyond the balcony. The catapults had continued their assault on the gates with renewed vigour.
“The countdown begins again,” Reyna whispered absently.
“It won't be long before we’re fighting in the streets,” Hadavad observed. “That shield is fading fast.”
Nathaniel was about to push for the sector house when he noticed Reyna wobbling. The knight reached out and steadied her with both hands while taking the opportunity to shoot Faylen a concerned glance. The older elf nodded her agreement that the princess needed rest. They all did.
“We’re going to the sector house,” Faylen stated boldly, her eyes meeting with Asher’s. The ranger would be the only one who found little in the way of a welcome among the Graycoats.
Asher offered no protest, but the elves squared their jaws in defiance and made no effort to leave.
Reyna stepped away from Nathaniel and turned on her kin. “You’ve never faced Alidyr, so when Asher offers you advice you take it. Staying here will be the end of us. Nathaniel’s right; the Graycoats will give us shelter and make Alidyr’s life that much harder. And from now on, if Faylen gives you an order, assume it’s from me.”
The princess’ tone brought a smile to Nathaniel’s face, an action he couldn't remember doing for some time. Reyna wobbled again only this time Hadavad intercepted her, offering an arm.
“Allow me,” the mage said. “It’s the very least I can do. You saved my life, after all.”
“My head’s just a little… heavy,” Reyna replied, massaging her eyes.
Asher and Tauren assisted Glaide and picked up the old ranger’s sword for him. Jonus Glaide was a fighter, proven by the very fact that he was still alive after years of hunting monsters in the dark, but his hand was bent at an awkward angle and two of his fingers appeared crushed. There was no way any of them could rely on him in the next battle, and there would be a next battle.
Doran crouched over Kaleb’s body and gently closed the man’s eyes. “May Grarfath and Yamnomora find room for ye in their hall, laddy…”
Nathaniel wanted to give the exiled Graycoat the burial he deserved, but they were still at war and locked inside the city’s grounds; all burials would have to wait. Nathaniel found some sense of closure, however, knowing that Kaleb Jordain had died with his honour intact.
The streets of Velia were lined with bodies. The red cloaks of dead Velians decorated cobbled roads in neat rows. Despite their beaten and bloodied appearance, they had all been positioned with care, each looking to have found some peace in the afterlife. It wasn't enough to convince Nathaniel, who only recalled their violent end on the battlements.
Women ran up and down the streets, wives frantically searching for the bodies of their husbands. Children crouched over the still chests of their fathers, sobbing into the Sigil of the wolf. The soldiers that remained soon found their way to the streets as well, hoping to pay respects to their fallen brothers.
Smoke rose beyond the wall in a thick column, its volume increased every time a new fireball smashed into Tai’garn’s shield. It drifted on the breeze and filled the city, making it even harder to navigate. The smoke couldn't hide the bodies though. Nathaniel assumed that only the main street down the middle of Velia would be lined with the lost, but there were so many that the side streets had been used to clear the battlements. Among them were Graycoats, each laid to rest with their sword on their chest. It was enough to bring tears to the knight’s eyes. He recognised every one of them, and though he hadn't gotten along with them all, he knew they were good people.
Tauren paused over the first body they came across in a black cloak. After a second glance, Nathaniel recognised the man too; General Kail of the Karathan army. The man had been slashed across the face, but his mortal injury had been a sword that found the gap in his armour. Tauren closed the man’s eyes and offered a silent prayer, though the southerner had no tears of his own, only a steely expression of resignation.
“It’s here,” Asher called from the front.
Nathaniel remembered the last time they had entered this particular sector house. The memory brought back images of Elaith Nevandar, his ward, and the knight couldn't help but smile. The young Graycoat had quite the wit and a sense of honour most would never achieve. Of course, the last time they had visited this building, Nathaniel had been escorting Asher to Darius Devale, so that he might present
the ranger to King Rengar.
Those had been simpler times, but looking at Reyna, Nathaniel knew that those times were missing something. He had never known love as he did now, and the princess filled a void in his life he hadn't known he was missing.
Faylen stepped in front of the green, oak door, blocking Asher. “Perhaps I should knock…”
The Graycoat that opened the door was the same wide-set knight who had greeted them a lifetime ago. His block of a head was now scarred from the battle and one of his eyes was sealed shut beneath a purple swelling.
“We seek shelter,” Faylen said.
The big knight looked more confused than he normally did, but he still stepped aside and allowed them entrance. Inside they found maybe a hundred Graycoats, most of which were nursing wounds. The large foyer and surrounding balcony fell silent when the companions entered, carrying wounded of their own. The first to meet them was Ned Fennick, whose only injury was the broken nose and bruised eyes given to him by Asher.
“You survive unscathed yet again,” Nathaniel was surprised by his own words, yet they still left his mouth.
Fennick sneered and took two steps in the knight’s direction, only to find his path blocked by Asher. “If you’re getting into a fight with anyone you can bet it’s going to be me…” the ranger growled.
Lord Marshal Horvarth spoke before Fennick could reply. “What is the meaning of this?” The commander placed a firm hand on Fennick’s shoulder and pulled him back. “These are guests in our house.” Horvarth looked from Ned to Nathaniel. “And guests should know it’s rude to pick fights.”
Reyna inserted herself with a diplomatic tone. “Lord Marshal, we have come seeking shelter that the palace cannot grant.”
“You will find it here, of course, My Lady.”
“I would be honest with you,” Reyna continued. “We are hunted by an enemy more powerful than any Darkakin and he is inside the walls. You risk the lives of your knights by letting us stay.”
Relic of the Gods: (Echoes of Fate Book 3) Page 33