Each Light Blade began saddling the war-beasts used by outriders, although these were larger than the ones he’d seen previously.
Zaune sauntered over, one eyebrow lifting as he watched the proceedings. “Are we expected to ride them?”
“Looks like it.” Varian pointed his chin to the left. “Arek’s ordered each to be double saddled.”
Six of the behemoths stood shoulder to shoulder, their tri-horned snouts tethered to the hitching post. Fur coated their hides in coarse waves, but in winter it grew into tightly curled ringlets, giving them a shaggy appearance but one that kept them warm and dry and was able to stand up to the worst the mountains could throw at them. This close to them, the musty oil secreted by the beasts that gave their hides waterproofing was quite strong.
Thick muscles rippled beneath their hides, from shoulder to haunch, their broad backs well accustomed to bearing the weight of two riders. Large brown eyes gave them a docile appearance, but they were hardy animals and their endurance over distances more than made up for their lack of speed.
Arek wasn’t a small man, but next to his beast he looked like a stripling youth. He crouched down beside his mount and unfettered its front legs, then lifted each clawed hoof, checking between the segmented toes for debris. It took two to lift the double-seated saddle onto its back, but in less than a minute, the straps were secured around its body.
The Chosen’s Second threw his saddle-pouch over the handle-grip between the two seats, then turned toward them. “Choose your beast and mount up.”
Varian headed for the blond warrior. “You realize none of us have ridden before.”
“Won’t take long to learn, Na’Chi.” His mischievous grin didn’t reassure him. “Just hang on to the handle-grip until you get the feel of their gait, and use your thighs to steady yourself. Rely on your shoulders and they’ll be sore in an hour.”
Instructions delivered, the human placed a booted foot against a large calloused pad of skin behind the beast’s knee and gripped the edge of the saddle. With a half hop, he sprang upward, and in one twisting movement, ended up seated in the front saddle.
He leaned down to offer Varian his hand. “Use his back knee, just like I did.”
Varian clasped Arek’s forearm and within a few seconds was seated behind the warrior. The saddle proved quite comfortable, the seat more padded than he’d first expected, and the handle-grip between them helped balance him while he settled. It was an odd feeling sitting a man’s height off the ground.
“Ready?” Kalan called. Each Light Blade replied with an affirmative. “Move out. Double-time once we clear Southgate.”
Once outside the city, the pace picked up to a ground-eating gait. For the first quarter hour, Varian struggled with the intricacies of balance and rhythm. He ignored the first half-dozen amused looks Arek shot over his broad shoulder.
“Just let the rocking motion of the animal become your own!” the Light Blade warrior advised.
“You’re enjoying this, aren’t you?” The growl in his tone just made the warrior laugh.
“Come on, Varian, after all those weeks you goaded me in scout training?” The human’s grin matched the brightness of the midday sun. “Welcome to my world, Na’Chi.”
That deserved a jab in the ribs, but he was too busy trying to follow the advice and avoid bruising his buttocks any more than he had to. Eventually though he worked out the rhythm and was able to focus on the countryside.
From the city, they headed in a southwesterly direction, following the valley plateau. The terrain was mostly tundra scattered with patches of tufty grass and open stretches of hard-packed ground. Ahead the plateau petered off into undulating plains covered in more varied vegetation. The Lower Crags curved away from them to the west.
“Where are we headed?” He had to raise his voice to be heard over the drumming thud of clawed hooves.
“Toward a little village called Ostare.” Arek pointed to a wooded area on the plains. “That forest extends all the way to the border. The Na’Reish use it as cover to get into three Provinces undetected.”
Varian shaded his eyes from the glare of the midday sun. A white haze hung low over the green-tinged grassland to the left of the forest. “Arek, there’s smoke ahead.”
The warrior straightened, his thighs clamping tightly around the thick body of his mount as he rose from the saddle to peer into the distance. After a moment’s observation, he let out a piercing whistle that attracted Kalan’s attention. He signaled the patrol to a walk and passed on the information.
“If Ostare’s been attacked, then it’s only been in the last half hour. There’s so little wind today, we should have seen plumes of smoke if it’d happened any earlier.” Kalan’s expression hardened. “We pick up the pace. Arek and Varian, you’re scouts. The rest of us will stay mounted when we reach the village.”
A quarter hour more and they could see black smoke beginning to billow into the sky as whatever fire had been started began consuming denser materials. By the time they reached the village, a score of thatched crofts, there was little doubt it’d been raided.
Debris spilled out of the huts: smashed tables, scattered clothing and blankets, shattered pottery. Animal pen gates lay ajar, some broken, others ripped from their hinges. Stock lay slaughtered inside; very few wandered free.
A cold shiver went down Varian’s spine as he scanned their surroundings. Other than the hungry crackling of flames consuming several of the houses, and the acrid scent of smoke saturating the air, the place was ominously silent. Seemingly empty.
Arek drew their beast to a halt and slid from the saddle. Varian dropped down beside him, landing lightly. The change in the human warrior was startling. The mischievous glint and lighthearted visage were gone, replaced by something more glacial, harder, and much fiercer. Deadly. His scent was spicy sharp, underscored with an ice-cold bite.
Passing the reins to the warrior closest, Arek caught his eye, pointed to the hut directly ahead of them, then arced his finger to the right. Varian nodded as he drew his dagger and took the lead.
Rounding the first mud-walled hut, Varian halted and threw up an arm, his fist clenched. Arek halted. A thin, barefooted leg lay sticking out of the doorway. Another stride and he crouched close to the doorway and peered inside. His gaze narrowed as he inhaled the heavy, metallic stench of blood and other bodily fluids. The odor stung his nostrils.
“Three dead, a woman and two young children,” he stated, voice low, expressionless. He ducked under the low frame. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust to the dimly lit interior. Keeping his breathing shallow, he knelt next to the first body.
No matter how many times he witnessed death, particularly those who were innocent or unable to defend themselves like this crofter family, each left a dry ashlike taste in his mouth.
He tilted the young boy’s head back with his finger. His heart started to pound. The Na’Reish had been here. Even in the dimmer light of the hut’s interior, nothing could hide the bloody holes on his neck.
“This child has teeth marks on his neck.”
Arek entered the hut, his expression bleak, his mouth set in a grim line. He stepped past him and searched the other two bodies, another young boy, possibly only two or three years of age, and an older woman, most likely their maternal elder.
“These two have been drained as well,” the human said.
Varian knew then any others they found would most likely be of similar ages and share the same fate as these three. The Na’Hord patrol the outrider had spotted was a raiding party, and those taken alive from Ostare would be fit, healthy, and able to maintain the fast pace the raiders set in their retreat to the border. Breath hissed between his teeth.
Arek’s tone was brusque. “Let’s check the rest of the village and report back to Kalan.”
The rest of their search turned up fourteen more bodies, all elderly or very young, all bearing the same teeth marks on their throats or wrists.
Returning to
the others, Arek related what they’d found. As he finished, Varian surveyed the ground to their left.
“The Na’Hord patrol went this way,” he announced, and pointed out the faint tracks pressed into the dirt on a worn trail that led away from the village to the nearby forest. “There’s fresh Vorc scat and human footprints, maybe a dozen people. Shall I track them?”
“Go with him, Arek,” Kalan ordered. “We’ll follow. This is one Na’Hord patrol that won’t be making it back to the border.”
Chapter 21
VARIAN ghosted through the forest just ahead of him, slipping from one form of cover to another with such skill Arek lost track of him more than once. While his scouting skills had improved since training with the Na’Chi, this display just raised his respect for them several notches. No wonder they’d survived for so long in Na’Reish territory undetected.
Crouching behind a moss-covered tree stump, Arek scanned the trail ahead. The temperature beneath the thick canopy of mature trees provided welcome relief from being out in the sun. The lack of heat meant the ground retained its moisture, so the tracks they were following were easy to detect in the spongy soil.
Puzzling though, the Na’Hord patrol had made no effort to cover their passing. Pulling his dagger from its sheath, Arek carved an arrow on the western side of the stump. A marker for Kalan and the others who followed a hundred paces behind.
Movement from the corner of his eye halted his actions. Varian stepped from behind a thicket of thorny-woods and covered the remaining distance between them on silent feet.
“There’s a clearing ahead.” He kept his voice low. “The Na’Hord are camped there. A full unit. And nineteen humans.” His lip curled. “After scouting around the clearing, I was able to get within a dozen strides of the one warrior they’d posted as a lookout. With such complacency, we should be able to ambush them.”
Arek’s gut tightened. Why were the Na’Reish being so careless? Their behavior just didn’t make sense. Now would be a good time to strike though, while they were stationary. On the move, there were other variables like mounted Vorc-Riders to consider. Camped as they were, the deadly Na’Reish mounts would be muzzled and tethered. One less risk to contend with.
“Mark out a map while I get the others.” Arek tapped the ground with the tip of his dagger, then sheathed it. “We’re going to need to leave the war-beasts behind while we carry out the ambush.”
He returned with the others several minutes later. All twelve of them crouched around Varian’s map, and the Na’Chi warrior filled them in on what lay ahead.
“As your people have more experience in this sort of operation, it’s yours to lead, Varian,” Kalan declared. Arek lifted an eyebrow while the other Light Blades made sounds of surprise, earning themselves a glare from the Chosen. “I want those farmers rescued, and the Na’Chi clearly have the advantage in this sort of environment.”
Bending once more over the map, Varian issued his orders to each pair of Light Blades and Na’Chi.
“The two extra warriors”—and here he pointed at Arek and Kalan—“will be free to assist where needed after Zaune takes out the sentry. All clear?”
Adrenaline surged through Arek as each of them checked their weapons and armor. This time, just like every other occasion he’d faced the Na’Reish, he thought of his parents. Had they felt the thrill of the rush in the minutes before battle? The sense of rightness knowing what you were involved in was what you were born to do?
His memories of them had dulled over the passage of time. Occasionally a scent or a sensation would trigger a memory of them, but he recalled little of their physical features. Savyr’s vengeful machinations left him without a mother from three years of age, and he’d lost his father to grief over her death not long after. He’d grown up hearing deeds of their service from others who’d known them, although many bitter reminders from his grandfather on how the Na’Reish had destroyed both their lives had balanced them.
So while serving as a Light Blade warrior was his calling, his life’s ambition involved killing every Na’Reish demon he could sink his blade into.
Threading his way through the mature forest to the clearing and Na’Hord patrol, Arek touched the amulet around his neck. Lady, protect Your children and bring us safely home. A ritual prayer he always recited before a skirmish.
The group slowed once they were in sight of the clearing, going to their bellies to take advantage of the cover provided by the uneven ground or fallen or dead tree debris. Every so often the murmur of conversation or raucous laughter drifted toward them on the gentle breeze.
Varian signaled a halt and they all waited as Zaune disappeared into the undergrowth. A short time later he returned, his eyes reflecting the crimson glow of his Gift, and he nodded to Varian. The sentry had been taken care of.
Varian gestured in several directions, and each Light Blade/Na’Chi pair split off to take up their position. Heart thumping double-time, Arek peered through the underbrush where he and Kalan crouched behind a thick stand of young saplings.
In the small clearing, nine Na’Reish demons lounged around in various poses of relaxation. Some sat on dead logs pulled into a rough semicircle; others reclined on the leaf-littered ground.
Arek frowned. Their relaxed demeanor said they weren’t in any hurry to leave human territory. Raids for blood-slaves were usually exercises in stealth and speed. Why weren’t they fleeing for the border? Surely they weren’t so confident they thought they’d managed an invasion without being detected?
His innards grew cold as one of the Na’Reish ambled toward the group of men and women huddled around the base of a needle-tree. The demon was at least seven feet tall, all brawny muscle from his thick shoulders right down to his long, powerful legs.
His heavily boned face was broad, rugged, but with an aristocratic flare to his cheekbones. Deep purple eyes surveyed everything around him with the arrogance of an upper-born Lordling. As his gaze settled on the crofters, his black lips peeled back into a malevolent smile, revealing pointed teeth sharp enough to shred flesh.
How many humans had the demon killed to feed his hunger for blood? Arek’s gut heaved as he fisted his hands. He controlled it with the thought that by the time the sun set, this Na’Reish warrior would never feed on any human again.
Black-mottled markings ran down either side of the demon’s face, matching the color of his long hair, and disappeared beneath the edge of his body armor. The same mottled effect covered his bare arms. The segmented sections of his chest plate fit together in a pattern that reminded Arek of the leathery hide of a ground-burrower. A sheathed sword lay strapped to his hip.
As the only one wearing armor of such fine quality, this demon had to be the Na’Hord leader, a Na’Reishi, one of the upper class. The others wore a collection of mismatching pieces and were most likely members from the Na’Reishu and Na’Reisha castes in the Lordling’s Clan.
The Na’Reishi leader stopped a few steps from the crofters, hands hooked into his sword belt, his legs braced wide as he surveyed them all. He pointed at one of the younger women.
“You, female, come to me.” The deep, gravelly command drew frightened cries from some in the group. The woman in question curled in on herself, her arms wrapping around her head in a protective manner.
Cold fury ripped up Arek’s spine. The Na’Reishi wanted her for one of two reasons, and by the way he was unbuckling his armor, it wasn’t for use as a blood-slave. Arek reached for the hilt of his sword.
A hand clamped down over his.
“Easy, Second,” Kalan murmured.
“He’s going to rape her.” His reply came from between clenched teeth.
“Wait for Varian’s signal. Give the others a chance to get into place.”
The demon peeled the segmented chest plate over his head and dropped it to the ground. His vambraces followed.
Arek’s mouth flattened. Fury ignited in his blood. “We can’t let him hurt her….”
An
undulating war cry split the air. Cold, furious anticipation blasted through Arek as he drew his sword. Kalan was right beside him as they tore through the undergrowth, and the others exploded into the clearing, homing in on their targets.
Caught unprepared, the Na’Reish scrambled to meet their attack.
Arek watched astounded as each Na’Chi warrior launched into a barehanded assault on their intended victim. What each lacked in height and brawn as compared to their opponent, they made up for in speed, agility, and guile. Every move, every feint was designed to distract so their Light Blade partner could approach from behind.
“Arek! Kalan!” Varian yelled and pointed.
The Na’Reishi commander grappled with Jinnae, one of the younger Na’Chi scouts. His arm lay wrapped around her throat. Lifting her off her feet, he used her as a shield against her partner.
Kalan went left, and he went right as they converged to help. The demon threw the young Na’Chi woman across the clearing with a roar. With a scraping hiss, he pulled his sword from its sheath.
Arek kept his attention on the demon, unable to check if Jinnae was all right.
“Light Blades!” The snarl was accompanied by a deadly grin. “Your blood will sate my hunger tonight.”
Kalan’s grin was just as cold. “You can try, demon.”
Arek called on his Gift as the Na’Reishi engaged his friend. He and Jole, the other Light Blade, provided distraction as the sound of metal meeting metal and the cries of battle rang throughout the clearing.
Peripherally, Arek tracked his surroundings. To his right, Vorc growled and tore at their tethers, but the chain-lines held. Thank the Lady for that, as the Na’Reish trained their beasts to attack humans on sight.
Arek feinted with his sword. The Na’Reishi turned away from Jole. The demon’s parry sent vicious vibrations up the length of his arm. The familiar power of Kalan’s Gift surged. He lunged under the demon’s guard, his sword piercing beneath his left ribcage.
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