by Ben Hale
“Well done,” Ferin said, passing him by. “I didn’t even see him.”
“And I didn’t hear him,” Toala said, her eyes on Alydian.
“A plant mage has many friends,” Alydian said, gesturing to the forest.
Grogith grunted. “Keep an eye out for more sentries.”
They encountered one more sentry and Alydian did the same to her. Leaving her trapped, the group advanced to the end of the canyon, where the gnome brought them to a halt.
“There should be forty bandits,” he said, his raspy voice annoyed yet somehow eager. “Cast your entities and send them out front. Alethean, use the canyon walls if they charge us.”
Alydian called on a nearby tree and cast a treewalker. The small oak shuddered and pulled free from the earth, its roots tearing from the soil to leave a gaping hole in the ground. As the tree lumbered to the head of their group, Toala cast a large cat while Ferin drew his sword.
“I’ll cover the rear flank,” he said, drawing his dagger. If any get past you, I’ll cut them down.”
“Are we here to capture or kill?” Toala asked.
“Commander Othan said we have the option,” Ferin said. “But it sounded like he’d prefer we carry out the execution orders.”
Grogith’s narrow face split into a rare smile. “If he wants us to kill, we capture.”
Ferin smothered a laugh. “You won’t make a very good Runeguard if you enjoy defying your officers.”
Grogith almost smiled. Almost. Then he stabbed his dagger down into the canyon. “Don’t get yourselves killed.”
“A resounding speech, my captain,” Ferin said with a quiet laugh.
Alydian smiled despite her nervousness and fell into step beside him. The treewalker groaned and creaked as it ambled down the canyon, its branches scratching against the walls. The ground had been cut to allow an easier egress for horses, and hoof prints were visible in the dirt. As they advanced Alydian’s heart accelerated in her chest, thumping against her ribs as if it wanted to escape. Around a bend in the canyon a smattering of voices was audible, followed by an easy laugh. Then abruptly another sound shattered the stillness.
A scream.
Chapter 30: Alethean’s Choice
Ferin and Toala surged forward and Alydian followed suit, diving into the ethereal mists. Wreathed in the greenish fog, her treewalker lumbered around a bend in the deepening canyon and disappeared. Alydian reached the same corner and her footsteps faltered, her jaw falling open.
They’d expected less than forty bandits, but more than a hundred men and women stood around several campfires. The firelight pierced the mist and reflected off the dark walls of the canyon. Shouts rang out and someone barked orders.
Alydian saw rage, desperation, and fear in their eyes, but she was also oddly aware of their clothing. They wore makeshift armor from animal skins and pieces of metal, the garments a patchwork of broken gear intended to keep them protected from blades. Their hair was mottled and dirty, their hands darkened by soot and soil. Most were on their feet with sword in hand, still uncertain of the threat. As more caught sight of the treewalker another entity appeared on the opposite side, a huge reaver of pure fire. It snarled and pawed the ground even as an entity of rock appeared in the mist of the final canyon.
For an instant, the bandits stood rigid. Then their ranks exploded into chaos. They surged toward the three canyons, howling in desperate fury. Alydian directed her treewalker at the first line of men and the entity swung its limbs. They were knocked into the walls where they crumpled and fell, their swords falling from unconscious hands. But the sheer number of bandits swarmed the treewalker and hacked at its roots, splitting wood and causing the entity to stumble. Other bandits streamed past the battle and struck at Ferin and Toala.
Alydian turned her whole attention on the bandits cascading toward her. She’d expected to fight a handful but instead faced dozens, all screaming and swinging swords and axes. She went to cast a sword of light before remembering that Alethean could not use light magic. Stumbling back, she fought to remember her training, fear stripping her of magic. A man noticed her weakness and charged, swinging his sword for her chest.
Grogith grabbed her armor and yanked her back, stepping in to deflect the blow. In a smooth motion he darted in, plunging his dagger into the bandits’ heart before twisting free and striking at another.
“Rise and fight!” he barked at Alydian.
The order galvanized her to action and she called upon her body magic. Although weaker than her other magics, she cast an agility charm. Then she called on the stones at her feet, summoning a giant spider of dirt. Four of the hands held swords, while the pincers themselves were as sharp as a blade. The spider assembled above her head, its legs as tall as she was. Clacking its pincers, it skittered across the ground, its swords spinning into groups of bandits.
Alydian leapt in pursuit, drawing on the earth once again, casting a sword in her hand. With the agility charm active, she deftly wove between their attacks, catching the stragglers that her spider had not knocked down. She struck at head and back, seeking to subdue rather than kill. Then a woman appeared.
She was young and short, her expression wild with fear and anger. Alydian hesitated, her charge faltering. She twisted to the side, permitting the woman an avenue of escape. Instead the bandit darted to Alydian, screaming as she drove a knife toward Alydian’s side.
Alydian sucked in her breath and instinctively swung her weapon, the blade catching the woman on the head, sending her to the ground, lifeless. Alydian stared at the body, struggling with the sight of the kill. The oracle in her balked at what she’d done, but the acolyte in her hardened her heart. The woman had sought to kill her, and chosen her fate.
Alydian forced herself to turn away and return to the battle. Bandits were everywhere, and Ferin fought three at once, blood seeping from wounds on his shoulder and arm. Toala was on the ground behind him, holding her side as she used her cat entity to keep the bandits at bay. It shrieked, the sound reverberating in the confines of the canyon like a thunderclap, causing friend and foe to wince.
Grogith had taken refuge next to the spider, his dagger striking from the darkness at anyone attempting to down the giant arachnid. With the treewalker cut and on the ground, Alydian stood alone as a score of bandits rushed her.
Months of training had honed her reflexes and she yielded to them. She called on the stone beneath her feet, launching herself into the air. With the agility spell active she rebounded off the wall, striking at the bandits from above.
They cried out in surprise as her blows sent them to the earth. She alighted amid a trio of bandits and they came at her. She kicked the ground, causing a wave of dirt to send one slamming into the canyon wall, binding her fast. Then she spun and deflected an incoming sword, using the momentum to spin past him and strike the third. Dropping agility for speed, she overwhelmed their defenses just as another quartet reached her.
She looked to the ground at her feet and it opened, swallowing her as blades shredded her shadow. The dirt carried her to the side and then spit her out, directly behind the bandits. Dirt rose and trapped their feet, and she took advantage of their astonishment, striking them down before their blades could find her flesh.
She fought with skill and courage, and part of her relished the sense of freedom and triumph. But the emotion was marred by regret. For every one she managed to leave alive, two lay dead in her wake, and with each new corpse, a part of her died as well.
With the spider clearing the way, Alydian managed to reach the main camp, where a furious battle waged around the campfires. Tents were shredded and burning, while crates of food were shattered, their contents spilled and trodden into the bloody soil.
The other two acolyte patrols fought without mercy or reserve, their magic cutting the bandits asunder. Alydian struggled to suppress her hatred as she watched the Verinai acolytes kill, their expressions lit by dark excitement.
Alydian took half a step
toward the Verinai but a bandit stepped into her path and swung a sword. She deflected it at the last moment. He persisted, growling as he drove his sword for her throat.
“I will not hang,” he snarled.
“How many have you killed?” she countered.
“It’s about to be one more,” he snarled, and darted in.
The spider got to him first, catching him about the waist with its pincers. They closed once and then the spider tossed his remains aside before charging a knot of crossbow wielding bandits, forcing them to turn to the entity. The arrows dug into the spider but could not do enough damage to stop it. Alydian turned away as it struck.
The spider rampaged across the battlefield, by far the largest of the entities. Alydian wanted to dismiss the magic but knew she couldn’t. Even with the dead bandits, the acolytes were still outnumbered by a wide margin, and two of the Verinai lay on the ground, unmoving.
Abruptly sick of the bloodshed, Alydian looked for an escape, and spotted Holan’s reaver charging gleefully into a knot of bandits, striking at the large man in their midst. As it tore the Black Shroud apart, Alydian made her way toward the reaver, using her magic to reach out to the entity, calling it to her.
It turned, its head swiveling to the side like a dog hearing its master whistle. Out of the corner of her eye, Alydian saw Holan’s expression turn confused as his entity disobeyed him, and Alydian felt a surge of vindication as her will overpowered Holan’s.
She engaged a pair of bandits wielding clubs, striking at one as the reaver came at her. She prepared the magic that would flood her own flesh, keeping her from being burned even as the flames lifted and launched her out of the canyon. She counted the seconds, for the first time excited to abandon the acolyte persona.
Then she spotted her.
Across the distance a woman fought Commander Othan. With a savageness that rivaled any beast, she dived through the Verinai, her black sword cutting the entities apart and plunging into Verinai flesh. They screamed in shock and pain and turned on her, bringing the might of their magic upon the bandit.
Amid the maelstrom of battle Alydian paused at the flicker of recognition. She didn’t know her, but there was something about her movements that reminded her of someone. Her hair was such a striking red . . .
Alydian’s surprise almost cost her magic. The last time Alydian had seen the woman she had been standing beside the Soldier, and she too had been wearing a mask. Only her hair had been visible. She was Red, Raiden’s lieutenant and a member of the Defiant.
She instinctively took a step toward the woman before her hesitation brought her to a halt. In an instant Alydian recognized her decision. She could allow the fire reaver to engulf her and escape, or she could remain and save the woman’s life. Surrounded by Verinai and wounded, Red shrieked her fury, and Alydian didn’t need her farsight to see that her death was upon her. But the fire entity was nearly at her throat, and Alydian sensed she would not get a second chance.
She could save a life.
Or save her own.
Alydian’s hesitation evaporated and she relinquished her hold on Holan’s fire entity, leaving it to stumble in confusion. She knew instinctively that if she intervened to save Red’s life the Verinai would brand Alethean a traitor, so she knelt and plunged her fists into the stone.
Her hands sank into rock as if it was soft cheese, and the ground rippled away from her. Gathering her might, Alydian called on the earth, summoning it to her will. The ground shuddered, trembling and rising.
Bandits shouted in triumph and converged on her kneeling form. Deep in the thrall of her sight, she saw the depths of the canyon in shocking clarity. Every pebble, every crack, all answered her summons.
Stone jaws exploded from the ground, rising and snapping shut on the bandits around her, encasing them in stone to the neck. Surging from the ground in an expanding ring, the jaws trapped the bandits where they stood.
Bandits cried out and sought to flee but more jaws opened beneath their feet, enshrouding them mid-step. Weapons tumbled from their hands as stone swallowed their arms, leaving fingers to wiggle helplessly.
The stone jaws engulfed bandits in every direction, shutting them into cages. Verinai leapt back in fear but the jaws did not reach for them. At the furthest from her position, the last jaws snapped shut around Red—just as Erona’s sword struck her back. The lightcast blade shattered on the stone, leaving Red trapped but alive.
The battle came to an abrupt end as the Verinai stared about in astonishment. Some had been on the verge of a kill before the bandits were suddenly entombed. Other bandits lay on the ground, the stone closing off their wounds, keeping them alive. Bound in rock, the bandits struggled in vain.
All eyes turned to Alydian as she rose to her feet. The display of power far surpassed anything she’d done as an acolyte, or even as an oracle. Her pride was tempered when she spotted Commander Othan’s features. The elf strode to her, his expression wary.
“Acolyte,” he said. “Care to explain yourself?”
A wave of nausea flooded Alydian, the first sign of magesickness. Her vision blurred as the world began to spin. “Perhaps after I wake up,” she said, and then slumped to the ground. The last image she saw was of Commander Othan standing over her, his expression inscrutable.
Chapter 31: Seeking the Lost
Raiden rode north and passed Dawnskeep on the western side. After the harrowing escape from the elven fortress he should have been fidgety and nervous, but the idea that Alydian was keeping an eye on his future brought a sense of calm he had not felt in years.
He joined a merchant caravan headed northeast and shared meals with them. Because the tale of Rualia would spread soon enough, he shared his version of the events over the evening fire, making certain to paint the Verinai in the light they deserved.
With the rumors seeded among the travelers, he split off and made his way to the swamp directly north of Dawnskeep. From there he worked his way through the secret path until he arrived at the oak refuge. The moment he stepped onto the mound Jester intercepted him.
“Red has not returned.”
Raiden’s calm evaporated, and he gestured to the camp. “She should have returned a week ago. Are you certain she didn’t leave a message?”
“Perhaps she found a love and decided to remain?” He laughed without humor.
“She could have been delayed,” Raiden said, but doubted that to be true. Red was an unpredictable woman, but never failed to send a message. Then he spotted Jester’s pack, still full and leaning against an oak tree.
“You want to go after her,” he said.
“Don’t you?” Jester asked, a frown creasing his features. “I’m not leaving her to the Verinai.”
Raiden heard a flicker of evasiveness in the assassin’s voice and wondered if he had an ulterior motive. On impulse, he agreed. “Let’s go.”
Jester stooped and gathered his pack before kicking dirt on the sputtering fire. By the time they exited the swamp and came to the road, the sky had darkened. By unspoken accord they did not halt, and pushed through the night.
Shortly before dawn they came to a small human village. Exhausted, they paid for rooms in the inn before pressing on the next morning, this time with a pair of rented steeds. As they worked their way southwest Raiden shared the tale of his escape, and Alydian’s help.
He spoke in great detail, drawing out the tale as much as possible. When he finished, Jester speculated on Alydian’s motivations and the two fell to talking about the oracle as an ally. Raiden recognized they were both avoiding talk of Red, but neither steered the conversation back to her.
Raiden had always expected one of them to perish, but they had escaped the jaws of death so many times that he’d secretly begun to think they would survive together. Despite his effort to distance himself from them, they were like his family. If Red had died . . .
He jerked his head and focused on the Sea of Grass, the green strands bending harshly as the wind pick
ed up. The sky heralded a storm, and they just managed to reach Greenwood before it broke.
Huddling in the tree line, Raiden watched the storm unleash a deluge of rain upon the Sea of Grass. Without refuge or shelter, the Sea of Grass lay frighteningly empty, it’s rolling hills left to bear the brunt of the storm’s fury.
Raiden shifted his cloak and cowl so it covered more of him from the rain, and then entered the darkened trees of Greenwood. Visibility was hampered by the storm and mist. Cautious and slow, they worked their way through the mud.
Empowered by the rain, the mist seeped into Raiden’s clothing, bringing a chill that sank to his bones. He shivered and focused on the image of Red appearing through the trees ahead of them, her expression annoyed that they had not waited for her. It was a vain hope but one he clung to.
They camped under a fallen tree, using its bulk for a makeshift shelter. Without magic, the drenched wood refused to light, forcing them to forego a fire. The night was dark and miserable, and they spoke little.
By dawn the storm had abated, to a degree, and they pressed on. Raiden chewed on a strip of cured meat as they pressed through the dismal forest. Jester had fallen silent, and a glance revealed his features rigid and dark, an expression uncharacteristic for the assassin.
The rain persisted throughout the day, and shortly after noon they came to the first sign of the bandit camp. Raiden had met the Black Shroud once as the Soldier, and knew where the sentry would be. But when they came to the tree they found it torn from the ground, leaving an impression in the earth. The hole had filled with water in the storm, and a flash of lightning reflected off the water’s surface, revealing the imprint of a body.
They exchanged a look and slipped into the trees. In silence they advanced through misty forest until the ravine came into view. Instead of making their way to one of the three entrances, Raiden crept his way to the edge overlooking the heart of the camp, and eased himself forward until he could peer over.