"You can't control everything," Rogan said. "You're right, you're being arrogant, but not because you thought the city was safe. You're being arrogant because you think that the destiny of other people can be controlled by your actions. You aren't all-powerful, Miro."
"It's my fault," Miro said.
"You're probably going to believe that you made a mistake no matter what I say," Rogan said. "So I'll just say what I've always said. You learn from your mistakes and you move on."
Miro looked up at Rogan, whispering as realisation dawned. "I never knew I took those words from you."
Rogan clasped Miro's shoulder. "What are you going to do?" he asked.
"I keep losing the people I love. First it was Ella, when that scratched Hazaran Jehral took her from me, and now it's Amber, the woman I want to be my wife. Rogan, I have to find her." Miro looked down at the floor. "Something happened in the prison camp, something she didn't tell me. I could see it in her eyes. Her disappearance must have something to do with it. If Tiesto discovers her here in Ralanast, he can keep her safe for me, but there are many who can search this city. If the enemy have her, they will have taken her to Torakon."
"Miro, if that's the case, your chances of finding her are slim," Rogan said.
"I have to try," Miro said. "Rogan, you will be commander in my place. I know I'll be leaving the men in the best of hands. I give you my word that I'll be back as soon as I can."
45
"STOP," Prince Ilathor said. "Do not move a muscle."
Ella froze, half-way through cupping water from the little pool in her hands to splash on her face. She looked sidelong at where the prince was slowly reaching forward to the flat rock beside her, and then with horror recognized the dark shape basking in the sun.
Ella's eyes grew wide and she held her entire body rigid. The prince reached forward and with incredibly fast reflexes he snatched at the long shape. A moment later he held the snake in the air behind its neck as the lower half of its body writhed and swayed.
Ella drew back, looking frantically around for more snakes, but this was the only one. She stepped away from the prince as he grinned at her.
"What kind of snake is it?" she asked.
"It is called a death adder," he said.
"Lord of the Sky," she breathed. "I could have been killed."
"Not a chance." Prince Ilathor's smiled broadened. "This poor fellow is suffering from a misnomer."
"What do you mean?"
"He is very slow and rarely moves away when approached. So he was named a deaf adder. Over the years the name has become distorted, and now he is a death adder. Yet he harms no one."
"Why do you think the name changed?"
Ilathor shrugged. "Perhaps so that a man like me can impress a woman like you."
"You can let him go now," Ella said, looking askance at the prince.
He flung out his arm, the snake flying through the air to land in a nearby bush.
Ella quickly washed her face, and then was silent as she walked by the prince's side, returning to where the horses were being offered some respite from the journey on the sandy banks of a small river.
As they remounted and Ella kicked Afiri forwards, she looked back the way they had come. The long column stretched as far as the eye could see, tens of thousands of horsemen and many more on foot. Camp followers trailed in their wake: cooks, tinkers, grooms and whores. Ella was glad she rode with the prince and Jehral at the head of the column, otherwise she would have been as covered with dust as those behind. Bartolo and Shani also rode at the head, along with ten Petryan elementalists, friends of Shani's from Tlaxor.
Ella was surrounded by friends, and Prince Ilathor was always nearby, yet she felt alone. Since their night together she'd told the prince she needed time to think, and he'd respectfully honoured her request. Ella felt guilty when she thought about Killian. Did that mean she didn't love the prince?
As Prince Ilathor took them through the Gap of Garl, away from his homeland and towards Tingara, she realised she had never been this far from home. She wondered where Miro was, and whether he was safe. She fingered the pendant on its chain at her neck, and wondered what Prince Ilathor planned to do when they reached Tingara.
The temperature turned cool as they left the warm Petryan lands and the mountain ranges no longer blocked the cold weather from the north. On one side, to the west, Ella could see the jagged tops of the Elmas, the range that separated Petrya from the lands of Altura and Halaran. On the other side of the Gap of Garl, the mighty Emdas rose in the east, looming over the riders, the mountain tops white and covered with clouds, the summits so high they could hardly be seen.
A speck grew on the red horizon, a returning scout from the flat land in the north. Their journey through the Gap of Garl took them first north, and then east. It was a long way around, but it was the only way.
A cloud of dust rose behind the single rider. He was clad in Hazaran costume, and soon his yellow sash could be seen against the black. The man pulled up in front of Prince Ilathor.
"A small army," the scout said, his breath coming between gasps, "up ahead. Just past that rise."
"What banner?" Jehral asked.
"A withered tree on grey," the scout said.
The prince looked first at Jehral, who raised his eyebrows, and then Ella, who shook her head. Bartolo shrugged and even Shani's face said she didn't know the markings.
"How many?" Prince Ilathor asked.
"Perhaps two thousand, it is hard to say."
"Go and speak with them. See if you can find out who they serve."
"Yes, my prince," the scout said, wheeling his horse and riding away.
"If he doesn't come back by the time the sun hits that tree," the prince said, "he isn't coming back."
"You have a cold heart, desert prince," Shani said, low enough that the prince wouldn't hear, but close enough that Ella could.
"This is a poor place for a battle," Bartolo said. "There are hills to either side. We should move to higher ground and fortify our position."
"He speaks sense, my prince," Jehral said.
"Thank you, bladesinger," Prince Ilathor said, "but that is not our way. Two thousand is nothing to an army this size."
~
AS THEY waited, more and more of the Hazaran riders arrived, to be deployed in fighting formation as a long line of riders, but the scout did not return.
Prince Ilathor prepared for battle.
The elders — those women who had been chosen to receive the lore of Raj Hazara — summoned illusionary warriors, storms and whirlwinds. The sky overhead flashed and lightning stabbed down at the earth. Dust rushed one way and then another as the elders struggled to keep control of their lore.
The open field was where the desert warriors fought best, and as Prince Ilathor's deadline for the scout's return approached and then passed, he signalled his captains and launched his mighty army into action. The infantry and Petryan elementalists were to stay behind; they couldn't keep up with the horsemen, and of the Petryans only Shani was comfortable on a horse.
"Stay back, Ella," the prince commanded, as he spurred his black stallion into action, determined to be at the forefront of the attack.
Seeing her friends in the line, Ella ignored the prince and joined Shani, Bartolo, and Jehral, keeping her horse close by her red-robed friend.
Ella had to admit she was impressed, even exhilarated, to be travelling with such an army, imagining the fear that the lightning, storms and the horses themselves must strike into the enemy's hearts.
Yet as the air was filled with the thunder of hooves on the hard earth, the temperature suddenly dropped, giving Ella a premonition that something terrible was about to happen. Ella gripped her reins tightly in her hands, her knees pressed hard into the horse's flanks.
Ella saw that her breath was steaming in the chill air; surely such a rapid decrease in temperature wasn't natural?
The ground before her rose in a steep incline. Ahead, the thundering mass
of riders crested the rise in front of her and then vanished under the hill as the warriors went down the other side. As the steepness increased Ella leaned forward in the saddle and spurred her horse on, realising she had lost sight of Jehral and only Shani and Bartolo were with her now.
Ella reached the crest and the vista opened up before her. An army such as the world had never seen raced down the hill: horses' hooves thundered, desert warriors raised scimitars above their heads, and lightning crashed around them so that the Hazarans must appear to be flying out of a storm that a moment ago had simply not been there.
Ella could now see the grey banner flying over the tightly-formed ranks of their enemy, with the opposing soldiers arranged into three columns. In the centremost column pikes could be seen rising up into the air, while the first dozen ranks held theirs bristled in front. The column to the left consisted of heavily-armoured men and women in grey tabards, each holding a sword or an axe. On the right was a smaller column of warriors with maces, while half a dozen men in silver robes clustered at the rear.
Ella knew something was terribly, desperately wrong. They were too disciplined; too motionless. Surely no one faced an attack like this without some men breaking.
The grey-clad axemen and swordsmen all held their weapons in the air, moving in perfect synchronisation. The pikemen braced themselves, grim and unwavering. One of the silver-robed men raised his arms in the air, as if summoning powerful magic.
The column of axemen and swordsmen on the left moved forward at an angle, the macemen on the right following suit, while the pikemen in the centre began an orderly retreat backwards, with the pikes in front still facing the screaming riders.
Unwittingly, Prince Ilathor's men were funnelled into the space that opened up in front of the retreating pikemen. Some of the long line of riders smashed into the swordsmen and macemen on the left and right, but the majority fell in behind those ahead, forming a spearhead that thrust into the space opening up in front of them.
Ella was no strategist, yet even she could see the disaster about to unfold. Placed as she was somewhere in the middle, she could see that the grey warriors now flanked the riders on the left and on the right, like the horns of a bull. Ella wondered at the incredible discipline of the enemy; they still hadn't made a sound, and their ranks were in such tight formation they reminded Ella of Halrana constructs.
Then the riders in front hit the bristling wall of pikes, and the grey warriors to the sides closed in.
The sound of thousands of horses being impaled was a scream and crunch that Ella never wanted to hear again. The prince's army, however, was by far the larger, and the momentum of the horsemen took them deep into the ranks of the pikemen. Desert warriors slashed down from horseback, their heavy sabres designed specifically for this type of combat, and Prince Ilathor turned them in an arc, evidently intending to drive into the swordsman on his left flank and burst through to regroup outside the enemy's attempted encirclement.
It might have worked, but the majority of the riders were facing forwards, and the swordsmen were on their left. With unbelievable ferocity, the flanks closed in, attempting to envelop the Hazarans in front, on the sides, and most dangerous of all, the rear.
Ella's eyes widened with fear as she saw enemy swordsmen and axemen closing in on her left, the grey warriors wielding huge two-handed swords, battle-axes, and some even with two smaller axes held in both hands. Around her every rider was becoming embroiled, preventing all further movement, and the whinnies of horses, jangles of armour, and clashes of weapons were deafening.
Nearby, a Hazaran warrior slashed down with his scimitar at a huge man wielding a silver broadsword with both hands. The desert warrior's sabre bounced off the grey warrior's armour, and the Hazaran quickly raised his sword to block his enemy's two-handed stroke. The clang of steel rang through the air and the Hazaran grimaced at the numbing strength of the grey warrior's blow. Then the broadsword came swinging down again, not at the rider, instead at his horse. With a single blow the horse's head came off at the neck, blood spurting in a fountain as the animal collapsed and rolled, trapping its rider underneath. Ella turned her horse in the stricken man's direction to help, but the swordsman in grey thrust down at the Hazaran, opening up his throat.
"Ella, look out!" she heard Shani's scream.
A warrior held Ella's leg by the stirrup as he copied the swordsman's manoeuvre, swinging his axe at Afiri's neck. Ella couldn't believe how utterly fearless these men were; the Petryans had found confronting skilled warriors on horseback terrifying, yet these soldiers simply attacked horses and men alike.
Ella kicked out with her leg and reared Afiri out of the way, one hand clinging to the reins, the other hand reaching for her pocket. She spoke a rapid series of activations, calling forth the blinding light and protective power of her enchantress's dress.
The warrior holding Ella's stirrup looked up and snarled silently, the man's lips curled to bare his teeth. His skin was white as snow, his long hair loose and as grey as the withered-tree tabard he wore on his chest. A chill ran up Ella's spine as she saw that his eyes were entirely white, and the flesh was rotting away from the edges of his eyes, his nostrils, and his mouth.
He was dead.
Ella had heard of revenants, sometimes referred to in the stories as draugar. Now that she was confronting one in the flesh, on the field of battle; she was stricken by terror at the realisation that they weren't just the creations of stories. Revenants existed.
One was trying to kill her.
Ella now realised what she was seeing. A Hazaran sliced at the neck of a warrior, creating a deep gash, yet no blood came out, and the warrior simply kept fighting. One revenant crawled on the ground, an arm and a leg had been removed, yet he kept moving. Underneath their armour Ella could see the eerie blue glow of runes seeping through the cracks.
Raj Hazara's lore relied on illusions to strike terror into their enemies. Ella now wondered whether the tough desert men would be able to keep their own terror at bay, as they fought an enemy that wouldn't be killed, didn't bleed, felt no fear, and fought with incredible savagery and discipline.
Ella's fingers found what she was looking for. She took the wand out of her pocket, hoping it would work against the revenants.
After the liberation of Tlaxor, Ella had realised she needed a weapon to take into battle. She didn't want to ever again be in another situation like she had when Bartolo had rescued her and Shani at the Poltoi Palace.
It had been a long time since enchanters had themselves fought in battle. Unlike animators and elementalists, who were both the rune-makers and the users of their magic, enchanters created a much wider range of items, but typically preferred to stay clear of battle.
Yet there had been a time when enchanters fought; before bladesingers, zenblades and armoursilk. In the time of Maya Pallandor, the greatest enchantress who ever lived and the woman who invented armoursilk, there were objects that were common in those times but had since fallen out of use.
Wands.
The prince wouldn't give Ella any more essence, even after her success at Tlaxor, so she had simply lied, telling Jehral that rather than saying no to her request for more essence, Prince Ilathor had agreed whole-heartedly.
Jehral hadn't been too pleased with Ella when he'd discovered the deception, and the prince had been furious. Ella ignored them both and finished her work.
The wand Ella now held in her hand was as long as her forearm and tipped with a prism of gold-flecked quartz. It was made of dark hazel wood, with three facets rising to the tip, and was strangely warm to the touch. Tiny symbols covered its length, so small that Ella had needed a lens to draw the runes with the finest of scrills.
Ella fought to control the quail in her voice as she began to chant. The revenant thrust its sword up at her head, but she turned and it instead hit her dress with a blow that would have skewered her through. Ella chanted the runes without pausing, still muttering under her breath as she pointed the
wand at the soldier's rotting face.
A bolt of energy left the wand, tearing a coin-sized hole in the revenant's neck. Ella chanted some more and a second circle of white fire left the wand to strike its forehead. The warrior fell down, twitching once before lying still and unmoving.
Ella looked around her at the battle. A ball of fire flew through the air, sizzling with red energy before it struck a revenant warrior. The draug burst into flames, and Ella's eyes traced the fireball back to its origin to see Shani standing nearby, the palms of her hands centred over another growing bud of fire as she prepared to launch another.
Ella continued to chant, keeping the magic of the wand alive, even as she knew it would drain rapidly. Two revenants ran at Shani, one bursting into flames, the other crumpling to the ground as Ella's bolt of light created a fist-sized hole in its chest.
Ella realised that all of the Hazarans around them were dead. The two women brought their horses close together as the swordsmen and axemen closed in. Ella and Shani faced in opposite directions, balls of fire and bolts of light flying again and again from their hands.
"This way!" a man's voice called.
Ella looked over, just as a fiery sword tore through three draugar. She heard the song of a bladesinger join her own chanting as Bartolo slashed towards them. Seeing that he was on foot, Ella incongruously wondered if he preferred it to horseback.
"Come on!" Bartolo cried.
Ella whirled Afiri and she and Shani spurred into action. Fireballs tore through the air and bolts from Ella's wand took the revenants down one after the other. Yet they kept coming, their inevitable destruction from the two women meaning nothing to those who were already dead.
Shani took Bartolo's wrist and with the incredible agility of a bladesinger he swung up behind her on the horse, reaching past her waist to take hold of the reins.
Ahead Ella could see that the Hazarans had finally broken free of the enfolding formation of the revenants and were slashing their way through the axemen and swordsmen, heading in the direction from which they'd come. Ella and Shani's horses joined them, and as the desert warriors galloped as fast as possible away from this enemy, the revenants continued to chase on foot until they finally gave up pursuit.
The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) Page 32