by Shae Ford
Perhaps Kael had controlled him.
“I could hear it,” Morris went on. “Your words had a ringing to them at the end — like a hammer striking the anvil. I knew it was some kind of whispercraft.” He plunked a stocky arm across Kael’s back, jolting him from his thoughts. “You’re a smart lad, and I won’t press you. A Wright’s got to choose for himself the sort of paths he’ll take. But you’ve got to be careful about what you read. And that goes doubly for anything written by Deathtreader.”
Kael looked up in surprise. “You’ve heard of him?”
“Aye, he was a great healer, in his day. But he’s dead now,” Morris said offhandedly, as if he was eager to change the subject. “The only question you ought to be worrying about right now is how we’re going to slip our way into Gilderick’s castle!”
Kael had a few ideas. He worked his way through the different scenarios, planning what they would do if Gilderick came out to fight them, if he tried to surround them, or if he simply stayed holed up inside his walls. He wouldn’t be able to survive a siege for very long: thanks to Clairy, his larders were empty. So he would have to come out eventually.
And when he did, the giants would be ready.
Still … even though Kael thought he had a decent idea, nothing he’d planned so far had worked out the way he meant it to. Gilderick always seemed to do the most implausible things — the one thing he hadn’t thought of.
So though he’d thought carefully, he knew he shouldn’t celebrate just yet. He began to think of all the ways his plan might go wrong. “Lysander said you managed to free the Pens.”
“Oh aye, that bit didn’t take too long.”
“Do you know if they killed a man named Finks?”
Morris squinted. “I’m not sure … there weren’t many that got away.” He whistled and shook his head. “That Declan fellow — whew, I’m glad he’s on our side!”
Kael nodded, trying to bite back his frustration.
It was possible that Finks had been killed, but he didn’t know for sure. He realized he would never really know, not until he stared down at his corpse. But there was no point in worrying about Finks right now: he’d cross that river when he came to it.
“Do you know anything about Gilderick?” Kael said. He could see pale light filtering into the aisle. Dawn was approaching, and the thought of the coming battle made his worry bubble up. Perhaps if he knew a bit more about Gilderick, he might have a better idea of how to defeat him.
Unfortunately, Morris wasn’t much help. “No one knows too much about him — even when he worked for King Banagher, he preferred to keep to himself. And we preferred to let him!” Morris shivered. “I saw him roaming the castle a couple of times … people said he was a necromancer, or something. They thought he sucked the souls out of the rebels he questioned. I’m not sure, though. I don’t remember ever smelling any magic on him.”
Kael nodded. He didn’t know what else he’d been expecting. He rubbed at his stomach, where his scant meal was beginning to churn. Jonathan and Clairy were still sleeping peacefully. Kael watched them for a moment, and listened to their steady breathing.
They’d come so far … now he knew there’d be no turning back. If they failed, Gilderick wouldn’t be content to simply lock them back up: he’d make them pay in blood. But the giants would never let him slaughter their women. No, they’d fight on to the last breath. If they failed today, there would be no tomorrow.
Kael suddenly felt as if all of the giants’ massive weight had come down upon his shoulders. He’d led them into this. If they died today, it would be his fault — his, and nobody else’s.
“I’m afraid,” he whispered. And for some reason, admitting it aloud only made the weight crush down harder. He hardly felt it when Morris draped an arm about his shoulders.
“’Course you are, lad — I’d be worried if you wasn’t! No man wants to go to war. But you know something?”
Kael looked up, and Morris’s eyes twinkled in their pouches.
“Fear can't kill you. Oh, it can freeze you. It can scare you into giving up — but it can't kill you. What kills you are all the little things you didn't do because you were too scared to do them. It's the regret that gets you in the end.” He squeezed Kael tightly. “So no matter what happens tomorrow, don’t you ever regret what you did in the plains … because you done a great thing, lad.”
Kael wasn’t sure about that. If he led the giants to their deaths, it wouldn’t be a great thing. Noah was already dead because of him. He didn’t think he could live with himself if he caused another life to end. He hoped he wouldn’t have to.
But before he could slip too far into darkness, Lysander strode through the door. Eveningwing was still perched happily upon his shoulder — though it was likely that he just used the captain for a shield: when he came back into his human form, Kael planned to scold him.
“I’ve brought your weapons,” Lysander said, handing Kael his bow and quiver. Then he pulled the wallet of throwing knives out of his pocket. “And I believe these belong to you, as well. They were among the things the women raided from the armory,” he added with a smirk.
Kael got equipped the best he could. The straps on his wallet were broken, and he doubted they would be much good against the giants. But he tucked them into his pocket, anyways. “We ought to wake everybody up,” he said, rising to his feet. “I don’t know when Gilderick plans to attack, but we need to be ready.”
Lysander grinned. “Oh, I don’t think he’ll be attacking for quite a while. There’s a thick spring mist out there. A man can hardly see a hand in front of his — where are you going?”
But Kael didn’t answer.
He sprinted out of the barn and heard Morris thumping along behind him. They tore outside, and stopped.
A white mist covered the Fields, so thickly that Kael swore he could feel himself breath it in. He could feel it: the mist itched the whole way down his throat and into his lungs. When he breathed again, he caught a horrible, familiar scent. His stomach fell to his knees when Morris cried:
“Magic! Wake up, lads — we’re under attack!”
Chapter 43
A Battle for the Plains
No sooner did Morris speak than the mist evaporated. The earth drew it away, sucking it down like water through a crack. And as the mist disappeared, Gilderick’s army sprang out to meet them.
With a thunderous roar, they charged. Their heavy footsteps shook the earth. Kael felt the insides of his head rattling as their feet struck the ground. Their eyes blazed beneath their helmets. They lowered their pikes, holding them out like the fangs of a furious, steely monster. A monster hungry for blood.
Kael saw them coming … but for some reason, he couldn’t move. He was trapped: held down by the hatred in their eyes, afraid to lift his feet because the earth shook too badly. Gilderick’s army charged for him, and he could do nothing to stop it. He couldn’t even run.
Someone sprinted past him, clipping him so roughly than he nearly tumbled to the ground. An inhuman roar raked his ears, a cry he recognized:
It was Declan. He raced out to meet Gilderick’s army — a lone figure against one hundred pikes. The rising sun glinted off his scythe as he raised it, and his cry pierced the air.
He met them like a stone in a river’s path, scattering the bloodtraitors to either side. They cried out and tried to leap away, but Declan moved too quickly. Weapons shattered. Splintered bits of pike went sailing through the air as his scythe came down. Armor screeched and groaned as he thrust his way deeper into the crowd. When he spun, scarlet ribbons flew up in his wake.
But Declan was so much smaller than the rest that it wasn’t long before the bloodtraitors’ towering bodies hid him from view. Gilderick’s army swallowed him, and Kael forgot his fear. He wasn’t going to let Declan be killed.
His first arrow flew wide, but his second got the bloodtraitors’ attention. It sailed into the throat of the nearest man, and his body fell against the backs of
his companions. When they spotted Kael, they came after him with a roar.
Blood pounded in his ears and his sight seemed to narrow as they charged. The blazing eyes that had crippled him before were suddenly nothing more than targets. Three bloodtraitors fell before he realized that he’d made a terrible mistake: he’d let them get too close. They were nearly within pike’s reach now, and he didn’t have a sword to fight them off with. The first bloodtraitor swung for his throat, and he threw himself into a dive.
There was a loud, metallic thud. When Kael looked up, he saw Brend standing over him — the bloodtraitor skewered on the end of his scythe.
“I’ve got you, wee rat!” he cried. Then he looked over his shoulder and bellowed: “The time has come, lads — let’s take back the blood these traitors stole from us!”
Kael threw his arms over his head as the giants thundered past him. They were barefoot, carried scythes and pitchforks instead of proper weapons, and their clothes were so ragged that they could hardly stop the wind — much less an arrow. But when they bellowed, the bloodtraitors stumbled back.
The giants crashed into Gilderick’s army, knocking the first line of their enemies to the ground. They swung their scythes in high arcs, brought their pitchforks down with deadly force. Under the fury of their blows, Gilderick’s army faltered. They retreated a few hundred yards before the shock of the giants’ attack wore off — and then they fought back.
A line of pirate archers joined Kael. They launched arrows over the giants’ heads, trying to thin the bloodtraitors out the best they could. Most of the arrows clattered harmlessly off their armor, or stuck in their limbs — which Kael knew wouldn’t slow them down. He watched as several bloodtraitors simply wrenched the arrows from their flesh and went back to fighting.
“I’ve got the women gathered in one of the barns — Morris is watching them,” Lysander called as he sprinted by. “Now move your legs, seadogs!”
“You heard the captain — get moving!” Thelred shouted as he followed.
A small company of pirates hollered in reply.
They went straight to the giants’ flank, where the bloodtraitors were trying to muscle their way through. The pirates arrived just in time, darting in and causing as much havoc as they possibly could. But their cutlasses were no match for the pikes: Kael watched in horror as several pirates were skewered through their middles and flung to the side, as if their bodies were nothing more than piles of hay.
“Help them!” Kael cried, pointing the archers towards the pirates. He yelled for Lysander to pull back, but the noise of the fight was too great. The captain couldn’t hear him.
Bloodtraitors crushed against the pirates, trying to bully them into a corner, and Lysander was caught in the middle. His patched-up sword flew in and out as he fought to keep his balance. He was so focused on the enemy in front of him that he didn’t see the pike at his back.
Kael had no choice. He went for Lysander at a sprint, but Eveningwing got there first. He dove down and dug his talons into the exposed flesh of the bloodtraitor’s face. He screamed and clawed at his eyes, swinging his arms wildly, trying to swat Eveningwing away.
When the bloodtraitor turned, Thelred buried a sword into the small of his back.
“You have to retreat!” Kael shouted.
But Lysander was too busy exchanging blows to listen. Kael shouted again, and the captain just ignored him. So he sent an arrow into his opponent’s throat.
“You have to pull back,” Kael said, as the bloodtraitor crumpled to the ground.
Sweat matted the wavy hair across Lysander’s forehead as he slung his head around. “Never! A pirate would rather die than —!”
An explosion cut him short. It hit the bloodtraitors in front of them and sent them flying through the air in pieces. The force of the explosion blew the pirates backwards. Lysander slammed into Kael, and they landed in a tangle upon the ground. When he finally managed to pull himself free, Kael looked up — and saw Aerilyn standing among the archers.
She already had a second arrow nocked. Her glare burned a straight, deadly line to Lysander as she took aim. “Get away from there, you bloody pirate!” she shrilled.
It was amazing how quickly Lysander sprang to his feet. “Retreat, dogs! Fall back!” he cried, waving the Lass in an arc. “I may rather die than run,” he said to Kael as they sprinted away, “but when my wife swears, I’ve learned that it’s just best to do as I’m told!”
Aerilyn sent another exploding arrow into the fray as they retreated, blowing half a dozen bloodtraitors to pieces. But even though her shots kept the giants from being overwhelmed, they were still losing: the bloodtraitors pushed back hard, and the giants couldn’t protect themselves from the pikes. Kael saw several raggedly-dressed bodies lying in a heap upon the ground.
“Aim for the middle!” he cried to Aerilyn. “See if you can get them to scatter.”
She nodded, and her next arrow flew in a high arc over their heads. Kael watched it climb, hoping the explosion would give the giants the breath they needed to push back. The arrow had begun to fall when a purple flash of light struck it — exploding it harmlessly in midair.
“What happened?” Aerilyn said, squinting after her shot.
Lysander waved his sword. “Just try it again!”
She did. And this time, the purple flash exploded the arrow before it could even finish its climb. Aerilyn stomped her foot. “Why isn’t it working?”
“It’s Finks,” Kael said, his mouth suddenly dry. “He’s still alive. Have the archers fire all at once,” he shouted to Lysander. “He can’t stop them all — Aerilyn’s shot will have a better chance of getting through!”
“All right, but — where are you going?”
“To kill Finks!” Kael said shortly. He wasn’t about to sit back and let that blasted mage ruin everything. No, he was going to make sure that Finks would never trouble them again.
The land around him was completely flat. There were no hills to climb, and no way to see over the mass of gigantic bodies in front of him. So Kael had no choice but to try to sprint around them. It wasn’t long before a small pack of bloodtraitors caught sight of him and began to fling their pikes at his back.
He dodged them easily — slowing his pace as they aimed, and then tearing into a sprint when they threw. While the weapons thudded harmlessly behind him, Kael continued his sprint, watching out of the corner of his eye for Finks.
It looked as if the purple flashes were coming from the back of the army, from safely behind a wall of armored bodies. Kael was thinking about how he was going to get around them when he heard footsteps thundering at his back. Apparently, the bloodtraitors had gotten tired of trying to hit him: now they planned to run him down.
Their long legs cut easily through the gap. No matter how hard he sprinted, Kael couldn’t lose them. He could hear their armor rattling with every step; hear their panting breaths as they chased him. He knew that if he didn’t want a pike rammed through his back, he would have to turn and fight.
He looked to his left, where the thick of the battle raged on. The giants in the back of the fray were shoving hard against their companions, trying to force their way into the fight. Brend’s face was so covered in gore that Kael didn’t think he would’ve recognized him, had it not been for the shock of his hair.
His head popped up over the crowd. When he caught sight of Kael, he slapped the heads of the giants at his elbows. “Help him! Go help the wee rat, you clodders!”
The pack of bloodtraitors had chased Kael far away from the main army, and now they were trapped — cut off by a cluster of slaves. The giants dove into their path, scythes raised, and their attack gave Kael the chance he needed to escape.
A few minutes later, he’d nearly reached the edge of the battle, and that’s when he spotted Finks. The mage had himself tucked safely at the army’s back. Arrows flew overhead and he swung his whip, destroying them all in a wave of purple light. His skin was a sickly, yellowish green. H
is legs trembled weakly at his knees. Sweat trickled down the length of his horse’s tail, leaving a wet patch in the middle of his back. But even though he looked near to passing out, he kept fighting.
He must’ve realized that his greasy life depended on it: if he was captured, he would certainly get no mercy from the giants.
Finks was so focused on the arrows that he didn’t see Kael run in beside him. They were a stone’s throw apart, well within Kael’s range. He drew an arrow back and locked it on Finks’s chest. Then his fingers slipped from the string.
At that exact moment, a bloodtraitor stumbled out of the battle, clutching his wounded arm — and walked straight into the path of Kael’s arrow. His body struck the ground hard, and the noise made Finks looked up.
His eyes found Kael. Something wild sparked behind them.
He raised his whip and a tongue of fire raced down its length. He bared his many teeth in a wicked grin, and then he swung his whip over his head. A massive fireball erupted from the end of it, flying like a boulder from a catapult. Kael watched it sail upwards, high over the battle and into the Fields. He wondered where it could possibly be going.
He followed the fireball’s path — and saw that it was headed straight for the barns.
“The women!” Kael’s blood pounded in his ears, the force of his legs jarred him. He sprinted for the barns, screaming at the small company of pirates that stood watch in the courtyard. He was too far away to read their faces, but he could see their chins tilting upwards as the fireball arced through the air.
The pirates began to struggle against the barn doors, trying to heave them open, but Kael knew they would never get the women out in time. The fireball began to fall, and in a matter of seconds, the barns would be destroyed.
Something whooshed over Kael’s head, sending him chin-first to the ground. He looked up and watched in horror as a second fireball cut in. It shot over his head and collided with Finks’s spell — swallowing it up.
The two fires swelled into one massive, blazing beast. It seemed to grow wings as it soared away from the barns. The fireball tilted itself towards the battle, and made a straight line for Finks.