Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  Katya thrust her staff over Sasha’s shoulder, driving the stout wood into the Shadow Walker’s chest. Arcane power released from it on contact, causing the creature to stagger, but did not drive it back more than a step or two. Sasha took advantage of the opening and swung hard with her shield arm to bash the other Shadow Walker in the face. Remembering her first encounter with one of the creatures, the swordswoman knew that blunt weapons seemed to have the most effect and was mostly using shield in her attacks. Regrettably, the reaction of her opponent was quicker than she had anticipated. The Shadow Walker leaned back as the shield slammed into his face and, while the blow still landed, the point of contact was farther away than Sasha had planned. The swordswoman’s shield was brought far out of line, and she had to stretch to make full contact. Sasha saw the other creature step closer, now recovered from her sister’s blow, and bring its blade up from below in a slashing attack. Sasha attempted to parry the maneuver, but it was too late. Pain exploded across her abdomen, as the Shadow Walker took advantage of her momentarily exposed stomach, cutting through the padded armor to the soft flesh beneath. Staggered for a heartbeat by the fire that spread across her belly, Sasha pulled her shield back close to her body and raised her sword to block the follow up stroke by the Shadow Walker that had wounded her.

  Sasha felt cool air across her stomach, where the padding had been slashed open, and the warmth of her own blood as it flowed across her hip down to her thigh. Though she fought on, blocking with her shield and parrying with her sword, she no longer attacked. The Shadow Walkers no longer had to defend themselves. Realizing this, the creatures attacked with renewed vigor and the swordswoman and sorceress were hard-pressed to defend themselves. With each new slash and with each new thrust, the Shadow Walkers drove the sisters back. Sasha and Katya were slowly but inexorably being pushed into the wall of the chamber.

  Seeing the course of the fight, Katya stepped from behind her sister and took up position to Sasha’s right. The young sorceress raised her staff, doing all she could to block the blows of the Shadow Walker on her sister’s sword side, leaving Sasha free to attack the creature on her shield side.

  Sasha’s attacks became weaker and weaker, as the wound across her stomach began to take its toll. The Shadow Walker, recognizing the warrior’s waning strength, took its sword in both hands and began swinging with inhuman vigor. Sasha took each blow on her shield, as the creature attempted to beat her back with the force of the swings alone. There was no skill, no finesse, to the attacks. The Shadow Walker was simply swinging over and over again, as hard as his animated flesh would allow. Each swing was blocked by Sasha’s shield, but each block sapped a little more of the swordswoman’s strength.

  “I can’t keep this up,” Sasha said between the clangs of the sword beating on her shield, her voice betraying her growing weakness.

  “You can, and you will,” Katya said, as she blocked another sword blow with her staff. The sparks that flew from her enchanted length of wood were growing dimmer with each swing. “We just need to… aaaaaahhhhhh.” Katya’s words were cut off with a scream of pain. One of the Shadow Walker’s thrusts had slipped past the sorceress’ defenses, and Sasha saw the black metal sword cut through her sister’s royal blue robe just below Katya’s knee. The sorceress hobbled backwards, her stance unsteady.

  Sasha stepped between the Shadow Walkers and her sister, covering Katya’s retreat as both sisters took several steps back. Sasha soon felt Katya’s hand across her back; they had reached the wall, and there was no further room to withdraw. Sasha took hesitant step forward, knowing that she could not hold off two of them by herself. Even if she were not wounded, Sasha would have been hard pressed to fend off their attacks for any length of time. In her weakened state, she knew that she would last only seconds. Seconds that the swordswoman hoped would save her sister’s life.

  Sensing that the tide had turned in their favor, the Shadow Walkers paused a moment to savor their imminent victory, and then they moved to close the gap between them and their prey.

  Suddenly, from the corner of her darkening vision, Sasha saw a mail-clad figure dive through the air, body tackling one of the Shadow Walkers. The entangled pair slid several feet across the stone floor. Sasha felt her knees give way, as she sank to the floor. She had lost too much blood. She feebly raised her shield, hoping to fend off just one more blow before she lost consciousness. Sasha heard her sister’s voice scream behind her, as though it were coming from the far end of a long tunnel.

  Lightning flew from behind the dying swordswoman, striking the Shadow Walker full in the chest and sending the abomination flying across the room. It struck the far wall with a dull thud, before falling to the floor. Sasha smiled weakly at the Shadow Walker’s demise, but her grin soon vanished, seeing the thing begin to struggle to its feet. A feeling of hopelessness gripped Sasha’s heart, as she sank all the way into unconsciousness. Her last sight was that of her dark-haired sister kneeling over her, fear and sadness evident on her face.

  Chapter 38

  Chyla knelt next to Niko’s unmoving form, resting his head in her lap. The young Nhyme man had hit the stone wall so hard that she did not know if he still lived. Her light source, a magical orb floating at her side, revealed no outer wound. Taking a deep breath, she closed her eyes and reached into Niko’s body with her mind. She felt along his torso meticulously, years of training taking over as she looked at each and every part of his still form, searching for interior wounds. Chyla sighed with relief, finding only a bruise on the back of his head. A gentle nudge to the healing process and the wound disappeared. Niko’s eyes fluttered open and then came into focus.

  “Well, that wasn’t fun,” Niko said. “But this sure is a nice place to wake up,” he said, smiling mischievously, and winked at Chyla.

  “Why you…” Chyla began, but was interrupted by a familiar voice.

  “Chyla!” the voice called, as an aged Nhyme made his way along the wall towards them, leaning against the stone like a drunken man. “Thank the Mother I found you.” His steps unsteady, the Nhyme used both the wall and his staff for support. “Hurry, we need to leave.” The young Nhyme woman suddenly recognized the face, as he got closer.

  “Father?! What are you doing here?” Chyla asked, her voice incredulous.

  “I’ve come to save you, but we must leave now.” Even in his unsteady state Razorik the Elder reached for his daughter’s hand to lead her to safety.

  “What’s wrong with you? How did you get here?” Chyla rose to her feet and then helped Niko up as well.

  “The answer to both questions is the same. I traveled through the crystal. It’s amazing! They’re all connected! But we don’t have time for that now. Come child we must go…” The Elder’s sentence was cut off, as the dark-cloaked figure of a Shadow Walker struck the wall beside them and began to topple towards the Nhyme. Chyla grabbed her father and pulled him back, while Niko jumped forward to escape the falling figure.

  Immediately, the Shadow Walker began to move, attempting to regain its feet. Niko reared back with his spear and drove it with all his might into the creature’s ankle. The Shadow Walker paused for a moment, looking down at the Nhyme. Niko released his spear and took several hesitant steps away.

  Reaching into his sleeve the Shadow Walker drew a long black dagger.

  “No!” screamed Chyla, drawing the attention of the creature. Seeing the cold blue-white eyes looking at her, Chyla also took several steps back, as the Shadow Walker lashed out with its dagger. Chyla felt herself thrown to the ground, as the blade passed within inches of her tiny frame. The Nhyme girl did her best to roll with the fall but got hung up, as her wings got tangled beneath her. Rolling over onto her back, she saw her father pinned to the wall, the black metal of the dagger continuing through his body and into the stone.

  “Father!” she screamed, tears welling up in her eyes. “Nooooo!”

  The Shadow Walker rose to his feet, as Niko flew up from the ground with his recovered sp
ear in hand. The male Nhyme looked ready to take on the Shadow Walker by himself, just as an arrow whizzed past Niko, landing in the Shadow Walker and pinning it to the wall. A shaft protruded from its left shoulder. Soon three more arrows followed, one for its other shoulder and one for each of its arms.

  Niko looked over his shoulder, across the room at Jared. “Hey, watch where you’re sticking those things!” Jared nodded and drew another arrow, aiming at the Shadow Walker standing at the base of the pillar. The dark figure’s chanting grew louder. Niko saw the black wax that had pooled around the base of the pillar begin to stretch out with thin tendrils to latch onto the crystal.

  Chyla grasped her father’s hand, as he hung above her still pinioned to the wall, and tears streamed down her beautiful face. Razorik looked down on his daughter, a look of love on his face, as the light faded quickly from his eyes.

  “Worry not, little one,” The Elder said. “My time is done, but yours is just beginning. I came here to save you, and I did.” The Elder coughed. “Tell your mother that I love her, and I will find her in the next life. I pro… prom… promise.” The ancient Nhyme’s eyes closed, and a look of peace spread over his wrinkled face.

  “Chyla, come on! It’s getting free,” Niko warned.

  When the Nhyme woman did not reply and continued to hold tight to her father, Niko swept down and grabbed Chyla under the arms, carrying her away. Chyla looked behind her as she was carried along. The Shadow Walker had already ripped free from one of the arrows pinning its arm to the wall and was working on the other. Wriggling free from Niko’s grasp, Chyla began flying under the power of her own wings, as she looked around the room.

  Branden was down, blood pooling around his still form. Mala was attempting to staunch the flow of blood from beneath his arm by pressing part of her torn shirt to the wound. The headless figure of a Shadow Walker lay near the swordmistress, while the other creature was attempting to rise without the use of its arms. Its upper limbs were hanging from its body like dead weight.

  Having apparently dispatched his opponent, Talas was now wrestling with another Shadow Walker on the stone floor. As she watched, the creature used its superior strength to roll the veteran off of him and then gain the upper hand, pinning him to the floor. Nearby, Katya knelt over Sasha against the wall, pressing her hands to her sister’s belly. Chyla could not see what the young sorceress was doing, but the Nhyme saw a trail of blood leading across the floor towards the pool that was forming around Sasha’s still form. Chyla heard the clattering of an arrow being thrown to the stone floor, as the Shadow Walker that had killed her father freed itself from the wall. Picking up its black longsword, from where it had dropped it after impacting the wall, the creature began advancing across the room, as the chanting of the Shadow Walker performing the ritual became louder and louder.

  Jared’s quiver was empty. He nocked his last arrow to his bow, the dull metal tip of its squirrel killer arrowhead looking small and ineffective. One more shot and then he would draw his sword. His leg had already gone numb, thank the Mother for small favors, but he knew what kind of shape he was in. His left leg was useless, and his vision had already begun to darken, despite the gift from the rat that had enhanced his sight. No, the dark veil that was falling over his eyes had nothing to do with his gift fading. He saw the blood that soaked his left pant leg and collected in his boot.

  Looking about the room, he saw the two Shadow Walkers advancing. One had a long sword in his hand, the other walked with its arms hanging limply at its sides. Jared suspected that Branden’s last blow had shattered the thing’s collarbone, but the former King’s Guard came out on the wrong end of that bargain. True, the Shadow Walker could not use its arms anymore, but Branden was the one lying still on the cold stone floor.

  And then there was the Shadow Walker that stood chanting at the pillar of crystal. It had not engaged them at all, totally enthralled in whatever ritual it was performing to corrupt the soft white radiance that stood in the center of the room. As Jared watched, the black ring of melted candle wax at the base of the pillar began to slowly stretch upwards, thin tendrils of black latching onto the surface of the crystal and then burrowing their way inside. Dark veins of corruption spread through the pillar, spreading from its base like a poison courses through the veins of a dying man.

  Jared sniffed at the air again, the smell and the realization of what it was doing making his stomach churn. Over the smell of blood and sweat and decay came a pungent odor. It was the smell of burning human fat. The candles were made from human tallow, and it was this same substance that was beginning to seep into the crystal, turning it into something perverted.

  Aghast, Jared watched as the Shadow Walker raised his hand above his head. A long black shard of crystal that glowed purple was clutched tightly in his grasp. The creature’s voice reached a crescendo, its arcane screams filling the chamber, as it prepared to plunge the dark shard into the heart of the pillar. In that moment, the attention of all the companions was drawn to his voice, the words of power washing over them.

  Mala’s head shot up like she had been struck, her eyes staring at the chanting creature. “That voice… No!” she cried. “It can’t be…”

  Jared whispered, “Great Mother, guide my hand,” and let his arrow fly. Before collapsing to the floor, the hunter was rewarded with the sound of shattering crystal and a scream of inhuman rage.

  Katya’s hands were covered in Sasha’s blood, as she tried to hold her twin’s wound closed. The slash across her sister’s stomach was clean but deep. Katya’s training told her that the injury was fatal, but she refused to accept it. The cloth she had pulled out of her belt pouch to staunch the bleeding was soaked red, but she kept pressing on the wound, praying for her sister to live.

  “Sasha,” Katya said, her voice choked with tears. “You can’t go. Please,” she sobbed, “don’t leave me. I don’t know what to do without you.” The sorceress looked at the prone still figure of her father. “I’ll be all alone. Mom’s gone, Father too… maybe. I don’t know, I don’t know what to do.” Katya screamed her frustration, and it echoed off of the stone chamber walls seeming to grow bigger and louder. Movement caught her eye, and she looked up just in time to see Jared fall to the floor. His bow fell from his hand, as he toppled, and it clattered to the stone.

  “No!” the young sorceress cried, not specifically at the hunter’s fall but at all of it. They had come so far and had made it to this point, only to fail. Her sister, who had journeyed so far from Snowhaven to find her, lay dying and there was nothing she could do about it. There was nothing she could do about her mother, about her father, and about the strange woodsman, who had helped save her and now lay unmoving not five paces from where she knelt.

  “No, no, no, no,” Katya said again, as she looked down at Sasha’s pale face and long red hair, splayed out like another pool of bright crimson on the stone floor. “I will not let this happen. I will not let you die!” Katya took a deep cleansing breath and stretched out with her mind. Her perceptions altered, and she saw her sister, not as the sum of her parts, but as a complex flow of energy that spread over and through her, working together to make a living person. She saw the break in the energy at Sasha’s stomach right away, but she also saw a multitude of other ruptures across the surface of her skin, smaller wounds she had taken in her battle with the Shadow Walkers.

  Katya’s altered vision wavered. The Shadow Walkers were still in the room with them. One could be approaching her now, and she would not know, not that her awareness would do her much good. The creatures were highly resistant to her sorcery, and she didn’t have the skill that her sister did with a sword. If only she had practiced more with Sasha, if only she had some of her sister’s skill with a blade.

  Katya felt a pull and returned her attention to Sasha’s wounds. Is that Sasha trying to claw her way back? She thought. In her desperation, Katya drew as much energy as she could from the world around her. She felt the eldritch hum of power in her bo
nes, heard the song that the world sang as she tapped into her magic, and she still drew in more and more. She felt arcane energies ripple across her skin and still kept drawing it in. She had never before felt anything like the roiling storm she had built up in her body, but then she had never drawn in this much power before either.

  She had been warned against drawing in so much energy by her instructors. “The human body can only hold so much power,” Master Pieter had cautioned her, “before it burns out.” Katya remembered the stories. In some of them, the sorcerer’s abilities were ruined, left unable to channel even the weakest trickle of magic. In others, they were driven insane by too much power coursing through their minds, reduced to gibbering idiots that were unable to even feed themselves. Some sorcerers had simply died, their bodies unable to handle that much raw arcane energy. Katya remembered all these stories. She would risk never being able to cast a spell ever again. She would risk her mind being shattered. She would risk it all, even her own life, if it meant that her sister, her twin, would live.

  Katya flooded her body with energy, feeling wave after wave of power course over her and through her. Taking another deep breath to still her mind, she poured all of it, every ounce, every spark, and every iota of power she had into Sasha. Her hands burned as if she had placed them in a fire. The pain leapt up the length of her arms and into her chest. She screamed but did not pull away. Following the waves of eldritch force, as they passed into her dying twin, Katya stopped at each dark break in the lines of energy that made up Sasha’s body. Stopping first at the biggest rupture, the wound in her stomach, Katya wove the fibers back together, willing them to smooth together once again.

  For what seemed like an eternity, Sasha’s life force did not brighten. The power was there, but for some reason it was like a there was a dam across where the wound once was. The breach was repaired, but there was no current of energy passing from one side of the wound to the other. Katya redoubled her efforts, pushing against the invisible wall until it broke before her will.