Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

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Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus) Page 36

by J. K. Barber


  Something changed. Katya was no longer directing the flow of power into her sister; she was being drawn along with it. Like a strong river current, Katya was swept away, being pulled under the surface of the river of power that now flowed through her and into her sister. Katya tried to pull away, but it was like being chained to a huge boulder that had been thrown into the ocean. Katya was being drug in. She was losing herself…

  Jared rolled onto his side, amazed that he was still conscious. He braced his arm under him and felt warmth spread across his skin. He had put his arm into something warm, wet, and sticky. It took a moment for Jared’s mind to register that he was lying in a pool of his own blood. Luckily, Jared was so numb both physically and mentally that the hunter’s reaction was simply one of curiosity rather than shock. Under normal circumstances, he probably would have passed out, or vomited and passed out. He wasn’t really sure, having never been in this situation before. The hunter looked around just in time to see the Shadow Walker with the staff drive it into Talas’ chest, as he passed by on his way towards Mala. The older man’s cry of pain was cut off, as the creature on top of him took advantage of Talas’ agony to wrap his cold dead fingers around the veteran’s throat.

  Jared’s attention was drawn away by the sound of Mala’s voice. “That heartless bitch!” the swordmistress spat, as she looked at the Shadow Walker sorcerer that approached her. The creature held its staff in its left hand, its right hand smoking slightly, where several of its fingers were absent. Jared allowed himself a small smile of satisfaction, knowing that it was his arrow that had removed the black shard from the creature’s grasp.

  “It’s good to see you again too, Mala,” the creature said, undeterred by his injured hand or the disruption of his ritual. It drew back its hood to reveal what had at one time probably been a handsome face. Some of the flesh of the cheek was decayed, and Jared could see teeth through the gap. Most readily noted were the sutures that ran around the neck in a complete circle. This Shadow Walker had been beheaded, and then his head was sewn back on. Whether this had happened before or after the reanimation process Jared did not know. The hunter looked over to where the severed head of another Shadow Walker lay. The eyes were wide open and seemed to be looking at Jared, but he could not tell if there was intelligence behind the stare or not. Jared’s attention was drawn back to Mala’s conversation with this man she appeared to know.

  “I’m so glad that you were the one who tried to stop me,” the dead man said, his voice distant and had a quality that chilled the marrow in Jared’s bones. “Now I can thank you properly for leaving me behind to die.” The Shadow Walker slammed his staff on the ground and electricity arched along the floor to where Mala knelt. Her body spasmed as the spell hit her, and she was knocked onto her back.

  “You’re not him,” Mala managed weakly. “You’re not Pieter.” She struggled to rise, but another arcing bolt threw her back to the stone.

  “Oh but I am, sister,” Pieter said, the title spoken as though the word were something sour he had eaten. He punctuated his distaste with another lance of energy into Mala’s body. “I remember everything. I remember how you left me there.” Another shock wracked Mala’s prone body. “I remember how you told me to fight well.” More bolts of energy traveled along the floor, making the swordmistress’ back arch and cry out in pain. “I did fight well, and I still died. Only, I didn’t get to travel on… I got put back into this body,” the dead sorcerer said and briefly stretched his neck upwards to show his stitches. “But now, I get to…”

  Pieter was blasted across the room by a bolt of the same arcane lightning that he had just employed on Mala, only this bolt was an order of magnitude stronger. The creature’s body was thrown across the room like a rag doll, and it smashed against the wall. Jared was certain he heard several bones break.

  Rolling over onto his back so that he could see the bolt’s origin, Jared was not prepared for what he saw. Standing perhaps twenty feet from him was a huge white-haired figure. Clad in a breastplate, metal vambraces, and a chain skirt the woman stood eight feet tall. Her breastplate had an ivy motif, but the vine was alive, its fresh green leaves vibrant. The vambraces looked to be of the purest silver, each set with huge star sapphires. Though the stones were of the deepest blue, a dark mist roiled off the left while a pure white radiance poured from the right. Royal blue cloth was visible beneath the chain skirt, which was also forged of silver links. Her face was ageless, and its regal quality unmistakable. High cheekbones and blue-green eyes were familiar to Jared, yet her lightly luminescent skin was wholly alien. Her pink lips were a tight line in her anger.

  “I am Akor’shi-kai,” she said in a deep resonant voice that vibrated the floor, as she faced the Shadow Walker that had killed the Elder. “Your corruption shall not see another dawn.”

  The Shadow Walker she addressed rushed forward, its sword raised. The woman, with the flowing white hair like a mountain glacier, lowered the staff in her right hand, and pure white light shot out of its tip, striking the Shadow Walker in the chest. The creature burst into flames, reduced to a cloud of settling ash in the space of three heart beats. Sweeping out with the sword in her left hand, the gigantic woman cleaved the Shadow Walker atop Talas in half. Its hands released Talas’ throat, as the torso fell to the side. Its bottom half simply collapsed. The older man was covered in reeking black ichor. Jared could hear Talas gasp for air and then saw his body shaking, shivering as though he had just crawled out of an icy pond.

  “What is this?” the cruel mockery of Pieter asked, having regained his feet and his staff. The shadow sorcerer looked shocked at Akor’shi-kai’s presence. Jared imagined his own face wore a similar expression. The Shadow Walker with the crushed collar bone threw itself at the towering woman in a vain attempt to give Pieter some more time to recover. Once again, Akor’shi-kai’s sword flashed, and the Shadow Walker staggered away, its arm left on the stone floor. The hand of the detached limb grasped feebly for a moment before lying still. The wounded Shadow Walker recovered enough to slip into the darkness, its maimed form swallowed up by the blackness. To Jared’s failing eyesight it was as though the creature ceased to exist. For a brief moment, the hunter pondered where the Shadow Walker might have gone, before the huge woman’s movement once again drew his attention.

  Akor’shi-kai released her staff. The length of ash wood with its glowing etched runes stood rigid in the air next to her, as she faced Pieter and extended her hand towards him with a clenched first. She was staring at Pieter like a scholar examining a particularly distasteful bug, and the feet of the former Master left the ground. He was hovering in midair perhaps ten paces away, being crushed by some unseen force. “You can’t… stop her,” the creature gasped. Jared suspected that these Shadow Walkers didn’t need to breathe, but speech required the exhalation of air, a usually minor feat that looked exceedingly difficult for Pieter at the current time.

  “She’ll… crush you… all,” the Shadow Walker struggled to say. Akor’shi-kai’s head tilted to the side for a moment, and the barest ghost of a smile formed on her lips, before her hand suddenly flew open, palm out, fingers extended.

  The once-Pieter thing screamed, before its body was torn apart. Its limbs and head flew to the far corners of the room, as the trunk of its body thudded dully to the stone floor. Oddly enough, not a single drop of its cold black blood touched the towering woman. The rest of the companions were not so lucky; several drops of the ichor sprayed Jared and felt like icy lances as they spattered across his skin.

  Mala seemed the most affected by the dark sorcerer’s death. Having risen to her knees while the tall glowing woman had held Pieter helpless in the air, a wail of torment had burst from her lips as her former friend had been torn apart. Now, covered in the thick black liquid that had been the Shadow Walker’s blood, the swordmistress sobbed quietly, staring at her truly dead friend. “Pieter…” she whispered weakly.

  Akor’shi-kai stood for a moment blankly looking at Jare
d, her recovered staff in one hand and the huge sword in the other. Confusion was evident on her face. The hunter stared into the female’s blue-green eyes, before hearing the sound of far off thunder, as the towering woman began to melt. Like fresh snow under the rays of the sun, she began to shrink, her features running and then separating. In the matter of moments, the tall woman had shrunk and then separated into two.

  One of the young women was muscular with long red hair and wore an ivy-engraved breastplate, though the ivy in her armor had returned to metal. The other young woman, who stood to the right of her twin, was softer, her long black hair falling across her pale skin and her royal blue robe. Both twins, covered in sweat, wore blank dazed expressions, as though they had been woken suddenly in the middle of the night from a particularly vivid dream. Sasha and Katya swayed, as if the weight of their bodies was too much for their wobbling knees. The warrior’s sword and the sorcerer’s staff clattered to the floor and were soon followed by the twins’ limp forms.

  Jared drug himself across the floor to Sasha’s still form, his strength failing and his vision dimming all the while. Reaching out with his fingers, he felt for the main vein on the side of redhead’s throat, praying to the Great Mother that what he feared was not true. Relief washed over him as he felt Sasha’s heartbeat there, the quick but steady rush of blood through her neck. Looking over the swordswoman’s rising and falling chest, Jared saw Talas performing a similar check on Katya. The older man tried to speak but only succeeded in coughing weakly. There were very evident red marks around Talas’ throat, and they were the likely culprit for his hoarseness. Removing his hand from the young sorceress’ neck, the veteran raised his thumb indicating that Katya was in good health. Jared mirrored the gesture, and then darkness finally crashed in around him.

  Chapter 39

  Ominous horns sounded throughout Snowhaven, as three quarters of the Ice Queen’s army lined the streets in a narrower version of their battle formation. The other quarter, which still was several hundred troops, remained on the walls to defend the town while the main force was away. No horses were to be seen, as they had remained stabled; the upcoming battle was supposed to be held in an enclosed area, and the mounts would be more trouble than help. The orders had come from Captain Ra’thet the night before that the Empress had devised a way for the army to be teleported to Aeirsga’s catacombs, and they would take the city from within. Long spears were left behind and bows kept slung close to the body. The human portion of the Army of Ice had polished their black-enameled armor to a once again glossy sheen. The blue-skinned orcs beat their weapons on their shields loudly to keep energized. Every once in a while, one would raise its head to the sky and let out a garbled yell that sounded more like a sick animal than a battle cry.

  The army itself was organized into small units of a dozen, the twelfth being a sergeant to direct them. These leaders wore plain helmets but with bat wings shaped into the sides to mark their rank. Swords, axes, and maces at the ready, the impressive force waited to be marched into the basement of the Sorcerer Tower. The Administrator’s former home loomed tall and pale, as it reflected the light of the waning spring moon.

  As time dragged on, the battle cries and clamor died down, until the troops just stood disconcertedly looking at each other. The army stamped their feet to keep warm in the chilly mountain air. The lieutenant, closest to Captain Ra’thet at the door of the Sorcerer Tower, approached his commander.

  “Excuse my asking, Captain, but what is taking so long? The men are restless,” he stated.

  Captain Ra’thet restrained himself from killing the man right then and there for his impatience. It would only take one fluid motion for him to draw the sword and cleave the man’s head from his shoulders, but he, too, was growing impatient. Ra’thet turned to the man much shorter than him and replied in a deeply annoyed tone.

  “Lieutenant, I do not know much about magic, but I would assume that to teleport an entire army across hundreds of miles would take some time. It is in your best interest to remain calm and patient, until such time as your Empress sees fit to bestow this gift upon you.”

  “Yes, Captain.” The man quickly saluted and returned to his men.

  A few minutes later, the tower door opened and the Ice Queen motioned for Ra’thet to come in. Her brow was deeply knitted, and the look on her face told him that it was not the signal to march the troops into the tower. With a raised closed fist, he signaled the army to stay put. Captain Ra’thet went into the tower, and his queen closed the door behind him. He followed her down to the lab. The room had been emptied to allow the army to march through to the crystal where the portal would be. However, the Ice Queen looked displeased and paced the room. Ra’thet knew that walk and waited for her to gather her thoughts.

  “The Shadow Walkers should be done by now. I gave them specific instructions as to where to place the obsidian shard into the crystal on the other side. The process and corruption of the Aeirsga crystal should have taken an hour at most.” Her worried face melted to hot anger. “I will burn them alive when they return. Where are they?!”

  As if on cue, a Shadow Walker fell out of the darkness in a corner of the room. Its body was soaked in its own black blood from various cuts. It was missing an arm and the same ink-like blood frothed from his mouth, as he tried to speak. The Ice Queen dropped to her minion’s side and tried to make out what it was saying.

  Never had she seen one of her Shadow Walkers in this condition. They should be near invincible, unless the skull gem was destroyed. Nothing usually lived long enough to cause any real harm to them. The Ice Queen pressed it to the ground, a palm on its head and a palm on its belly, closed her eyes and began to hum. Dark light formed around her hands as she worked, and the wounds shortly began to close. She did the bare minimum, but it was enough. She sat back and let the Shadow Walker roll to its side, coughing out the rest of the blood in its throat.

  “Akor’shi-kai… humans… failed,” it managed to say.

  The Ice Queen didn’t respond to the first two words, confusion on her brow, but the last one she understood well enough. Salamasca’s hot anger from before surged back, reddening her face, and she stabbed her staff through the Shadow Walker’s gem and out through the front of its skull. It hung there limply until she put her foot on its shoulder and pried her staff out of its head. She then turned to Ra’thet. The Shadow Walker’s black blood had sprayed across her skirt and dripped from her staff. He dropped to a knee and hoped she would spare his life.

  “Do I have to do everything myself?” the Ice Queen yelled. “I am surrounded by idiots!” She then charged Ra’thet but pulled short, turned, and threw her staff at the crystal like a javelin. It knocked some of the crystal loose as it struck and then fell clattering to the flagstone floor. She screamed in frustration and sat down in front of her Captain, her skirt ballooning out around her. “And… I just killed my last Shadow Walker who could have navigated me through the Void to Aeirsga, where I could have completed the corruption ritual on the crystal myself,” she said and sighed heavily.

  “What do you want me to tell your army, Empress?” Ra’thet asked her, his head bowed. When she did not reply at first, he peeked up at her face. A look of horror quickly clouded her fair features. She was thinking what he was thinking, it seemed. Her failure this night would undermine her authority and the army’s trust in her as a leader. Ra’thet’s loyalty was unquestionable, but the loyalty of her provisional army was not as solid, especially with the different tribes of squabbling ice orcs.

  “Tell them the crystal was weakened by The Administrator…” she began but was interrupted by her captain putting up a hand to hush her a moment. The faint cry of a bugle could be heard barely through the thick walls of the tower. Ra’thet took her hand and led her outside. Upon opening the door to the tower, the piercing cry of a war horn was loud and clear. One of the lieutenants from the wall came rushing at him with a panting scout. Sweat dripped down the humans’ face, and they both kne
lt before the Ice Queen.

  “Empress, Captain Ra’thet. The Illyander army approaches,” the scout reported.

  “How many?” Ra’thet asked.

  “At least a thousand, sir,” the lieutenant said.

  Ra’thet, in the loud booming voice of a commander, turned to the Army of Ice, “Illyander has come to retake Snowhaven. Get to the walls! Prepare to defend what we have claimed as ours!” His voice echoed throughout the deadly silent town, bouncing between the stone walls.

  The quiet was then shattered by lieutenants shouting out orders to their units. In an orderly fashion, the troops began to take up defensive positions about the town. Ra’thet and the Ice Queen ascended to the top of the South Gate, next to the dual oil cauldrons that the troops were filling and beginning to heat. Sure enough, in shining silver armor, a large, organized Illyander force with cavalry and infantry was on the field below. The line of soldiers appeared endless, as it filed out of the mountain pass that led into the kingdom proper.

  Captain Ra’thet leaned into whisper into the Ice Queen’s ear, “We have your explanation to the army, Empress.”

  The Ice Queen nodded and, grasping her staff, stabbed it into the stone at her feet. The wall vibrated from the force of the magical blow, the obsidian material, from which it was made, glowing black. Frost steamed up its length to its smiling mistress. The Army of Ice will do battle today after all, Salamasca thought and smugly smiled.

  Chapter 40

  Jared’s dreams were of Sirus, his old teacher. The younger huntsman was searching for him, but Sirus was trapped in a dark place. Something wet slid across the woodsman’s forehead. In shock, he grabbed at it. He awoke to Princess Lilliandra bathing his forehead with a damp cloth, and his fingers clamped around her dainty caramel-colored wrist. She eyed him curiously but did not try to break free.

 

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