Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  There was no point in answering. Jared knew the answer. Sasha and Katya were the only ones who could stop Salamasca. If they didn’t prevent her from subjugating the Eastern Kingdom under her rule, there would be no stopping her. She would sail the combined might of her Eastern army, her dragon and whatever other sorcerous abominations she managed to create, across the Sea of Twylight. There, she would most likely reclaim rulership of the ice orcs and then crush Illyander beneath her heel.

  To prevent it the twins had to sacrifice themselves. They had to give up their lives and their families to safeguard everyone else’s. It wasn’t fair, but everyone knew and was resigned to it. There was no point in railing against something they could not change.

  Jared wanted to be there for the final battle. Not just to help, which he truly felt he could despite the awesome power of the Ice Queen, but also to be with Sasha in what were likely going to be her final moments. Jared had spent years of his life alone and at times thought he would die alone as well. Now that he had let Sasha into his life he couldn’t imagine a worse fate. Nor could he easily consign her to a similar end.

  However, he had given her his word, as Sasha had so vehemently stated. There was also the small consolation that at the end, Katya would be there with her. Jared had never had any siblings, much less a twin, so he knew he could never truly understand the bond between the sisters.

  But, there was a bond between he and Sasha and he understood it instinctively. Deep down in the core of his bones, he knew it.

  Jared unwrapped Sasha’s arms from around his waist and took one of her hands in his; the other he placed over his heart. He then took his hand and rested it in the center of her chest. The swordswoman looked confused but did not say anything.

  “By seed and root…” he began.

  Sasha looked shocked for a moment but then quickly put a finger to his lips. “Jared,” she said softly. “You don’t… I don’t need for you to…” her voice trailed off as her tears sprung anew.

  The hunter took Sasha’s hand away from his mouth but held it tightly in his own. “I know I don’t need to,” he said. “I want to.”

  Jared could see the struggle on the swordswoman’s face, but after a moment her face relaxed and she nodded. The hunter continued.

  By seed and root, by bud and stem

  By leaf and flower and fruit

  By life and love

  In the name of the Great Mother

  Death shall not part us, for in the fullness of time

  We shall be born again at the same time

  And in the same place as each other

  And we shall meet, and know, and remember

  And love again

  Sasha repeated the words back to Jared, her voice cracking several times with emotion, but never hesitating in her recitation. The hunter gave the swordswoman one last slow kiss and then they walked, hand in hand, to join the others.

  Talas leaned back against the rock outcropping, rolling his shoulders to keep knots from forming in his tired muscles. The long climb to the top of the butte where they had prepared their ambush had been arduous. The priest was no longer a young man. Even Sasha had had to pause to catch her breath a couple times before they had finally reached the top, several hours later. Only Iluak, who had flown to the top of the towering butte to secure the rope for the Illyanders to climb, had not been exhausted. While everyone had rested the therianthrope had climbed atop a small stone column on top of the butte and was now lying flat, his keen eyes scanning the horizon for their adversary. It was the middle of the night. Yet, the moon and the myriad of stars in the clear sky illuminated the area enough for Talas to still see the area reasonably well. Iluak, on the other hand, claimed that he could see just as well as though it were daylight. Talas and Olivia had expressed a healthy skepticism, but Katya had defended Iluak’s claim, saying that it made sense given that the young man was able to assume the form of a snow owl. Mistress Mala, in her human form, had shared several traits with her animal guise; keen hearing, eyesight and a remarkable dexterity. It only stood to reason that Iluak would have night vision that was superior to theirs.

  Talas tested the piton at his feet once again. The metal spike was securely driven into the stone and a considerable length of rope was tightly fastened to it, trailing over the edge of the rocky plateau on which they waited. A contingency plan, should the Ice Queen be forced to land on the sand far below instead of on the butte, or should the Illyanders need to flee. The rope had allowed them to climb the lofty rocky spire and would provide them with a way back down, as well.

  Whether that was in victory, battle, or retreat remained to be seen. If they were defeated, getting down to the desert sands would be the least of their worries.

  Talas shook his head, seeking to drive such negative thoughts from his mind.

  Iluak shuffled backwards, climbing back down the tiny tower of rock that Talas leaned against. The priest turned to help the therianthrope down but the younger man hopped the last few feet, his feet slipping only slightly. Even this high above the Aishe, the desert winds had managed to deposit a decent sprinkling of sand across the rock. Iluak recovered quickly. Years spent north of the World’s Edge Mountains had made the young man used to maneuvering on slippery ground. Even in the dim light, Talas could see Iluak’s eyes were wide; fear and anxiousness clear on the therianthrope’s face.

  “She’s coming,” he whispered, despite the fact there was no way Salamasca could have heard them speaking over so great a distance.

  Talas smirked at Iluak’s overly cautious lowering of his voice and turned away, as the therianthrope retrieved his bow from the ground. The priest cupped his hands giving a high warbling whistle, the signal echoing strangely across the top of the butte. Despite the intervening space between him and the others, the peculiar acoustics carried to his ear the sound of swords being drawn and feet shuffling in the light coating of sand that covered the top of the tower of rock. Perhaps Iluak had been right to whisper.

  Even with the many months that had led to this moment, Talas could hear his heart pounding in his ears. The former sellsword had fought in his share of battles, but never had the stakes been higher. They must succeed here or else there was every chance that the Eastern Kingdom would fall. If that happened, the rest of Aronshae would soon follow. There had been talk of bringing an army, but that idea had been promptly dismissed. Sailing across the Sea of Twylight with hundreds of armed troops would have been seen as a declaration of war against the Eastern Kingdom. Even if they had convinced the Easterners of the threat posed by the Ice Queen and been allowed to march across the Aishe, there was no way such a large force could have moved unnoticed. Surprise was one of the few advantages they had over Salamasca, and they would not waste it.

  Besides, the Illyanders knew that once they dealt with the Ice Queen, the threat posed by the Easterners conscripted into her service would vanish. There was no need for a protracted bloody conflict if the true threat could be taken care of quickly. Also, should they fail to kill Salamasca, every able bodied man and woman would be needed in Illyander to defend against the Ice Queen once she crossed the sea.

  Talas took three deep breaths, calming himself. Despite the stakes, and the odds, this was a battle like any other. The priest had been well trained in the Temple and was a seasoned warrior. These things, and his faith, would carry him through. He looked to the pile of rocks which Katya and Sasha hid behind. He prayed to the Great Mother that the sorceress’ plan for pulling the Ice Queen out of the sky would work. Otherwise, the coming battle would be short and unpleasantly one-sided.

  As if she heard his thoughts, Katya stood up from behind her small rampart of stone, lifting her staff above her head in both hands. The sorceress’ long hair streamed out behind her in the night air, a dark river against the evening stars. Beside her, Sasha stood as well, her arm already pulling a bow taut, arrow nocked. Though he could not be certain, the bow in Sasha’s hands looked very similar to the one he had seen Jar
ed carry since he had met the hunter. Talas nodded to himself. Though the woodsman had stayed behind, promising he would take the pair’s son far from the battle, he had helped in whatever little way he could by giving his bow to Sasha. Jared had to know, regardless of how the coming battle ended, he would likely never see it or the swordswoman again.

  Katya screamed her spell into the night, her voice a bellow of pure rage. Lightning arced off both ends of her staff, joined into a single bolt a hand span in front of the length of wood, and sprang forward into the sky. For a brief moment, the top of the butte was lit as brightly as if the sun had been directly overhead. Talas brought his shield up to cover his eyes against the sudden radiance. The priest heard a monstrous inhuman roar of pain that reverberated in his chest and then a strange silence. There was a pair of twangs as Sasha and Iluak loosed their arrows against a foe that Talas could not see from his hiding place, but nothing else.

  For the span of several breaths Talas feared that Katya’s plan had failed. The priest began another plea to the Great Mother, only to be interrupted by the dull thud of a great weight against stone. Talas felt more than heard the impact as the sand and pebbles at his feet jumped slightly into the air. The collision was followed by a torturous sound like metal scrapping on rock, a cacophony that lasted for several seconds and grew ever louder as it came closer. Iluak crouched down beside him to take cover, as did the twins. A billowing cloud of shattered rock and sand rushed past the Illyanders, their tiny stone outcroppings protecting them from the onslaught of debris. Talas closed his eyes tightly against the sand whipping around his face.

  After a long tense moment, the worst of the maelstrom had passed. Talas opened his eyes and stood, stepping out from the shadow of the small pillar of rock, he had taken shelter behind. The priest was greeted by a scene that filled him with both hope and dread.

  Talas had seen this dragon before as it flew over his head at Snowhaven. However, that had been at a distance. This close, he was overwhelmed at the immensity of the beast. Teeth the length of swords lined a maw that could easily swallow a horse whole. Its head alone was the size of a tradesman’s wagon. He watched as the dragon righted itself, propping its huge body up on legs as big around as a tree trunk. Behind the creature was a large trough that had been hewn from the stone of the butte with its crash. The dragon had carved a channel that Talas could have stood in and not seen over the edge with its ruinous landing. Even so, the monster seemed to be unhurt by the impact. Only the smoking hole that Katya had blown through its left wing betrayed the fact that the creature had been harmed at all.

  In spite of the obvious force with which they had hit the ground, the Ice Queen remained atop her mount, shaken but seemingly otherwise unharmed. The Illyanders had hoped that the Salamasca would have at the very least been dismounted when they brought down her draconic steed. Olivia had joked wryly that maybe the Ice Queen would be thrown to her death or crushed under the dragon’s immensity, but they knew better than to expect that much good fortune.

  Despite Salamasca still being mounted, the Illyanders’ plan did not change. They needed to take advantage of Salamasca being taken off guard. Talas raised his mace, charging forward. “For Illyander!” he cried. “Strike now, for all of Aronshae!”

  Talas and Olivia rushed forward, weapons drawn, only to be brought up short by the wall of broken rock that had been pushed up in front of the gargantuan dragon’s collision with the top of the large butte. Quickly looking at one another and nodding, the pair began climbing over the rampart of tumbled stone. Time was not a commodity they had in great supply. The quicker they got to the Ice Queen the better. Yet, before they had passed over the first boulder in their path, they heard the chilling laughter of Salamasca come to their ears. With the cackling, came a chill wind, even colder than the night air here in the heart of the Aishe.

  “How adorable,” came Salamasca’s icy voice. The sound of the Ice Queen’s words echoed strangely atop the butte. “You followed me all this way, only to die!” Salamasca’s dragon stood up shakily, but it was enough to elevate the Ice Queen far above Talas and Olivia, and the priest was able to see the nefarious sorceress raise her staff as she swept it out before her. A howling wind ripped across the top of the butte. Talas threw up his shield as sand and rocks, some the size of his fist, began pounding against the metal protection. After the impact of several stones almost dislodged him from his position on top of the boulder he was traversing, Talas had to hunker down fully behind his shield. He looked over to Olivia, who had slid back down the pile of rocks and was taking cover behind the largest one she could find. Talas closed his eyes, pulling up the wide strip of cloth around his neck to cover his nose and mouth. As long as this assault of wind and stone continued, the priest and his wife could not approach. He opened his eyes slightly to look at Olivia who seemed to be trying to yell something, but over the sound of the wind and the continuous ringing of metal, as stone after stone struck his shield, Talas could hear nothing. Finally, the priest slid back down behind a small boulder, taking a moment to look at his shield. It had been badly dented but was still intact. His left arm had begun to go numb from the assault and the priest opened and closed his hand several times to return the feeling to his battered limb.

  While the Ice Queen’s maelstrom continued to hammer them, Talas looked back to his companions. Iluak was nowhere to be seen, probably having taken cover as well. His eyes moved to where he had last seen the sisters, but did not see them either. It was not because they had sought shelter, though.

  In their place stood a towering woman, her now familiar long white hair flowing out behind her. Her silver breastplate, with its living ivy embossment, reflected what little moonlight penetrated the tempest of sand and stone that flew through the air. Beneath her chain skirt, royal blue cloth covered most of her legs. About her wrists were silver vambraces, each set with sapphires of the deepest blue. From the depths of the stones power flowed; a dark mist roiled off the left while a pure white radiance poured from the right. She had her rune-etched staff raised before her, the ancient symbols of power glowing in the chill night air. In her left hand she easily held a massive sword at the ready. Though similar to the weapon Talas had seen the Avatar wield before, the priest noticed that the blade she carried now had a distinct curve to it. A shimmering shield of light hovered in the air before the tall figure. Sand and stone pounded the sorcerous bastion, which showed no more notice of the assault than an ox would a fly that had accidentally flow into it.

  Akor’shi-kai had returned.

  The luminescence of the Great Mother’s Avatar’s skin brightened slightly as she strode forward. A gale blew up behind Akor’shi-kai, countering the Ice Queen’s storm and the sand and stone fell to the ground. Talas and Olivia stood up from behind their shelter. Talas looked to their foe, but with a glance he could see that his wife’s gaze was fully locked on the gigantic female as she walked towards Salamasca. A strange calm settled over the butte, broken only by the sound of the Avatar’s strides and the scrabbling of the dragon’s talons as it tried to flap its wings. The creature’s wounded wing folded suddenly and a roar of pain escaped its massive maw. The Ice Queen’s mount wouldn’t be flying anywhere for quite some time. Talas smiled inwardly. At least that part of the plan worked, the priest thought.

  Salamasca grunted as an arrow struck her shoulder. So focused had the Ice Queen been on Akor’shi-kai that the deposed sorceress hadn’t noticed Iluak stepping out from behind his sheltering stone tower and loosing an arrow at her. Salamasca snorted in disgust, raised her hand in a dismissive gesture and sent a glowing bolt of lightning across the intervening distance. Iluak dove for cover as the rock beside his head shattered, exploding and showering the immediate area with debris. Talas heard the therianthrope let out a cry of pain, but couldn’t go to Iluak’s aid without exposing himself to one of Salamasca’s sorcerous bolts as well. The young shape shifter was on his own for now.

  Ripping the arrow from her shoulder and toss
ing it angrily aside, the Ice Queen spoke. “You may have taken me by surprise,” she said, frosty contempt in her voice. Despite her tone, Talas thought she looked overly pained by the wound. It was then that the priest saw a bloodied bandage already in place beneath her now torn robe. Talas did not have time to contemplate the revelation before the Ice Queen spoke again. “You greatly overestimate yourselves though, if you think you can defeat me.” Salamasca leapt from the dragon’s back, her motions disturbingly fluid and agile for a woman known to be hundreds of years old. Landing lightly, she straightened to her full regal height and pointed at the Illyanders. “Walron,” she said almost affectionately to the massive dragon. “Kill them!”

  Despite the pain from his injured wing, the gigantic creature rushed to obey, rising up on his hind legs and thrusting his head forward. Talas and Olivia dove away from each other as a massive bolt of electricity sprang from the creature’s mouth, ripping up chunks of stone in its wake. Agony lanced up the priest’s legs and he cried out. Talas hit the ground and rolled onto his back. Sitting up, the former sellsword saw the remains of his smoldering boots hanging off of his blackened feet. He released his mace, letting it hang from the thong around his wrist, and quickly began beating his tabard with his gloved hand. The rich green fabric had caught fire along the bottom edge, but he was able to put the conflagration out.

  Looking across the smoking trench that the dragon’s breath had hewn from the stone between them, Talas saw Olivia’s unmoving form lying face down on the stony ground. With the force of the blow the clothing had been ripped away from the scout’s back and right arm, and Talas could see blackened flesh beneath. Blood poured from a cut along her temple as well. The priest struggled to get to his feet, but agony from his wounded legs answered each movement. He began crawling towards his wife, using his arms to propel him along.