by Matt Heppe
“Move back, Telea,” Rayne said. “Sing for us if you can.” He faced the soldiers behind him. “Form a shield wall,” he ordered.
“Against eternals?” a soldier said. “We’ve no hope.”
“We just have to hold a few moments,” Rayne said. “King Handrin will be here. He’ll stop them.”
“He doesn’t have Forsvar. That’s the only way King Boradin stopped them at King’s Crossing.”
“Not true. I was there,” Rayne said. “King Boradin drove them back with magic, and Handrin is far more powerful than his father was. Stop your griping and stand with me. This is your duty. This is for your families. If we die here, we die with honor. I’d rather die a good death than live a coward.”
“Quoting Sir Nidon,” an old soldier said.
“That’s right,” Rayne said. “I served with him and am proud of it.” He hefted his shield and stood at the tower entrance. “Form up!” he commanded. “Form close.”
Out on the bridge, something was happening. Cragor lowered the Orb and then disappeared from view. There was some disorder, and for a moment Ayja thought the enemy army was retreating. The light of the Orb grew dimmer. Cragor was moving away. Half of the eternals went with him. Cragor’s army still filled the distant span of the bridge.
Three of the remaining eternals formed themselves at the head of a company of varcolac and started for Rayne’s shield wall. Telea found herself crowded several ranks back.
The tunnel was hot and close with the press of men all around her. “They’re coming,” a soldier said.
“Mighty Forsvar, protect us,” another said. “Real eternals. The real thing. I never believed it.”
“We ain’t living through this one.”
“At least there’s just three of them coming. Wonder why the rest held back.”
“Lotta good it will do us. We’re still dead less the king shows up. Even then more than like. Forsvar’s been stolen.”
At the mention of Forsvar, Telea’s thoughts went to Orlos. At least he’d gotten free. Please, Orlos, take Forsvar to the empire. Close the Dromost Gate. Her own death, the fall of Salador to Cragor, none of it mattered, as long as the gate was closed.
“We might be dead men, but at least we’ll go down fighting like men,” the man next to Telea said.
“Could I have a drink of water?” Telea asked the soldier next to her. She desperately needed water if she was going to sing for them.
“What in Forsvar’s name are you doing here?” the soldier asked as if seeing her for the first time. “You should get clear of here,” he said, even as he lifted his gourd canteen to her.
Telea took a long pull. The canteen had once held wine, and maybe another time beer. She tasted both in the water. She was so thirsty it didn’t matter.
“She’s the one who was singing for us,” said one of the soldiers. “She commanded that beast to turn around and attack the varcolac.”
“There’s magic in your voice,” said the man as he took back the canteen. He eyed her warily. “Are you an elementar?”
“No,” Telea said. “I’m a friend of King Handrin’s. I come from the Empire—from Belen.” They thought her song had turned one of Cragor’s creatures against his own men. Why would they think any differently? They knew nothing of summoning or of demons.
“King now, eh?” He spat. “I’ve had enough of his mum, and that’s for certain. He’s not off to such a great start, though.”
“They’re coming!” someone shouted.
“Shields up!” Rayne called.
Telea cleared her throat. She didn’t have the strength for the Song of Valor and so began the Song of Hope. If she were going to die, she’d die with her favorite song on her lips. Her words echoed from the ceiling, amplifying her voice and giving strength to her magic.
The clash of steel sounded ahead of them, and the Saladorans gave way at the first impact. First one step and then another and another, the men were pushed backwards. Men screamed in pain and anger ahead of them. The eternals gave off an eerie silver light, illuminating the tunnel and showing how far they had advanced.
Telea sang louder. She didn’t know how much more her voice could take, but she felt the courage of the men around her fading, and she knew she had to give everything she had, as long as she lasted.
The man next to her raised his shield. “Get back!” he said. “They’re close!”
He was right. The soldier in front of her thrust his spear overhand, over the shoulder of the man in front of him. There was an eternal there, wielding a war hammer with deadly effect.
She caught a glimpse of Rayne through the crowd. He stood face to face with an eternal, trading blows. But then, even as she watched, a sword blow caught him on the helm, and he fell.
Telea didn’t let her song falter, even though she wanted to run and heal him. She couldn’t. The soldiers needed her song. Where’s the king?
“Get back!” the man next to her said again.
She looked for a way, but the press of men behind her was too tight. She tried to squeeze through, but there was no way. She turned back to the fight.
Rayne had gone down fighting, and it would be her turn soon. The man in front of her was fighting an eternal now. There were silver-eyed varcolac behind him. With one blow the eternal knocked the man’s spear aside. Another quick strike stunned the soldier with a blow to his head. And then a heavier blow stove in his helm and laid the man low.
The eternal paused in front of her, as if confused. Telea sang her defiance, knowing that this was the end. Her knees felt like water, and all she wanted to do was flee, but instead she sang. The soldier behind her struck at the eternal with his poleaxe, but the eternal easily parried the blow.
“—and here I stand in the face of fear—” Telea sang.
The eternal glowered at her. It parried another poleaxe blow and then raised its war hammer to dash her brains in. Before it could strike, its face changed from one of anger to shock, and then fear.
There was a cheer from the tunnel behind Telea. A bright light filled the tunnel and an electric thrill went up her spine.
The eternal’s face went from gleaming silver to iron black. He pinwheeled backwards as the soldier next to Telea stabbed him in the chest. The eternal struggled to flee but then collapsed.
Blue-white light flared next to Telea, and she saw, not Handrin, but Orlos, with Forsvar on his arm. The shield’s silver lightning bolts blazed, while ethereal energy flared from its rim. Telea’s heart soared at the sight.
The soldiers cheered and surged forward. They swept Telea along with them. The two other eternals who had been fighting in the tunnel were nowhere to be seen. Ahead of them, out on the bridge, the remaining eternals and varcolac turned and fled.
To the east, dawn light filtered across the sky.
Rayne.
Telea turned against the crush of soldiers, pushing her way back to where she’d seen her friend fall. She saw him lying there, and then relief washed over her as he struggled to rise.
She knelt beside him and took his helm from his head. “I thought you dead,” she said.
He smiled weakly. “I thought me dead.”
“Let me help you.” She lifted him to a sitting position. All around them soldiers still pushed forward through the tunnel.
“Just get me to my feet,” he said. Telea took his hands and hauled him up. Rayne staggered and leaned against the tunnel wall. “Go with Orlos. Sing for him.” He gave her a weak smile. “I’ll be along when the world stops spinning.”
Telea glanced across the bridge. “We’ve won,” she said with a smile.
Rayne shook his head and grimaced. “Cragor isn’t dead. The battle isn’t won.”
Chapter Thirty-two
“I’m leaving soon. Hold the tower,” Morin said to his pyren. He pointed out over the city. “Cragor approaches. This will be the final fight.”
Ayja followed his finger and saw a bright, gold-white light moving up the street towards the
m. She tried to swallow, but her mouth was too dry. She took a swig from her leather canteen before passing it on to Cam.
He nodded his thanks and drank deeply. He gave it back to her and said, “Drink more. You won’t get another chance.”
“We’ll fight Cragor at the entrance to the square,” Morin said to them. “A long fight favors him. The Orb will not weaken, but you and I will, Ayja. We have to finish him quickly.”
“We’ll have to fight eternals and varcolac as well,” Cam said.
“We three will go directly for Cragor,” Morin said. “My lyches and pyren will keep the others off of us. The Orb isn’t Forsvar or Dromost. It isn’t a weapon. Cragor will be no harder to kill than any other varcolac.”
“He’ll use the Orb to heal himself,” Cam said.
“Ayja and I won’t give him time to do that.”
An arrow skittered across the tower roof. “There are archers coming up,” Darra said. “There are more than just unluks out there. Cragor has human soldiers as well.”
“It doesn’t matter. They are too late. Hold them,” Morin said, pointing to Darra. He waved for Ayja and Cam to follow as he descended the tower stairs. Once in the square he ordered his lyches to accompany him. Four lyches, with their creased skin and skeletal, glowing visages joined him. There were twenty or more pyren as well, their skin as full as in life but pale with death.
“Princess Ayja and I will fight Cragor,” Morin said. “The rest of you must keep his eternals off of us. As soon as Cragor dies, and the Orb is in my hands, this war ends and you become the Lords of Salador. Lords of the world.”
There were perhaps a hundred ghuls held in reserve near the gate by the pyren. The ghuls howled and gnashed at being held back from the enemy. No, not from the enemy, Ayja reminded herself. From their prey.
A bright glow lit the street in front of them. The Orb was near. “Form a wedge on me,” Morin ordered. “Princess Ayja behind me, and Sir Nidon behind her. Sir Nidon, your only task is to keep her alive.”
“You don’t need to tell me that.”
“Lords Adun and Segmun, flank Princess Ayja. Lords Daimon and Wilrem, flank Sir Nidon. My faithful pyren, you will fill the rest of the wedge. If one of us falls, you must take our place. The reserve ghuls shall not fight but shall feed us with their strength.”
The fighting on the main street was very close now. The ghuls, not knowing defeat was imminent, continued their suicidal attacks. Soon the last of them would fall, and Cragor would break into the square.
“Eternals,” Cam said from behind Ayja. “Four of them with Cragor.”
Ayja saw them, four knights in heavy armor with silver skin. There were two giants there as well. Cam had told her stories of them, the capcaun and the urias, although she didn’t know one from the other.
“Now,” Morin said. “I want to fight them in the street and not in the square.”
Morin led them forward, at a walk first, then a jog, and then he raised his sword and shouted, “Charge!”
Ayja ran behind her father, her sword held in both hands. There was a lych to either side of her. She felt the ethereal power radiating from them. Morin glowed with power. She let her eyes look into the aether, seeing the strands of magic there. Beyond her father, she saw the bright beacon of magical energy that could only be the Orb of Creation.
The last of the ghuls in front of them fell to varcolac blades and then Morin’s wedge struck. The first dozen varcolac fell in just a few heartbeats. The blades of Morin and the lyches were unstoppable. The varcolac carried no shields, and their efforts to parry were overpowered by the strength of Morin and his lieutenants.
The wedge drove deep into the varcolac. There were unluks here as well. All fell to the charge, but their deaths slowed the impetus of the wedge. Fighting filled the street, but the buildings to either side prevented Morin’s wedge from being surrounded.
A giant surged through the crowd and delivered a crushing blow to the lych to Ayja’s right. As the lych fell, Ayja reached into the aether and threw a jet of fire at the giant. He reeled back, screaming in pain as the fire hit his upper chest and face. A pyren leapt over the fallen lych stabbed the giant through the hip, his spear piercing the giant’s scale armor.
The giant toppled backwards into Cragor’s men. More pyren filled the gap. Ayja turned and saw Morin fighting an eternal. Their blades moved incredibly fast. Both landed blows on each other. Silver blood flowed from the eternal, but still it fought on.
The glow of the Orb was just off to her left, only a few ranks back. A varcolac leapt at the pyren next to her, grappling it and dragging it to the ground. They struck her leg and she almost fell. As she recovered her balance, a varcolac lunged at her. Ayja raised her sword and parried high before countering with an overhead stroke of her own.
Too late, she saw the long dagger held low in his left hand, poised to gut her.
Before the blow could land, Cam’s axe took the varcolac in the side of its skull, felling it. Cam shouldered her aside and stepped in front of her.
Something struck her hard in the leg. The pyren and the varcolac grappled on the ground at her feet. The varcolac plunged a dagger into the pyren’s chest, but then the pyren put his hand on the varcolac’s face and there was a flash of ethereal light. Even as the varcolac raised his dagger for another blow, Ayja saw the pyren drain the life from him.
Morin had the upper hand in his battle with the eternal facing him, but it seemed no matter how many blows he landed, and no matter how much silver blood the eternal spilled, he just wouldn’t fall. She gasped as a deep cut in the eternal’s shoulder healed before her eyes.
A flare of light drew Ayja’s attention to her left. Cragor was just a few strides away, fighting a lych. The Orb of Creation blazed in Cragor’s hand. The lych swung at Cragor, but the varcolac parried the blow. Then Cragor stepped forward and swung the Orb like a stone, striking the lych in the head. The Orb flared, and the lych dropped to the ground.
Cragor raised the Orb and brought it down again, shattering the lych’s skull in an explosion of white light. Cragor looked up and saw her. He laughed and raised the Orb high over his head.
Ayja reached into the aether and struck Cragor with a lance of fire. The power of her strike lifted him off his feet and threw him back into his men. Here was her chance. She could finish Cragor now and take The Orb while Morin was still engaged in his fight.
“Ayja!” Cam shouted.
An eternal was on him, raining blows one after another. It was everything Cam could do to defend himself. A pyren tried to come to his aid but was cut off by a varcolac. Ayja reached into the aether, plucking at the strands of magic that would bring a rain of fire down on the eternal. Just as she plucked the last chord, a terrible blow struck her in the left shoulder, spinning her and sending her toppling to the ground.
Pain seared her left shoulder. She got to her knees and looked down. Her armor was split and blood poured from a wound at her collarbone. A javelin? A thrown axe? Was someone over her?
She couldn’t move her left arm.
Cam.
She looked up just in time to see Cam raise his axe haft above his head to block an overhead strike from the eternal. The eternal’s blade fell, shattering the axe haft and striking Cam in the head. His legs went out from under him and he fell, his face covered in blood.
Ayja’s world went silver. All pain disappeared. All fear as well. In its place was rage. The eternal felled a pyren with a single blow and stepped closer to Ayja. She raised her right hand and touched the aether. There was no subtlety in her act, she grasped a handful of raw power and threw it at the eternal.
A ball of electric fire streaked at the eternal, striking it in the chest and exploding in brilliant light. The eternal burst into silver flame, a blinding white fire, and then, in just an instant was completely consumed, the magic that bound it together undone.
Ayja crawled to where Cam lay on the ground. “No! Cam! Wake up!”
Through her sil
ver vision she looked down at the man who was the only family she had ever had. Her father. Her true father. Not the creature who desperately fought just a few strides from her.
Ayja heard shouts nearby. Her elemental fire had driven Cragor’s men back, but the enemy was coming again. There were bodies everywhere—varcolac, unluk, giants, pyren, lyches, and eternals. But still the two sides fought on. There would be no retreat.
There was even fighting behind them now as well. The gates were open, and the ghuls there fought an army rushing through. This was it, then. They had just a few heartbeats before they would be overwhelmed.
Cragor was up again, the Orb burning just as brightly in his hand as it had before. His armor was blackened, and the hair on his face burned away, but there was no sign that Ayja’s fire had done any real harm to him.
The Orb is healing him.
Ayja stood. A group of varcolac shouted their battle cry and charged Ayja and the pyren near her. She reached into the aether and grasping raw magic, hurled it at them, twisting the ethereal fire so that it leapt from one varcolac to the other, until a half-dozen or more of them fell.
The nearest varcolac and unluks backed away as she grasped more ethereal fire.
Ayja gasped for breath at the effort. If not for her silver fury—the strange strength Akinos had put in her—she would have long ago collapsed at the strain. She wasn’t finished though. They had taken her father from her, and they would pay. It was all Cragor’s fault.
Morin and two of his followers fought Cragor and an eternal now. There they were, all in one place… the Orb, Cragor, and Morin. So much evil… so much danger. How many lives had they taken together?
Ayja raised her good arm and summoned more ethereal power. Her breath came in great gasps, and her head began to spin with the effort of controlling so much raw energy. One final stroke. One stroke will end it all.
The silver-white light from her hand challenged even that of the orb. Cragor, facing her, saw it, and his eyes grew wide.
Ayja clenched her teeth and cast her magic at him. The ethereal energy crackled as it streaked towards the varcolac, exploding so violently it threw everyone on the street to the ground.