The pearl, the rib, and Koren’s blood all started to glow a sickly green.
“By the Creator,” Brisson said from behind her.
She almost laughed at his revulsion. The Creator. Only fools still held to the old superstitions. Even the priests of the Light knew nothing of religion, of power. This was true power. This was true religion.
“Come forth,” Koren commanded. “In the name of my master, I command you!”
The wind howled in the treetops, cracking branches, and the clouds churned overhead. The horses whimpered with fright and the elves gathered close together like frightened children.
As one, the demons threw back their heads and howled in a long, high shriek.
Something clawed its way up from the muck. It stank of rot, and black, slimy soil between the bones and ragged bits of cloth held it together.
The creature shambled to its feet, and from behind her Koren heard the elves draw swords.
“Stay your men, Brisson. He will not harm me,” she said without looking back. “What is your name?” she asked the creature.
“In death I have none,” the muck said. Its voice surprised Koren. She hadn’t expected it to be so clear. Indeed, it sounded like a living being.
“What was your name in life, then?”
“Slerian.”
“Whom do you serve, Slerian?”
“I serve Baelzeron, my master.”
“I serve the Master, as well. You will honor the Master by serving me,” Koren said.
“I will honor the Master.”
Baelzeron had warned her that the pearl’s creations wouldn’t possess their former intelligence; not at first. It would take some time for that to return, but she’d already accomplished what she needed to tonight. The creature, the Risen, knew it served the Master. It would be unable to break that command. Obedience, simple obedience, was all that was required.
More thrashing in the muck drew her attention. Soon, a second Risen gained its footing. This one, unlike Slerian, didn’t approach Koren. It seemed to be looking first at the edges of the pit, then at the sky, and then down at its own hands.
Koren cocked her head in confusion. The spell should have raised only one from death; a mage who could use his power to do Baelzeron’s will. As the first to answer the Master’s call, Slerian could then raise other servants with his spellcasting. The Master hadn’t predicted a second. Could it too create more Risen?
“Who are you?” Koren asked the second creature.
It ignored her. It seemed to be seeking something instead, turning its filthy head this way and that.
“Brisson, have your men kill this one. Do not harm Slerian.”
Arrows hit the second Risen, driving him down to his knees. It examined the fletched shafts and then cried out in pain and anger. A pair of golden elves climbed down into the pit with their swords drawn. The Risen in the pit turned its attention to them. A bolt of blue light formed from its fist and then struck the nearest soldier, flinging him aside.
The other elf roared and charged. Faster than the elf could react, the Risen struck. His fist met the elf’s chest, exploding through plate armor and flesh alike in a burst of gore.
With both threats eliminated, the Risen stopped to stare at the blood coating his fist. It raised the bloody hand to its face and sniffed at it.
Brisson’s men bent their bows again.
“Wait,” Koren commanded. Perhaps this was a gift. A second Risen to do the Master’s will—and a powerful one at that. With two of them, her undead army would grow twice as large and twice as quickly, and destroying the wood elves would be that much easier.
She approached the second Risen.
“What is your name?”
“Verdant,” it said without hesitation.
“Can you feel the quiet dead around you, Verdant?” Koren asked.
“The fallen are not quiet. I hear their cries. They bid me to awaken them.”
Koren struggled to contain her glee. For the spell to work on both of them, he must have been buried very near Slerian—on top of him, even. They must have fallen in battle together. With Slerian and this Verdant creature working as one, they might not need the disgusting orcs any longer.
“And whom do you serve, Verdant?” Koren asked.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Waiting was always the hardest part, Dain knew. In a lush gardened terrace, he and Sera waited with their children.
The terrace was one of the castle’s rare concessions to leisure over defense. Sera had insisted on having it, and she’d transplanted a pair of slender Mintril saplings for shade. She could have used her power and forced them to grow and mature anew, but that wasn’t her people’s way.
Dain sat on a small bench, watching his children at play. Though his body rested, his mind focused on the challenge ahead.
It might take Koren days or weeks or even months to make her move against them and, until she revealed herself, there was nothing they could do but prepare. Sera, always looking to the future before anyone else had given it a thought, had already done most of that. She’d gathered her soldiers, bolstered the castle’s defenses, and prepared for a long siege. Now there was nothing to do but wait.
Dain knew that a commander couldn’t hold his troops at high alert for long. After a time the men dulled as the excitement wore off. His father had believed that if the enemy didn’t move in three weeks, mental and physical atrophy would set in.
“Atrophy followed by apathy,” Harren Gladstone had said. “Then mortality. Many a kingdom has been lost because the enemy waited until apathy set into their opponent’s troops.”
Dain didn’t think that would happen here. The wood elves were battle-toughened beyond any people he’d ever met. It wasn’t just the soldiers, either. Every man, woman, and child contributed to the war effort. Teran’s loss had changed these people. They weren’t carefree anymore. They’d grown hard. Too hard? he wondered. Had they lost sight of a purpose, a reason to go on, beyond simple survival? Perhaps.
Certainly he bore some of the responsibility for that. Sera had asked him to prepare her people, to forge them into survivors, and he had. Every man and woman above the age of fifteen had been conscripted into the army. Three years of service were required before they could resume their normal lives, and during those years they learned weapons and armor and tactics and how to fight in formation. With their training and service complete, the conscripts could be recalled in times of danger as they had been now. The wood elves were as capable of weathering any storm as he could make them. But would it be enough?
He laughed at little Rhone clinging to Telar’s fur and riding his brother like a pony. His shapeshifting is getting better and better, Dain admitted to himself. The lessons with Cleeger had helped.
All too soon, Telar and Luren would begin their own three years of service. Some chose to stay longer of course, becoming officers and leaders. Telar and Luren would likely stay on. Beyond mastering their abilities, neither had ever shown much interest in learning a trade.
Rhone smiled and waved from Telar’s back as if he were returning home to a hero’s welcome. Luren stood near Sera, practicing her spells. Controlling the winds, she spun up a tiny dust devil and then showered Rhone with flower petals and leaves.
“Fa…Fa!” Rhone called. He raised a small hand and waved again. Dain returned it.
Dain caught one of Luren’s leaves from the wind and placed it in his book—the latest travels of Taelon into the Swenragh desert. The book was excellent, written as the celebrated explorer’s other works were, in a series of journal entries. But between thoughts of the coming battle and his family, Dain found his attention wandering.
He and Sera inspected the castle twice a day, making minor changes as they saw fit. Shifting a few archers to cover the main ga
te, putting extra bundles of arrows where they would likely be needed, seeing to the livestock or the hygiene of the men. They’d been doing the inspections for a week now, and at this point they were undoing some of the same changes they’d made the previous day. Sera had insisted they take an afternoon and rest as a family before they drove the soldiers crazy.
Sera left Luren to her casting and joined him on the bench.
“Can’t read?”
“Too much going on.”
“When do you think she’ll move?”
“Last week, I would have said long before now. Almost everything we know about Koren shows how impatient she is. And we know her desire for vengeance,” Dain said. It was the same practiced answer he gave Sera and the elders and most of the troops each morning.
“Gashan can’t believe it, either,” Dain continued. A dark look flashed over Sera’s face and he instantly regretted mentioning the guardsman. Though the golden elves had settled into a camp in the castle’s courtyard with no fuss, Sera’s feelings toward them remained unchanged.
“I do not trust him, Dain.”
Dain said nothing. Nothing he could say would change things. He’d hoped Jin would have better luck, but instead of working on her mother’s opinions she’d been spending most of her free time with Regan—sparring, ostensibly.
So far Jin had kept her feelings for the guardsman hidden from her mother. That won’t last. And as angry as Sera was about the Golden, she was furious with Galena. She’d endured a lifetime of pain and disappointment from the Golden, but Drogan’s steadfast refusal to send aid had been unexpected and was still fresh.
“Neive apologized today,” Sera said, as if plucking Dain’s thoughts straight from his mind.
“For?”
“Drogan. She apologized for his response to her letter.”
“And what did the response say? I haven’t had a chance to see it myself.”
“A repeat of the first. Same words, different order.”
Dain stretched his legs out in front of him. “Well, there’s no need for her to apologize on his behalf. I think if she had her way, Galena’s entire army would be here. After seeing what happened in Mirr, she understands what we’re facing.”
Telar shifted into a huge raven and hopped gracefully to a nearby ledge.
“Bir…bir…bir!” Rhone howled. He sat in the soft green grass and clapped his stubby hands.
“Fly, brother, fly!” Luren cried, laughing in delight. She warped her whirlwind into a sharp gust and sent Telar soaring on its breath.
Dain’s chest tightened and he clasped Sera’s hand in his own. He worried about his son, even though Telar had proven a skillful flier. Still, it wasn’t natural, turning into a bird. He had to remind himself that his son’s skills were different from his own. Black feather-tips fluttering, Telar soared above the castle in a wide, rising spiral.
“I’ll never get used to that,” Dain said.
“Most shifters never learn more than a single change, but he shifts easily into two already. And he is still young. He’s very talented.”
“They all are.” Dain looked at Luren and Rhone.
“And that’s good. Much will be expected of them. Their people will need them in the days to come and they will need each other—us, as well.”
Dain heard a rustle behind them, and Jin and Regan stepped out of the castle and onto the terrace. Their faces were flushed but smiling.
“The morning patrol just returned,” Jin said. “Uncle Tarol sent a letter with them.”
She handed the letter to Sera.
The heavy paper was rolled tight and secured with a length of leather strap. It was sealed with a thick gob of white wax; Tarol had stamped it with an imprint of his dagger’s hilt.
After untying the strap, Sera used her thumbnail to break the wax. Her eyebrows drew together as she read.
“Koren is moving. There are scattered reports she took a small party of Golden elves and demons south of the road. They camped near Teran.”
“What would she be doing down there?” Dain said.
“Tarol doesn’t know. A few of the scouts tried to get close, but there’s a ring of demons surrounding the group. The scouts killed one, but lost three of their own doing so.”
“We can send a shapeshifter to fly over. Beyond that, there’s little else we can do but wait and see what her next move is.”
“He wants to bring his troops here.”
“No.” Dain shook his head. “If we’re put to a long siege he can use his own troops to cut Koren’s supply lines. He may also have to protect the villages if Koren passes us by.”
“You think she will?” Sera asked.
“No. What she wants is here. She wants us—all of us—dead. Besides, if she ignores us we’ll cut off her supplies and her army will starve.”
“We must do more waiting, then?” Sera asked.
“I’m thinking of moving the rangers outside the castle. In here, they’ll be less effective.” Dain paused, mulling the idea over for the hundredth time. “But yes, we’ve little to do now but wait.”
No one spoke. Luren and Telar laughed and played with Rhone, oblivious to the troubles that surrounded them for the time. The cool breeze picked up, muting the sounds of the army camped in the courtyard below. Dain could almost imagine they weren’t on the verge of a battle for survival. That they were just an ordinary family out for a picnic.
“You could finish your story,” Jin said, settling down cross-legged on a soft patch of the garden’s ground. The twins and Rhone continued playing, but she and Regan were watching him close.
“I thought I had,” Dain dodged. “Besides, there’s little to be learned in my past that will help us now. We need to focus on what Koren might do next.”
“You just said we’ve nothing to do but wait,” Jin said. “Might as well finish the tale. You stopped partway through the first year, after meeting Helena. You never said how the trials turned out, or how you ended up leaving the Order.”
He gave Sera a sharp look, hoping she would intervene. She answered him with a slow nod and placed a tender hand over his own. He sighed. No help there. He never should have agreed to tell Jin any of this.
Karelian Empire—Seventeenth Year of Pelion’s Reign
Winter’s grip grew firm, a fresh coat of snow falling each night, and then two months after Yulen’s Day it slackened. Frost still covered the streets and windows each morning, the occasional snowstorm still rolled in from the east, and they still chipped ice from water left outside overnight, but the days were lengthening. Used to the bone-cutting cold of the Highlands, Dain felt like winter had never truly come.
After a long, chilly run, Chaney rallied the squad.
“Today we’ll get a good indication of how prepared we are for the trial. We face house one in the Castle.”
“Attacking or defending?” Dain asked. Like all the squad matches, the Castle was supposed to be a small battle, a test of tactics and improvisation. In this case, one group defended a stone structure that resembled a castle scaled down to less than twenty feet high and roughly an acre in size.
“Attacking,” Chaney said.
The squad groaned as one. The Castle was supposed to be weighted as an even engagement, like every practice battle, but only one team in four attacked it successfully. The defenders had too many advantages.
“We’ll skip sword work today. You have until the second bell to prepare,” Chaney said, ignoring their complaints. The rules forbade any direct advice from the sergeants on the matches themselves. The squads were free to study historical battles resembling a specific match, or the sergeants could focus their squad’s preparation on the skills needed to succeed, but they couldn’t comment on tactics for the battle itself.
“Atta
cking against house one? They haven’t lost a single group match yet,” Trysen said.
“These exercises are supposed to be equal,” Falion offered. “The Castle, though, and against house one?”
“There has to be a way. A weakness we can exploit,” Dain said. “The sergeants are just waiting for us to find it.”
“No one’s found it yet,” Niles said with a shrug.
“Well…I’m not so sure if that’s true,” Falion said. “Remember when we watched house seven attack? Remember where they launched their attack from?”
“Yeah, and they failed miserably, splitting their forces like that,” Kag said. “Lost most of their men at the front entrance.”
Dain had been struggling with the castle exercise for some time, turning it over and over in his mind in his bunk at night, refusing to accept that there wasn’t a way to beat it. Falion had the right of it. Something house seven did had stuck in his mind, as well.
“Maybe they just lost the wrong men at the front door,” Dain said. “I have an idea.”
He outlined what he’d come up with to the others.
Just outside of Karelton, the Castle sat on a small, barren hill. A handful of Paladins stood gathered to one side—the judges for the contest. Chaney waited beside them, as did Lankirk, the sergeant for house one. Chalmer, who rarely attended any recruit trainings, stood shoulder-to-shoulder with him.
Half of house one’s members were nobles. After learning that Chalmer had put the houses together, it was easy to see who his allies were. Tirion Flaren’s father headed the Council of Merchants. Rask al’Pere’s father owned the largest bank in Karelton. Dolph Steinen’s family ruled a vast fiefdom along the Empire’s eastern border much as Dain’s own ruled the West, and Wainright Harringtan’s father was the High Justice in the Emperor’s courts. All sons of the Empire’s most powerful lords.
Paladin's Fall: Kingdom's Forge Book 2 Page 22