by Matt Heppe
There was confusion amongst the Saladorans as some retreated, while others pressed forward, unaware of what faced them.
Morin cut down knights and men-at-arms as he pressed forward, the Landomeri near him taking advantage of the destructive path he carved to strike at fleeing knights. More Landomeri leapt over the wall to join the fight.
Calen jumped down and then raised his arms to Maret.
“Take Orlos,” Maret said as she lowered her son to Calen. And then she hiked up her skirts and climbed over herself.
Calen handed her son back as soon as she left the ladder. “There’s my baby,” she said, covering him with the cloak to protect him from the wind and rain that still fell.
The fighting had stopped. The Saladorans had retreated across the moat, with Morin and the Landomeri facing them just a few strides away.
The moat must give them confidence. They no longer flee.
Grax stood on the bank opposite Morin. Raising his visor, Grax said, “Who are you?”
“I am Morin, Prince of Salador.”
The Saladorans shuffled at his words. “So it is true,” Grax said. “You have turned into one of them.”
“You will remove yourselves from this place,” Morin said. “The Landomeri are to go free.”
“Why? Why are you here?”
“I am here for my daughter,” Morin said, gesturing back towards Maret. “Now be gone, or it will be the death of you.”
“I don’t want your daughter. I want the boy, Orlos.” Grax pointed to where Maret stood.
Morin turned sharply. In a few strides he was in front of Maret. With one hand he pushed back her hood.
“Maret? But where is Hadde?” He raised his visor. His face shone in the dark and his cold, silver eyes bore into her.
“The varcolac took Enna. Hadde is chasing them.”
“Then who is this?” His silver hand moved toward Orlos’s face, but Maret pulled him back.
“Orlos. My son.”
Morin’s silver eyes met hers. “I’m sorry. I have to get my daughter.” He looked away, back towards the keep. “I thought you were Hadde and this was my daughter.”
“Prince Morin, please. Only you can save us.”
“With my child I might be able to save us all.” He turned away from her and climbed towards the palisade.
“Where are you going?” Grax called across the moat.
“I am leaving. This child is not who I was looking for. Don’t say I never did you a favor.”
Arno grabbed Morin by the arm, stopping him before he could climb the palisade. “How can you do this? We are Hadde’s family. Her people.”
“And I will save her and our child. But not by wasting my time here.”
“This is our death!” Arno shouted.
Morin pushed the big Landomeri off as if he was a child. Arno stumbled back, almost falling.
Maret turned to the sound of thunder. But not thunder. Horses.
Out of the rain and darkness, Landomeri riders charged into the flank of the Saladoran attackers. Maret saw old men and women amongst the attackers, young girls and boys as well.
“Run!” Arno shouted, recovering from his initial surprise. “Left! Behind the horses!”
Some of the horses plunged into the moat, driving between the Saladorans and the trapped Landomeri. Hadde’s mother Enna led the charge. She stood high in the saddle, her bow held ready.
Across the moat Grax shouted, “Form right! Hold! Hold! We can take them!”
Enna’s horse lunged through the chest-deep water. She drew her bow to her ear, paused just a moment and loosed.
“With me!” Grax bellowed. “Across the—” Grax’s hands flew to his face as Enna’s arrow pierced his eye. He stumbled two steps before collapsing, dead.
“Let’s go, Maret!” Calen said.
She took a few steps when she heard an anguished cry behind her. A man toppled into her, almost knocking her over. Morin’s helm fell from his head as he collapsed on the stones of the fallen wall. Black veins streaked his face.
He reached for Maret, but Calen pulled her away.
“Help me,” Morin said. Even as she watched, the black veins spread; only his eyes remained silver. Morin tried to rise, but fell back, helpless.
He’d lost contact with the Orb. Hadde had told her how the godshield Forsvar had felled the eternals. And how Morin’s skin had turned black and he’d lost his strength.
I loved him so much… once.
“Run, Maret!” Arno yelled.
The clash of battle drowned Morin’s faltering voice. Calen half dragged her to the edge of the moat, where Arno waited for them with a horse.
“Calen, up!” Arno ordered. Calen leapt into the saddle. Arno took Maret and lifted her onto the saddle behind him. She clutched Orlos in her arms, desperate she might lose him.
“You’re on?” Arno asked. She wrapped her free arm around Calen’s waist and nodded.
“Ride!” Arno shouted and the horse plunged into the moat. And then they were up the far bank, riding for the darkness.
Maret glanced back as they rode off, only to see a dark figure crawling into the moat and disappearing under the black water.
Chapter Thirty-nine
Hadde almost missed the tracks as they left the road. She looked up from the ditch the varcolac had clearly climbed across and into the pine forest. Had they seen her following? Was this an ambush?
She paused, watching and listening. She heard her horse’s breath and windblown drops falling from sodden branches, but nothing unusual. No sound of a crying child.
Just down the road, a small bridge crossed a stream. Are they making camp? Have they finally given me a chance?
She dismounted and led her horse into the pine forest. Dozens of plans had run through her head as she pursued the varcolac. But none had offered any hope of success. She knew if they reached a town her efforts were doomed.
Enna would cry, of course. But Hadde just had to make it to her horse. She could outride a running varcolac. Not by much, but enough.
Hadde looped her horse’s reins over a tree branch and checked her quiver for the hundredth time. Eighteen arrows. It would have to be enough. She had found some of their armor earlier, abandoned by the road. Coats of plates and leg harness. No doubt they had abandoned it to make better time.
They think themselves safe.
She loosened her sword in its sheath. She couldn’t let it come to that. Take Enna and run.
Hadde followed their tracks deeper into the forest. The wet ground and pine needles absorbed all sound. Keeping low, she crossed the crest and made her way downslope, closer to the stream.
Then she heard them. The varcolac made no effort at stealth. At least two were shouting at each other. And then she heard Enna cry. Not a cry of pain. Hadde knew it at once. It was a cry of hunger and fatigue.
She is cold, wet, tired, and hungry. And they are keeping her from me.
Hadde set her jaw and crept closer. She saw two of them at first. They were both looking away from her. She crept another tree closer and the rest came into view. There were seven of them, sheltered under a large pine. A few had their packs out and rummaged inside them. One cradled Enna. Another varcolac stepped close and shouted at him and then pointed in Hadde’s direction.
She froze. He couldn’t have seen her.
And then the varcolac holding Enna walked away from the others into the forest. Hadde’s heart skipped a beat. She’s too noisy. They’ve had enough of her crying.
The varcolac rocked Enna as he walked. Here was her chance. She wouldn’t have to wait until they fell asleep. She glanced up the slope behind her. Maybe half an arrow flight to my horse. If he would only come closer.
As if at her command, he did. Hadde drew an arrow from her quiver.
Closer. Come closer.
She had to kill him with a single arrow. And Enna had to fall safely to the ground. So many things could go wrong. For a moment Hadde doubted what she was doing.
>
What if he falls on her? What if she is injured? I should wait until they fall asleep.
And then, just strides from Hadde, the varcolac sat down cross-legged under a tree with Enna in his lap. She still cried, but not as stridently as before.
Hadde’s blood pounded in her temples. Despite her best efforts, she had trouble taking a deep breath. Her hands shook as she nocked her arrow and hooked the string over her thumb ring.
Calm. Calm. Be calm. Patience rewards the hunter.
Slowly, her breathing recovered. Slowly, her heartbeat steadied.
Only one chance. One perfect shot.
The varcolac rocked Enna, but to no avail. Hadde crept to her right so that the tree would not block her shot. The varcolac never so much as flinched.
This is my chance.
Hadde drew the bowstring to her ear. She felt the slack in the rain-soaked string. But at such close range it wouldn’t matter.
And then, with a gut-wrenching crack, her bow snapped. For an instant she stared at the wrecked bow, split on the top limb. The full horror of what had happened crashed down upon her.
Enna tumbled from the varcolac’s lap as he rolled to his feet, a long dagger in his hands. Hadde swept her sword from its sheath as she dashed forward. Two-handed, she struck an overhead blow at the varcolac.
He threw himself to the side and her blade came down on his shoulder, biting deep into muscle and bone. He cried out in anger and pain. Hadde wrenched her sword free and slashed again, cutting him across the chest as he scrambled backwards. He tripped and fell.
Hadde scooped up Enna and ran. She heard the shouts behind her and knew the varcolac were coming. She clutched Enna close to her as her feet pounded up the slope. Enna’s cries only urged Hadde on faster.
She poured all her energy into running. Nothing else mattered but getting to her horse before the varcolac caught her. Time slowed, each step seeming to take forever. She could feel the varcolac behind her. She knew how fast they were. Any moment they would have her.
The horse was just ahead. A little to her left. The shouts were close now. They were so fast. Too fast.
She was just strides away when the javelin buried itself in her horse’s flank. The beast reared and fell, its legs flailing.
Hadde whirled. The varcolac was almost on her, hands outstretched for Enna. Hadde thrust, and the varcolac impaled himself upon her sword, crashing into her and sending all three of them to the ground.
Hadde picked up Enna and lunged to her feet. The varcolac lay dead next to her, her sword through his chest. Hadde yanked it from him and ran for the road, even as the next varcolac burst into view.
She felt the varcolac on her—felt his breath on the back of her neck. She dashed onto the road, hearing him crash through the tree limbs behind her.
There is nowhere to run. No hope for rescue.
Hadde dodged aside and swung her sword in a blind swipe at the varcolac. Caught by her sudden move, he barely parried it with his javelin as he dashed past her. Hadde stabbed at him but he back stepped, his weapon at the ready.
More varcolac rushed from the woods, surrounding her. She spun in a circle, cutting at them. One leapt forward, his bare hands reaching for Enna. Hadde slashed his arm and wrenched herself aside, nearly losing her grasp on Enna.
But now five varcolac surrounded her and she had no way out. “Stay away!” Hadde shouted. “This is my daughter!” But her words sounded weak to her.
A varcolac laughed. “She is the queen’s now. Give her up and you can live.”
The circle of varcolac closed in on her. Hadde kissed Enna on the forehead and gave her one last squeeze before putting her down on the ground at her feet. Hadde grasped her sword in both hands.
“I won’t let you take her.”
“Then you will die,” said the largest of the varcolac. A gold band held back his long hair.
Hadde knew not to let them attack her at once. The injured varcolac held back a little. Next to him stood a varcolac with only a short axe and a dagger. His defense would be the weakest; the others held swords or javelins.
She rushed him, cutting down with an overhead blow. He blocked it with his axe handle. Hadde caught a flash of movement and barely parried a sword stroke from another varcolac. Her counter-stroke drove him back.
A third varcolac ran to Enna.
“No!” Hadde shouted and leapt at him. Her blade sang through the air and the varcolac threw himself backward to escape the blow, but he lost his footing on the muddy track and fell. Hadde stayed on him and thrust her sword, deeply gashing his side. She was about to thrust again when she heard a shout behind her.
She spun, her sword in a high guard. And saw her death. The varcolac had already released his javelin, its gleaming head spiraling at her.
There was nothing she could do.
The javelin struck her in the chest with terrible force, throwing her backwards. It seemed like forever before she crashed to the ground.
Blinding light filled her vision. She couldn’t breathe and tasted the hot iron of her own blood. Hadde clutched the javelin, helplessly trying to pull it from her body. And then her strength went out of her and her world dimmed. Her hands fell from the shaft.
Hadde turned her head and saw Enna, wrapped in a quilt looking up into the sky. Enna’s head turned and their eyes met.
Thunder pealed overhead and lightning laced the heavens. There would be no eternal to save her this time. Akinos would not heal her with the Orb.
She waited for the darkness, the terrible nightmares of regret, but they didn’t come. Instead, as her life faded away, she felt a lightness in her and a glowing spirit bird rose up from her chest and flashed into the sky.
I die for you, a voice said, and we are one. You die for me and our spirit will be free.
Chapter Forty
Nidon spurred Storm toward the varcolac and Hadde. Mud and gravel flew as the old warhorse charged down the road. As if sensing his urgency, the horse galloped like a four year old courser.
“Hadde!” Nidon shouted as he saw the javelin cast. Time slowed and the world became silent. His vision became a tunnel and through it he could only see Hadde.
With every fiber of his being he willed the javelin to fly wide. Even the best coat-of-plates, worn over double mail, could not stop a javelin thrown with such force. But then it struck her and Nidon knew she was gone.
“Hadde!” he shouted as she fell.
A varcolac stood in front of him, staring down at Hadde’s body. At the last moment, the varcolac heard something. He turned too late, and in an instant his head was spinning from his body.
Nidon wheeled Storm, the warhorse sliding on the muddy road as she turned violently about. Two varcolac ran at Nidon. One cast a javelin, but Nidon ducked it.
He struck down at the other as Storm’s hooves gained purchase and the horse sprang forward. Nidon’s blow stuck true, and the varcolac fell. He was nearly to Hadde when a varcolac jumped close to aim a blow at Storm’s legs.
But Nidon pulled the horse up short and the blow missed. The varcolac was injured, and stumbled as he recovered from his missed blow. Storm reared and one of his great hooves smashed in the varcolac’s skull.
And then Nidon leapt from his horse and was standing over Hadde’s child. The poor girl wailed in her sodden blanket on the muddy road. Nidon planted his feet on either side of the child as he faced the three remaining varcolac.
The varcolac approached, two with swords and one with an axe and dagger. Their silver eyes glowed in the dark. “Stupid man. You are going to die.”
“Is this my choice, Ragos?” Nidon asked. “Give you this child or die?”
The varcolac paused.
“Who are you?”
“I… am… Nidon!” He shouted his name in the face of the varcolac, and his name was filled with rage and grief.
Nidon leapt at Ragos, swinging his axe in a broad, sweeping cut. Ragos turned it aside with his sword, but was forced back a step and then
tripped and fell over a dead varcolac. But Nidon couldn’t finish him. He raised his axe just in time to block a heavy blow from a varcolac to his left.
Nidon cut at the new attacker with a short, powerful stroke, but the varcolac parried it. Nidon pressed closer to him, shoving the varcolac and keeping him from swinging again.
And then Nidon punched the varcolac in the face with the haft of his axe, crushing his nose and he toppled backward. Before the varcolac could recover, Nidon finished him with a two-handed blow.
Nidon twisted aside as an axe glanced off his helm and armored shoulder. As he spun, the varcolac’s dagger hammered into his side, but Nidon’s coat-of-plates held.
Nidon parried the axe and countered with another strike from his axe haft. It was a blow so strong that most men would have been brought low, but it only stood the varcolac up, stunned for a few heartbeats. But that was enough time. Nidon recovered his axe and slammed the blade into the varcolac’s face, splitting his skull.
As he yanked his axe free, a weight crashed against Nidon, throwing him to the ground. The varcolac was on top of him.
Ragos.
Nidon was on his stomach and knew that this was death. He got his knees under him and heaved himself to the side, hoping to throw Ragos.
But the varcolac was immensely strong, and Nidon only succeeded in getting himself to his back, the varcolac astride him. Ragos grabbed Nidon’s helm with both hands and wrenched it violently to the side. The ill-fitting helm twisted on Nidon’s face, and he couldn’t see.
Nidon was blind. He didn’t know if a mace or a rock struck him, but over and over the blows struck his head and the world spun around him. Nidon raised his arms and for a few moments fended off the strikes.
Another blow struck Nidon’s helm.
With a last surge of strength, Nidon lunged up and locked his hands behind Ragos’s back, embracing him so closely that he had no room to strike. The blows ended, but Nidon couldn’t breathe. The weight of the varcolac was too much. Nidon’s grip weakened. When the varcolac broke free, it would be the end.
When his grip finally broke, Nidon raised his left hand to fend off the blows, but his right went to his dagger. His last chance.