Trine Rising

by C. K. Donnelly

  Defender Commander Morgan Jord raised a fist in the air and brought the group to halt. “We should be far enough away.”

  Battle Seer Binthe Lima cantered her horse up to them and squinted into the distance. She closed her eyes and held her amulet. A moment later, his mother and father exchanged confused expressions. Morgan nodded and frowned.

  Teague had never witnessed a battle seer calling a fight before. It was unnerving. “What?” he asked Binthe. He winced. Did he do the wrong thing and break her concentration?

  She opened her eyes, but they remained unfocused. “Our battalions are focused on the northern Ken’nar phalanx.” Her words came slowly as she translated the visual language of her Seeing Aspect. “But the southern Ken’nar forces are holding their position.” She jutted her chin in a direction beyond the Anarath bridge.

  Teague squinted. Barely visible in the foggy mirk was a long black line, darker than the night. Not seeing the warriors but knowing they were there was more frightening than actually having them apparent. Maybe. He swallowed.

  “She means to prevent the northern Ken’nar force from regrouping with the south,” Binthe continued, “but she will not have enough fighters. When the south comes.”

  His father gripped his horse’s reins with white knuckles. “The provincial forces will be overrun. I will not sit here and watch our people be slaughtered.”

  “No, Tennen,” his mother pleaded.

  “I have the blood of defenders in my veins.”

  “Ai, but it is the Healing Aspect you hold. You cannot use a blade.”

  “I do not need a blade to stop them.”

  “Tennen, Ëi cara, listen to your wife,” Morgan said. “If you were to be killed, who would heal us?”

  “If I can stop the Ken’nar, no Fal’kin will need to be healed.”

  Alarm shot arrowlike through Teague. He had never seen his father like this. “Father, you’re a healer. You cannot kill.”

  His father exhaled, releasing his anger. He hung his head. “Ai, son. I am sorry. I do not fight Ken’nar, I fight a much more terrible foe, death itself. My place is here.” He turned to the defender and the seer. “But it is not yours. The il’Kin have done enough getting us out safely. Desde and Kaarl need you far more than we do. Go.”

  Binthe’s fingers curled around the hilt of one of her long knives. “I sense danger to you here.”

  “There is danger everywhere,” his mother replied. “If the il’Kin can help Kaarl stop the southern phalanx, we will be safe. Maybe we are too small a group to be noticed.”

  His father stared intently at Morgan and must have called something, as the il’Kin leader nodded after a moment.

  The young defender commander returned a grim smile. “Remember the Light and the Keep, Ëi cara. Rememore Kin e Forte.”

  Even Teague knew it would take more than a battle cry to save the Fal’kin.

  As the il’Kin raced back toward the southern bridge and what was left of the garrison, Binthe paused. “Be careful. Please.” She charged after the others.

  His parents and the herbsfolk dismounted and began to check what supplies they had in their packs. He remained in his saddle, locked in horrified fascination at the battle. Jets of colored lightning flared. Was Mirana still somewhere in the garrison, trapped behind the lines?

  She had told him she didn’t want him in her life anymore. It was more than his heart could bear, a wound that would never stop bleeding. Every time one of the amulets loosed its deadly fire, frantic dread gripped him as he wondered if she had been struck down.

  His father approached and put a hand on the broad neck of Teague’s horse. “I want you to ride south. Do not stop until you reach Kasan.” His eyes, too, remained on the il’Kin riding toward the distant battle. “Tell the defender prime there what has happened.”

  He shook his head. “I’m not leaving.”

  His father reached up and grabbed his arm so tightly he thought he’d snap it in two. “You will do as you’re told.”

  “No. That is a massacre.” He pulled himself free and pointed to the embattled garrison. “You’ll need every herbsman, just like Seer Prime Kellis Pinal needs every Fal’kin.” Mirana. She didn’t have an amulet. “I don’t know everything, but I can be of some help.”

  “Teague—”

  “Tennen, the Ken’nar came from the south,” his mother said, cutting off his father’s warning. “There could be more.”

  His father blew out his breath and nodded. “Get down from your horse, son. You’ll be less of a target for arrows. If any should come this way.”

  Teague climbed down and watched the distant il’Kin disappear into the rain and smoke and death.

  CHAPTER 23

  “Patientia ísi straitéis magne i’tuda”

  (“Patience is the best strategy of all.”)

  —Ora Fal’kinennen 95:29

  The Ain Magne sat astride his stallion as he surveyed the fight from a river bluff south of the garrison and tightened a buckle on his chest plate. His armor was indistinguishable from every other Ken’nar, save for the fact he wore no livery, no surcoat. He was Trine for all of Kinderra, therefore no single provincial symbol would he prefer over another. After a gesture with his hand, an aide immediately handed him a gauntlet. He had young Aspected who had yet to choose an amulet bear for him the skeletal black plates of metal and dark chain mail of the Ken’nar, but he dressed himself. More than one Ken warlord died at the hands of an armor-bearer.

  ... First North artillery ... One more sortie ... Defenders ... At the ready ...

  He allowed the myriad of sensations washed through him, over him, every Aspect thrumming, every nerve alight with the heady maelstrom of war. When he was young, his first experience with battle had overwhelmed him as pain, fear, fury, bloodlust, past impressions, future tellings, and the raw need to release power from him all vied for his attention. He had long since learned to let such sensations run their course for a moment rather than fighting to beat them back. After decades of war, the onslaught of emotions no longer subdued him. Only when the shock of mayhem and death at the open of a battle had receded did he clear his mind and take control of himself and the fray. He did not savor the experience, far from it, but he let the abrupt endness of death serve as a constant reminder of how much was at stake. How much there was to lose. To gain.

  ... Cease fire ... Archers pull back ... Defender Commander Staine, you have the field ...

  ... Ai, Lord ... his northern captain returned. ... What of the Varn-Erdalans? ... Our battle seers had divined a large unit in the Dar-Anars heading towards our location ...

  The Ain Magne smiled. Let his second take the credit he was due. He turned his head to face the thousands of Ken’nar behind him and the young, thin man at their head. “Seer Second?’

  His lieutenant nodded, his pale green amulet shining in the darkness. ... The Varn-Erdalan forces are no longer an issue for you, Commander ... the young seer replied.

  ... Excellent! ... We will have the Garnath Bridge for you shortly, my Trine ...

  From his vantage point, he could view the entirety of the battle. His northern phalanx had done its job, sending barrage after barrage of ignited naphtha-coated arrows into the installation. The heavy rain, of course, would have dowsed conventional fire. His second scoffed at the use of the Seeing Aspect to predict the weather. The young man would learn it was one of that particular Aspect’s greatest uses.

  Brilliant white fire consumed garrison tents, sending the Fal’kin scrambling for their horses. Greasy, acrid smoke, the odor perceptible even at his distance, mixed with fog and slowly spread a pall over what was left of the garrison. The Fal’kin battle seers had certainly predicted the presence of his southern contingent, but his troops had yet to enter the theater of battle. An immediate threat always took precedence over a less urgent one. So the Seer Prime Kellis Pinal gave the only order she could: form a line to prevent his northern units from coming any closer. Desde was a smart woman, thoug
h. More than likely, she, too, knew the fallacy of her order before she even gave it. And so, he had her right where he wanted her.

  His second trotted his horse closer. He removed the steel wolflike skull of a helmet and shook the sweat from his light brown hair. “The troops grow restless, my lord. Give me the order.”

  It was a fair observation, but sending in the southern phalanx at this very moment would accomplish nothing but waste precious defenders—on both sides.

  The boy was smarter than this and should be above letting bloodlust get the better of him. “The time is not yet right. Use your Aspect. Tell me what you see.”

  The seer stared at him a moment, not bothering to hide the frustration leaking from his mind. “I have, my lord. As always. If we move in now, we can wipe out the Kin-Deren bitch—”

  “—Show some respect. She is a prime.”

  The young seer bowed his head, acknowledging the reprimand but his face reddened with anger, not contrition. “We can wipe out Kellis Pinal’s north unit before her defenders have fully organized. We need to be bold and swift.”

  “And we will be. When I am ready.”

  His second leaned forward in his saddle and bounced his black armored forearm against the pommel of his saddle, an anxious gesture that had never disappeared despite training. “Staine won’t be able to take the bridge without more troops. He’s outnumbered two to one.”

  “Ai. He is. But not for long.” He shifted in his saddle and sought his field commander’s mind. ... Shore up your eastern flank and herd the Fal’kin down the ridge ...

  His commander was far too engaged in fighting to call a mind-worded reply but instead sent an affirmative intent. The man was a seasoned defender, a veteran of many battles. He had been right to put Staine in a position of leadership. He was not insulted but grateful the man had not wasted time and effort on a more formal reply.

  The Trine curled his armor-encased fingers around the dark crystal of his amulet and let the connection build between his Aspects and the gem. His northern phalanx was momentarily pushed back by the Fal’kin defending the Garnath Bridge. Soon, the Pinals would make another move, again the only one they could, again leading them closer to their downfall. His shoulders tensed with a surge of the Defending Aspect within him.

  Beside him, his second inhaled sharply, pale light spilling from the amulet he held. “She’s going to make a mistake. She will destroy herself with that order.”

  “Eventually. But it’s not Desde’s mistake, she will only accede to it. It will be her husband who will make the mistake.”

  The time had nearly come.

  “I have an order for you. Make certain the girl remains alive. Make certain your men and women know this. If any of your troops try to harm her, kill that person. Personally.”

  Again, the seer faced him, but this time he withheld comment.

  It was a sacrifice he was loathed to make, but Mirana Pinal alone was worth more than every single Ken’nar on the face of the continent.

  The Ain Magne set his grynwen-skull helmet over his head and adjusted the faceplate.

  ... Seer Second ... Move the southern phalanx into position ...

  CHAPTER 24

  “And the battle was joined. Like the fire of the Aspects, all were consumed all in their wake.”

  —The Book of Kinderra

  Kaarl shrugged off the burning sensation in his shoulder and sucked in a lungful of air, vitality returning to him. He pulled his sword free from the Ken’nar’s chest as the light from the dark warrior’s amulet faded. The Ken’nar who died at the end of his blade had dared try to use Kaarl’s own life to power his damned amulet, but his sword was even faster than the Power from Without.

  He, Desde, her battle seers, and a unit of provincial defenders fought to hold the eastern ridge leading into the Ford valley so the garrison could retreat. The fighting moved down the valley rim from them, giving him a moment to study the battle. The Fal’kin at the northern Garnath bridge had taken losses. The line was holding, but they would not be able to maintain it much longer. Death lay ahead and behind. Once the main Ken’nar host from the south arrived, they would be hopelessly outnumbered. They would lose. The Ken’nar would then march east and take Deren with almost no resistance from the citadel. All of Desde’s fighters had been deployed here at the Ford. To save Deren, and the rest of the continent, they had to succeed at the Ford. But how?

  “How did they find the command tent so quickly?” Desde asked. “We barely escaped being burned alive.” She shook off something from one of her long knives. Grynwen flesh. Disgusting, mangy beasts.

  “They didn’t find anything. They just set flames at will.”

  He would have never known his wife had not seen combat in nearly twenty summers. He wondered, not for the first time, if she had a touch of the Varn-Erdalan viciousness somewhere in her blood.

  She held her amulet, then gasped and pointed southward. “Look.”

  A black wave swept toward the Ford off to the south emerged from the darkness between flashes of lightning. The Ken’nar southern phalanx. Five thousand of them.

  A wash of grim dread flooded him. When all the Fal’kin intelligence spoke of an attack at dawn, the Dark Trine sent the Ken’nar under cover of night. When they expected a force of five hundred from the north, the Dark Trine split his troops into two units, with five thousand approaching from the south.

  He searched the battlefield with his silver eyes and senses more acute. “Where is Garis?”

  “I do not know. I cannot sense him. He must be under U’Nehíl.”

  He tore his gaze away from the battle lines to look at his wife. “During a battle?”

  “Maybe he’s shielding her somehow as well.” Desde wasn’t watching the fighting but focused on the long knife in her hand.

  “I hope he’s not at the Ford at all.” He prayed the Trine was riding away with Mirana. He dared not reach for his daughter’s mind. He would not be able to fight if the Aspects gave him silence.

  He shut out his worry for his daughter, his determination a citadel gate slamming closed against a marauding horde. His Aspect and his amulet were the only things left to him to save her now that his silence no longer could. He studied the Ken’nar battle lines again. “They will attempt to surround us.”

  She nodded. “Ai. I’ve seen it in four out of five future skeins.”

  “Garis was right. We will not be able to get out.” He gritted his teeth. “You’ll have to order the provincials to split into two units, one to keep the southern phalanx from advancing and the other to try to finish off the northern unit.”

  Desde frowned. “It will turn our one weak army into two even weaker ones.”

  “Can you think of any better way to prevent being cut down between their two?”

  His wife sighed in frustration. “No.”

  “By your order, my prime, I will take half and go south. Defender Commander Dav Koehl and Liaonne Edaran can have at these bastards.”

  She nodded, her face taut with concern. “We need a miracle, Ëi ama.”

  Anger quickly replaced his defeat, his Defending Aspect rising to the need. He cast out a wide call. Hundreds of Kin-Deren defenders peeled off from the fighting and raced south.

  Kaarl curled his lip into a fierce snarl. “I will be your damned miracle.”

  He dug his heels into the sides of his horse and charged into the fray.

  CHAPTER 25

  “The question is not what I would do for Kinderra but what I would not do. To that, I reply, ‘Nothing!’”

  —The Codex of Jasal the Great

  “Father, Mirana’s out there.” Teague wiped the wet hair from his eyes. He blinked against the rain as the horror in the distance continued to unfold.

  His mother stifled yet another moan. “There’s so much death. I cannot keep it from me.” His father put a hand on her, steadying her.

  He had never seen her react this way. It frightened him. His parents had each other and were su
rrounded by the herbsfolk. Mirana might be all alone. If the Dark Trine found her, he would surely kill her.

  He gritted his teeth as fire bit into something flammable in the garrison and flames exploded into the sky. “I have to find her.”

  “She is with her mother, one of Kinderra’s most skilled battle seers,” his father replied, not taking his eyes from the embattled garrison.

  Teague clenched his teeth tighter. A skilled battle seer who hadn’t fought since well before he was born. He tightened his hands into fists. He could not sense his father’s emotions, but he was certain they now shared the same rage, which neither could use. “The garrison is overrun. They’ll be out on the fields by now.”

  The flashes of amulet light in the north dwindled. The Fal’kin were dying. The Ford was lost. Mirana. Panicked need welled up from the pit of his stomach like bile. He had to do something. Anything.

  His father closed his eyes, his mouth working in a silent curse. As a child, he had been known as “the boy who could see death.” The overwhelming sense of lives lost mustn’t have been any easier for his father to bear than his mother. “Mirana is clever. Her Trine Aspects—” he took a breath and swallowed before he opened his eyes, “her Aspects will keep her safe.”

  Fire consumed another tent in the camp, sending bright orange flames high into the air.

  “Mirana hasn’t trained for something like this,” Teague said, gesturing wide at the distant battle. “She hasn’t even held a knife in more than six summers. Regardless of her Aspects, she’s only one person against thousands. She will be killed. I have to help her.”

  His father whirled toward him. “No, you do not, biraen.”

  “You can’t protect me anymore. I’m not a child.”