“Ai, you are. You are my child. I will protect you. No matter what I must do.”
Teague clenched and unclenched his hands in useless anger. “You don’t think I can protect myself? Or her? Because I’m not Aspected?”
“Ai, dammit, ai. Because she has not one but three Aspects. Because she has Sight to see those who will strike her down before they do. Because she has had at least some training with a blade. You do not have any of those.”
Teague glanced at his mother as she drew in a sharp breath once more, trying to push away the omnipresent sense of death. He turned back to his father. “It does not matter whose hand holds a sword. It can still kill.”
Instead of another reprimand, Teague’s father pulled him into a fierce embrace. “You have always thought I was ashamed of you because were born without Aspects.” He held him back, gripping his head to stare into his eyes. “I am grateful, Teague il’Sahli il’Beltran, so very grateful you do not have these burdens, because you will never be consigned to the madness of combat.” He wrapped his arms around Teague once more. “You are my son. The greatest gift the Aspects Above could have ever bestowed on me. I will not lose you to the Ken’nar. I will not.”
Teague returned his embrace with equal strength. “Father, why didn’t you ever tell me this before—”
“Tennen.” His mother pointed toward the blazing garrison. A detachment of riders separated from the embroiled fighting and rode in their direction.
Teague stepped from his father. “Do they have wounded with them?” Tennen stood motionless, his eyes wide. “Father?”
His mother’s face had gone white. His parents looked at each other. Tennen nodded minutely. He slowly walked over to his horse and drew a sword from beneath the saddle blanket.
Teague’s eyes widened in horror. “F-Father?” He hadn’t meant him to take his earlier words literally.
“Son, get on your horse. Now.” His mother’s voice was taut with her command. In her hand, she held a long knife.
“But—”
She swallowed noisily. “We have no choice now.”
“Everyone, to your horses.” His father swung up into his saddle as the other herbsfolk quickly scrambled to their mounts. “Ride south. Head for the Sün-Kasalan grasslands.” He jabbed at the sides of his horse with his heels and broke into a dead run.
Teague shook himself and clambered onto Bankin’s saddle. She immediately took off without any urging.
High-pitched whines shrieked through the air, rising above the din of the battle. He ducked instinctively. Two of the herbsfolk riding close to him screamed and fell off their horses, arrows protruding from their chests. Ken’nar flooded across the fields toward them.
He reined in his horse to avoid running into one of the dark-armored warriors. His father swung his sword. A Ken’nar fell, screaming, then was silent. He stared at his father. Blood smeared the sword the healer held in his hand, his face twisted in grief and rage. “Get down!”
Teague ducked, narrowly avoiding being decapitated by a Ken’nar sword. The movement, however, spilled him from the saddle. He landed hard. Dazed, he shook his head to clear it. A Ken’nar mount was coming down on top of him. He screamed and rolled away.
His mother turned her blood-spattered face toward him. “Teague. Run.” A Ken’nar charged his mount, shrieking a war cry, and tried to pull his mother from her horse.
“Mother!”
She flung her arm, and the Ken’nar landed on the ground several feet away.
The dark warrior reached for his amulet, aiming it at Teague. Fire never left the amulet. The Ken’nar’s head twisted with a wet crack and lolled to one side. He collapsed into a heap. His mother gripped her amulet, groaning in pain and anguish.
Teague shook with terrified understanding. She had used her Healing Aspect to break the Ken’nar’s neck. She killed the dark warrior to save his life.
His father grabbed him and shoved him toward his horse. “Go!” He took a glancing blow to his shoulder from an amulet and cried out in pain.
Panicked, Teague looked for a weapon. “I—”
“Please, son.”
He swung up into the saddle. He slapped at his horse with the reins and plowed through three Ken’nar. He had to find Lord Garis, someone, anyone. He had to get help.
Teague raced hard for the Anarath bridge.
CHAPTER 26
“The Kin-Deren defenders met the Ken’nar on the field of battle, mighty red eagles winging their way toward accursed black crows.”
—The Book of Kinderra
Kaarl let loose another volley of vermilion fire from his garnet amulet at a group of Ken’nar crossing the southern bridge. The pouring rain hissed as it touched the crystal’s heat. The dark-armored warriors charged toward the garrison, lightning reflecting off their wet protective plates.
He yanked the reins of the sleek, gray charger he rode, dragging its head around and slipping out of a melee. This animal—he hadn’t had time to learn its name before marching out of Deren—was much leaner than Ashtar. Lean and swift. That might give him a few advantages fighting in such close quarters while mounted.
As they neared, he fired another strike with his amulet. They answered him with a hail of arrows. He thrust out his hands at the incoming projectiles. Arrows dropped from the sky at an oblique angle, hitting an invisible Aspected wall. Many, even most of them, fell. But not all. There were too many. He heard a scream behind him. His curse was lost as a Ken’nar mind clutched at him, grasping, the warrior trying to draw from his Aspects to feed his power. The pull released abruptly when the head flew from the Ken’nar’s shoulders by a Fal’kin sword.
... Legion Five ... Advance left ... Don’t let them break the line ... he called to one of the battalions Desde had put under his command. He dug his heels into his horse and rode for a unit of Ken’nar trying to curl around to the west as they came off the bridge.
He had hoped they could keep the Ken’nar on the Sün-Kasalan side of the southern Anarath bridge. He must avoid fighting on the bridge itself. There would be no room to maneuver there, even for his slight horse. That had been his plan, anyway.
The Ken’nar bastards flew across the Anarath bridge and cut off any escape to the east. He and the provincial forces he commanded for Desde were caught between the Ken’nar in front of the southern bridge and the apex of the land’s edge where it dropped away into the river gorge. His only choice now was to press them east once more into the shallow bowl of the valley and attack the enemy on the open fields. Ken’nar tangled with Fal’kin there, too, but at least he’d have room to fight. What was more, if he could hold the Ken’nar to that location, Desde and what was left of Dav Koehl’s legions could try again for a retreat. He had to prevent his forces from being herded south onto the bridge or off the cliffs into the river ravine.
Kaarl whirled in his saddle and narrowly blocked the heavy blade of a Ken’nar warrior with his own sword. The clash sent jarring pain through his elbow and up his arm. He gripped the hilt of his blade with both hands and slid it out from under the Ken’nar’s parry, bringing it down on his attacker’s shoulder. The black-armored fighter howled in pain and rage but sidestepped his horse away. The Ken’nar swung the broadsword at his neck.
Kaarl ducked low over his saddle pommel, then thrust his blade through a chink in the rib plates of the Ken’nar’s armor. The blow unseated his opponent. The dark warrior’s horse screamed in terror at the sudden loss of its rider and bucked, pawing at the air. It came down hard on its master’s chest, finishing Kaarl’s grim work. Two grynwen slunk beneath the terrified horse and tore at its fallen rider. Even their strong jaws could not penetrate Ken’nar armor, so they simply shook their heads, rending his limbs from his torso. He hoped the man was already dead.
Another wave of dark riders raced toward him and the Fal’kin. He hammered at a Ken’nar with a jet of red lightning from his amulet. It met the Ken’nar’s green flame, creating a tall column of deadly fire between the
m as each sought to repel the other. A wrenching pull within him nearly forced him from his saddle. He would not fall prey to the Power from Without so easily. He dug deep and poured out his Defending Aspect. Another Fal’kin slashed at his attacker and, at last, his amulet fire engulfed the Ken’nar.
An agonized scream lifted in the air. Not Kaarl’s attacker—he was already a pile of greasy ash. It came from behind. He spared a glance behind him. Several combatants, Fal’kin and Ken’nar both, slipped over the land’s edge into the river gorge as the ground fell apart under the hooves of their mounts.
He gasped. The very earth was crumbling away. The ground, made soft and unstable by days of pounding rain, eroded under the weight of hundreds of fighters.
More fighters screamed as they plummeted over the edge of the land.
He had to break the Ken’nar line or the Fal’kin would be pressed off the cliff—and into the abyss.
CHAPTER 27
“The Power from Without: An Aspect created by man to do what man wishes with Life, not that which is the will of the Aspects Above.”
—The Book of Kinderra
The Ain Magne grimaced behind the faceplate of his grynwen-like helmet and ignored the heat reflecting in his face from his breath against the steel. Ken’nar and Fal’kin alike slipped over the edge of the Ford, plunging to their deaths in the ravine as the bluffs themselves gave way.
... Fall back! ... Fall back! ... he screamed through his call.
The damned rain. He had used it to his advantage. Now, it was a weapon turned against him, one he was not prepared to fight.
... Why dost thou test thy servant, O Aspects Above? ...
He swept his great sword at a group of Fal’kin who raced toward him, blood on their minds, and beheaded three at once. “Damn you!” There simply hadn’t been time to harvest them.
... Ëi Seconde! ... Advance the archers toward the Fal’kin rear guard ... Move them away from the cliffs ...
An intent of consent reached his mind. Several hundred feet ahead of him, a wave of black-armored archers ebbed from the land’s end pushing the Fal’kin closer to the egress of the Anarath bridge.
The Trine lifted his bottom lip over the upper one, tasting the salt of his sweat as it trickled down his face. And smiled. His second had taken the first step toward creating the last step for the Fal’kin.
Before he could even think about connecting with his Seeing Aspect, blistering heat burned into his shoulder. He hissed a curse and yanked the head of his stallion around.
“I am not so easily defeated!” He loosed metallic-colored light from his amulet, filling the gem with the life force of his opponent. His Fal’kin foe erupted into screaming flames.
The Ain Magne glanced once more at his Ken’nar on the bridge. The Fal’kin would be hounded in the front and the rear by his troops when they made a play for his yet-unsupported southern phalanx. He would have the Fal’kin trapped.
A wall of red eagles-on-saffron fell upon his troops, driving them back toward the open fields of the river valley.
The Kin-Deren provincials.
Bright red amulet fire stuttered over a Ken’nar unit, five of his warriors erupting into flames as the tongues of flame caressed them.
Kaarl Pinal.
“Damn him!” He dug his heels into the sides of his mount and charged closer to the southern landing of the Anarath bridge.
His Seeing Aspect nudged him with no particular vision, just a knowing.
He was running out of time.
CHAPTER 28
“Ta Aspecta’e Alta solis ísí Oë busquaer defendeo.”
(“To the Aspects Above alone shall you seek protection.”)
—Ora Fal’kinnen 15:6
All around Mirana lay bodies—Fal’kin, Ken’nar, horses, grynwen—death contorting their limbs. Heaving bodies still locked in mortal combat whirled about her as she raced Ashtar past the battle lines. The faces of the dark forms struggling in the pounding rain only revealed themselves when lightning stabbed at the tormented sky or when amulets illuminated vanquishers and the vanquished. Rage, agony, terror, the brutality of war pierced her mind like lances.
... Lord Garis ... Where are you? ... Answer me ... she called.
Her Defending Aspect flared. What? Where? She looked around frantically for the threat. Without an amulet, she had no way of knowing for certain.
Arrows soared over her head. Ashtar veered, trying to avoid the lethal missiles, and threw her from her saddle with his sudden movement. She landed on a dead Fal’kin, his blood and bowels staining her leather armor. She cried out in horrified disgust and flipped herself over, away from the corpse. Out from the storm and the swirling fighters, an enormous dark mass slammed into her, driving her back down into the offal and the mud.
A grynwen gnashed at her throat with fangs longer than her fingers. She screamed and tried to push the beast from her with her arms and her Aspects, but the vicious carnivore outweighed her by five times. Hot saliva dripped from its maw onto her throat as its blood-red eyes narrowed with each snap of its jaws.
“I’ll not have you take another one of mine, you rackin’ cur!” a woman screamed.
A sword took the beast’s head from its haunches, spraying her with blood. She looked up.
Into the helmet of a Ken’nar warrior.
CHAPTER 29
“My help comes from the Aspects Above alone.”
—The Codex of Jasal the Great
“Run, Bankin!”
Teague dug his heels into his mount’s sides, willing her to charge faster. When he reached the southern causeway of the Anarath bridge, he found the far end packed with fighting bodies. There would be no crossing it.
Moments later, a hail of arrows shot through the air and pelted the ground around him. Bankin paced, terrified, uncertain in which direction to run.
Again, he raced toward the bridge, wildly dodging another flock of arrows. He searched for a Fal’kin unit fighting on the fringes of the Ken’nar column, intending to convince them to break off and save his parents and the herbsfolk. His horse stumbled, nearly throwing him again. He reined to a dead stop.
Bodies covered the entire southern plain. Torn standards of a red horse on a white field lay in the bloody mud. The guard from Varn-Erdal.
They had been killed. All of one hundred of them. Their bodies, gray forms in the dim predawn light, lay contorted on the wet ground. Grynwen gibbered in ravenous glee as they fed on the dead. In the damp air, shreds of fog swirled and crept across the fields like wraiths. His stomach clenched. Hardtack didn’t taste good coming up. Actually, it didn’t taste good going down, either. He fought to get his stomach under control between heaves.
The bridge remained locked in the grip of the Ken’nar, cutting off any escape for the Fal’kin.
Teague turned in his saddle toward the foothills. His breath dragged itself from his lungs, weighted with helplessness.
There would be no help for his mother and father.
CHAPTER 30
“The light of the Aspects will be my shield! My amulet, my sword!”
—The Codex of Jasal the Great
Kaarl ducked another Ken’nar blade.
Where were Morgan and Binthe when he needed them? Garis had ordered them out of action. Damn Tetric Garis. No. This time he could not blame the Trine. The healers were too important to lose.
... All units ... Concentrate fire full front ... Concentrate fire full front ... he called wide.
A riot of colored Fal’kin amulet fire erupted, washing over the Ken’nar. The dark warriors fell by the dozen. Kaarl and the Fal’kin charged from the land’s edge, pushing the Ken’nar line back east toward the open fields of the Ford valley.
He spied the tight knot of Desde’s Fal’kin battle seers on the ridge to the east. Her defender guard unit was embroiled in fighting. They would not last.
... Desde ... Fall back ... Fall back. ...
... Kin-Deren north guard ... Two enemy units ... Moving so
uth-southeast ... His seer wife called to the Kin-Deren provincial army, ignoring his plea.
The unceasing onslaught of amulet fire from Kaarl’s Fal’kin herded the Ken’nar forces away from the bridge toward the open fields. He didn’t utter a prayer of gratitude yet.
A familiar presence brushed at his mind. “Steward Pinal.” He turned to see Morgan Jord riding toward him, his sword drawn, followed by Binthe Lima and thirteen other il’Kin.
He wanted to be relieved. He wasn’t. They had taken serious losses. “The healers?”
“Safe,” Binthe said, shaking her hair away from her face with a spray of rain and blood. She sucked in a breath as her emerald amulet suddenly brightened. “Down!”
He and Morgan both ducked, evading a hail of arrows. Embers singed the back of his neck as the projectiles turned to cinders by Fal’kin defender amulets.
He raised his head to thank the seer, but Desde’s mental cry cut off his response. He snapped his head up to the ridge. A dozen of her Fal’kin defenders attempted to stop the Ken’nar army as the monstrous infantry advanced from the south again and this time, merged with the remnants of the northern phalanx. The sons of grynwen whores had allowed themselves to be pushed east and had circled the edge of his forces.
Kaarl searched the battlefield for a way to get to her, or for an escape route he could call to her. Several Ken’nar punched through the Fal’kin line and rode straight for him, death on their minds. He thrust out his hand, sending one warrior flying from his saddle into his comrades. Morgan and the other il’Kin turned them into ash.
The Ken’nar poured onto the battlefield on Kin-Deren soil toward Desde. They surged unheeded through the weakened Fal’kin line, armored and mounted black spears through parchment. Her group was overcome and forced southward.
... Desde! ... he called.
Morgan followed his gaze. ... To the ridge ... he ordered the il’Kin, brandishing his sword.
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