He had no time to catch a breath. More Ken’nar moved in to take her place.
Kaarl thrust and feinted with his sword, but it was of little use. The diamond tactic was a defensive move. It afforded no way to spread outward into an offense without breaking the pattern’s security. It was a last stand. He was going to die.
... Mirana, please be safe ...
* * *
Mirana closed her eyes. The cries of the ruby around her neck became overwhelming as they shrieked against her own life’s music. She could no longer feel her body sitting in Ashtar’s saddle. Her reality became an all-encompassing resonance only her soul could hear. Her own life’s music oscillated through the flawless crystal while its vibrations rippled back to her. Her life’s song thrilled in harmony with the music of the ruby until the counterpoint fell away, note by note. At last, her life’s harmonics adapted and blended themselves to those of the ruby and it to hers. Disparate chords merged, and she cried out as a single, pure tone, a glorious unison, rose to a crescendo within her.
Mirana’s three Aspects joined together as one. Blood-red fire erupted from the amulet in a curtain of flame.
* * *
Teague felt it more than heard it—a rumbling from deep within the earth. It vibrated up through his mount’s iron-shod hooves. Moments later, a massive wall of red fire erupted in the dim pre-dawn light and hammered at the Ken’nar blocking the southern landing of the Anarath River bridge.
Instinctively, he threw up an arm to shield himself from the brilliant light. When the light dimmed, he lowered his arm. Where fighters once stood, now there were columns of fire. Hundreds. He shook in fear and shock. Was it the Dark Trine? The human pyres collapsed and the deafening screams silenced. The Fal’kin surged forward off the bridge, the Ken’nar behind them in pursuit.
Again, a curtain of red flame swept across the Anarath bridge, and again, he shied away from the intense radiance. He blinked his watering eyes to clear them. The sounds of the battle died away as the rumbling grew louder. A great swath of Ken’nar dropped from view as the bridge span on which they stood disintegrated into the chasm. Slowly, inexorably, whole sections of earth slid away.
Grynwen turned from their grisly feast of human carcasses at the light and thunderous crash, and fled in terror around him, baying in primitive fear.
Once more, the scarlet brilliance engulfed the Ford. He gasped. The northern Garnath bridge now curled away from its rock-hewn buttresses, dragging still more Ken’nar with it. Dust and screams rose from the ravine until they too disappeared.
He could not move, held captive by what he had just witnessed.
Two Rivers Ford was gone.
The massive wall of red fire. Was it the Dark Trine? Tetric Garis? No.
It was her.
“Mirana,” Teague breathed her name.
* * *
The Ain Magne raced his mount down the sodden banks of the overflown Anarath River, searching for a place to cross over to the Kin-Deren side of the garrison. Somewhere amid the seething masses of combatants was Mirana Pinal. He had to find her before she could attempt her foolhardy plan. The massive power she needed to condense to pull off her reckless act could kill her before she had a chance to release it.
The girl was crucial to his conquest of Kinderra. She was linked to Jasal’s Keep. Without her, the power that lay locked within would remain untapped. Kinderra would devolve into anarchy.
The Trine reined his stallion to a halt, the beast’s sides heaving with labored breathing. He frowned at the muddy, bloody river. He had no choice but to swim across the raging torrent to get to her.
“You don’t know what you’re trying to do, child.”
He clutched at his amulet and searched for the presence he had felt within her call in the Kana-Akün months ago.
Out of the waning night, a brilliant wall of red light enveloped the southern bridge.
... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... He called the order with so much force, his stallion reared in fear. It no longer mattered if the Fal’kin heard his command as well or not.
The Ain Magne let the amulet fall against his chest.
“Mirana. What have you done?”
* * *
Kaarl gripped his blade with both hands, swinging wildly at anything that moved. Morgan’s back pressed against his as the younger defender loosed violet flame over the encroaching Ken’nar.
... Desde ... Binthe ... Another seer’s feint ... Kaarl called. ... It might be our only hope ...
... I cannot spare— ... His wife screamed in pain. A point-blank strike from a Ken’nar amulet melted the chain mail on her shoulder.
“Desde!” With a fierce cry and sweep of his good arm, he sent the Ken’nar flying into a group of dark-armored warriors and plunging off the bridge to their deaths.
A wall of pure red flame burst forth out of the gloom, brighter than the coming dawn. It washed over the Ken’nar, devouring entire companies whole and tearing at the bridge itself.
He fell to his knees and shielded himself from the brilliant light. Under his feet, the earth trembled. He and hundreds of fighters, Fal’kin and Ken’nar, paused from fighting. Did the Ken’nar have some sort of new war machine spawned from the Underworld?
The ground shook violently again. He and Desde crouched while Morgan dropped to his knees, clutching Binthe to him. Ken’nar and Fal’kin screamed as they were thrown from the Anarath bridge into the abyss.
He was not about to waste the slim advantage of the Ken’nar’s distraction. “Forward!” he ordered as the bridge groaned, its buttress bones breaking.
He and the Fal’kin charged at the Ken’nar on the southern end of the bridge, determined to break their line and escape to the safety of solid ground.
Again, the scarlet wall of flame erupted out of the night. He dropped to his stomach and buried his face against his arms from the radiance. When he dared lift his head again, his eyes widened in fear and awe. Hundreds of Ken’nar had disappeared, instantly turned into ash.
... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ...
Kaarl snapped his head to look over at his wife. “Who—?”
Desde shook her head, and Binthe did likewise.
The remnants of the southern Ken’nar contingent broke ranks and fled off the Anarath bridge as it began to crumble beneath them. They rode west to vanish into the Dar-Anar foothills and the blue-gray light of early dawn. The northern phalanx of the Ken’nar surged at the backs of the Fal’kin, then broke into a panic at the sight of the curtain of flame.
Kaarl scrambled to his feet. A jarring beneath his boots sent a shockwave up his legs. Cracks and fissures appeared in the stone of the bridge. Pieces of carved-granite buttresses and rock crumbled away, falling into the river gorge.
He, Desde, and the Fal’kin surged forward to flee the failing bridge. His wife stumbled as the death throes of the bridge made the way treacherous. He caught her with his Aspect and threw her from the bridge to the marginal safety of the landing. Morgan and Binthe grabbed Kaarl’s arms and pulled him off the span as it broke apart.
He immediately turned to reach for another Fal’kin, but the woman’s hand slipped through his. She fell, screaming, into the gorge.
“No!” Kaarl cried. He tried to reach out to her with his Aspect to stop her plummet and call her body back to him, but she had disappeared into the mists.
The ground trembled again. Strong hands pulled him back farther onto solid ground before he could plunge to his own death.
Again, the wall of pure red flame exploded, splitting the dim early morning light. The land holding the span disintegrated and fell into the chasm below. He reached for his amulet in terrified astonishment. The crimson gout of fire continued to beat against the land. The stone bridge gave one last death rattle, then slowly collapsed, struggling against its demise.
On and on, the massive red barrage of deadly light hammered into the Ford. What was left of the apex of the Kin-Deren landmass sheared away in a tita
nic landslide. Enormous sections of rock and earth broke apart and slid, now peeling away the northern Garnath bridge in the distance. Hundreds of Ken’nar plunged to their deaths, their terrified voices rising above the moaning earth. Moments later even the echoes of the dying silenced.
His hand fell heavily from his chest to his thigh. By the Light that surrounds all.
Desde knelt beside him. “Kaarl. What—?”
Fear snuffed out his overwhelmed wonder like a gale against a candle flame. The Dark Trine would stop at nothing to kill her now. She would become his obsession, and he would not rest until she was dead. His child. His tiny child.
Kaarl eyes burned with the afterimage of the massive wall of flame, but all he could see in his mind were a pair of silver eyes, so like his own.
“Mirana.”
CHAPTER 35
“I looked into the eyes of Death. And saw myself.”
—The Codex of Jasal the Great
Mirana cried in exultation as she unleashed a wall of red fire from the ruby amulet at her chest.
By the hundreds, Ken’nar were transformed into human pyres, then disappeared into ash.
... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ... RETREAT! ...
The remnants of the southern Ken’nar phalanx broke ranks and ran for the Dar-Anar foothills.
She sensed the called order, but such mind-words no longer held any meaning. She no longer heard the screams of raging bloodlust. Her three Aspects became living powers submitting themselves to her supreme authority.
The Fal’kin charged, fleeing from the bridge, but the dark warriors at their heels cut them down as they tried to escape.
An enormous jet of red fire exploded again from her amulet. It writhed and snaked, hammering away at the stone buttresses supporting the southern Anarath bridge. They groaned and shuddered. Boulders and great portions of earth sheared away to fall into the rivers below. Raw power leaked around the ruby amulet onto her chest as she poured out more of herself than the crystal could contain. Her hands and the skin over her breastbone became streaked with burns. She cried out in pain and triumph. She was of the Aspects.
She was the Aspects.
Her Trine Aspects coursed through her and out of the ruby amulet onto the Ford, Seeing, Defending, Healing coalescing as one within her. The Anarath stone bridge shook once more, then collapsed, the span falling away into the abyss. The landmass apex joining the two bridges crumbled away and fell, faster and faster, as the avalanche tumbled into the river below. Earth and rock continued to slide, dragging the northern Garnath River bridge with them.
The remnants of the Ford fell tumbling into the twin river chasm below, carrying the Ken’nar to the same fate. The black-armored warriors who escaped her destruction rode north in a retreat, leaving their dead comrades to the coming dawn.
The amulet’s crystal now vibrated, unable to withstand her demand. It splintered into thousands of shards. She screamed in agony as the union between her Aspects and the ruby shattered, the sudden loss of the sacred connection irrevocably sundered. She slid from Ashtar’s saddle to the ground.
She tried to push herself up onto her forearms, then collapsed back to the wet, cold earth. The death of her amulet had shredded her soul. She writhed, her unfocused Aspects now immolated her from the inside, desperate to release themselves from the prison of her body.
A dark form moved within the flames of the garrison. It emerged toward her out of the fire. The spectral image appeared, a featureless black shade silhouetted against the swirling smoke and flames. It carried an impossibly long sword. It paused. Searching. Thinking.
The Ken’nar Dark Trine.
Mirana’s terror seeped away, profound resignation taking its place. The very sword of the blessed Thrice-cursed overlord himself would save Kinderra. At last, her beloved homeland would be spared from her becoming its instrument of death. She would now pay for the transgressions she had seen herself perpetrating before she could commit them. End and beginning, in one, in both.
Only two Trines would remain as the prophecy had always foretold—Tetric Garis and this Dark demon. She was never meant to play a role in the ancient prediction, but to be sacrificed so the prophecy could unfold as had been divined.
The shadow flew toward her, an avenging angel of the Underworld. She steeled herself for the sword’s plunge into her body.
... Without you, all is lost ...
She tried to respond when she convulsed once more in agony.
Strong arms lifted her as darkness took her.
CHAPTER 36
“U’isi sol kin scinane mor potem luveclae?”
(“Does not the sun shine brighter after a storm?”)
—Ora Fal’kinnen 123:30
Two Rivers Ford was gone.
The Ain Magne stood in the mud, the flooded riverbank before him. His helmet slipped from his grip to fall with a squelch in the filth. His hands hung limply at his sides. The newly torn edge of land lay raw in the distance, now visible in the soft light of morning. Bloody water and silt lapped at his boots. Exhaustion and a despondency far more debilitating than fatigue vied for his strength. The Ford was destroyed, and no amulet, no sword, no fist would bring it back.
His plan had been perfect. His Ken’nar had outnumbered the Fal’kin more than two to one, and yet it was his own warriors who limped away, his regiments in tatters. He had split his forces and surrounded the Kin-Deren troops, yet he had lost three thousand men and women, a full one thousand when the bridges fell. Vallia Edaran should have been captured and harvested, using her viciousness for him, and yet her life’s song echoed no more from within the Aspects. Her daughter Liaonne should have been killed, and yet her presence still returned to his mind.
His plan had indeed been perfect. Mirana Pinal, however, had been more perfect. He should have foreseen this, all of this. He should have foreseen her. Every time he made his plans, she and her Trine Aspects somehow divined them. Ai, she was a Trine. He knew that now for certain.
He wanted to be angry. Oh, how he wanted to be. He had every right to be. He should strike her down with his vengeance and the fullness of his Aspects, not even leaving ash behind. Anger, however, would not bring back the Ford nor move his war machine to Deren.
Anger certainly wouldn’t give him something even more important than a thousand Fords: Jasal’s Keep and its awesome and terrifying power. Only Mirana could give him that. Once he had the keep, Kinderra would be his and this atrocious slaughter of continuous warfare would, at last, be over.
The Ain Magne stepped a few paces from the flood plain and sank to the muddy ground. He buried his face in his hands. He had pushed himself during the battle almost beyond even his limits, leaving him spent and empty inside. Calling a battle while hidden under the cloak of U’Nehíl to the minds of his field marshals was taxing. Healing was taxing. Harvesting Aspected warriors was taxing. The procedure had drained him to his core. He would soon have aid in harvesting, however. That was perhaps the one feeble success of this contemptible campaign.
He let his hands fall away. They were covered in blood as was his armor, as was his sword. Some of it was his own. Most of it was not. Such a needless, senseless waste.
He reached for his amulet and pulled deep within himself for his Aspects. Not enough of the living surrounded him to allow him to draw upon the Power from Without.
Two Rivers Ford was gone, but the Aspects Above never took away anything without giving something back in return. That was an edict he believed in more fervently than the expectation that the sun would rise each morning. Had the Aspects Above taken the Ford from him to guide him toward a new future?
He called to his Seeing Aspect—and this time he smiled.
Images flashed through his consciousness. His victory had not been stolen from him by a woman-child. No. Instead, she only brought it one step closer.
He still had thousands of men and women, siege towers, catapults, and battering rams. Ai, an easy land route for his war machine was gone, but anoth
er one still existed. It would be more difficult, ai, but far shorter in distance. He needed steeds for his Ken’nar, perhaps now more than ever, to make up for the time he would lose with the difficulty of this new crossing. The conquest of Deren, however, had not changed, only its timing. If he moved swiftly, the losses the Fal’kin took at the Ford would work in his favor.
And if he left Mirana Pinal alive after this destruction, it could place a wedge further between his seer second and himself.
The Ain Magne pursed his lips. His servant wanted her dead, but the young seer had yet to realize her importance. He held his amulet tighter. His seer second remained critical to his plans. Though his most loyal servant, his second also posed his greatest risk. He knew his servant regarded him as a mentor, a patrua, even a father figure. He used those feelings to ensure that loyalty. But everyone, even his second, had a breaking point. If the seer continued to view the girl as a rival, this could become an issue, perhaps even a fatal one.
An even darker thought curled its way through his mind. The Ain Magne had come to power himself by earning the trust of one of the most dreaded Ken’nar warlords to have walked Kinderra—then killed him. The man was a despot and cared nothing for Kinderra or bringing peace to her.
What would happen when his second did finally come to understand Mirana as the key to conquering Kinderra? If his seer second and the Pinal girl united and conspired against him, he would have to make choices he did not even want to contemplate. For his plans to succeed, he needed both his second and the girl—and their undying loyalty. To him.
Jasal’s Keep flared once again before his mind’s eye, an otherworldly impression wrought by his Seeing Aspect. It exploded with unspeakable power and, once again, the image faded into Mirana’s face. The young Trine was linked to the keep and, for that reason alone, he had allowed her to live. He had meant to use her to gain Jasal’s Keep, then dispose of her. Her potential as a rival was too dangerous to allow her to remain alive forever.
He winced as a patch of skin on the side of his forearm pulled away from a bit of melted chain mail, leaving a raw wound.
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