Deep-Spire
Page 17
Belythna picked herself up off the ground and stepped over the corpse of the Esquill she had just slain. The young man lay on his back, gazing sightlessly skywards. Around Belythna, the swirling smoke and dirt obscured much of her surroundings. The figures of those fighting were ghostly shapes in the murk.
The dust stung her throat and Belythna coughed painfully. Her gaze then flicked left, just as two green-robed figures hurtled towards her, arms outstretched. Belythna’s flame still burned within her, like a pulsing furnace. One of her attackers was a young woman, barely older than she had been when she joined the Sentorân. Under normal circumstances, such a young adversary would have made her hold back. But now, in the madness of battle, she was numb to it. Belythna channelled her talent through her clasped fist, crushing the girl’s wind-pipe. Then, with, a flick of her free hand, she knocked the youth behind the girl off his feet and ground his face into the stony earth.
It was either slay or be slain.
Belythna staggered forward, raising her arms to protect herself from the razor-sharp stones that pelted her. The sheer power of the talents the Esquill and the Sentorân unleashed gouged craters in the frozen earth. The ground quaked and buckled beneath their feet.
Despite the chill morning, sweat trickled down Belythna’s back. The screams of the dying, and the battle cries of the living, stabbed her ears.
Things had gone ill from the beginning. They were vastly outnumbered, and Lady Serina’s order to keep together in their assigned groups had been disregarded the moment the battle disintegrated into a bloody fight for survival. Belythna scanned the battlefield, peering through the haze in an attempt to catch a glimpse of Floriana or Jedin, but both had disappeared. Instead, she saw Emilia Thorne fall, her thin arms flailing, as a column of pale fire consumed her.
Belythna cursed, and felt despair well. She strode forward and flung her hands out towards Emilia’s attacker. Her talent hit the Esquill in the centre of the chest and threw him onto his back. With a twist of her hands, Belythna forced the young man’s head backwards; only relenting when she heard his neck snap. However, it was too late for Emilia Horne – the girl lay, sprawled on her front, her skin still bubbling from where the pale fire had struck her. Her slender limbs twitched and she gave one last whimper of agony before her body went still.
Belythna looked away, her bile rising. Emilia had been brave, and lasted longer than most of the apprentices. Yet, she should never have been allowed to fight.
The ground suddenly buckled beneath Belythna’s feet. She staggered and nearly fell on top of Emilia’s body. The sound of talents unleashing around her sounded like booming thunder. Belythna frantically looked around, trying to get her bearings.
They were no longer before the gates of Deep-Spire – that was for certain. Little by little, the battle had edged away from the gates of Deep-Spire and out onto the scrubby plain beyond. The ground was rougher here and at one edge, there were dense thickets of brambles and black thorn that stretched away to the northeast. The thickets formed a carpet around the southernmost reaches of the Starwalden Alps, until they reached the dark boughs of the Forest of Shadow.
After the early stages of battle, Belythna lost sight of Serina. The leader of the Sentorân had strode through the swirling dust to meet Riadamor, and was lost. Belythna wondered who had survived the encounter – and hoped for them all that it had been Serina. Yet, as the battle progressed, a sickening realisation settled over Belythna. The fight was turning against them. The Esquill were pushing them ever closer to the dark line of the bramble thickets.
If Serina had bested Riadamor, it would not feel as if defeat was imminent.
Belythna felt fatigue pull down at her, penetrating even through the madness of battle. Her breathing was coming in ragged, painful gasps when she took cover in a stony gully. She slid behind a couple of large rocks, and found Floriana already there.
Her friend was exhausted. Floriana lay on her back, her breast sharply rising and falling; she struggled to regain her breath. Her face was flushed, her eyes large and dark.
“There are too many of them. They are strong,” Floriana gasped. She rolled onto her front and gripped the edge of the rock before her for support.
The arrival of someone else at their hiding place prevented Belythna from responding. Jedin, bleeding profusely from his right temple, ducked behind the boulder.
“They’re closing us in,” he announced, his voice remarkably calm.
“Is there no way out?” Floriana asked.
Jedin shook his head. “We’re trapped. They’re pushing all of us back. We’ll only be safe here for a few more moments.”
Belythna pushed herself up into a crouching position. Her gaze met Jedin’s.
“Serina fell,” he told her, “I saw Riadamor kill her.”
Belythna nodded, still holding his gaze. “We can’t win this.”
“No, we can’t.”
Jedin fell silent for a moment, his gaze never leaving Belythna’s.
“We are moments away from defeat,” he continued. “They can’t take us all. You and Floriana need to get out of here, while you have the chance. I’ll cover you.”
Belythna stared back at him. Next to her, she heard Floriana’s sharply indrawn breath.
“We’re not leaving you here to die,” Belythna told him stonily.
“What do you take us for?” Floriana added. “Cowards?”
“Listen to me – both of you!” Jedin slid closer, his face fierce. “We stand on the edge. All three of us will die, if I join you. Do you understand?”
“Risk it,” Floriana countered, her eyes shining with tears. “Come with us.”
Jedin shook his head and sat back on his heels.
Nearby, the screams of the dying grew louder. The ground began to tremble once more as the Esquill closed in.
“You two must survive. You won’t get away if I don’t cover you,” he replied flatly. “Run for the bramble thickets, push your way in and head north-east. Don’t stop until you reach the Forest of Shadow – and once you get away, don’t even think about returning to Deep-Spire. Hide yourselves in some forgotten corner of Palâdnith; wait until Riadamor stops looking for you.”
The two women stared at him. Floriana was crying, tears streaking her delicate face. Belythna felt ill. Her stomach was twisted in knots.
“You can’t sacrifice yourself like this,” Belythna whispered.
“This is my choice,” he leant down then and pulled her to him. His lips crushed against hers, fierce, brutal. Belythna pulled back. She stared at him, her mouth stinging.
“Jedin…”
“There’s no time,” he tore his gaze from hers and slithered back to the edge of the rock covering them. He raised his sword. The blade shimmered as he channelled his talent into it. “Run now. It’s almost too late.”
Then he was gone, without a word of goodbye – before either woman had been able to respond.
Belythna’s gaze misted with tears. She turned to find Floriana weeping against the rock. Wordlessly, she grabbed her friend by the arm and hauled her to her feet. Then, she propelled her forward towards the dark line of brambles around fifty yards behind them.
The ground exploded around them as they ran. An explosion knocked them both off their feet. Belythna sprawled forward, the stony ground biting into the palms of her hands. Heedless to the pain, she scrambled to her feet and kept running. After the initial push, Floriana needed no further encouragement. Her face was hard with determination, her gaze fixed upon their destination.
Jedin had given them a chance; they had to make that worth something.
The women dove into the wall of brambles.
Tangled, thorny branches clawed at them, ripping their robes, snagging their hair and slicing exposed skin. The thickets were impenetrable in some places; the women had to weave their way back and forth in an attempt to find a path inside.
The battle raged behind them – the screams, the shouts, the rumble of exploding ea
rth, and the hiss of fire. The mayhem followed Belythna and Floriana for a long while. Eventually, weeping with exhaustion, bloodied, their clothing in shreds, they realised that the sounds of battle had faded.
They were alone, lost, in the heart of the bramble thickets.
Chapter Fourteen
Survivors
Deep-Spire, Central Omagen