“Ach!” Terak flinched, reacting in the only way that he knew—sweeping his blade across him. There was a thump and a chittering sort of hiss, but the feathered serpent wasn’t fatally injured when it hit the ground.
Terak panted, turning to face the thing. It was no bigger than a regular Black Keep cat. It whipped its head back and forth as it hissed at him, one of its wings limp and awkward beside it on the ground.
“Hurts, does it? Good!” Terak snarled down at the thing, holding his shortsword in two hands as he crouched defensively over the body of the prone Brecha soldier. He didn’t even know if the young man was alive or dead, but he wasn’t about to let this evil little thing feast on the human all the same.
The thing chitter-hissed once more, coiling itself to spring—
The elf realized he would have to be very quick to catch it in mid-air. There was no guarantee that he would be as lucky as he had been the first time around.
But whatever the Enclave-External novitiate had been planning, now the Estreek was jumping, snarling as it shot straight toward his face—
In a flash, Terak released one hand from the shortsword and pulled the black cloak of the Enclave in front of him, almost like a shield.
Thump! The feathered serpent nearly ripped through the fabric and into the elf’s chest, before Terak flicked with his hand to form a bundle of writhing bird-snake-thing inside a fold of his cloak. Without wasting any time, Terak plunged his shortsword into the knot of fabric, scale, and feathers. He was rewarded by a screech and a sudden spill of green blood from the mess, as the thing stilled.
“Ugh,” Terak gasped, letting go of his cloak. The body of the creature fell to the ground. The soldier! He turned to grab the young man by the shoulder and roll him over.
The man’s face mask had fallen away, and the young man who had seemed to care so much about the history and future of Brecha was none other than Falan, the Lord General!
“Unhand him!” Terak heard a shout, before he was shoved hard in the shoulder by an invisible wave of force. Terak staggered in his crouch, looking up in confusion.
Adviser Semuel bore down on him, pulling his own pony up with a snort, one black-gloved hand still radiating power. The Adviser had a confused look on his face, looking again at his own hand and then at the novitiate of the Enclave in confusion.
Oh no, Terak thought. It was the fact that he was a null, wasn’t it? Whatever that spell had been, the Adviser expected it to be far more successful than it had been.
But my strange nature actively dampens magic, doesn’t it? Terak knew, freezing where he sat.
“Get away from the Lord General, now!” The Adviser walked his steed forward, regaining his rage quickly.
“I was only trying to help,” Terak said with a hint of a growl in his voice, but he did as the man had asked. There was no sense in angering the Adviser further, and possibly revealing to everyone that he was no “normal” member of the Enclave.
“I don’t care what you were trying to do,” the Adviser Semuel said severely, putting his steed between the novitiate and the fallen leader. “All I know is that no member of the Enclave is to be trusted!” The man’s eyes sparked.
That’s because he knows that the old Lord General was poisoned with Black Hand, and only the Enclave knows how to make it, Terak thought. He bowed his head respectfully, backing away still more.
“Adviser,” came a croak from the ground. It was Falan, pushing himself up to his knees, with a nasty graze on his temple that was already swelling. “Adviser, please, the Brother was only trying to help. He meant me no harm.”
“Novitiate,” the Adviser sneered. “I can read their belts, sire,” He was clearly annoyed with the fact that he had been reprimanded in front of Terak. “You shouldn’t move, Lord General sire, not until I can heal you.”
“Are our people safe?” Falan waved him off, tottering to his feet as Terak stayed where he was, watching with interest.
The Adviser pursed his lip and nodded, gesturing back to where the other riders of the Enclave and Brecha had apparently finished their battle.
There are fewer of them, now, Terak thought in horror. At least two Brechan guards and one Brother of the Enclave had fallen—and as many of the ponies, as well.
“The Estreek are vanquished, sir,” Semuel said, “but what they are doing out here, attacking us so swiftly is . . .” Terak watched as the human’s eyes narrowed as they sought out Terak. “Suspicious, sire.”
“Calm your fears, Adviser,” Falan said wearily, gesturing for Terak to stand up. “You saved my life, I think—or you sought to, anyway. If you hadn’t been here, then that foul spirit of the Ungol would have finished me, I’m sure.”
“A spirit of the Ungol, sire?” Terak said in alarm.
The young human lord nodded gravely. “The Estreek are creatures of the Ungol realm, but they haven’t the strength to travel between the worlds on their own.” Falan’s eyes went far, searching the horizon. “Someone must have summoned them and sent them to attack us.”
The traitor in the Black Keep, Terak thought, but didn’t say anything. He wished that Father Jacques was here, so that he could share this knowledge with him and seek the wise man’s advice. Instead, Terak remembered his training: there is only the Path ahead, nothing else.
“Then, if you please, sire,” Terak said firmly, “that means there is no time to waste. Whomever summoned them obviously means to slow our passage, if not outright kill us. We cannot pause a moment longer.”
The elf saw the human lord look at him with those serious and sad eyes of his.
“I couldn’t have said it better myself. Come, we must ride!”
16
Aldburg
Now that the young Lord had been unmasked, he didn’t bother to hide his presence from the others of their party. The Brechans already knew that their lord was riding with them. Terak noted the nonchalance of the remaining Brecha guard, along with Counsellor Annas and Adviser Semuel. The Enclave forces had fared a little better in the fight. Now there were three Brothers and Sisters of the Black Keep alongside Terak.
Their number was further diminished when it was decided that one of the Enclave Brothers would stay behind to tend to the fallen, while the rest of the party pressed on.
“It was an ambush,” Terak overheard Adviser Semuel grumble on their journey south and westwards. He cast suspicious looks at Terak and the two other Enclave members.
By the time the afternoon light was starting to grow thin, they heard a high whistling on the wind. The Sister in front of Terak directed their party to a small stand of trees, where another black-robed Enclave member waited patiently, with a corral of thirteen horses.
“What happened to the rest of you?” asked the older Brother with short-cropped hair, staring in shock at the seven who met him.
“We were attacked on the road,” the Sister of the Black Keep informed him. “Send word back to the Keep. It was the Estreek.”
“The Estreek? So far from the Gate?” The man’s incredulity and horror appeared shared by all involved, and further reinforced their determination to get to the capital as soon as possible.
Although Terak felt a little sorry to see his equine friend go, with fresh steeds, water, and provisions, their party of seven galloped quickly along the old ridgeway chosen for them by the Enclave. Soon, the sky darkened into an umbral purple, and the first of the northern stars started to appear. Terak saw the constellations of the Cat and the Maiden, with the singular bright star of the Mariner hanging low over the westward horizon.
They only paused twice more in their journey, as a new urgency had taken over their hearts and minds. By the time that the night reached its darkest, the air was chill, and the ground at their feet shimmered with the late spring frost. Terak heard a low moan from Lord General Falan ahead. Raising his head, he saw what had caused such dismay.
On the south-western horizon there was an orange glow, which could only come from a great conflagration.
“Aldburg is burning!” Falan’s voice was full of horror. “Ride, my companions, ride!”
And the party of seven burst forward into the night toward the flames.
Terak could smell the smoke of the burning capital city of Brecha long before he heard the clamor of horns or the wails of the anguished.
Aldburg was a walled town, standing on the banks of a star-lit river. It looked small to Terak’s eyes, although it was large enough apparently to be a target. Terak saw the dark silhouettes of pointed spires that clustered the edges against the backdrop of ruddy flames.
And then, suddenly, Terak saw the cause of the fires, as a long, dark shape and an ominous whirring sound broke through the wreaths of heavy black smoke.
It was one of the dragonfly-canoes of the White-Faced Legion, skimming low through the heavy air of the embattled city. Small shapes plummeted from its deck, tumbling heavily before swooping fast behind the spires. More Ixcht warriors, using their dragonfly harnesses!
“To the Queen’s Gate!” Falan shouted, already spurring his horse off the path and across the fields as they circled the city.
Workshop 7, river Ald, Terak thought of his mission as he gently encouraged his horse to slow her pace, letting the other Sister and Brother overtake him until he was at the back of the party.
I will enter Aldburg with the others and make my way to Menier’s workshop, he was thinking, gritting his teeth in determination.
“Lord Falan, wait!” shouted Adviser Semuel as they galloped up to a wide tree-lined path that led to a smaller gate in the city’s walls. But the young Lord General didn’t heed his adviser’s warning as he charged ahead, already drawing his longsword.
He’s going to get himself killed, Terak thought for the second time. Sudden indecision gripping him. What should he do? Seek to protect the life of the Enclave’s nearest neighbor and ally? Or perform the task he had been set?
As if the Chief-External were beside him, he could hear what his mentor would say: Walk the Path. Remember your training.
The Queen’s Gate was arched and already open, with torches burning at the walls, and the shouts of people on the other side.
“Who goes there?!” Terak could see guards running to the gates at the sound of their galloping party.
“Make way for the Lord General!” Adviser Semuel bellowed, raising his hand and muttering something in an arcane tongue, causing an orb of bright bluish light to burst above their party.
“To arms, countrymen!” Lord Falan shouted. “Where is the Wall Captain?” The Lord General slowed his steed with a snort and a high kick into the air in the cobbled plaza on the far side of the Queen’s Gate as the rest of the party clattered in.
Now is my chance. Terak’s eyes scoured the exits. There was a main tree-lined avenue that appeared to lead straight to a distant palace—itself already burning in several places—as well as two smaller avenues that dove into the city itself.
“They attacked last night—” Terak heard one of the guard’s report. “While the Lady of the North was away. We sent messengers . . .”
The elf saw Semuel share a dark look with his Lord General, and the implication was clear. Perhaps they, too, had been ambushed by the Estreek . . .
“And then the Ixcht disappeared at dawn, but tonight they came back . . .” the guard continued.
“Exactly what they did at the Black Keep,” the Sister of the Enclave said heavily.
Terak was already letting the rest of his party be pushed ahead by the throng of anxious Brecha soldiers, turning his steed toward the avenue he thought must head toward the river.
“Wall Captain Dennis?” Falan asked.
“Lost, sire. Fallen in the first wave of Ixcht attackers,” the soldier said. “They fall out of the sky and attack anywhere and everywhere. We’re hard pressed running from one attack to the next—”
“Sire, we must get you to safety,” Adviser Semuel interrupted, earning an unbelieving snort from Falan.
“Where is safe now, in all of my city-?” he was saying, just as the air screamed with the sound of whirring dragonfly-wings.
“Hsss!” Green-and-white shapes fell amongst the crowd, brandishing their scimitars and chittering madly.
The Ixcht had come for them.
17
The Path of Honor
“Protect the Lord General!” Terak heard someone shouting, as his pony reared and kicked in the air. There were shouts and screams, and then the dreadfully familiar sound that had echoed across the Tartaruk.
PHOOOM! A ball of green-and-orange fire exploded upward from one side of the plaza, where one of the Ixcht must have been injured and self-immolated.
More screams as bodies living, wounded, and dead were thrown this way and that through the air, along with the shrieks of the ponies. Luckily, Terak had been on the other side of the plaza from the exploding Ixcht, but that did not mean that he wasn’t still in danger. He threw his weight to one side, making his steed skitter to the far side of the space—just in time to avoid the vicious sweep of a curved Ixcht blade.
“Hsss!” The creature was on one side of him, snarling with his four-part mandibles.
Terak pulled hard on the pony’s reins, while at the same time nudging with his heels. In response, the pony reared to kick outwards with her hooves at the insect warrior, catching him across the forehead in a blow that would have caved in the skull of any mere human or elf.
The Ixcht snarled, stumbling back as green ichor spurted from between the thing’s cracked scales. He lanced out with his scimitar at Terak’s steed. The elf just managed to turn the pony’s head to save her from a blow that surely would have blinded her.
I can’t fight it up here! Terak thought in frustration, as he leaned as far to one side as possible, sweeping with his shortsword to try and parry the thing’s attacks. Around them, it was mayhem as soldiers struggled to engage with the Ixcht. The elf managed to parry another series of whirling blows, his horse stamping and jumping as she tried to back away from the monstrous enemy.
Terak suddenly remembered the powders that the Chief-External had given him.
“Come on, girl,” Terak urged his steed to one desperate act of bravery, jumping forward in another stamping kick to force the Ixcht back. It gave him just enough time to release the reins and tear the vial of Blind-Eye from one of the pockets in his weapons harness. He flung it at the Ixcht.
The elf’s aim was true. The delicate little bottle smashed in a cloud of gray-white smoke that engulfed the torso, head, and shoulders of the insect warrior. Terak wasn’t sure what effect it should have had on any human, elf, or dwarf, but on the Ixcht, it led to the creature shivering and shaking. The creature stumbled as he waved its scimitars in the air wildly, his face plastered with the stuff . . .
Terak spared a look for the others—he couldn’t see his comrades from the Enclave in the mayhem, nor the Lord General Falan. But he could see the sudden sweep of blue-white light from Adviser Semuel, hitting one of the Ixcht. Where it hit, the light settled into a thick rime of ice. The creature tried to move, but its limbs slowed, and it was stuck fast.
But more Ixcht were falling from the skies into the melee, almost as if they knew that the leader of the town was here.
“Get the Lord General out of here!”
“Flee, my liege!”
The soldiers were attempting to isolate the incoming insect-warriors, but there were too many, and they were everywhere.
We are overrun, Terak realized in a heartbeat.
Then one of soldiers plunged a spear straight into the back of the stumbling and blinded Ixcht right in front of Terak.
“No, you fool!” Terak shouted, as the creature convulsed, and its neck started to swell with an inner green light.
With a snarl of frustration, Terak urged his pony forward, forcing the soldier to yelp and leap back before he was ridden down. The glow from the Ixcht was strong through the gloom of smoke, and Terak dug his heels in, galloping forward th
rough a brief gap in the maelstrom—
PHOOOM!
The explosion hit Terak’s back like a fist, and his terrified horse screamed, lending more speed to her desperate flight. Shouts and screams came from behind him, and to the elf’s ears, it sounded like a massacre.
How could any of us hope to win against such an enemy? Terak thought as he galloped into the streets of Aldburg.
How could you leave them? Terak’s heart was heavy as he raced through the streets, away from the sounds of one desperate battle and passing others.
The streets of Aldburg were tight and curved, leading to many small plazas and squares. At each one, there were collections of Brechans, either trying to draw water from the wells or fighting more of the insect-warriors.
Terak’s pony galloped wildly, herself choosing the roads of least resistance instead of the elf. It was all that he could to hold on. Sickeningly, he could smell burnt horse flesh from behind him.
“Easy, easy!” Terak called to the steed, as civilians and soldiers jumped out of the way of his charge. But the pony had clearly had enough, and her mouth frothed as she chomped the bit wildly, an animal panic consuming her.
The city was in uproar, and the fires had spread quickly among the houses, which were built right on top of each other. Terak thought that this entire burg would be lucky if it made it through the night.
Even if Terak had no idea where he was heading, that same animal sense that forced the pony onwards appeared to be bringing them to a quieter part of the city. The buildings on either side were dark and undamaged by fire and appeared to be simpler things with fewer windows and less gaudy paint.
“Easy girl, easy . . .” Slowly—very slowly—the horse slowed to a canter, and then to a trot, her tail swishing back and forth as they came to an abandoned square, with a single tree inside a fence in its center. This part of Aldburg appeared to have been evacuated, as Terak saw doors that were left standing open, and piles of belongings dropped in the streets.
Battle Born (Dagger of the World Book 2) Page 11