by Alex Janaway
‘Shame we didn’t think about piling up a load of rocks to roll down on those bastards,’ he said.
She nodded.
Killen waited for more but got nothing. Further down the slope, he could hear voices. He didn’t need to speak elvish to know they were orders being given. He unsheathed his sword. Better get everyone ready for the wave about to hit them.
‘I reckon we should go.’
‘Huh?’ he turned back to Cade. ‘Go where?’
‘Down. That way,’ she said, pointing down the slope.
‘What, at them?’
‘One last surprise, ay?’
Killen shrugged. Yes. Why not? He lowered his sword and cupped his hands to his mouth.
‘Everyone get your blades ready. Form up on me. We are going to charge.’
There were a few surprised comments, but their troops started to gather. He gave Cade a grim smile. ‘One last surprise.’
CHAPTER 74 – CADE
This wasn’t, on reflection, her best idea. But she was buggered if she had a better one. Her remaining people and Killen’s scouts found cover as best they could.
‘They’re coming,’ said Saul, clambering down the tree. He nudged up next to her, dropping his bow and pulling out a long hunting knife. She was busy playing with a couple of small daggers she’d pulled from a bandolier of blades she carried. ‘Can’t see how many, but they are gathering just a little down the hill. There’s all kind of merry hell playing to the east. Bright lights, fireballs, thunder and lightning.’
‘Lovely,’ she grumped.
‘Ready when you are, Cade,’ Killen said.
‘Fine. Good. Lots of noise, everyone, shouting, swearing, whatever floats your boat?’ she said, pushing herself up, expecting an arrow to take her any second.
‘You heard the lady,’ said Saul, following her.
Winders joined her. His face streaked with blood.
‘It’s been a journey, Cade.’
She nodded at him, then raised an arm.
‘Kill ’em all!’ she cried, leaping from her perch on to the ground proper. Around her the cry was taken up by the defenders, the words disappearing into discordant high-pitched screams and guttural shouting. She started to run. Someone just behind her made a loud grunt, fell to the ground. Cade picked up speed, dodging past trees, felt a branch whip across her face. She turned her head slightly, looking away. Then an elf appeared directly in front of her. She shouted, leapt without thought, barrelling into it. The elf fell backwards with an ‘Oof.’ Cade got on to her knees, straddled the elf’s chest and rammed her blades home. He gave a deep grunt and all movement ceased. Then another elf reared up in front of her as she tried to pull her weapons free but already the elf’s sword arm was dropping. A screaming bolt of something launched over Cade and into the elf. Was that Evan? Cade scrambled up, looking for the struggle but it was lost within the darkening trees.
‘Keep going!’ she shouted. ‘Keep going.’
She started running again, following shadows in the gloom and the faint light of the distant blazing trees. Someone fell. She leapt over the form and carried on into another melee. She stabbed an elf in the leg and as they reared back, she slashed a face. A sword slammed into its chest. Cade nodded and started moving again. Another elf stepped around a tree, Cade bulling into it, knocking it back. She didn’t stop to take it on. She starting shouting. ‘Kill ’em all! Kill ’em all!’
She became aware there was more shouting now, more figures ahead of her. They must almost be at the bottom.
Two shapes barred her way. She feinted left, dove right, rolling on the ground. A blade landing just where her head had been. She stabbed upwards, met a groin. A squealing warrior fell to its knees. She rolled again, regained her feet. An elf was pointing an arrow at her face. She stared at it. The elf stared back. The bow creaked with the tension.
‘Do it,’ Cade whispered.
The elf howled and spun, the arrow flying by Cade’s head, the whisper of its feathers brushing her cheek. She stood stock still, watching Killen drive his sword through the throat of her killer.
He had a triumphant look on his face, was breathing heavily.
She realised she hadn’t moved, and her mouth was open.
‘We finished?’ she asked.
‘We’re at the bottom. Cleared them right out. The bastards broke and ran.’
‘Fancy that.’ Cade ran her hands over her body. Nothing hurt. Nothing broken.
‘Do you think it’s worth chasing them through the swamp?’ he asked.
‘Bugger that.’
Killen laughed. ‘Good answer.’
A handful of their troops gathered. She couldn’t have seen them, were it not for the light of the unnatural fires just off to the left. Their faces were in flickering shadow, dark, sweat-stained, grinning like fools who had no right to be alive. They looked like wild things.
A horn sounded. Followed by several more.
‘The next wave?’ she asked.
‘Don’t think so. You ask me, that’s them done for the night.’
As if in agreement, there was the sound of marching feet.
‘The Nidhal must have held,’ someone said. She turned, it was Saul. He was gripping his left arm. Was that an arrow sticking out of it?
‘Yeah.’ Cade sighed, hawked, spat. ‘Why don’t we head up? See if they’ve got anything to drink in the Emperor’s tent.’ She figured they’d bought themselves one last night before the inevitable. There was no reason to spend it sober.
CHAPTER 75 – MICHAEL
As the survivors of the fires made their way towards the Emperor’s encampment, Michael shifted Sasha over his shoulder. A flash of lightning made him turn his head. Black clouds to the east churned with light. A crooked finger of lightning spiked down and was lost from sight, the vicious ‘crack’ reaching them moments later.
‘Magery,’ said Ellen.
‘Theirs or ours?’
She pointed at the ground. ‘Ours. The fog has dissipated, but the fires are contained. Gantak and the others have switched their attentions.’
Michael shook his head. ‘Incredible.’
‘It truly is.’
‘You were incredible too.’
Ellen glanced at him with a shy smile. ‘I wasn’t sure. If I could do it, I mean. But the more I wanted it, the more things happened.’
‘Is there a limit?’
‘To what? My power?’ She stopped to watch the sky. To the left a group of Nidhal were gathering, their attention focused on the southern slope.
Michael had been thinking about that, there was nothing stopping the elves trying again.
‘I’m not sure,’ Ellen said slowly. ‘But I feel physically exhausted. Drained. The shamans were looking that way when I left them. There must be a link between the body and mind.’
‘Hmm.’ Michael started walking again. Up ahead, lights marked the tent set up for casualties. What Ellen said made sense, there must be a link. Would the Emperor like to know that?
‘You lot look like crap,’ announced Rula, as they arrived. She was bent over someone on the ground, stitching by lantern light.
‘Nice to see you too,’ replied Fenner, finding a clear spot and planting himself down unceremoniously. The other marines spread out, collapsing where they could.
Rula leaned forward and bit on a piece of twine. She looked up. ‘You lot in any danger of dying?’
‘We’ve got a bunch of burns. Cuts we can deal with ourselves. We just need some downtime.’
‘Good.’ She stood up, walked towards Michael, cocked an eyebrow.
‘She’s passed out,’ he replied, laying Sasha down.
The healer went to her side, knelt down and placed a hand against Sasha’s neck. She waited a few moments then shook her head. ‘Sorry. No heartbeat, no breath. She’s long gone.’
Michael looked at her. Gone? He felt his brows knit. That wasn’t right. He had saved her.
‘It’s funny,’ said Rula pushing herself up. ‘She was
a Gifted, right? First one I’ve seen since the fighting started.
He turned as Ellen made a little squeaking sound. Her hand to her mouth, tears in her eyes. He reached out, placed a clumsy hand on her shoulder. She was shaking.
‘They all said it,’ she whispered. ‘Said they would rather die than go back.’
Michael searched for words. What could he say? He was the one that had caused this. ‘Ellen, I–’
Shouting stopped him. There was a commotion further down the slope. Horns sounded. He saw figures, it looked like the Emperor and his guards, jogging towards the noise.
‘Alright, you buggers,’ said Fenner, with a pained expression. ‘You’ve had your rest.’
As the marines, grumbling and swearing, got to their feet, Michael felt Ellen squeeze his hand. ‘It’s alright. Come on. We should help.’
‘Yes, alright,’ he agreed. They started to follow after Fenner and his people. There was more shouting. The sound of battle. ‘Just stay by me,’ he ordered. Ellen would survive the night, as long as he had breath in his body.
CHAPTER 76 – NADENA
The wounded were coming in thick and fast now. Nadena washed her hands and wondered how things had turned so bad, so quickly. At first, it was cavalry borne on the backs of other riders’ mounts, many sporting broken limbs and telling tales of the cruel havoc wreaked on their horses. And then wagons that had been sent to the front behind the infantry began to return. The injuries were bad, worse than she had ever seen before. The cuts were wicked, like the flesh had been ripped into. Some sported bite marks, hunks of flesh torn away. How could she even begin to stitch that kind of wound?
She stood and faced her tent, open-sided and bathed in mage-light. At least they had the sorcerers, and she was grateful for that. Where her conventional skills had failed, they had stepped in, sealing wounds, staunching deep bleeds. Fully half their number had stayed with the baggage train when it was clear they were needed. Too many elves would die without their help. Yet they had been discomfited, talking of feeling magic in the air. Alien magic. Which made no sense.
Somewhere close by an elf screamed in pain. She closed her eyes, needing just a moment to her thoughts.
At least Velland had finally come, at the precise moment he was needed, a score of bees with him. There had been the barest moment of welcome before he had set off again, eager to end this battle. As was she. How were the Tissans still fighting? They did not have the numbers, surely. Yet somehow they still resisted, repulsing every move. She shook her head. Velland would end it. Eagles or no, they could not repulse his power.
‘Mistress?’
She turned, smiled sadly at her assistant. ‘Meera.’
The younger elf’s apron was covered in blood. ‘There’s another wagon coming in.’
‘Of course.’
She waited at the entrance, waiting to triage those coming in. On the ground beside her, a young sorceress was bent over a wounded soldier. She was whispering softly, her hands cupped over a deep stomach wound, dark blood oozed from it. Nadena rubbed her face, looked away. Even with magic, that kind of damage was hard to repair.
Stretchers started to arrive. She inspected then detailed the bearers off. The walking wounded she sent to another tent. Another stretcher arrived, a young female had lost half her face.
‘Monsters …’ she muttered. ‘Monsters attacked us.’
‘Not monsters,’ said the lead bearer. He was an older elf, his hair grey, his blue eyes faded, he wore the insignia of a senior soldier.
‘What do you mean?’
‘They weren’t monsters. They weren’t human either.’ He shook his head. ‘More like something out of a legend, a story I once heard of our ancient history.’ He stopped. ‘Ach. Listen to me.’
Nadena reached out and patted his arm.
‘Take her over there. Meera? A poultice and clean linen for the face, please.’
As the stretcher moved past, the sorceress on the ground sat upright. ‘No. No!’
‘What? What is it?’
The sorceress looked at Nadena, confusion writ plain on her face. ‘It, it, cannot be,’ she stammered.
Nadena reached out, took her chin in her hand and looked deep into the sorceress’s eyes. ‘Tell me.’
She blinked, her focus returning. ‘Velland has fallen.’
Nadena let go and stood back. No. That was impossible. Others were reacting round her. The news spreading. Voices raised in shock.
And in the distance, she swore she could hear howling.
CHAPTER 77 – NUTAAQ
Nutaaq considered what weapon to use. Spear or blade? He decided on his sword. A sabre gifted to him by the Emperor. It felt right. Beneath him Raak shifted. He could feel the pent-up energy of the vargr, knew the animal desperately wanted to hunt, to feed. It was an unnatural strategy, not to be part of the battle. Yet he understood the wisdom. Not so all of his kin. Not so his brother, who prowled restlessly beside him astride his beast.
‘It’s time, brother,’ Nutaaq said, with a smile.
‘Good. I’m worn out. Two days sat on our backsides. Hiding. Hiding!’
‘Waiting, brother.’
Arluuq knew well enough they had to be sure no scouts had discovered them. Only distance and concealment could guarantee that.
‘We are here now.’
An eagle sighted in the sky was the signal and a hard ride in a wide arc had brought them to this point. Lights twinkled and shone among the large encampment just ahead, spread out in a crude circle just to the north of the slight rise where Nutaaq and his brother now stood. To the west, the final light of day was fading fast. The inland sea was a sparking plain, stretching beyond his vision.
‘There are no guards. No sentries. Are these elves so foolish?’ Arluuq growled.
‘They are confident and ignorant. That is what we expected of them. That is why we will be victorious, and their spirits broken.’
‘That I like the sound of,’ Arluuq replied, his tone lightening.
Nutaaq pointed with his sword and raised his voice. ‘Those lights in the centre. The General says that will be where the wounded are. We sweep through the wagons, head for the centre. Kill all we see. Those of you with flame, burn the wagons.’
He turned. Behind him were a hundred riders. His finest warriors. In the light of the many torches they carried, they looked lean, hungry, magnificent.
‘Today we take back what is ours. Today we will begin our sacred war of vengeance. Now, let them know what awaits them. Let them know the People have returned!’
Around him a hundred voices raised in glorious anger and a hundred vargr howled their blood lust.
Nutaaq urged Raak to move and he sprang forwards, arcing through the air, landing lightly, already picking up speed. They raced down the slope, his warriors spreading out to either side. He felt the battle joy fill him, the energy coursing through his body. Today, finally, his ancestors would know peace and he would make good on his promise. Today was the day that the People would begin to forge a new path, where they united to build a nation to rival any other that walked this earth. He knew it. And all around him warriors cried out and vargr growled.
The gathering of wagons was now just moments ahead. There was movement now, panic. And then they were amongst them. An elf turned to run and Nutaaq slashed, feeling the blade bite, the elf falling forwards to the ground. Raak dodged around wagons, moving deeper in. The charge fragmented as warriors followed different paths. Another elf, this one dressed in armour, charged him with spear raised and was smashed aside by another vargr coming up on his flank. The creature took the elf in its jaws and shook it violently. Nutaaq kicked on. An elf appeared atop a wagon, brandishing a bow. Nutaaq thrust up, deep into its stomach. The elf fell backwards. Nutaaq turned. Fires were starting across the camp. Vargr howled.
Three riders joined him.
‘Follow!’
Together they carried on toward the centre. Several shelters, well lit, hove into view. There we
re many elves gathered there, the wounded, the frightened. He growled. He took no pleasure in the killing of those who could not fight back, even if they were the old enemy, but there was a higher purpose and that was all that mattered. Already his warriors were among the outlying tents, skirmishing with defenders.
‘The centre!’ he ordered, and started on towards the largest of the tents. Rip the heart out. Break the spirit. Out of the corner of his eye he saw a flash of light. The central tent was ahead of him. Several elves stood to defend it. One of them raised their hands.
Nutaaq was but yards away He raised his sword, urging Raak to leap.
A wall of fire filled his vision and searing flame enveloped him.
He screamed.
CHAPTER 78 – OWEN
Owen had Arno land at the camp on the far side of the hill. It was a little risky, he was not sure if the elves had been able to complete the encirclement, but all was quiet. No fires burned and there was no one around. He’d already been over the crest and saw the Emperor still held the top and the fighting still raged on the slope. He could have helped, but he was too damned tired, and if he was, Arno must be too. Behind him, other eagles were coming into land. He climbed off Arno, and put an arm around his neck, burying his head into the feathers, feeling the silky warm against his skin.
‘That was close,’ he whispered. He dwelled there, in no rush to take stock, to have to take command again. He wasn’t ready. Not yet. He did not want to have to listen to the roll of the dead.
A gentle voice reached him. ‘Owen.’
He sighed.
‘Owen.’ The voice was vocalised, insistent. It was Jenna.
Owen stood up and turned around. He faced his Riders. He counted three.
Inside he felt his soul shrink.
He looked at each of them in turn: Jenna, her face full of concern, Harwen face bloodied, Jussi, tears flowing freely.
‘This is it?’ he said, his throat thickening up.
‘Bryce is still up there,’ said Jenna.