by Ben Hale
Light followed her arm to see the dust rising from a group of mounted horsemen. The snow had melted this far south and the region had warmed considerably. Light squinted for a good look.
“Looks like five companies,” he said.
“We should land out of sight and meet them on the road,” Senia said. “No reason to startle several hundred armored cavalry.”
“That does seem unwise,” Light agreed.
Isray folded his wings and dropped from the sky. He curved between two hills and then backwinged to land in the space between, out of sight from the road. Light and the others jumped off and stumbled on the rocky ground. As the thundering of hooves came from the road, Senia pointed back to the sky.
“Perhaps it’s better if you keep an eye out,” she said. “We have no way of knowing when Draeken will strike.”
I’ll stay close enough to hear your thoughts.
The white dragon retreated back the way they had come and then leapt into the sky. Light waved and then picked his way down the short slope towards the road. The dust cloud was visible around the hills, rising into the sky in a hazy plume. Then the lead riders rounded the curve.
“They’re in a hurry,” Senia said. “They won’t want to stop.”
“You think they have food?” Willow asked.
Light looked to her and she shrugged. “You’re not the only one that’s hungry.”
“Army rations,” Senia said.
Light wrinkled his nose in disgust even as his mouth watered. Dried meat and nuts did not sound satisfying, but his stomach seemed to disagree. The lead rider caught sight of the three of them barring the road and reined his mount to a halt.
“Step aside,” he commanded. “By order of the armies of the alliance.”
“We need to speak to Lachonus,” Senia said. “Is he with you?”
“Captain Lachonus!” another rider called back to the force appearing around the hill.
One of the group flicked the reins and the horse accelerated beyond the others. He caught up to the leading scouts and spotted the four of them. The scout scowled and began to speak but Lachonus cut him off.
“Light?” he asked, dismounting and striding to greet them. “What are you doing here?”
“Looking for you, actually,” Light said.
Dressed in a captains uniform for the Talinorian cavalry, Lachonus wore silver plate armor with white accents. His helmet hung from a length of leather in the saddle, and his long spear was attached to the opposite side. A sword and scabbard hung on his back. Perhaps the most striking was his hair, which was bright, dwarven red.
Lachonus looked between them, his eyes settling on Senia. “Oracle Senia,” he said. “Forgive me, I didn’t recognize you.”
“Armor is not usually customary clothing for an oracle,” she said. “Can we speak in private?”
“Of course.”
He motioned to the scouts and barked an order for them to continue. Then he led his horse off the road to a space between a group of boulders. The army continued, the horses passing them on their way north.
“What’s going on?” he lowered his tone. “Last I knew, the fragments had been taken by Serak.”
“Things have changed,” Senia said. “We need you to come with us.”
“Now?” Lachonus gestured to the army. “I’ve been ordered to join the army at Terros, where we march on Xshaltheria.”
“It won’t matter unless we can destroy Serak directly,” Senia said.
As they talked, Light eyed the captain’s pack, which looked heavy, he hoped with supplies. Lachonus glanced his way, noticing his attention on his pack. Eventually he frowned and motioned to the bag.
“Is something amiss?”
“Is there food in there?”
“Help yourself,” Lachonus said.
Light grinned and opened the saddlebag, where he discovered pouches of dried nuts and fruit, as well as smoked meat. Officer rations. He dug in, and then noticed Willow’s disapproving look. He gave a sheepish shrug and then closed the saddlebag.
“Sorry.” His voice was muffled with the food in his mouth, and he resumed his former place next to Senia.
“We believe Serak will seek to assassinate you,” Senia was saying.
“Does this have to do with the other killings?”
“Other killings?” Willow asked.
“Someone has been killing officers and warriors of renown,” he said. “The killer has been described as the specter of death himself.”
Senia grimaced. “That would be Gendor, Serak’s assassin.”
“Why would he come for me?” Lachonus asked. “I’m nobody.”
“You have human and dwarven blood,” she said. “Do you have elven blood as well?”
Lachonus looked confused at the turn in conversation. “What does that have to do with the assassin?”
“It’s important,” Senia said.
Lachonus regarded the three of them and then shrugged. “I don’t know. My family is convoluted. My mother would know.”
“Then we need you to take us to her,” he said.
“She’s right here,” he replied, and pointed to the supply wagons. “She is leftenant over infantry.”
“We must speak to her immediately,” Senia said.
Lachonus regarded them for a moment and then called an order over his shoulder. “Corporal Wilten, summon Leftenant Rilia.”
“As you order!” came the reply.
The speaker detached himself from the line of cavalry and then rode south to reach a set of wagons. He spoke with someone there, and a moment later a woman climbed onto a horse tied to the side of the wagon.
Dressed in the ornate armor of a leftenant, second only to a general, the woman conveyed an imposing air. Her blond hair was tied back, her helm hanging from her saddle. Her features were haughty and rigid, a woman of strength and dominating will. Light took an immediate dislike.
She rode to Lachonus and dismounted, her eyes sweeping the group. She noted Willow with a touch of suspicion, her eyes passing over Senia, whom she recognized. Light thought he saw a trace of ambition in the woman’s features before she looked at him.
“There is berry on your face.”
Her disapproval made Light flush and wipe at his cheek. “Sorry.”
“What’s this about?” Rilia demanded.
“I’m here on an urgent request,” Senia said. “I need to know if Lachonus is descended of the elves, humans, and dwarves.”
“Why?”
“I cannot say.”
“Then we cannot help you.”
She folded her arms. Light leaned over to whisper to Willow, but she jerked her head, and he remained silent. He fidgeted, his eyes flicking between the standoff and Willow, annoyed by the woman’s stance.
His eyes flicked to the saddlebags again, and then drifted upward, to the marching army. The hundreds of soldiers tried to pretend they were not watching, but many eyes glanced in their direction.
“I am the oracle,” Senia said, her tone turning hard. “What I have foreseen is my duty.”
“And my soldiers are my duty,” she said. “As is my son. Why do you need him?”
“You wouldn’t understand,” Senia said.
“I’m second rank to a general,” Rilia growled. “You may be the oracle, but that does not mean you are more intelligent than a soldier trained for war.”
Is everything alright? Isray’s voice was distant.
“We’re fine!” Light called, and then flushed again when Rilia stared at him like he’d gone mad.
“He does that,” Lachonus supplied.
“He lacks discipline,” she said. “An attribute my son possesses, and will one day help him achieve the highest rank in Talinor.”
“Leftenant Rilia,” Senia said. “The war you are headed for will—”
“—Bring my family more glory than anything you can offer,” she snapped. “Captain, back to your post.”
“You can’t be serious,” Lach
onus said. “I’ve fought beside Light, and the oracle has a rank that rivals the kings.”
“Not my king,” Rilia rounded on him. “I didn’t train you for decades just so you can miss the most important battle of your career. This war with Serak and his Order of Ancients will reveal many distinguished soldiers, and I’m not allowing you to depart on a mysterious assignment with the oracle—one with deeds that will likely never be known.”
“Even if he is the key to destroying Serak?” Willow asked.
“He will destroy Serak,” Rilia barked. “But he will do it on the battlefield. He is stronger and faster than a normal man, with the cunning of his distinguished lineage. No mage is going to stop him.”
Light didn’t notice the rising tension. His eyes were drawn beyond the marching soldiers to the figure approaching the opposite side. He frowned and pointed in that direction, but as he began to speak, Lachonus grunted in irritation.
“If you want more food, go and eat.”
“Do we need to worry about him?” Light asked.
“Who?” Rilia demanded.
The others rotated, and spotted the approaching figure. Wearing a cloak of midnight, the man seemed to glide down the hill, a wicked scythe in his hands. Beneath the cowl, only a pair of dark coals glowed for eyes, and his fingers had been stripped of flesh, leaving only bone.
“Who is that?” Lachonus asked, drawing his sword.
“That is the assassin come to kill you,” Senia said.
The cavalry responded in unison, the riders yanking on the reins. The horses spun, spears were extended, the weapons pointing toward the solitary figure. Facing a half circle of the best cavalry on Lumineia, Gendor came to a halt. The stillness stretched for several seconds until Rilia growled.
“What’s he waiting for—”
A roar shook the ground and caused horses to whinny in fear. It was not from a dragon or beast, but another warrior, one twelve feet tall and layered in black armor. The warrior advanced into view and spun his giant sword, which emitted a dull whine.
“Oh look!” Light called, pointing. “It looks like Gendor did not come alone . . .”
Chapter 12: Enmity
Light waved to Gendor, but the assassin did not wave back. After Light’s conversation with Rune, he’d assumed the assassin was on his side, but perhaps that was overstating their friendship. Light waved again but Willow caught his hand and pulled it down, and then shook her head.
Senia whirled to Rilia. “You need to retreat, now.”
“Retreat?” Rilia scoffed. “We are the Talinorian cavalry, and five companies are more than a match for these criminals.”
“You don’t understand,” Senia said. “These are not normal soldiers. Serak has empowered them beyond normal means. Gendor and Bartoth are his generals, capable of—”
“All men can be killed,” Rilia said. “Lachonus, order the right flank to advance. These criminals are wanted for execution. Kill them.”
Lachonus scowled but nodded. “As you order, Leftenant.”
He barked orders as he mounted his steed and snapped the reins. Senia released an explosive breath and turned to Willow and Light, who watched Gendor and Bartoth. As Rilia mounted and also departed, the oracle lowered her voice.
“We have to get Lachonus out of here, before this turns into a bloodbath.”
“Too late.” Light pointed to Bartoth.
Bartoth released another roar and began to advance, accelerating into a run. Lachonus shouted an order and a spear was thrown, the weapon bouncing of Bartoth’s armor. Another order, and three more spears were thrown. All clattered off Bartoth’s armor, and the rock troll began to laugh, the sound of anticipation.
“Cut him down!” Rilia shouted.
The cavalry surged into a charge, the spears pointed at the armored rock troll. Horse hooves thundered across the ground, and Light took a step forward, wanting to intervene. Senia caught his arm.
“Light,” she said softly. “You cannot stop what is about to happen.”
“They’re going to die,” he protested.
“I know,” Senia said, her features a grimace. “There is nothing we can do for them. We need to find a way to get Lachonus out. It’s the only way to stop this.”
Bartoth and the cavalry closed the gap and Bartoth raised his sword. With a snarl he slammed into the leading ranks. Horses and men, spears and shields, all bounced off his body, cascading away as his charge carried him deep into their ranks. Men cried out as their bones cracked and horses whinnied as their bodies fell in broken heaps.
Men screamed and orders were shouted as five hundred armored cavalry sought to destroy Serak’s general. But Bartoth was a rock troll with body magic, one empowered so every spell enhanced his flesh, granting him speed and strength far beyond even the mighty trolls. Horses and men died in seconds, their bodies rent and torn, their armor ripped apart like parchment.
Anger pooled in Light’s chest like a fever, until he shrugged out of Senia’s grip and sprinted into the conflict. Willow called his name but he ignored it, his gaze fixed on Bartoth. Then Willow reached him and yanked on his elbow, spinning him around.
“You cannot stop him,” she said. “You are no longer a fragment, remember?”
“I’m still a guardian,” he said. “I can’t stand idle. Do you not hear the dying?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
“I have to try.” He stabbed a finger at the raging battle.
“Were is your rage?” she challenged.
He blinked in surprise, shocked to find that his rage was absent. Anger, yes, but no unbridled rage, the emotion that had granted him power against the strongest of foes. He’d defeated Bartoth before, his rage enhancing his magic. Now he was vulnerable.
He reached out and took Willow’s hands in his. “I am not who I was, but if I do not fight, then what I am to be?”
“I cannot lose you!”
Her hands trembled in his, and he suddenly saw the moment from her perspective. She loved him, and feared his diminished strength, feared losing him to Bartoth. He was mortal, his flesh weak, his magic weaker.
“Will you love me if I do not fight?” he asked.
Tears came to her eyes but she nodded.
“I may be different,” he said. “But I am still one who fights. Will you fight with me?”
She smiled through her tears and reached to her waist. Her tattoos pooled into ink that hardened into her sword. She leaned up and kissed him, and when they parted, she reached to her waist and drew her whip.
“Always.”
He reached for his magic and cast a bow. He turned and aimed at Bartoth and drew an arrow back, the arrow shimmering with power. The arrow flew at the rock troll and exploded on his chest, knocking him backward. He skidded on the ground, smoke billowing around his helm. Lachonus wisely took the opportunity to retreat, and the cavalry rushed back to the road. Rilia skidded to a halt and jumped off her horse next to Senia. Blood was on her armor and cheek, her eyes ablaze with anger.
“Tell me why you need my son.”
Senia regarded her with anger. “You would deny me after what you have seen?”
“He is my son,” she snarled. “If you want him, tell me why.”
“He is the only one that can defeat Serak.”
All four whirled to find Gendor in their midst. The assassin held his scythe low and ready, but did not attack. Rilia leapt in and swung her sword, but the scythe moved with shocking speed, knocking her sword from her grip.
“Why do you not strike us?” Senia asked.
“Serak ordered me to kill Lachonus,” he replied. “And I must obey. Sadly, he neglected to say when, or if I should kill those that stand in my way.”
Rilia growled and jerked her head stubbornly. “Why him?”
“We need one born of man, elf, and dwarf,” Senia snapped. “Is it him?”
Bartoth groaned and rose to his knees. He shook his head as if to clear it, and then picked up his fallen sword. W
illow cursed when he rose to his feet and cast about, looking for who had fired such a dangerous arrow. When he spotted Light, he leveled his sword at him.
“You,” he snarled.
“You remember me?” Light asked, pleased.
“I’ve looked forward to our next meeting since that day in the north.”
“The day he made you apologize?” Willow asked.
Bartoth released a snarl and charged. Lachonus shouted an order and the cavalry parted, providing a path for the giant warrior. Light braced for the impending duel, his anger rising and bursting through his body.
“My son is who you seek,” Rilia said, raising her chin. “He will destroy Serak for you.”
“Get Lachonus and the cavalry out,” Light said to Senia. “We’ll keep Bartoth busy.” He glanced at Willow and she nodded.
Lachonus was on the opposite side of the road. His horse was dead, and he was staunching the wounds of one of his men. Light aimed his bow again and fired at Bartoth, but the troll swung his sword, deflecting the arrow into the sky, where it detonated. Light altered his bow into a sword and leapt into the road, sprinting for the rock troll with Willow at his side.
The two parties converged and Light leapt over Bartoth’s flashing sword, coming down behind him. The troll skidded to a halt and spun, driving a fist into Light’s chest. The air burst from his lungs and he went tumbling onto his back.
“Not so fast as you were before,” Bartoth said with a chuckle.
Light spit blood. “Fast enough.”
Bartoth looked to his shoulder and found a small shard of magic blinking there. He reached for it, but it burst into a rope that embedded into the earth, yanking him to his knees. He snarled and reached for the chord, but Willow landed on his arm and stabbed her sword into the chink between his shoulder plate and his helmet. She leapt away, her sword bloody.
Light’s anger flooded his body and his magic burst from his skin. He cast his large sword and swung, slashing across Bartoth’s back. The rock troll whirled, his sword moving at breathtaking speed. Light deflected it upward and conjured a crossbow out of light, which fired a bolt into Bartoth’s stomach, but it bounced off his armor.
Bartoth yanked the crossbow from Light’s grip and used it like a club, smashing Willow away. Light’s fury mounted as he watched Willow slump to the ground. He summoned the light around his body, the magic forming into flesh, making him swell to match Bartoth’s size. His sword grew into a giant maul, a weapon to punish.
