I watched, curious, as the weapon continued to spin, and instead of slamming into the ground, pivoted in midair. It continued to wheel around as it soared back to Blake. Ze caught it by the handle an instant before it passed them. In spite of the imminent danger, Blake turned and flashed me a smile through their bandages.
Something inside me snapped. I couldn't see Blake's simple show of comfort. All I could think about was the demons that had mauled my friend nearly to death. The same demons that were about to crash into us. My grip on my sword tightened until my hand hurt. I felt a scream of fury escape my throat, and I threw myself at the horde as they collided with the ranks of the family.
Then my ears popped, and the world came crashing into painful clarity.
The snarls of the grinel mingled with the screams of the people around me. I swung my blade with reckless abandon at anything brightly colored. Had I been thinking clearly, I would have been afraid of hitting one of the gypsies, but they were thankfully outside of the fight for the moment.
My sword found a few targets, but the grinel were so tightly packed together it was difficult to land a killing blow. One of my swings managed to lob a scaled green arm off, and its former owner turned towards me in a flash of inch-long serrated teeth. I raised my sword to block, only to watch a family member bury their short-sword straight through its gaping mouth. A second later, a crimson grinel lunged onto my savior. The two tumbled into the mass of fighting and disappeared.
A stinging blow bit into my side, my yelp of pain swallowed by the screams all around me. I turned and struck at my attacker, a bright yellow grinel who still had their claws buried in my side. It leaned out of the way of my swing, a string of guttural sounds coming out of its mouth. I brought my sword around again in a backswing, and it tried to lean away again, but it just refused to let go of me. I leaned forward at the last second, and the tip of my blade sheared through essence and flesh. Its jaw dropped away in a spray of thick blood, and the grinel finally released me, reeling away.
I patted my side and winced. Its claws hadn't gone deep, but the wounds stabbed at me with every little movement. If my essence wasn't protecting me, that grinel might have ripped out my insides.
Over the sounds of fighting, a loud hiss filled the air. My eyes flickered toward the sky just in time to watch hundreds of arrows float upwards. They hovered in the air, looking like little scratches in the clouds, before descending with a deadly whistle.
We were hopelessly exposed. None of the family or gypsies had brought shields; with our essence to protect us, a shield seemed an unnecessary burden. Those arrows were infused with Lheona's power, though. They would punch through our defenses as easily as, well, an arrow through flesh. I cursed at our overconfidence.
The whistle of the arrows was drowned out by a high-pitched chittering. It wasn't loud enough to mute the shouts of battle, but it turned more than a few heads as it became louder. What looked like a fuzzy brown cloud tore through the air at tremendous speed.
Birds. Thousands of birds.
The little winged creatures danced and darted into the thick of the arrows, their taloned feet snatching projectiles straight out of the sky. Somewhere, I could hear the shrill voice of Tweet, urging her feathered friends to aid us. The birds were too small to hold more than a single arrow apiece, but they outnumbered the arrows at least three to one.
But for all their speed and numbers, even our chirping saviors couldn't stop every one. A small rain of arrows fell on the battlefield, piercing victims without prejudice. Several family members went down, alongside some of the grinel they were fighting. Some of the arrows tore through the gypsies, and their screams joined the others as they fell, the first of their blood to be shed.
An inhuman screech near me broke me from my spectating, and I just managed to fend off the grinel that had set its sights on me. The battle was drawing in tighter, as the family desperately retreated from the onslaught of demons.
We were fighting right at the summit of the hill, and I had a clear view of Othenidus' soldiers. The mud had slowed them considerably, but they had still managed to nearly reach the top. Soon, we would truly be caught on both sides.
The archers were the only ones who remained back. I could see them preparing to fire another volley. The massive flock of birds still fluttered overhead, but even if they managed to catch most of them again, there would still more casualties.
Then a cascade of arrows fell on the archers. Their attack was forgotten as they scrambled to find the source. Behind their ranks, a squad of Mad Riders rode by on their camels, already nocking their next volley. Othenidus' men tried to fire back in retaliation, but the brigands were quicker to the draw. The second volley scattered the archers' ranks. Their enemies in disarray, the Riders shouldered their bows and drew longswords, charging straight into the artillery, their camels sure-footed in the treacherous mud. Chestnut cackled while shouting obscene encouragement at the beasts.
Othenidus bellowed over the din of combat, a wordless, furious howl. The soldiers doubled their pace, and like a tide in a storm they smashed into the lines of the gypsies. The air filled with the sound of ringing steel, and the shouting rose to a deafening level.
To my surprise, many of the soldiers rushed the grinel first. Caught off-guard from the new arrivals, a dozen of the otherworldly creatures went down under the empowered iron blades and pikes of the army. But new arrivals meant new targets, and the grinel had no qualms about attacking Othenidus' men with all the vigor they had shown us.
A soldier charged directly towards me, his face set in grim certainty. These weren't like the bandits and brigands I was accustomed to fighting; these were men and women trained to protect their land and people. He would fight to the death.
I couldn't find it in myself to kill him. The grinel were invaders and demons in my eyes, even if that was the fault of Othenidus. This soldier was just doing his duty to protect his homeland and family.
He swung low, and I jumped away to avoid it. The strike was just a feint, though. He used his momentum to charge into me with his shoulder. I was knocked to the ground, mud spraying around me from the impact. It cushioned me enough that I wasn't hurt, but for the moment I was dazed. I raised my sword in a desperate attempt to block the blade I was sure would come crashing down on my head.
Rosie appeared from the thick of the battle and rammed her fist straight into the soldier's face. Teeth and blood flew every direction, and he crumpled where he stood. She wasted no time with words, grabbing me by my tunic and hauling me to my feet. Before I could thank her, she rushed into another soldier and started the process all over again.
Somehow, we were hanging in, but where our powers gave us an edge, the sheer bulk of our foes threatened to overrun us. The grinel and army may have been fighting each other, but every family member and gypsy that went down was a painful loss of strength. Even as I watched the enemy soldiers go down in droves, two more seemed to step up for each one lost.
In the midst of the gypsies, a shower of knives erupted. Edge walked the line with an eerie calm, his hands a blur of motion, each one snapping out and back in the space of a blink. Every thrown blade struck with frightening accuracy. The soldiers looked like they were sprouting blades, as knives lodged in enemy throats and punched through leather armor to seek hearts.
But one target refused to be struck.
Othenidus surged forward, the slick ground not hindering him in the least. In a single motion, he drew the sword from his back and knocked aside a barrage of daggers aimed for his face. The sword was a scimitar with a blade nearly as big as me, and Othenidus wielded it with the nonchalance only a true master could pull off.
Scores of Edge's blades fired towards him, and yet the Lord of Val'Hala refused to be so much as scratched. He marched straight forward, his sword easily swatting away any knives that threatened to hit. Edge continued attacking, undeterred, his dagger supply seemingly endless.
The hulking lord slowed his blocking, and sev
eral daggers finally hit his chest. They chimed against his plate armor, falling to the ground around Othenidus' feet. Edge looked confused, but refused to let up his onslaught. He kept retreating, his attack focused completely on Othenidus now.
A pair of grinel broke free of the carnage and sprinted towards their former captor. They leapt at the armored lord, screeching foreign curses and slashing wildly. The scimitar flashed through one, bifurcating it almost perfectly. At the same time, Othenidus' free hand snatched the other demon by the throat. A twitch of his wrist, a crack of bone, and the lifeless body tumbled from his gauntlet. He didn't even have to slow down, and now was only about ten feet from Edge.
Several gypsies fought to reach their friend, but the army pressed against them relentlessly. In three great strides, Othenidus was on him. Edge swept his arms up and lunged, knives held between each of his fingers. His fists flew towards the mad lord's face, and for a moment it looked like he would hit.
Othenidus jerked his fingers. His scimitar whirled up in a blink, slicing cleanly through Edge's arms. Daggers fell from limp fingers, and the weapons hit the ground alongside the severed limbs. Edge had just enough time to stare at his bleeding stumps and scream before a heavily mailed hand closed around his face.
Someone grabbed me by the shoulder and spun me around. I nearly ran my sword through their gut, but Blake was too quick, and shoved the tip of the sword away harmlessly. At that moment, a gut-clenching crunch filled my ears. Somehow, it was louder than all the sounds of death and dying around me put together. I fought the urge to turn around and look. I already knew what I would see.
Blake grabbed my arm and dragged me away, into the thick of the fighting. Ze kept looking over their shoulder, pulling at me more insistently each time. Was ze afraid I would try to fight Othenidus? How could I? Without my power or essence, I would be nothing before him.
Unless Blake was afraid the Lord of Val'Hala would come for me. He already showed how much he hated me, all the more for actually escaping his impenetrable city for the second time in my life. If he saw me, there was little doubt he would stalk me with more murder in his heart than he showed poor Edge.
A group of guards fell in around us suddenly. Blake let go of me and brought the twins around in a crescent arc. The wickedly sharp head cleaved through three of them, and the others scrambled to avoid its deadly wake. Before they could recover, I dove forward and locked their weapons to the ground. I didn't want to kill them, but I could still do my best to keep them from killing anyone, too.
Our path cleared again, Blake started pulling me further into the killing. The ground was slick with brown and red, growing harder to slough through with each fallen warrior, and bodies choked the areas not filled with those still fighting for their lives. Blake and I were among them, forced to stop every few steps and contend with a ravening grinel or zealous soldier.
There were far fewer grinel than originally attacked, but I still caught glimpses of their bright skin through gaps in the melee. Some were still fighting tooth and nail against one group or another. Some had stopped to feast on the casualties, succumbing to their most base desires.
The exertion was taking its toll on me. My lungs ached, my wounds from the past few days pounded with every step, and I could feel my essence starting to weaken. There was no place to rest. If I stopped, I died. So, I swallowed my exhaustion and fought and ran.
Except there was nowhere to really run. The numbers on the field were thinning fast, but it was plain at a glance that the family and gypsies and Mad Riders would be finished before the grinel could be culled, and much sooner than the military might of Val'Hala would falter. Our gamble had failed. We had lost.
Over the chaos of the fight, a voice rose. It wasn't a scream, or a plea for mercy, or a battle cry. It was a song:
Skies of blood, sea of sand,
Step by step, hand in hand,
We trudge on towards that last endless night.
Hear their screams, can it be
Dearest friend, enemy
Do you know what's the point in this fight?
The fighting didn't stop, but it slowed, so little that anyone watching wouldn't have noticed. Voices joined the first, singing out as they struggled:
One by one, we expire
One more log on the fire
Who will mourn us when all's said and done?
Dear Almighty, I plea
Find some mercy for me
That I may see the new world of none
The dawn of an era of hope yet to come
It was impossible to tell what sides were singing. It crescendoed over the clash of weapons, muffled the cries of the dying. Sometimes a voice was lost, its owner fallen, but the song would rise again almost immediately, stronger than before:
At the world's final turn,
Even ashes will burn
From our soul fires snuffed by their scorn
All the things we despise
Celebrate our demise
As our cries echo out to a future unborn!
Through it, I could hear Othenidus shouting orders, perhaps trying to quiet his men. The song had taken a life of its own, and soon even his tremendous voice was overpowered by it:
At the edge of madness
We cling, we clutch, we wail
For when all our blood turns the sand into mud
One must survive to tell the tale…
Blake and I exchanged looks. We already knew we were struggling against the inevitable. I squeezed their hand, and ze squeezed it back. With a nod of farewell to each other, we let go and raised our weapons. If we had to go, we would make them pay for every inch they took. I drew a breath to join the song, and the fray.
The horizon exploded.
It was like time stopped. The song blew away in one great burst. Every soldier, every gypsy, every family member and Mad Rider froze in place. Even the mighty Othenidus halted in his tracks. Even the grinel, insane as they were, paused to watch the incandescent impossibility.
A firestorm raged at the edge of the world, climbing into the sky until it looked like it would scorch the clouds. It didn't spread, or rampage unchecked through the countryside. Like the hand of the Almighty was guiding it, the inferno marched directly towards the battle.
In its nexus, two images flickered between the tongues of flame, more great and terrible to behold than any demon of legend. As they approached, a pair of lenses from one reflected the hellish light as they surveyed the scene. The other's body was like the fire itself, armored in glowing red rage.
The Old Kings, the Scholar and the Forge, had arrived.
Chapter 27: A King's Anger
I scarcely dared to believe it. I was so certain I wouldn't live to see him again. It was only when my eyes began to water from the brightness and heat the two fiery figures were giving off that I allowed myself to hope.
The army of Val'Hala started to back away. They were ready to fight demons to the death, but these newcomers were wrath incarnate, and all that wrath was aimed right in their direction. Hell, I was about ready to turn tail at the sight of them. Only a barked order from their lord stopped the army from collapsing in on itself.
Othenidus himself was red in the face, cords bulging out of his neck as his jaw grinded. He looked somewhere between barely contained rage and excitement. Only someone as murderous as him could possibly feel excited at the prospect of fighting the apparitions before us.
Some of the shock had worn off the grinel, but they looked torn in their decision. Fire meant nothing to the creatures, but in the fire Hawke and Uraj were consumed with there was a well of power that dwarfed everything else there. The Scholar and Forge were known by all grinel, and they likely knew what was coming.
A hot blast of wind stirred, and the flames extinguished in a brilliant spurt. Uraj started running, something clutched tightly in his armored hands.
Then the air cracked, and Hawke was in the midst of the grinel.
Symphony flashed from his scabb
ard and whistled around him in a rusty blur. Six grinel went down in a single swing, their vibrant limbs and heads raining down around him. The others clicked and growled in fear, and together they surged towards the threat.
But Hawke was a whirlwind of death, his blade cutting down every demon that strayed within his reach. One of them tried to skitter out of the way, and Hawke raised his free hand, beckoning towards himself. The grinel was catapulted forward by an invisible force, straight into Symphony's kiss. The others tried to come at him in twos and threes, hoping to overwhelm him, but he danced out of the way of their claws and teeth in time with a song only he could hear.
One of them managed to lunge in behind him, talons lashing at his face. He severed the offending arm, but not before it raked across his cheek. Even as he thrust his sword through its heart, the bloody gashes shrunk until all that remained was a trickle of blood on his otherwise unmarred features. He casually wiped it off on his sleeve and looked for more foes.
Uraj arrived at that moment, his face wrought like cold iron. A grinel turned towards him, hissing, and Uraj raised his weapon. It looked like a hammer, only with a handle as long as my arm and a head that had to be no less than twenty pounds of solid brass. He swung it as easily as he might have a wooden switch. The impact pulverized the upper half of the grinel into a spray of gory mist.
The grinel were beyond outmatched, and they started realizing it far too late. Many of them began to make a retreat, but none of them escaped Hawke's unreal speed and the brutal reach of Uraj's maul. Within minutes, all that remained of the grinel was their scattered bodies, or at least what remained.
Savants of Humanity (The Scholar's Legacy Book 2) Page 32
