The Crown

by Deborah Chester

  Gasps of astonishment came from the Ulinian barons, while Shadrael and Vordachai exchanged looks of outrage.

  “Who has told him the battle has ended?” Vordachai shouted. “How dare he ride forth to claim this field?”

  “He insults us!” Shadrael said furiously. “Damn him!”

  “Arrogant puppy!” Vordachai said. “Get me a mount!” he roared. “I’ll teach this upstart some manners.”

  Men scurried to bring him a horse. Vordachai climbed into the saddle and drew his sword. “Ulinians, to me!” he cried.

  The barons cheered him, spurring their mounts forward.

  But by then Shadrael had realized that the emperor’s entry onto the field meant something far worse than a premature claim of victory. He could feel a growing heaviness in the air, a shifting sense of something about to happen.

  “Vordachai,” he said urgently, breaking in on what his brother was saying to the barons. “Call your men to retreat. I’ll help break them through the line . . . there.” He pointed. “Lead them into the canyons as fast as you can.”

  Everyone stared at him as though he’d suddenly turned blue and begun to speak in Madrun.

  Vordachai scowled. “Not this again. Damn you, Shadrael, what mean you by this treachery? Dishonor myself by fleeing the field just as that leprous dog takes it? Never!”

  “The army of the dead is coming,” Shadrael said urgently. “The emperor has entered the trap, and now the priests will close it.”

  Disbelief filled Vordachai’s face, only to be replaced by the dawning light of glee. “At last!” he said in relief. “I was beginning to think there might not be any of us left before they brought their aid.”

  “You don’t want to be here—”

  “Shut up! I won’t listen to you a moment longer. Men, to me!” Vordachai shouted, and galloped forward.

  At that moment the world seemed to shift. The air grew unnaturally still, and Shadrael felt shadows forming, forcing open the Hidden Ways. Horrified, he whirled his alarmed horse around just as the opening gaped wide. The all-too-familiar stench of evil rolled out, as sour and rotten as the grave, and he heard a peculiar clattering sound that he recognized from his past and had hoped he would never hear again.

  Years before, when he was just a young cohort leader and Kostimon still sat on his ruby throne, Shadrael had been forced to fight with the dead. As a donare, he’d shared the duties of controlling the vile creatures with their shambling gait and dead stares. Mindless, they had moved here and yon as directed, attacking anything in their path and tearing it to pieces. Shadrael had heard the clacking of bones in his dreams for months afterward, exactly as he heard it now.

  The hair rose on the back of his neck, and it was as though his past nightmares had sprung to life. From the Hidden Ways poured an army of walking skeletons, their bony feet clattering on the hard ground, their eyeless skulls questing blindly as they emerged into the open air.

  A howl that came from no human throat rose from within the shadow realm, and it made Shadrael’s blood run cold.

  Beside him, Vordachai sat rigid in his saddle, his eyes protruding from their sockets. “What in Gault’s name—”

  “The army of the dead,” Shadrael said grimly. “As promised by Urmaeor. Hear me now if you value your life! These are not your allies.”

  Around him fell silence, as more and more men stopped fighting and turned to face what was coming. Brawny soldiers with gore-smeared swords suddenly gripped their amulets. The Ulinians fell back, ashen with shock.

  A horse and rider came galloping up, reining before Shadrael with a flourishing salute. It was Fomo, his stringy hair tied back from his eyes, the stink of fresh blood potion hanging on his breath. Grinning at Shadrael, he positioned his horse in front of Vordachai.

  “Compliments of Lord Urmaeor,” he said, his hoarse, rasping voice straining to make itself heard over the clatter of moving bones. “Your army is delivered, as promised.”

  Still staring at the skeletons, Vordachai seemed incapable of answering.

  “That’ll do,” Shadrael said in dismissal.

  Resentment flashed across Fomo’s tattooed face. “Best you set about sending ’em that way, m’lord,” he said, pointing toward the emperor.

  A scream pierced the air, a man’s death cry. Shadrael saw that the first of the walking skeletons had reached an Imperial soldier. The soldier backed away from the skeleton, which had swung out of the column to attack. Stumbling back, the soldier had slashed frantically with his sword, but the skeleton sprang at him and bore him to the ground, tearing him apart in a grisly death.

  And even more were coming, an infinite number pouring from the Hidden Ways.

  Too many, Shadrael thought in growing alarm. He turned to Vordachai. “Now do you see?” he said urgently. “Vordachai, recall your men now.”

  “Too late for that,” Fomo rasped. He pointed, and Shadrael saw that the skeletons were splitting, half of them heading southward as though to block the only real exit from the battlefield. “Now,” Fomo said eagerly, “we show the upstart’s light lovers what death’s all about.”

  More screams rose as men began to fight and die. Others ran, but the skeletons chased them like hounds, bringing them down.

  “Vordachai!” Shadrael said, gripping his brother’s shoulder.

  The warlord breathed out something, his horrified gaze still locked on the sight before him. “How can Beloth still be with us?” he asked. “What are these unholy things?”

  “They’re your army, as requested,” Fomo said, maneuvering up beside his horse.

  Vordachai struck him with the back of his hand, nearly knocking him from his saddle. “And they’re killing my men, as many of my men as the enemy,” the warlord said furiously. “Get back to those damned priests and have them call off this spell. I won’t be a part of it. I won’t!”

  “Not even to see Light Bringer die?” Fomo asked slyly.

  “That’ll do, Centruin!” Shadrael barked. “You have your orders. Go!”

  Glowering, Fomo galloped away. Some of the skeletons turned as though to pursue him, but movement from the men on foot caught their attention and they marched onward.

  Like the giant white ants of the desert, Shadrael thought. Ravenous, mindless brutes that consumed the flesh of any living thing in their path.

  He turned to his brother, but Vordachai was already issuing orders. “Sound the retreat,” he said. “Hurry!”

  “Careful,” Shadrael warned him. “The men must not run, or the dead will chase them.”

  “Gods,” Vordachai muttered, still staring. “I never thought—I didn’t believe you. Can you control them, as that knave said?”

  “Not anymore.”

  Turning pale, Vordachai looked at him then. “You mean you’ve done so in the past?”

  “Only once,” Shadrael said grimly. “I wasn’t proud of that day.”

  Vordachai swallowed visibly. “How are they killed? I mean—stopped?”

  “With magic.”

  “A pox on that!” Vordachai swore. “The shadows are supposed to be gone. What evil has brought this back upon us?”

  “Our only hope now is Light Bringer,” Shadrael replied, glancing in the direction of the emperor. Although halfway across the battlefield, the emperor’s progress had stopped, and soldiers were running now to position themselves between the skeletons and His Imperial Majesty. “He destroyed Beloth. Surely he can burn this evil away as well.”

  “I won’t surrender to him,” Vordachai said in renewed fury. “Not for all the bones in this world or the next!”

  “Then hack them to bits,” Shadrael replied grimly, swinging his horse around and drawing his sword. “For they are upon us.”

  Chapter 24

  Catching the horse, Lea galloped back into the Valley of Fires with an air spirit guiding her through the folded maze of canyons until at last, shortly past midday, she topped a ridge and came to the battlefield.

  She heard the scream
s first, then saw a scene of terrible carnage. Men were running in all directions, pausing only to desperately fend off the creatures swarming them. Hacking, chopping, smashing . . . Lea had never seen so much blood, nor could anything have prepared her for the dreadful slaughter taking place. The field was full of na-quai, and all benign spirits of the elements seemed to have fled.

  Even her little guide, the gentle air spirit that had coiled around her neck during the ride back to this valley, now vanished. All Lea found before her were death and fear and evil. It was as though shadow had returned to darken the world, and it frightened her.

  Many of the Imperial soldiers had drawn themselves into a tight column, holding their shields across each other in a defensive wall as they retreated slowly and steadily in good order. Others had been caught on the field and now fought for their lives against the terrible creatures seeking to kill them. Screams of the dying filled the air. Officers were riding frightened horses back and forth, shouting and trying to keep the men in better order. As for the Ulinians, Lea saw no flag flying, and far too many of the trampled corpses wore Ulinian mail and clothing.

  She saw Caelan on the opposite side of the field, well away from the carnage, astride an enormous white horse that pranced and pawed. Her brother, wearing his crown and a breastplate of hammered gold, seemed to be yelling orders, but he was not fighting.

  She saw a few Ulinians bunched tightly around a bearded man in armor that reflected the sunlight in bursts of silver, but Shadrael did not seem to be with them.

  From her vantage point, she saw an opening to the Hidden Ways, where even more of the skeleton creatures were spilling forth, running toward their living prey with a deadly kind of intensity. And just inside the opening, she glimpsed a tall priest in robes of saffron.

  Lea’s heart quailed a moment before it beat with fresh determination. If Urmaeor had wrought this horror, she told herself, he must be stopped.

  “M’lady!” a voice called out.

  Startled, she looked around, and saw a bedraggled man stumbling toward her. His cloak hung in tatters, and his breastplate was dented and streaked with grime and blood. A drawn sword was in his hand, and his eyes looked wild.

  Lea instinctively tightened the reins, making her horse back up. “Thirbe?” she called uncertainly.

  Gasping for breath, he stumbled to a halt a short distance from her, holding up his hand as though for mercy. “M’lady, what are you doing here? It’s not safe for you. Not safe for anyone.”

  Lea frowned. He looked like Thirbe. He sounded like Thirbe. But she’d been fooled once today. She could not risk being deceived a second time. Digging into her pocket, she removed the tiny gli-emerald that had served her so well.

  “Come to me,” she said breathlessly, aware of what she was risking. “Come very close. Now.”

  Still panting, he obeyed her, putting out a hand to grasp the reins as her horse tried to swing away from him. Then he was at her stirrup, close enough to pull her from the saddle and kill her if he chose.

  “Hold out your hand,” she said. “I want you to take this.”

  He frowned. “M’lady, this is no time for—”

  “Do as I say.”

  Still frowning, he turned up his grubby palm, and she placed the gli-emerald on it. He peered at the stone, looking bewildered. “What am I to do with it?”

  “Oh, Thirbe!” she said gladly, reaching down to grip his callused hand. “How relieved I am to see you.”

  “Wish I could say the same,” he muttered, squeezing her fingers to belie his gruff tone. “You shouldn’t be here, not in this bloodbath. Are you well? The last time I saw you, you looked mighty poorly. How came you to escape?”

  “I can’t tell you now. Climb up behind me. We must put a stop to this terrible evil.”

  “You leave the fighting to the emperor,” Thirbe said in alarm. He climbed onto her horse with alacrity and would have reached around her to take the reins if she hadn’t stopped him. “M’lady, let me—”

  “No,” Lea said firmly. “I must find Shadrael.”

  “M’lady, don’t be daft. That blackguard could be anywhere. Run off or dead by now. You haven’t a hope of finding him until this is over.”

  An agonized scream rent the air. Lea flinched, tears filling her eyes, but she blinked them away. She could not bear what she was seeing, yet she had no intention of retreating to safety. Again she gazed across the battlefield, searching for Shadrael. “He cannot withstand this,” she said to Thirbe. “He will forget what has come so new to him. He will try to fight in the old ways he knew before, and—there!” She pointed. “I see him!”

  A rider in a black cloak was galloping at an angle between the retreating Ulinians and the advancing skeletons. Lea could see that Imperial troops—instead of assisting the Ulinians—were closing in from the rear, cutting off their flight from the dead. The warlord and his men were trapped, unable to escape certain destruction. And Lea found herself outraged at her brother’s army for taking such unfair advantage of the Ulinians. All the men should be united against the army of the dead, she thought. And yet they were not. It shamed her that her brother had not called a halt to such actions.

  As for Shadrael, he was galloping away, angling closer to the skeletons than he should.

  “Running, by Gault,” Thirbe said in contempt. “The surly knave—”

  “No!” Lea protested, leaning forward. “He’s trying to draw them after him. Oh, he risks too much. Too much!”

  She saw Shadrael spur his frightened horse forward when it would have turned. The animal slung its head and shied, bucking with him. And during that pause the skeletons rushed at him, moving faster than Lea thought possible. Shadrael reined in his terrified horse, keeping it from bolting.

  “He is leading them away,” Lea said in excitement, her heart in her mouth. She saw one of the creatures leap at his back and gasped aloud as Shadrael shook it off. “I understand where he’s going. Do you see, Thirbe? Do you?”

  “Leading ’em back to the Hidden Ways,” Thirbe said, sounding astonished. “Damned cool of him.”

  Lea saw Urmaeor move, turning about and lifting his arms. “No!” she cried out, kicking her horse forward. “He’s closing the Hidden Ways. He can’t. He mustn’t!”

  “M’lady, what are you doing?”

  Lea bent low over her horse’s whipping mane, urging it faster. “We must stop this!” she shouted.

  Thirbe’s protest was lost in the wind. Lea kicked her horse even faster, skimming along the top of the ridge bordering the battlefield until broken terrain forced her to angle her mount down the slope into the actual field.

  Her protector was still yelling at her back, reaching forward in an effort to grab the reins from her. Lea fended him off as with all her might she called for the earth spirits to come to her aid again.

  A pair of bloodied men sprang up as though from nowhere, yelling at her, and trying to stop her horse. Lea yanked the reins and sent her horse dodging them. The horse stumbled, and Lea was nearly thrown over its head, but she clung tightly and escaped the ambush, galloping on with her heart thudding in her throat.

  Skeletons came at her, bony fingers grabbing at her skirts and arms. Lea screamed, and Thirbe’s sword smashed one of the arms in twain, sending splinters of bone flying. Ahead, Lea saw Urmaeor standing within the safety of the shadow realm, watching without expression. The wide opening to the Hidden Ways was closing, nearly shut now. Desperate to stop him, Lea reached for her necklace and pulled one of the gli-emeralds from its setting.

  Light flashed as the stone came free. With all her might, she threw the jewel into the opening. Her aim was true, and there was an explosion of brilliant greenish white light that seared deep into the Hidden Ways. Nearly blinded, Lea shielded her eyes while Thirbe swore and pulled her close against him as though to keep her safe.

  The Hidden Ways closed, and the air stank of sulfur and heat.

  Through watering eyes, she glimpsed Urmaeor thrown to his ha
nds and knees as though ejected from the shadow world. He scrambled nimbly to his feet and fled, holding up his robes in order to run. In moments he had vanished from sight among some boulders.

  “Like a rat, bolting into its hole,” Thirbe said angrily.

  “Not his hole,” Lea said. “He hasn’t escaped yet.”

  Intending to go after him, she gathered her reins. Thirbe, however, was tapping her shoulder.

  “M’lady, look!”

  The skeletons suddenly milled about aimlessly, stumbling into each other, attacking each other. Others collapsed on the ground or stood still, bony arms waving. Howling so bestial and wild it could not be human filled the air. The creatures pursuing Shadrael, however, did not pause. They were gaining on him, Lea saw now.

  She cried out a warning, but he did not seem to hear her. And as he approached, still heading for the opening that no longer existed, Lea saw him realize it. He reined up his horse involuntarily. The animal slowed and stumbled, its flanks heaving, and the skeletons caught up with him.

  Standing in his stirrups, Shadrael fought off attack from all sides, but they were swarming him now.

  “Earth spirits!” she cried, and they came, rumbling through the ground in rapid furrows. “There!” she shouted, pointing.

  A tremor shook the ground as a chasm opened, sending many of the skeletons plunging into it. Shadrael’s horse reared dangerously close to the edge, and for a heart-stopping moment Lea feared he would topple from the saddle and be lost.

  But he clung to his mount and sent it forward away from danger.

  “M’lady, to the west!” Thirbe shouted.

  Lea looked and saw that the remainder of the skeletons had regrouped. They were now heading toward the Imperial forces. “Caelan!” she whispered.

  She saw soldiers fighting off the attack. Now Caelan was entering the fray, fighting with his men, putting himself in danger. Wheeling her horse around, Lea galloped in that direction with Thirbe yelling at her to stop.