Nolan blocked an incoming sword blow, cutting the man before moving on. The Rol’dan kept coming, but Nolan disposed of them, dodging and cutting his way through Alcandor’s army.
The Rol’dan may have been falling, but Alcandor was not. The battle between Greer and the king was not going well. Greer backed from the courtyard into the Dor’Jan-covered field, disappearing from Nolan’s view.
With another sweep, Nolan disarmed a Rol’dan and made an attempt toward the gate. Rol’dan after Rol’dan pressed on him, blocking him, each taking the previous one’s place.
Nolan’s jaw tensed. His lungs ached. His muscles quivered with exhaustion. Another man rushed forward—Nolan swore he’d already fought him. The man’s eyes blazed with Speed. He’d tear the soldiers down, and the Healers would bring them back. This battle would never end.
“Enough!” Nolan’s Empathy swelled.
The man’s sword arm hesitated.
Nolan stared at him, his muscles taught, his sword arm raised, yet the man did nothing. Why did he stop? Nolan inhaled sharply. Just like Emery in the prison tower: He stopped because I told him to. Nolan thrust Empathy into the soldier’s mind. “Go!”
The man blinked twice, turned, and fled.
Nolan pushed through the crowd, influencing their minds. The soldiers parted, clearing his way. As another group advanced, Nolan made them freeze in place.
A group of Rol’dan had tied Sanawen and Malik on the ground, impaling the Guardians while laughing sadistically. Nolan’s blood heated. He clenched his fist, threw up his hand, and stabbed Empathy into their minds. “Stop it!”
Confusion fell on their faces. With another quick mental jab, the Rol’dan obediently untied the Guardians.
Nolan passed them, sprinting out the gates and across the field. Pushing his Shays, his light increased. His head pounded, his body ached, and he still hadn’t faced Alcandor. Trying his best to ignore the reaching Dor’Jan, he scanned the dark field and easily found the glowing Guardians.
They still battled, but Alcandor had the upper hand. The ringing Guardian steel filled the air, cutting through the night. Finally, Alcandor struck with such a resounding blow that Greer staggered and dropped his sword. Alcandor rammed his blade deep into Greer’s side.
Greer roared, making the ground tremble. He opened his light-filled eyes and stared at the king with a fierce glare.
“Where are the stones?” Alcandor said. “You’ve gathered them somehow. I feel them on my doorstep.”
“What purpose would they serve you?” Greer said, his teeth gritted together. “You are no man.”
Alcandor jabbed the blade in farther. “I tire of these half-strength Shays. Give me the stones, and I will let the humans use them before I take them. Where are they, Greer?”
Arm trembling, Nolan held the bag of stones over his head. “Alcandor!”
Alcandor turned slowly, an amused smirk plastered on his face. “Has it come to this, my old friend? Have you assigned a child to carry the stones?” He bent to grab Greer’s sword, and with the light of his Strength, rammed it through Greer’s chest, pinning him to the ground.
Greer yelled as a thin trail of silver blood trickled from his lips. He smiled, speaking close to a whisper. “Don’t be so convinced of the futility of man.”
Alcandor yanked his own sword from Greer’s side, and Greer’s Healing light sealed it closed. Alcandor raised his sword, now aiming for Greer’s throat.
Nolan drew his Empathy and jabbed it toward Alcandor.
The king hesitated, his sword motionless over his head.
“Throw your sword aside,” Nolan ordered, his voice breaking. He strengthened Empathy, and the light around him dimmed. The Dor’Jan greedily pushed closer, and Nolan’s Shays twitched toward the creatures. Nolan strengthened the light, his temples throbbing. A bead of sweat traced his trembling jaw. Somehow, he held the king.
The king’s sword arm shook, frustration and rage spilling from him like a thick fog. Finally, he whipped his body toward Nolan; his eyes blazed purple. “How dare you!”
Alcandor shoved fear into Nolan’s mind. Tremors filled Nolan’s body, and his heart raced even faster than before. Like a heavy weight, Nolan pushed the fear away.
Alcandor growled and then charged.
Nolan stumbled back as Alcandor stormed toward him. He pulled his sword just as Alcandor’s massive blade came sweeping down. Their swords rang. Nolan pushed, matching Strength with Strength; Alcandor’s annoyance and hate turned to puzzlement. Nolan gritted his teeth. “Get. Off. Me!” With a surge of Strength, Nolan flung the dark Guardian away.
Alcandor skidded across the long grass, surprised at first, and then golden-yellow flashed in his eyes.
Alcandor sped toward Nolan, faster than Alec had ever been in their duels. Nolan cursed, hardly able to block as he backed and stumbled over fallen bodies
They pressed closer to Faylinn, and the battle in the gates grew silent; the wall filled with watching people. Nolan’s lungs burned like hot coals. Sweat poured from his face, blocking his vision, and his tunic clung to his heaving chest. Nolan couldn’t keep going, not like this. Yet Alcandor didn’t seem winded at all.
The king switched from Speed to Strength with a hammering blow. Nolan’s sword connected with a clang. Vibrations shook the bones in his arm. Alcandor pushed, their blades locked. A warm trickle of blood trailed down Nolan’s cheek and dripped to the trampled grass.
Alcandor’s eyes drew to Nolan’s cut. “I see Healing is not amongst your powers.”
Nolan glared at the gray lights where Alcandor’s eyes should have been. “Give me the Healing stone. I’ll fix that problem.”
“You are Nolan?”
Nolan’s arms shook with fatigue.
“Yes,” Alcandor answered for him. “Yes, you are. I can see your brother in your eyes.” He smiled. “You could join me. Take your brother’s place in front of my army.”
His words tickled Nolan’s mind, tempting him. He shook his head, blocking Alcandor’s Empathy, and refocused on the battle. Every muscle in his body quaked, uncontrolled. He tried to push back on Alcandor’s sword, but couldn’t. The blade lowered, drawing closer to Nolan’s throat.
Nolan groaned. All he could do was stare at the edge of the huge blade coated with both silver and red blood. He had nothing left. With his last fragment of effort, Nolan thrust his hand into his bag and tugged out the Stone of Strength. He gasped as energy poured into him; the stone’s power restored him instantly.
Alcandor jerked away.
Nolan repositioned his sweaty palm on his sword, waiting for Alcandor to attack; however, Alcandor didn’t move. His gray eyes fixed on Nolan’s hand.
Confused, Nolan followed Alcandor’s gaze to the stone. The stone? Why would he be afraid of the stone? Nolan shoved his hand toward Alcandor, and the king flinched, fear pulsing from his emotions. Using the distraction, Nolan swung with both Speed and Strength, coming down on Alcandor’s sword with such force his massive body pivoted to the side.
The king quickly recovered, his anger flaring to madness. “How dare you! I offered you glory, yet you defy me?”
Nolan attacked again, hope rising. Every time Alcandor pressed forward, Nolan lunged with the stone.
“I will pick the stones from your dying body,” Alcandor said. “And then I’ll take your soul, like I did with Garrick.”
Nolan opened a gash in Alcandor’s side, but a muted green light closed the wound.
“And that whore Megan …”
Nolan hesitated. Was Megan okay?
The distraction was enough; Alcandor sliced, and fire shot through Nolan’s arm; his sword fell from his grip.
“And just as I took her body, over and over,” Alcandor said, his arrogance swelling, “I will take her soul as well.”
Crimson blood streamed down Nolan’s arm, yet the pain faded in the background. He glared. He’d had enough of this soulless king.
Alcandor drew back his blade.
&nb
sp; Nolan lunged, grabbed Alcandor’s wrist, and stopped the king’s sword mid-swing. He squeezed, putting everything he had left into his Strength. His light faded, and the Dor’Jan closed in. Nolan didn’t care. This monster had to die.
Nolan jabbed the Stone of Strength against Alcandor’s forearm, not knowing for sure what would happen. Instantly, bright red beams of light burst from the stone, stretching the length of the forest and sky. Nolan blinked, blinded momentarily by the light.
Alcandor’s eyes widened, first in disbelief, then in terror. “No! Get away from me!” He struggled, trying to free his arm, but Nolan tightened his hold. The red light brightened, and countless mists spilled from the stone, twisting and swirling into the sky, illuminating the darkness around them. Then each one dove toward a Dor’Jan.
As the mists hit the creatures, their gnarled bodies convulsed and red light flashed in their eyes. Flesh tone spread, fading the gray into the normal pallor of death. Their heads jerked back, dark eyes raised to the sky as slow breaths escaped their lips. With a final shudder, they crumbled to the ground, stilled.
The remaining Dor’Jan lunged toward Nolan—eyes hungry and gnarled fingers reaching.
“Get back!” Nolan pushed with Empathy, and the creatures listened, but only just.
As the light finally died in the stone, Alcandor yanked against him, but Nolan barely noticed. Alcandor’s Strength was gone.
“Let me go!” Alcandor ordered as he tried to stab Empathy into Nolan’s mind.
Nolan dropped the Stone of Strength into his bag and grabbed the next. Once again, Alcandor yelled with both frustration and pain. The blue light of Accuracy spilled from the stone, and more Dor’Jan convulsed and fell silent and still.
Stone after stone Nolan pulled from his bag, until a rainbow of mists filled the sky. Swirling. Circling. Either finding their homes in the Dor’Jan or disappearing over the treetops and beyond. As the last purple mist drained from Alcandor, the dark Guardian collapsed to his knees, sorrow and defeat pouring from him.
A solitary blue mist darted around Nolan’s head and then skittered across the field, finding a familiar face standing amongst the Dor’Jan. The mist slammed against Garrick’s chest, and he inhaled. In that brief moment before he collapsed, his eyes locked with Nolan’s. Recognition flashed in his emotions, then gratitude, and then nothing at all as Garrick Grayson crumbled to the ground.
Nolan flinched as a large hand appeared on his shoulder; Healing surged through him. Bruises and cuts and scrapes suddenly came to his attention before they dissipated and healed.
“Well done, Master Nolan,” Greer said. His white light filled the dark space around them.
The remaining Dor’Jan scattered at the sight of Greer, disappearing into the surrounding woods. The haze of Nass hovered in the sky, twisting and churning.
Nolan scanned the battlefield. Corpses, both robed and uniformed, covered the grass. The wall was filled with Rol’dan, all staring with wide-eyed awe. He turned toward Alcandor just as Malik and Sanawen pulled him to his feet.
Alcandor glared at Nolan, hatred lacing his emotions. But he didn’t say a word.
“Does this castle have a dungeon?” Nolan asked.
Malik beamed. “We can find something. Unless of course, we did away with him now.”
“We can’t,” Nolan said, “at least not yet. We need to find the Healing stone and free the other Dor’Jan.”
Greer nodded. “I agree. Some have waited hundreds of years to have their peace.”
A twang of disappointment flitted through Malik. “Very well.”
He and Sanawen dragged Alcandor toward the gate. Alcandor turned, looking over his shoulder. He glared at Nolan as revenge seeped from his emotions.
“The other stone is inside the castle,” Greer said.
“I know,” Nolan said as they headed toward the gate where most of the fighting took place.
Greer gave Nolan an odd look. “It calls to you?”
“I think the others did, too. I didn’t recognize it at the time.”
A low moan sounded nearby. Lieutenant Connelly lay on the ground, her uniform freshly stained in blood. Nolan knelt, and her hazel eyes met his.
“Greer. She’s hurt.”
Greer had already reacted, and his Healing light coursed through her. Her body relaxed, even as she eyed Greer nervously. Her expression softened as it fell upon Nolan.
Nolan smiled and placed the Stone of Speed into her hand.
She took a deep breath, and color returned to her cheeks. “I am in your debt once again, my lord.”
“Please, call me Nolan.”
“Never,” she said.
Nolan shook his head. He’d deal with that little problem later. He scanned the inner ward of Faylinn, hearing faint heartbeats with his Perception. So many. Where to start? He found the nearest, a Rol’dan soldier. Rolling him over, an all-too-familiar spike stuck from his arm; he’d lost a lot of blood. Nolan yanked it out, and Greer healed him.
They proceeded for some time, healing as many as they could before Greer finally broke the silence. “Forgive me for being forward, Master Nolan, but if you were to have Healing of your own …”
“Yes, you’re right. I’ll come back after I find the stone.”
“And what of Master Emery and the others?”
Nolan’s heart jolted. Crows! How could I forget? “Let’s hope someone found them.”
Nolan handed his bag of stones to Greer. “You can strengthen them with these.”
Greer’s eyes widened. “No. I cannot. As you can see from Alcandor, a Guardian cannot safely touch a Stone of Brim.”
Nolan hesitated. “Didn’t Malik carry one? He gave it to—” His heart jolted. There was no sign of Alec anywhere.
“Malik sacrificed much when he carried the stone,” Greer continued. “His power of Accuracy is no more.”
“Oh. I see,” Nolan said, though he only half listened to Greer now. The last time he’d seen Alec and Kael, they’d been heading toward the practice field.
“He gladly sacrificed his power to serve man,” Greer said. “Besides, compared to most of the Guardians, Malik fared well.”
“You mean he’s still alive, when the others are dead.”
Greer nodded. “They were dark times.” He healed another Rol’dan. “It was the year when Alcandor bent man’s mind, making them believe we were a threat. The people attacked us, and we could merely defend ourselves. It is our sworn duty to do no harm to man. It was only a matter of time before man defeated us. Many Guardians died. Those of us who lived did so because we ran.”
“So maybe there’s still more Guardians somewhere? Hiding like you did?”
“Perhaps,” Greer said.
“I’ll find the other stone.” Nolan scanned the bodies, searching for Alec or Kael. Crows, they have to be somewhere. Lieutenant Connelly watched from a distance. Nolan waved to her and she immediately came.
She stopped in front of him, standing eye to eye. She was tall for a girl. Her dark hair was cropped short, but her cat-like eyes sparkled with a mischievous gleam. She could be pretty if she stopped trying to look like a man.
“Yes, Lord Nolan?”
Nolan rolled his eyes. “What’s your name, anyway?”
Her eyebrows rose. “Lieutenant Connelly, of course.”
“What’s your first name?”
“I prefer to be called by my surname.”
The corner of Nolan’s lip came up. “And I’d rather be called Nolan.”
She hesitated. “My family called me Kat before the Rol’dan.”
Her name fit her well. “Well then, Kat. Could you please help Greer with restoring the injured?”
She gave Greer a side-glance. The Guardian still made her nervous. “Certainly, Lord Nolan.” She stressed the words, a teasing air in her voice.
“Thank you, Kat.” Nolan shook his head and left them.
A multitude of eyes followed him, parting the way. And worst of all, Nolan couldn’t
block the resounding awe from their minds. It shouldn’t surprise him, as much as Nolan hated to admit. He’d defeated their king.
As he headed toward the castle’s keep, Nolan caught sight of a Rol’dan barracks and the practice field. He froze, his heart pounding at the sight of two figures: one kneeling, and the other lying on the ground.
Nolan stepped toward them, not daring to use his Perception; he wished to hold off the truth as long as possible. Without any Speed, he made the slow walk across the field. One way or another, by blood or by bond, one of his brothers was no more.
Nolan received his answer as soon as Alec turned.
Only one heartbeat.
Only one breath.
Kael was dead.
Alec limped toward Nolan. A large gash ran diagonally across his face, starting at his forehead, slicing across his nose and through both lips. Blood dripped from the wound, covering the side of his face in a gory mess. It would make the scar on his cheek seem like a small scratch.
Nolan knelt. Kael looked comfortable, at least: His legs were straightened, his arms neatly folded across his chest, and his eyes closed. If he hadn’t known any better, Nolan might have thought he slept; however, the wound in his chest and the blood-soaked grass told a different story.
Nolan gently picked up Kael’s hand, heavy with the weight of death. It was calloused and still warm. Nolan cupped it, remembering when these hands had been larger than his, when they had helped him haul in his first net of fish, or when they had playfully socked Nolan in the shoulder. My big brother. That’s how I’ll remember him.
He put Kael’s hand down, leaving his own to linger on it for a moment.
“I’m …” Alec said. “I’m so sorry.”
Nolan turned and found Alec staring at the ground.
“The colored lights in the sky stopped him—both of us, actually,” Alec said, his voice hitching. “I tried to keep fighting, but he wouldn’t. He smiled at me and at those nightforsaken lights like they were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.
“So I ran him through. He just stood there smiling, and I ran the idiot through, straight into his back.”
Nolan didn’t speak. He couldn’t. All moisture left his throat.
Powers of the Six Page 32
