I’ll stand with the men and hopefully make Sir Colm proud as I take as many down with me as I can. You wanted a warrior queen, Rafe, and you shall get one, she thought grimly.
Something abruptly flew past her, a barely glimpsed blur. At first, she thought it was a low-flying bird, but then another streaked past, and several more in rapid succession.
Arrows. There are archers in those trees! Her belly clenched in despair, for their foes seemed to be everywhere.
Yet the volley of arrows continued unabated, and none of her companions were struck. A glance over her shoulder revealed a handful of riderless horses, and others with wounded soldiers clutching at arrows protruding from them.
Lord Lanthas’s men! Thank you, Sol.
They neared the grove. Several indistinct figures in woodland garb were smoothly nocking and loosing arrows with no apparent pause, even to aim. Yet their arrows flew true.
Edwin slowed his mount when they reached the trees, and Sianna and the others followed suit, careful to keep out of the archers’ line of fire. She drew her short sword, and they passed among the slim cover of ash and elder trees.
“Don’t let them surround us,” Edwin advised. “Stay within the shelter of the trees. Sianna, keep behind me.”
“I will not,” she replied. “I shall fight alongside you.”
He eyed the sword in her hand and thought better of arguing, for by then, the enemy was already upon them. Swords and spears in hands, a score or more of Nebarans charged at Sianna and her companions, the rest of them fanning out to deal with the archers.
Sianna thought she glimpsed a flash of silver moving in the tall grass before the two lead horsemen. One of them cursed, stabbing his spear at someone, then both riders were toppling sideways, the breast- and girth straps of their saddles slashed, and they hit the ground. But four more horsemen instantly took their place.
Edwin spurred his mount forward, trampling one of the fallen men and meeting the next horseman with sword drawn. Rafe intercepted another, and they exchanged blows.
A Nebaran pushed past the fighting men and grinned at Sianna, revealing a number of missing teeth, although no humor was in his expression. He slashed at her with his sword. She ducked, nudging her horse closer, then stabbed at Gap Tooth’s leg, the tip of her blade opening a deep puncture in his thigh. He cursed and swung at her again, forcing her to lean away to avoid the stroke. Her horse was suddenly jostled from the opposite side, and a hand seized Sianna roughly by her hair, jerking her nearly off her horse.
“You be that li’l queen we keep hearin’ so much of?” Foul breath assaulted her, and a pinch-faced man leered down into her face, holding a dagger to her throat. “Reckon there’s a good reward for your pretty head. Throw down yer sword.” His horse shied sideways, and Sianna was dragged partway out of her saddle and across the man’s thigh, momentarily balanced awkwardly between the two horses.
Before she could consider dropping her sword, she felt a puff of air near her ear followed by a wet sssht sound. Hot blood spattered her cheek and neck, and the man’s dagger was gone, along with his hand. He looked down at the stump spurting blood, wide-eyed and disbelieving, then he screamed. Sianna turned her head in time to see a dagger ram swiftly between the man’s ribs, then his grip on her hair was gone. He sagged away, and Sianna was abruptly falling between the two horses.
“I’ve got you,” a soft voice said in her ear. Hands gripped her, easing her fall, and set her on her feet.
She turned to get a look at her rescuer and gasped in surprise. Large storm-gray eyes regarded her from a beautiful heart-shaped face, and a knot of silvery hair was piled high atop her rescuer’s head, exposing long, pointed ears. The elf was even shorter than Sianna by a couple inches, and a mischievous smile played on her lips.
The elven maid gave her a wink then darted away. A curved sword appeared in her other hand, raised overhead to parry a blow from Gap Tooth. Turning his blade with expert precision, the parry became a fluid slash that carved deep into his ribs through mail and flesh. The elf spun away gracefully as blood erupted, then she was amongst the thick of the chaotic fighting, where horses bit and kicked and men hacked and slashed. The silver-haired elf slashed another saddle rigging, and that rider fell, cursing, but a quick slash of the saber silenced him before he even struck the ground.
“Sianna!”
She turned to see Iris riding up. Her face was pale with shock, and Sianna saw she held her dagger in hand, which was bloodied. But she also had a long gash on her arm, which had soaked her sleeve crimson.
“I’m wounded,” Iris gasped.
Sianna helped her from the saddle, and Iris nearly collapsed. Hooves crunched broken twigs, and a horse came around a tree. Sianna stabbed immediately, laying open a Nebaran’s thigh to the bone. He shrieked and slashed wildly, but she easily ducked. His horse danced sideways, and Sianna stabbed him again in the lower gut. The man spurred his mount away, leaking blood heavily from both wounds. She looked around for more opponents, but the immediate area was clear. A dozen or more black-and-gold-clad forms lay unmoving around her, riderless horses milling around. The sounds of fighting still filled the air but were more distant, farther away through the trees.
“Sianna! Over here.” Mira waved to her from a short distance away. She stood protectively over Taren’s comatose form, propped up against a fallen log.
She led Iris over to the others then eased her friend down beside Taren. Iris’s arm had a deep gash in the bicep and was bleeding freely. Sianna tore off a strip of her own sleeve and bandaged the wound as best she could, then hugged her friend and waited anxiously, sword clasped tightly in hand. She said a quick prayer to Sol that her companions would survive.
***
Creel leaned low over his flagging mount’s neck, trying to will more speed from the poor animal as they approached the mass of Nebarans ahead. From the look of it, Sianna’s group was putting up some stiff resistance. He’d seen a number of arrow-riddled corpses and assumed some of Lanthas’s men must have joined the fight. He thought Edwin and Jahn fortunate to have discarded their borrowed surcoats when they last rested, lest they too might have sprouted arrows.
Smart lass, taking them into the grove where their numbers can’t work to such an advantage.
A group of Nebarans milled around just at the edge of the copse of trees, either unwilling or unable to reach their prey within. The sizable force appeared to be greatly reduced in number already, although many could have been spread out among the trees and not visible.
Nearby, a horseman suddenly dropped, a red-fletched arrow in his throat, then Creel was upon the enemy patrol’s flank. He felled two soldiers before they could react to his presence. Ferret and Jahn fought alongside him, and even Kulnor managed to unsaddle a Nebaran with a toss of his hand axe, though he lost his own balance and tumbled from his horse in the process.
Another Nebaran fell to an arrow to Creel’s left. Only a handful of men still remained out of the fifty or more who had been pursuing Sianna and the others. Rafe and Edwin were ahead, fighting furiously within the trees. Ferret pummeled another from the saddle, and Jahn ran his opponent through. Kulnor crushed a horseman’s leg, spooking the mount so it bucked and threw its rider. Another wet crunch signaled the end of that foe, then nobody was left to fight nearby.
Over a score of Nebaran corpses littered the area, extending into the grove. Creel rode into the trees, eyes wide at all the bodies.
“Who made all these corpses?”
Even as he wondered that aloud, he spotted a small, lean figure dancing among a trio of horsemen about twenty paces away, ducking completely under the mounts’ bellies and coming back up, flashing blade chopping into the soldiers’ legs and torsos. In seconds, the three were unhorsed or slumped in saddles, bleeding out.
However, the thunder of hooves announced more of the Nebarans, who emerged from the trees a bowshot away to regroup. They wheeled around in formation and charged toward Creel and the others. Arrows sailed
from within the cover of the trees, and the score was swiftly reduced to a mere dozen by the time they were in melee range.
Creel threw his remaining spear, and a soldier toppled off his mount, leaving eleven. Ferret leaped high, brushing aside a stabbing spear and clobbering another horseman with a punch to the chest, sending him flying. She yanked the next from the saddle by the leg, and Kulnor pounced on him when he hit the ground, hammer rising and falling.
A short, silver-haired figure raced past Creel, leaping up and opening a horseman’s throat with a precise slash of a saber. Creel sprang from his horse to tackle a soldier who was poised to strike Jahn in the back. He hit the ground atop his opponent, hearing bone crunch beneath him, then rolled free and finished the man. He looked around for another foe, but the fight was over. Arrows dropped a couple more Nebarans, and the remaining trio put their heels to their horses and fled the battle. More arrows streaked in pursuit and found their targets. The last soldier made it about thirty paces before he slumped with a red-fletched arrow in the back.
Creel looked around to take stock of the situation, astonished to not see any of his companions down. Ferret, Kulnor, and Jahn all appeared uninjured. Rafe and Edwin stood a short distance away, breathing heavily and looking shocked to still be alive. Creel couldn’t see Sianna and the others.
The brush parted a few paces away, and five elves emerged, four archers following a silver-haired female warrior, her blades now sheathed.
“Well met,” Creel said. “We thank you for your aid—that was timely indeed.” He expected a curt, formal reply, as elves on the plane of Easilon were notoriously unfriendly to humans, but he was surprised.
“Greetings,” the elven maid replied cheerily with a crooked grin. “The thunder of scores of horsemen charging across the plains was awfully hard to ignore. We were curious as to what caused such a stir, so much so that we had to see for ourselves.”
Creel found himself smiling at her cheerful enthusiasm. “We’re very fortunate for your curiosity, then. I’m Dakarai Creel.” He wiped Final Strike off on the surcoat of a fallen Nebaran and sheathed it.
“Aninyel Dawnseeker,” she replied. “Your group fought well. I’d guess close to three score against less than a dozen. ’Twas a challenge I simply couldn’t pass up.” Aninyel’s luminous eyes were bright with good humor as she surveyed the battlefield. “I thought I spotted a friend among your number. Is Taren here somewhere?”
“Back this way,” Rafe called, pointing deeper into the grove. “He’s still unconscious.”
Aninyel’s smile evaporated, a look of concern replacing it. “Was he wounded in battle? I’d hate for anything untoward to befall him.” She strode in the direction indicated, and Creel walked with her. The elven archers followed silently.
Mira stood over Taren protectively, regarding their approach warily, though she looked on the verge of collapse. Beside them, Sianna sat with an arm around Iris. They were all still alive, fortunately, and none seemed seriously injured, though Iris’s arm had a bloody bandage around it.
“It’s all right, Mira,” Creel said. “The fighting is over. This is Aninyel. She knows Taren.”
“Ah, he’s spoken of you before,” Mira replied with a weary smile, stepping aside.
“Not all of it bad, I hope?” Aninyel crouched beside the slumped mage. She felt his wrist for a pulse then angled her pointed ear before his face to listen for his breathing. After a moment, she looked up, relieved. “He’s fallen into a deep sleep. From his use of magic?”
Mira nodded. “He expended himself greatly—too much, I fear. He was also seriously wounded, but he’s since been healed and simply needs rest now.”
Aninyel nodded and rose smoothly back to her feet. “Then he has grown in his talent a great deal since our last meeting.”
Sianna brushed herself off and rose also. “I’d like to thank you and your archers for your aid. I’m Sianna Atreus, and I am in your debt.”
Aninyel cocked her head to the side. “Atreus? Are you the queen who’s holding the conclave?”
“Indeed. And a friend of Taren’s is a friend of us all.” Sianna smiled.
“Ah! Most fortunate we meet then, Your Majesty,” Aninyel said with a grin and a smooth bow. “Allow us to accompany you to Carran. As I was telling Master Creel here, we were scouting ahead for my king’s procession and couldn’t resist investigating the racket made by such a number of charging horses.”
“Sol smiles on us this day,” Sianna replied. “We would be honored to travel together.”
Aninyel turned and spoke briefly to one of her archers in Elvish. Creel didn’t catch all of it but heard enough to make out that he was to deliver a message for their main party to await them and care for their wounded.
“Certainly, Blade,” the elf replied with a respectful nod. He turned and sprinted off to the northwest.
Aninyel turned back to them with a smile. “I’m sure King Nardual would be most honored to meet you, Queen Sianna. And your brave defenders.”
“Are ye needing tendin’ to, milady?” Kulnor asked Iris once the conversation reached a lull.
The blond woman shook her head, looking embarrassed, although her bandage was soaked through with blood.
“Yes, if you would be so kind, Master Kulnor,” Sianna answered for her maid.
“Aye, Yer Majesty. I’d be happy to.”
While Kulnor briefly examined Iris’s wound and called upon Reiktir for healing, Creel took stock of the others and was again shocked at how fortunate they were to have come through the battle nearly unscathed. Sianna, Rafe, Edwin, and Jahn all had received only minor cuts and bruises, while Mira and Taren looked the same as before. Kulnor still had grass in his hair and beard but seemed uninjured. Ferret’s clothes looked to have acquired a few more slashes and tears. Iris seemed to be the only one to have been dealt a serious wound, though as he watched, the bone-deep cut across her forearm closed up from Kulnor’s healing magic.
Glancing around at the corpses, Creel judged from the precise cuts on many that Aninyel must have taken out well over a dozen of the fighters on her own. A great many more had died from her archers’ deadly rain of arrows.
Blade, that elf called her. A King’s Blade, then, he decided, impressed. The Blades were renowned elven weapon masters and obviously lived up to their reputations. Aninyel was currently sipping from a wineskin and chatting with her archers while the others rested. Creel would have never guessed from her appearance her deadly swordsmanship.
“Not a bad day’s work, eh?” Ferret asked, coming up beside him. “Rescue the queen from Nesnys’s evil clutches, and everyone gets out of there in one piece. Chop up a few score of these scum-sucking bastards and live to tell the tale. And then on top of that, we meet some elves.”
“Aye, and quite a tale it’ll be. I’m sure you’ll do it justice in the telling some day.” He clapped a hand on her shoulder and knew she would have beamed had she been able.
After spending about half an hour so everyone could get some much-needed rest from the saddle, they rounded up the horses that had wandered off. Once the group was mounted up again, they followed Aninyel and her three archers, who led them on foot at a tireless jog, the pace slow enough that the weary horses wouldn’t be taxed unduly.
The plains behind them remained blessedly free of pursuit for once, and Creel finally allowed himself to relax a bit.
Finally, a good turn of fortune for a change.
Chapter 15
“I thank you for answering my summons for a conclave, King Nardual,” Sianna said formally. “And also for providing succor to myself and my companions.”
The handsome elven king smiled and inclined his head. “You are welcome. I am interested in the prospect of forging an alliance to defeat this common threat to our lands and hope it will lead to a future when all the kingdoms of Easilon have a warmer relationship.”
She was surprised at his cordiality, for she’d always heard stories of the arrogant and unfriendly elv
es. However, she did recall Taren speaking of his pleasant experience with the hospitality of Nardual’s sister during his earlier journeys.
Sianna and her companions had met up with the elven host earlier that afternoon. Aninyel had spoken with the king, who ordered a halt and established camp since they had wounded among them. Sianna was glad for the opportunity to bathe and eat prior to their audience with Nardual. Servants had also delivered a pretty dress for her to wear, and she almost felt like a queen for the first time. The fact that her elven counterpart, although ageless in appearance like all elves she’d seen, was relatively young and inexperienced, much like herself, might have made her feel more comfortable in his presence. In that regard, they were alike, and she thought it boded well for their future as hopeful allies.
“I just hope our people won’t be alone in this endeavor,” Sianna admitted. “Gods willing, we’ll have more envoys with positive tidings awaiting us in Carran.”
Kulnor cleared his throat. “Yer Majesty, I delivered the message from me queen, Sioned Hammerhelm of Silver Anvil Hall, to yer Duke of Carran that ye’ll have our axes and shields at yer side. King Stonefist’s as well, I reckon.”
She felt a surge of relief. “I thank you for such hopeful news, Master Kulnor.” Sianna gave him a warm smile, and the dwarf looked pleased.
“Would you care to share more detail about the threats that have arisen within your kingdom of late?” Nardual asked. “I’ve gleaned bits and pieces from scouts along the edges of our lands but would like to have a more thorough knowledge of the threats we face and the enemy’s capabilities. I find it concerning how they were able to reach out and kidnap you from your own castle. They similarly struck at the heart of one of our cities in the attempt to abduct your mage friend, leaving my sister wounded in the aftermath.”
Trial of the Thaumaturge (Scions of Nexus Book 3) Page 12
