Trevn had. Somehow Rogedoth had learned Charlon’s magic.
Grayson
Grayson held a ball of green fire in his hand. He concentrated on Shanek and popped into the Veil, exiting on the roof of Castle Armanguard. He stayed very still, holding the fire ready and looking for Shanek. He didn’t see him anywhere.
A spear of green fire shot past his arm, scorching his tunic. Grayson yelped and spun around, but Shanek vanished before he could throw his own fire. Grayson moved high into the sky where he could look down on the whole roof.
There. Shanek appeared on the roof of the stairwell house, surrounded by shadir.
Grayson jumped behind him and threw his fire. Shanek howled and cradled his arm. Grayson popped back to his place in the sky before Shanek could strike back. His heart raced at the idea of killing anyone. But this was war. And Grayson had to protect Armanguard from evil.
Shanek no longer stood on the roof of the stairwell house. His shadir were gone too. All those shadir explained how he was finding Grayson so quickly. He had many eyes to help him.
Well, Grayson could get help too.
“Onika?” he voiced. “Shanek has so many shadir looking for me that it’s hard to sneak up on him. Could you come and banish some? It might scare the others away.”
“Yes, at once,” Onika said.
Grayson formed another ball of green fire, then shifted through the Veil to Shanek, trying to move slowly in an effort to see him before he was close enough to be hit.
He came upon Shanek at the lakeshore to the south of the castle. He was kneeling with his arm in the water, crying. Shadir clouded the Veil around him, a lot of them talking at once.
“But it hurts,” Shanek said. “Don’t say that! I’m not a baby . . .”
A pudgy gray shadir fixed its three eyes on Grayson. Master! Your enemy watches.
Shanek looked up and met Grayson’s gaze. Grayson pitched his fireball, but before it could make contact, Shanek vanished.
Grayson popped to the sky above the lakeshore, terrified he might get struck from behind. He stayed in the Veil, hovering over the water, but there was no sign of Shanek or his flock of shadir.
Again Grayson concentrated on Shanek’s presence, and he reappeared a few paces to his right. Panic leapt up his throat moments before green fire shot past his head, singeing his hair. His ear throbbed, and he popped back to the sky above the castle roof, heart racing.
“We are here, Grayson. Where are you?” Onika asked.
Grayson spotted Onika, Danek, Zeroah, Brelenah, and Hrettah floating in the Veil on the castle roof. “Above you,” he said. “I’m going to pop to Shanek now.”
“We will follow,” Onika said.
Grayson passed through the Veil slowly, spotted Shanek kneeling at the lakeshore again, arm submerged in the water. He must be hurt too. Shadir twirled and sailed around him, crowing at each other, reveling, it seemed, in Shanek’s pain.
Grayson stopped a distance from the shore and watched the Veil warriors fly into the swarm and call upon Arman’s name for the power to banish shadir.
Grayson threw another ball of fire at Shanek, who had been so distracted by the panicked shadir that he didn’t see the coming fire, which sliced across the back of his shoulders. He screamed and dove into the lake, vanishing beneath the glassy water.
“I got one!” Sârah Hrettah yelled.
The Veil warriors had banished more than that. While many shadir had fled, Grayson quickly counted eight, no, nine shadir sinking into the lake.
He watched the area warily. Shadir still swarmed the sky, which meant Shanek was here. Didn’t it? Unless Grayson had killed him? His heart pounded. He formed another ball of fire on his hand and glided slowly toward the lakeshore, waiting for Shanek to come up for air.
But Shanek didn’t come.
Gozan
Amala rode a horse alongside Lady Mattenelle at the end of the row of mounted mantics. When King Barthel had seen what she was capable of, he had begged her to join the battle. The girl had been flattered. Gozan knew the man only meant to use her, but he wanted to test the extent of his magic inside this body, and a battle would be an ideal environment.
Shanek appeared suddenly, standing in front of Amala’s horse. “I’m hurt,” he said. “Find someone to heal me.”
“Shanek!” Amala dismounted and rushed to the young man, who collapsed on his knees in the trampled snow. His shirt was singed in two places. His left forearm and the top of his back and shoulders had been badly burned, and the raw flesh oozed.
Gozan could feel Dendron’s fury within, pulsing frustration that had no release. The army continued on, edging around the couple, but for Mattenelle and Lilou, who had peeled away from the procession with Amala.
“You heard him!” Amala cried. “One of you heal him this instant!”
Neither moved.
“Why are you just sitting there?” Amala cried.
“King Barthel forbade his mantics to use magic for anything other than his decrees until this battle is over,” Lady Mattenelle said.
“And I’m only a malleant,” Lady Lilou said.
“Shanek is to be your king,” Amala snapped. “Would you really forsake him?”
The women merely stared.
Gozan hoped the boy would die—then Dendron would lose his host and Gozan would be the most powerful great alive. But to appease Amala, he pretended to help, in a way that would only waste time. Send Lady Lilou for Lady Zenobia. She knows Shanek’s value to the king.
“Lady Lilou,” Amala said, rising. “Fetch Lady Zenobia at once. She won’t let the king’s great-grandson die. He’s the only family he has left. His only heir.”
Lady Lilou shook her head. “Go yourself if you must, but I won’t disobey my king.”
Lady Mattenelle, however . . . She raised her hand and said, “Râphâ zōt geveeyah.”
Shanek fell back on the snowy ground and writhed. Frost grew over his skin and clothing, coating everything in soft white crystals that were brighter than the muddy, trampled snow around him. The army had completely passed by now and was marching farther away toward the river.
Amala ached with hope as she gazed upon the young man. What a fool the girl was. Love. This boy was too vain to love. Once he became king, he would not keep Amala for long. Then Gozan would be forced to wallow in the girl’s despair when she was cast aside for another. Now that Gozan was part human, he disliked the feel of despair.
Before the spell had time to complete itself, Lady Mattenelle collapsed against the neck of her horse, mumbling a prayer of purging to a shadir called Hwuum.
Shanek’s healing hadn’t had time to finish, but no more raw skin was visible beneath the jagged scars on his arm and upper back. He would live.
Lady Mattenelle, however, did not improve. She panted in hitches of air, her face wrinkled and gray, her eyes sunken. The evenroot was taking her, and it seemed the shadir Hwuum did not care. Had it left? Or had it refused her? Gozan wished he could see into the Veil, but Amala’s human eyes limited him.
Amala helped Shanek sit. “What’s wrong with her?” he asked of Lady Mattenelle.
“She broke King Barthel’s decree, so her shadir will not heal her,” Lady Lilou said. “The only evenroot that remains, the mantics have consumed and held in reserve. King Barthel was very clear that there were to be no exceptions. His shadir know this as well.”
“The king would have made an exception if he’d known Shanek was hurt,” Amala said.
“One of the slights went to him and asked,” Lady Lilou said. “I obeyed my king. Lady Mattenelle did not.”
Shanek looked fondly upon Lady Mattenelle, whose breath had ceased coming from her shriveled lips. Dead. The woman’s shadir had left her for dead. At King Barthel’s command. Shanek’s brow wrinkled as he pushed to his feet. “King Barthel said to let me die?”
“He said only that his original decree be obeyed.”
“That’s the same thing!” Shanek yelled. A pulse
of green light flashed in Lady Lilou’s eyes, and she fell off her horse. Dead.
Amala’s heart pounded. “Shanek, your mother was right. King Barthel means to use you to make himself king.”
The young man seethed, angry enough to do something completely reckless. Dendron, no doubt, was encouraging that very thing.
Gozan attempted some manipulating of his own. He should go after King Barthel.
“King Barthel has but four mantics left,” Amala said, coming to stand beside Shanek. “If you kill them, he will have no power at all. Then you can rule Armanguard unchallenged.”
“I can’t kill them. Not yet,” Shanek said. “Grayson the root child is still in Armanguard. He burned me twice. If he hurts me again, I will need another mantic to heal me.”
“Then defeat Grayson first,” Amala said. “When he is dead, you can finish off King Barthel and his mantics. I will stay and watch King Barthel’s progress. Speak to my mind if you wish to know what is happening.”
Shanek nodded. “I will return soon.” He embraced Amala, and while Gozan hid deep within her, he sensed Dendron’s aggravation.
Yes, they had both made poor choices in Dominion. Young, reckless hosts who were too foolish to harness any real power. Gozan might have to leave Amala, yet he had no better options at present, and he still wanted to test his magic.
Shanek vanished, leaving Amala alone with the two corpses. She mounted her horse and rode toward the army, intent on staying close to King Barthel.
Onika
Onika and her Veil warriors banished shadir at the lake until all the others had fled. She found Grayson sitting in the snow on the riverbank, a dazed look on his face.
“Why didn’t you chase Shanek, Grayson?” she said. “Are you hurt?”
“My ear,” he said. “I was waiting for Shanek to come out of the water when I felt it hurting again. I guess I forgot. Do you think Shanek is dead?”
“No,” Onika said. “His body would have floated to the surface of the lake. Though he might have gone elsewhere and died. You’ll have to find him to know for sure.”
Grayson scooped a handful of snow and pressed it against his ear.
“Miss Onika?” King Trevn’s voice. “Is it possible for your Veil warriors to storm Rogedoth and his mantics?”
Onika thought about it. “I can think of no reason why not, though they’ll be surrounded by shadir, who might see us and give warning that we are near.”
“Can the shadir attack you?”
“No, but a mantic perhaps could. We have not ventured near any mantics yet. Grayson and Shanek can harm each other in the Veil, so it stands to reason that we could be injured too.”
“Inquire of Arman on this matter,” the king said. “Storming Rogedoth and his minions seems the quickest way to end this war. If the God is not opposed, attempt it at once.”
“I’ll let you know what the God says.”
Onika bade Danek and Zeroah stay with Grayson, then led Brelenah, Hrettah, and Kempe to the sky above King Barthel’s location. She could see both armies from this vantage point, spread out below, one wearing red, the other blue.
“The God’s answer was somewhat vague,” Onika told the others.
“What did he say?” Brelenah asked.
Onika repeated the words. “‘THE ENEMY MUST BE DEFEATED. BEWARE OF THOSE WHO WORSHIP GZAR. THEY ARE NOT OF MY KINGDOM.’”
“So not a no, but not a definite yes either,” Kempe said.
“King Trevn wants us to try,” Onika said. “So we will try.”
“How many mantics are there?” Brelenah asked.
“Six, I believe,” Onika said. “Three women and three men. Lady Zenobia, Lady Mattenelle, and Lady Lilou. Then Master Harton, the false prophet, and the priest.”
“Yohthehreth and Lau,” Brelenah said.
“The Duke of Armanguard said Lady Lilou was only a malleant,” Kempe said.
“That’s right,” Onika said. “Only five mantics, then. Unless Lilou has learned the art. Let us attempt to storm Lady Mattenelle first. I believe she is less powerful than Lady Zenobia.”
“I hate to attack Lady Mattenelle,” Brelenah said. “She has always been a sweet girl. It wasn’t her fault she was given to Sâr Janek.”
“Perhaps not,” Onika said, “but she serves our enemy now, and that is all that matters. Exit in the sky above her, if you can. Otherwise we might be seen.”
Onika concentrated on Lady Mattenelle and appeared above a muddied field. She saw the army in the distance, moving away from this place. A quick glance beneath her revealed two bodies, lying in the snow.
“It’s Mattenelle and Lilou,” Brelenah said. “Is Rogedoth killing his mantics?”
“There is no way to know what happened,” Onika said. “Let us storm Zithel Lau. He is likely the next weakest.”
This time they arrived above King Barthel’s army. Hundreds of men marched below, accompanied in the Veil by a vast number of shadir.
“Is it safe to attack this close to the other mantics?” Brelenah asked. “While we are storming one, the others might attack.”
“We will each storm a mantic,” Onika said. “If we act together, we might destroy them all at once and allow no opportunity for a counterattack.”
Onika made assignments. She would attack Lady Zenobia. Brelenah would attack Filkin Yohthehreth; Kempe, Master Harton; and Hrettah would storm Zithel Lau.
The women were silent as they took a moment to locate their targets. Onika was not overly concerned. They’d done well earlier today, storming the giants attacking the Sarikarian border house. She had complete confidence in each of her Veil warriors.
“After you attack,” Onika said, “return immediately to your body in Castle Armanguard. On three. One . . . two . . .”
Green fire shot toward them from below.
A woman screamed.
“. . . three!” Onika fixed her mind upon the soul inside Lady Zenobia and flew toward it, concerned by the fire she had seen and what might have happened to whomever had screamed. Before she could reach her target, a gowzal on Barthel Rogedoth’s shoulder took flight and flapped into Onika’s path. Its wings caught fire, and it transformed into a shooting ball of flame.
Onika swerved aside, but not so quickly that she didn’t smell the fire singe the ends of her hair. She appeared behind Lady Zenobia, then noticed a body on the ground between two horses. Before she could storm, another burst of green fire shot toward her, and she went back to her body in Castle Armanguard.
She sat up, disoriented to again be without her eyesight. “Have we all returned? Rosârah? Sârah Hrettah? Madam Kempe?”
“Here,” said a small voice.
“We are all here,” Kempe said.
“Hrettah is hurt.” This from Rosârah Brelenah.
Onika could not abide blindness at the moment. She lay down again, left her body, and appeared at Hrettah’s side.
The princess lay writhing on her longchair, brow pinched. The right sleeve and part of the neckline and bodice of her dress had burned away, leaving behind pink flesh, raw in several places. She gasped and said, “It hurts.”
“Go for the healer, Kempe,” Brelenah said, gripping the princess’s opposite hand. “Tell him it’s a terrible burn.”
Kempe ran from the room, and Onika stared helplessly at the girl. “I’m sorry, Sârah Hrettah,” she voiced, then repeated her apology to Brelenah.
The former queen kept her gaze locked on the young princess. “We know now that we are not indestructible in the Veil. Our enemy can hurt us.”
“Yes.” Onika sighed heavily. “I saw one of the enemy fall. Do you know who it was?”
“Filkin Yohthehreth,” Brelenah said, stroking Hrettah’s brow. “I stormed him. Carried his soul out to sea before returning here.”
If the Veil warriors dared such a thing again, they would have to be very careful. Onika prayed for the young princess until the physician arrived, then she returned to her body and voiced the king.
“How did this happen?” the king asked.
“The mantics saw us and attacked. Their dark magic can harm us in the Veil. There is more. Barthel Rogedoth nearly struck me down by transforming a gowzal into fire.”
A long moment of silence passed before the king answered. “That is grievous news, Miss Onika,” he said. “I had hoped otherwise. Do not attempt to attack the mantics again unless I tell you differently. Perhaps there is another way.”
“Yes, Your Highness.” But Onika doubted that very much.
Qoatch
Your palace is exquisite,” Jazlyn said. “Much grander than what Ulrik commissioned.”
“Thank you,” Princess Saria said, eyeing the two gowzals on Jazlyn’s shoulders warily. The third of Jazlyn’s loyal shadir rode within a gowzal on Qoatch’s shoulder, and he still wasn’t used to the way the creature’s sharp talons pinched.
Princess Saria was a stunning young woman. Qoatch could tell by Jazlyn’s demeanor that she disliked being in her presence. The feeling seemed mutual. The young princess and Jazlyn had fought about Jazlyn’s purpose in coming here. Princess Saria wanted no magic done in her realm, yet Jazlyn had a job to do and would not be hindered.
Qoatch had suggested a tour simply to distract from further disagreement.
They exited the great hall and followed the princess across a pillared vestibule toward a grand staircase lined in thin, green carpet. A door on the outer wall opened and a guard ran inside.
“Your Highness,” he said, bowing. “Giants approaching from the north on horseback.”
Warriors of the Veil Page 11
