III
In the corridor leading to the throne room another band of goblins beset them. Kaell put himself between Shala and the enemy, once more flying into them, fearless. Where most men could not defend fast enough against the high-low attacks of a group of goblins he stayed their blades with efficiency, his two sword arms playing inside and outside of their attacks to create space, then stabbing neatly, or slashing wildly to end another foe. The goblins died as quick as they came, but Shala saw many more poured from the chamber ahead. Kaell would be overwhelmed, and in an attempt to help she reached into the urn at her hip, wetting her hands.
With a swift incantation and placing her palms against each other, holding them overhead, the sheen of moist became a glowing light, as if a bright lantern was held in her hands. The light beamed fiercely in the dim hall, only catching Kaell on the back, but blinding the tiny goblin eyes, and hence they fell swift to the Wolf's swords, him gaining an upper hand that would not be swayed. They ran to the throne, Shala eyeing the sword she must now retrieve.
Kaell stopped at the foot of the throne, looking around wildly, his face still one anticipating danger, and panting heavily for all his effort.
‘Algrenach Shon De Boir!’ he spoke commandingly. Instantly the throne room lit up as a torch on every pillar went alight, and in the massive chandelier overhead every one of its candles flickered into existence.
‘How did you do that!?’ asked Shala.
‘My Master has taught me some of the castle’s magicks, Highness. I am not outright magical, but anyone who knows the words can trigger the old enchantments of the Masons.’
‘Who is this Master you speak of!?’ she asked again.
‘You have already met him, Your Highness,’ said Kaell.
‘Impossible! I've never met a Master of the Wolves,’ said Shala.
Kaell shook his head, as though he wasn't going to debate the point. ‘Should we survive to meet with him, he’ll explain much – but that now seems unlikely,’ said Kaell, his voice growing grim as he saw something approach.
From the far side of the room, moving in the cover of the pillars, was a figure swathed in black. He moved onto the long golden-edged red carpet leading all the way to the throne and Kaell stared into the eyes of death. The wraith-kind approached with a scythe in his hands, the rod black and the blade gleaming deadly and silver, his strides long and patient, almost floating, while his face betrayed none of the bloodlust it had.
‘Highness, take the sword - and run! Make for the Dragonwell. By some chance an ally will meet you there!’
Shala hesitated for a moment more as she watched Kaell step forward to engage this wraith. She turned away from the fight and, standing on the cushion of the seat, did her utmost to pull the sword from the headpiece of the throne, first undoing the thongs wrapped around the hilt with desperate fingers.
Kaell flew at the enemy, striking twice on the rod of the scythe that moved alarmingly fast to protect its wielder. The wraith pushed back and then made a fell sweep at Kaell. He jumped agilely over the first attack and then danced away from a second before striking at the wraith once more. His left hand sword struck deep into the cloth of the wraith's robe, only there was nothing to be gained by it. Instead of striking something beneath Kaell could just as well have stabbed a length of curtain.
‘Fool! Death has no flesh, all you see before you is illusion,’ the wraith hissed in victory. The torn cloth wrapped tightly around Kaell’s arm and he lashed vainly at the being’s face.
‘You are but a nuisance boy, sleep now,’ said the wraith, his voice becoming low. A dark mist emanated from the wraith, the tattered fringe of his robe becoming black tendrils that reached out, grasping over Kaell’s head, seeping into his nostrils, ears and mouth. As it did, the illusion of the wraith's living face was gone and only a menacing skull was there below the hood. Kaell snarled and struggled to get away from an overwhelming darkness. ‘Princess, run!’ he cried weakly.
‘Sleep, embrace the slumber of death. Do not fight it...’
Suddenly Kaell fell free, landing hard as the wraith released him, unconscious. Shala was on the edge of panic and with strength she did not know she had lifted the sword free of its rest, cumbersomely gathering it into a side hold, bearing the weight mostly on her hip. Desperately she attacked the wraith; she did not think escape was plausible, but she would not give the wraith an easy victory.
With as much force as she could muster she brought the sword in overhead, but the blow was weak and the wraith merely batted the sword out of her hand with the length of his scythe, her father’s piece falling with a resonating pitch to the floor. She lost her footing and fell backwards, the wraith looming over her. ‘I told you Princess, death is but in waiting...’
Aiming the deadly tail spike of the scythe at her Shala watched the waxen face steely; she was not dying a coward in her father’s throne room. If only she could summon the light. Somewhere she heard the sound of metal striking the floor again.
A giant figure intercepted the wraith, tackling the creature from its feet. The swirl of cloak quickly became ghostly again and escaped the man’s grasp, fleeing some way before taking the shape of a human again. The imposing man rolled and came to his feet, turning on his haunches to face the wraith.
To Shala's eyes it was the man that had lain so close to death in the infirmary, the one who had made a miraculous recovery, and right then she knew he was a warrior. And one of some skill it would seem. It's Bhask! What is going on here? It was like some strange nightmare, only her imagination was rarely this bizarre.
With the man standing upright Shala could appreciate the size of this warrior. He was lean but very broad in the shoulder, muscles bulging on his arms, his chest deep. Healthy now he looked much like the athletes down south in Avandar, those who could run, jump and throw javelins incredible distances. Gremhalden was the tallest man in the castle at well over six feet. This man was even taller.
He was weaponless, Shala noticed, tracing his steps to where he had dropped two broad swords, mostly to give himself the speed he used to save her life. The wraith came at him in a fury Shala had yet to see and he rolled out of the way of the attack, the scythe cutting nothing but air. Moving with astonishing speed the warrior made his way across the floor and swept up Erenciel where it had fallen in a diving roll. Armed with the King's sword he put himself between the wraith and where Shala lay. Now at least it was a contest.
They struck at each other and the engagement was fierce, the sheer power of the warrior’s strikes enough to crush through steel plate armour, the memory of Yanci-gan's brilliance being belittled by now. The wraith however had nothing corporal to hit, nothing but the scythe it held. Shala hoped that Erenciel would cut right through the scythe and maybe force the wraith into retreat. Yet the dark being had a dire skill about it, true to practicing taking lives every other day and managed to turn even the truest strikes away, and then whenever the sun-touched warrior managed to pierce through his sword hit nothingness, merely slicing through a length of cloth that seemed to renew itself by the hand of an invisible tailor.
Surging forward the wraith attempted to entwine the man in a spell as it had Kaell, oily black tendrils emerging from the torn fringes of its cloak without warning. The warrior was not caught unawares and quickly spun and turned out of its dark embrace.
The anticipation and boldness of this unnamed warrior restored hope to the Princess.
Finding her own volition Shala rushed forward and held her hand up, her light coming to life again and the wraith instantly fled, shrieking as it darted from pillar to pillar, hiding in the many shadows.
The wraiths had an odd way of flying, one moment they stood as corporal as any man, and then they could dart off, losing shape and substance as the cloth of their being moved like a kite caught in a stiff breeze.
But for the darkness of the day Shala felt a weakness in her and she could not hold the light for much longer.
‘Why am I losing strength?�
� she moaned as the light waned.
‘Darkness has taken to the castle and will no longer tolerate your magic. Your Highness, let’s end this! Place the magic of Evrelyn onto the blade!’ shouted Bhask. Though she did not know how this warrior knew her arts so intimately, Shala did not hesitate, reaching into the urn, sprinkling precious few droplets across the length of Erenciel as he held it steady. ‘Aveno Enumas...’
The wraith swept in from above with a sickening speed, its wail drowning out the rest of Shala’s incantation, yet the spell took, and Bhask swung, the blade blazing white like a match struck, the light-endowed sword finding purchase that steel alone could not and tore through the wraith and all that it was. A terrible dying shriek preceded a void of darkness above, the braziers on the wall snuffed out for a second before coming to life again. Shala fell to her knees, and breathed hard as though she had never breathed before. The wraith was gone, its wail a memory.
‘Is it dead?’ she gasped.
‘Dead as it will ever be, returned to its realm, but it will bother us no more,’ said Bhask, sounding as though the wraith had not frightened him at all.
Bhask hunched down next to the Princess. ‘Are you alright Highness?’ he asked.
‘Who are you?’ asked Shala. ‘I'm... I'm fine.’
‘I’m a friend, Highness,’ said Bhask, and held out Erenciel, as though he appreciated that not just any man was meant to hold onto the King's heirloom for too long.
‘The finest sword I've ever touched,’ he commented. ‘I doubt many other blades can pair with your magic as Erenciel can.’
She looked at the blade in his hands, stroking the blade with her fingers. ‘Despite all my determination I can’t do justice to that sword, I can’t wield it like my father could, I can barely pick it up...’
‘My Lady, allow me then to take this sword, to bear its weight and rest it in my arm, until such a time as you can wield it.’
‘And if I grow old, never amassing the strength to hold it?’ asked Shala.
The man smiled widely, ‘Then I will have to hold it for all of my life. And not leave your side as long as I do.’
He did not say more, but Shala took it he meant his words as an oath. She had not hoped to elicit such a response and it was much more than she expected from the man. She was going to take what was offered, stranger or not.
‘You have my thanks, and I will deem you protector in the absence of my Knights. Though I still have no inkling of who you might be, save that your bravery has already told me much.’
‘I used to be the last of a kind, my Lady,’ said Bhask looking over his shoulder at Kaell. ‘But now we must flee, more wraith-kind will come and it helps little we indulge in small histories in this danger. Come!’
An eagle swooped into the hall, and even as it landed it became a man again. Shala stood in wonder as the bird quickly erupted into the figure of Metrus. It was too much for her. It was as though everyone had known what this day would entail but her, and she had but stumbled into someone else's war.
‘Druid!’ cried Bhask as he emerged from a sudden moult of feathers. ‘Your arrival is, as always, at the most welcome of times.’
Metrus's grin split his beard, which he did not have the last time Shala had seen him.
Shala looked wearily between the two men. ‘You know this man, Druid?’ she asked of Metrus.
‘Yes, Your Highness. And you’ll need to find trust for him swiftly, for some evil has been dealt with, but others are just emerging.’
‘But the guard will take the castle, we’ll be safe!’
‘No, Your Highness. The danger Metrus speaks off will be treachery and for the sake of Attoras we must now get as far as possible from its grasp.’
‘I don’t-’
‘It is time for survival, my Lady, not comprehension. We must go!’
Metrus walked over to where Kaell groaned, slow moving dark tendrils of smoke still rising from his nose and mouth. Metrus hunched where Kaell lay, spreading his bejewelled hand over his body.
‘Liebeneigh Nastatalé, wake up and rise young one, the road is yet long and tasks must be seen to,’ said Metrus.
Renewed with some strength Kaell rose gingerly, not at all sure of their current predicament. But a weak smile touched his face as he realized the Princess was safe between Bhask and Metrus, having feared he had failed. The wraith was dealt with.
‘Kaell’lam, run ahead and make sure nothing can impede or entrap us toward the Dragonwell,’ said Bhask, giving the young man no time to rest. ‘Princess, Metrus will guard the escape but you must stay at my side at all times!’
‘Okay,’ she said. She could do nothing but agree with anyone who still called themselves allies in this wretched hour. But my House is spent as my father’s note said, I’m all that’s left and it seems I will not last long after my kin.
But the others did not give Shala time for her maudlin thoughts. Kaell was off in a swift dash, Bhask in his wake, and the Princess could only follow.
Dream of Embers Book 1 Page 21
