She was grateful Jin wasn’t with her. For her own protection, the willful child had been sent into the city with the Queen. She had argued endlessly to remain behind, but Sera refused to yield.
Down at ground level, Tarol waited. He stood ready to lead the army’s reserve elements when and where she directed them. He and his troops each wore plate armor, rare among her people, and waited atop their powerful cavalry mounts. With most preferring lighter leather for their stealth raids, only a select few wood elves, primarily royal guardsmen, wore metal armor. And Dain had taken half of these to strike at the Golden’s rearguard.
Sera wished she could see how he was doing.
She turned her focus toward a column of thick, black smoke that roiled behind the enemy army. He was there, putting himself in danger for her people. She considered her recent decision. In pledging her love to a human she further alienated herself from her people. But did it truly matter? She was an escaped slave with a child from the golden elf royal line. Was she not already an outcast? Her people treated her with respect when she was in their presence, but she knew that they talked behind her back. She also knew that, although she’d always maintained otherwise, her isolated life away from Teran was not entirely her choice.
But none of that mattered now.
When this battle ended and her people were safe, she and Jin would leave with Dain to whatever lands he desired. They would be a family. She knew little of human familial customs, but didn’t imagine they differed much from those of her own people. She did not allow herself to doubt that they would both survive, that Teran would be saved. Now, though, she did wish for some sign that he was well.
Earlier, the whole of Elam’s troops had seemed to be turning and advancing toward that column of smoke. Her father’s forces had hit them hard then, and the Golden pivoted themselves back to face the new challenge. All Dain had to do was survive that initial rush.
Please let him survive.
“What is happening?” Tarol hissed up at her.
Her brother’s anxiety was clear; he stood upright in his stirrups, trying to get a clear view of the front. Even his horse seemed impatient, stomping and pawing at the ground. The animal must have picked up its rider’s mood. He could have used a spell of his own to see the battle, he had both the skill and ability, but his vantage point was too low and he had to settle for her descriptions.
Her attention returned to her father’s men. They were bottled up now and under siege from two groups of reformed golden elves. Lightning and fire leapt between her father’s mages and the Golden.
After hearing Dain speak of their discipline, she noticed how the invading soldiers held formation, their pace never wavering in the face of the incoming spells. She witnessed the bitter truth of his observation that her father’s soldiers were not so orderly. One-on-one, Teldrain’s troops could hold their own against the invaders, but fighting against rank after rank of organized soldiers was beyond their abilities.
A flurry of arrows lanced between the two groups as the archers too exchanged fire. In archery, at least, the wood elves truly excelled. They fired three arrows for every one returned. Sera wished she had another thousand of them, cutting the invaders down like heads of wheat under a sharp scythe.
Off to Teldrain’s right, she watched the shapeshifters again prove their worth by disrupting enemy formations. She caught a brief glimpse of her father near the front. His blued armor shone bright and he was flanked by a bannerman. A huge, black bear stood nearby, preventing any attackers from reaching the king.
In the tournament, she had hoped Cleeger would fall, but today she prayed for his success protecting her father.
“Sera, how goes the battle?” Tarol called again from the tree’s base.
“Not well. Father is encountering heavy resistance. The Golden have formed up into lines and ranks and will soon collapse on him. He will need your support,” she answered.
“And Jace?”
The crown prince, recovered now from his wounds, had taken command of their father’s left flank. His men had looped wide and then crashed into the enemy camp. Surprisingly, he’d agreed with Dain’s plan, though he refused to call it that. From the treetop Sera saw him leading his men deeper into the enemy lines. Too deep, in her opinion, and he had left too much space between himself and father. He could quickly find himself enveloped.
“He has hit them too far from father. Instead of protecting father’s flank, the Golden will have room to wedge between them,” Sera replied. She knew little of warfare, but even to her the mistake was obvious. Out looking for glory as opposed to victory, she thought with a huff of frustrated breath.
“I am sure Jace has a reason,” Tarol said. “Maybe he saw a chance to kill Elam and end the battle quickly.”
Sera spared a moment to glance down at him in disgust. Her youngest brother’s hero worship was wasted on Jace. He would lead Tarol to nothing but ruin, given half a chance, though judging by how foolish he was acting, her oldest brother would be lucky to live out the day.
True to her prediction, Jace extended himself too far into the Golden camp. The Golden army regrouped then collapsed around his troops. The last thing Sera wanted was to send him aid. He had done this himself after all, but for the sake of her people, Tarol needed to save him and his warriors from destruction.
Before she could order Tarol to help him, a fireblast, much larger than any she had ever seen, brought her up short. With her heightened senses she felt its searing heat, despite the distance. Smoke and ash trailed from it and the air screamed as it soared upward, arced gently, and then turned murderously down. An explosion shook the trees; it came from her father’s position.
“What was that? What was that?” Tarol asked, voice shaky.
Where Teldrain had been fighting a black, burnt scar divided his troops neatly in half. Gray smoke rose from hundreds of charred wood elf corpses. Frantic, she searched for her father for what seemed like an age before finally spotting him. The blast had missed the king by scant yards. He and his men fought to heal the broken gap in their forces, but golden elf spearmen pressed against them.
Her brother and father were now both in danger of being overwhelmed. And Tarol could only save one.
“Tarol, go to father now. Hurry he is in danger,” Sera said.
“To the king!” he yelled, snapping his metal visor down and spurring his mount. The large horse bolted forward, followed closely by another four hundred mounted guardsmen, all racing toward the front lines. As they swept by, their hooves hammered like thunderous drums through the trees.
The horses were swift, Sera knew, but today they seemed painfully slow. Could they reach her father in time? She willed them faster.
Within minutes, Tarol drove his reserve force headlong into the gap created by the fireblast. Golden elf troops had rushed in, eager exploit the breach, but the thundering cavalry slammed into them with the force of a mountain avalanche. Sera watched as over a thousand pounds of horse and rider and steel slaughtered the unprepared Golden.
Again the tide turned for the wood elves. She hoped, against all logic, they could sustain it.
After Tarol’s charge, Teldrain gathered the balance of his forces into the cavalry’s wake, fighting outward on both sides. Sera knew that her father, like Jace, hoped to end the battle by getting to Elam. She hoped he heeded Dain’s advice and retreated soon, but if Tarol could drive far enough, they might get lucky and kill or capture the Golden king himself.
Sera took a moment to turn her enhanced senses over toward Jace. A thick ring of Golden soldiers encircled both he and his men. And the ring was drawing ever tighter.
A stunning blond woman in brown leathers sat a few rows behind the first line of Golden. She was astride a white horse, watching the battle unfold with interest.
During her time as a slave, Sera had never seen Princess Koren, though the resemblance to both Haldrin and Gallad was unmistakable. She shuddered. Koren’s features almost perfectly matched J
in’s, but where Jin’s seemed to radiate warmth and innocence, hers were cold and cruel. There had been all manner of stories about the princess. None pleasant.
Jace’s troops were whittled down to a final two, Jace and his friend, Siam. They stood back-to-back and waited for the crushing throng but, before the enemy could sweep them away, Koren raised her fist. She shouted a command and the collapsing troops froze. She walked her horse forward, winding through the soldiers until reaching the front line. Six hulking bodyguards shadowed her every move.
Inside the small ring where Jace and Siam stood, Koren dismounted and drew a pair of twin daggers. She motioned for the Golden troops, along with her own bodyguards, to step back and allow for more room. Smiling, she gestured to the two wood elves with her blades.
The pair split apart, ignoring the other Golden, and stared at the princess warily. Siam spun his staff over and over in a tight circle. The air crackled around the flashing gemstone caps with each pass as they gathered power. Jace held his sword points low, half-crouching, ready to lunge at any moment.
Koren continued to smile with a long, wicked dagger in either hand. Amusement shone in her clear blue eyes. She tilted her face up and away from Jace, baring her throat to him while inviting him with one blade.
Unable to ignore the obvious insult, he rushed in, sweeping both blades from his left, trying to power through her defenses. The blond elf first danced back, avoiding the swords, and then quickly moved closer, leading with her daggers. They would have ended Jace there, but Siam came to his friend’s aid and with his staff deflected Koren’s blades.
Instead of retreating, Koren spun on her heel then sidestepped to put Siam between herself and Jace. She slashed furiously at him, and he just managed to bring the other end of the ironwood up in time to block her quick strikes. Unrelenting, she slid a dagger up the staff then brought her remaining blade around with a second heel spin. Siam’s chainmail parted and a thin, red cut traced its way across his ribs.
Before Koren could follow up with a killing shot, Jace circled his friend and swung his swords from overhead. Koren’s own weapons blocked his, locking all four blades together. She lashed out with a kick that took Jace high up on his thigh and, using his leg for leverage, she pushed off and flipped herself back to put more distance between herself and the wood elves.
Sera had never seen anyone move so fast. Koren’s twin daggers struck so quickly they appeared to blur. The princess was easily besting Jace—an average swordsman at worst—and the tournament’s former champion simultaneously.
Siam and Jace again separated a few paces, seeking to trap the Golden between them. Siam’s injury didn’t appear to be serious. He still moved gracefully. Koren brought the bloodstained dagger to her mouth and, never taking her eyes from the pair, licked the blade clean. The image turned Sera’s stomach.
Almost casually, Siam twirled his staff once before whipping it forward at her. The ironwood’s gemstones crackled and a blue bolt of lightning leaped from the weapon’s end and into Koren. The blast blinded Sera momentarily. She held out hope that the champion had succeeded.
When Sera could see again, her heart sank. Koren stood unharmed and giggling to herself. Without warning, she lashed out toward Jace. Sera’s brother tried to get his swords up in time, but the longer blades were far too slow to deflect the quicker daggers. And as before, Siam protected him by parrying the blond elf’s attack.
Koren countered with a quick turn toward Siam, bringing her daggers around for the wood elf’s unprotected side. Siam seemed to anticipate the attack and pushed his staff forward and into her back, shoving her off balance. The princess recovered, rolled forward, and then sprang upright several paces from the pair and facing away from them. She bowed to the surrounding golden elf troops, as if performing on a stage.
The nearby troops erupted in laughter and pointed at the pair of trapped warriors.
An enraged Jace roared furiously. He charged Koren from behind. Ignoring him until the last possible moment, she stepped deftly aside as he struck down with his swords. Both blades drove deep into a fallen log and stuck there, leaving him off balance. She struck out with a side-kick that knocked his hands away from the trapped weapons. Then she slashed hard and fast with both blades, trying to slide them between his ribs.
Protecting Sera’s brother for a third time, Siam swung his ironwood staff to intercept. Koren must have expected the move. She dropped to her knees and the staff swept through empty air. Siam tried bringing the other end around, but before he could recover Koren stuck a dagger into his thigh.
Koren withdrew and Siam clutched his leg, trying to slow the bleeding. A red spray burst from it. The dagger must have hit a major artery. Blood spurted from between his fingers in rhythmic blasts. Each pulse seemed weaker than the last as Siam’s valiant heart eagerly pumped all the blood from his body. He staggered a single step forward before falling to his knees. He held the staff in one hand and leaned on it to hold himself upright.
Sera could see the light draining from his eyes. All too quickly, his head sagged, and Siam succumbed to death. In a way he looked peaceful, as if he were bowing his head in reverent prayer.
Koren had simply backed away and waited for Siam to bleed out, watching his death unfold through icy blue eyes. When his head fell, she knelt down before him as if joining him in a final prayer. With a gloved hand, she reached out and dipped her first two fingers in the small pool of crimson at the dead elf’s knees. Then she took them and smeared his blood over her own pale face and licked her dagger clean with her pink tongue. Her face betrayed her pleasure.
Sera squeezed the branch in her hand so hard she felt the bark’s edges pierce her skin.
Jace had finally managed to free his weapons from the log, and Sera watched her brother charge the princess, his features twisted in fury. He drew both swords back, ready to strike.
When Jace was but a few feet away, Koren stood and turned her attention from the dead elf to him. Not bothering to even block his swords, she simply stepped back out of their reach and they passed harmlessly by.
Jace turned and swung a second and then a third time. He fought like a rabid wolf, snapping away, but biting only air.
Koren toyed with him for several minutes, dodging his attacks without attempting to strike back. While he hacked all around her, she laughed at him. This time the golden elf soldiers around them stood silent. All could see the outcome.
Finally, Jace began to tire of swinging the heavy swords. His movements grew more sluggish with each empty slash. Soon he could barely lift his weapons. Koren struck then, kicking him in the chest after another miss, driving him backwards. His shoulders sagged; he struggled to raise the swords.
Raising a half smile, Koren smirked. She lowered her daggers, sheathing them and placing her hands on her lithe hips. Slowly, she turned her back to him, but twisted her head enough so that she could still see him.
Jace roared again, finding the strength to bring both blades up once more, and charged her. He drew close and, with less than a pace separating them, Koren turned and drew her daggers in the same motion. She lunged toward him, ignoring his swords. The twin daggers drove into the thin armor that covered his chest, striking so deep that their points popped through his back.
Unable to maintain his grip, both of Jace’s swords fell from weak fingers onto the soft grass behind him. Koren withdrew the daggers before striking with them twice more like a viper.
Jace began to fall. Koren grabbed him, held him upright, and leaned in. She brought her blood-smeared face to within an inch of his.
Sera began to cry. As her brother died, she could see Koren staring deeply into his eyes. The twisted princess pressed closer and kissed Jace lustily on the mouth before pulling away and letting him fall. Then she smiled.
Jace.
Despite their differences, Sera cried for her brother. She remembered the better days—mother and father taking all of them swimming, camping out under the stars, Jace teaching h
er how to shoot a bow. And now he was dead. Their last words had been said in anger and there would never be a chance to reconcile.
Sera shook with grief and rage. There would come a reckoning between her and Koren, she swore. There would be no need for fanfare or long, drawn-out suffering. Koren was like a rat or a roach. You didn’t torture a rat or a roach—you killed it quickly to be done with it, and then tossed it out with the rest of the refuse.
“Princess Sera,” one of her father’s guards called. He stood at the tree’s base below. “King Teldrain and Prince Tarol are in full retreat. Our lines are overwhelmed.”
Sera shifted her attention back to her father’s soldiers. As the guardsman said, the wood elf troops were pulling back. Her father had used the few wood elf summoners at his command to produce several earth elementals. Almost fifty feet tall, two dozen of the monstrous, man-shaped beasts stood in a ragged line between the fleeing wood elves and the Golden. The Golden elf mages were casting against them, hoping to punch a hole through to Teldrain’s retreating soldiers, but their huge bodies, made of animated rocks, were impossibly strong. The elementals absorbed the spells and fought on.
Along with a few other spellcasters, Sera had been assigned a specific task if the army fell into retreat and disarray. Flexing her power, she reached down into the forest floor. There, a few inches under the leaf-covered soil, she felt the tiny spark of dormant life lying in an acorn. Gently, she coaxed it into action. At her urging the seed matured. Its shell fractured and sent thin, hairlike roots down into the rich soil. A slender trunk rose up through the ground, going unnoticed by the soldiers that rushed past as they made their way back toward camp. Satisfied with the seedling’s progress, she reached out to another nearby acorn and repeated the process.
When the last retreating wood elf ran by, Sera intensified and broadened her spell. No longer gentle, she cast it over all her seedlings, forcing them into rapid, unnatural growth. Like a clever gardener, she held their trunks short but forced their branches ever longer and thicker, weaving them together from tree-to-tree into a dense, living wall of foliage.
Kingdom's Forge: Book 01 - Paladin's Redemption Page 29
