Invasion (The Warrior Chronicles, 4)

by K. F. Breene

  Bows sang. Arrows rained down, coming from the sides. Alena clearly wasn’t the only one that kept up target practice! Many in the Graygual crowd staggered, the fletchings of arrows sticking from their bodies.

  “Stop sleeping through the battle!” Rohnan yelled, working through the Graygual with speed and precision, his movements graceful. Almost delicate. The result brutal.

  “My head hurts.” She gritted her teeth against the constant drum of pain working through her shield.

  Three men ran up, a net held between them.

  “Oh for fuck’s sakes!” she groaned.

  “They think you are a fish,” Rohnan called.

  She jumped up, trying to think around that thump of agony. She ran toward Rohnan, leading the Graygual in a chase. They had no stripes on their breasts, which made them probably stupid or naive. Either could be true.

  They stepped forward and then to the side, ready to throw their net. Rohnan moved forward too, until he was right at their sides. He stabbed the first, stepping in to grab the man’s collar and pulling him onto his blade. Letting go, and stepping to the side as the man painfully stumbled out of the way, Rohnan pierced the back of the next.

  Shanti covered him from two Graygual. She swept the ground with her foot, knocking the first to the ground. She jumped over him, her sword coming down on the other. She threw her knife, hitting someone on the far side of Rohnan as he finished dealing with the net holders, and then stabbed down, taking out the one on the ground.

  “There are still too damn many!” She huffed, growing tired. The pain grew more intense, starting to saturate her mind.

  A roar of men’s voices echoed up the street behind her, bouncing off the buildings and working a shiver up her spine.

  “I wondered if the Hunter would send people to box us in. Clever.” Shanti looked off to the sides, wondering which way she should run.

  * * *

  Sanders growled, stabbing through a Graygual and then stepping in to punch another. He backtracked before taking two quick steps and barreling into two more. He ripped a knife from its holster and brought it down on one of their faces before jumping up and stabbing the other with his sword.

  Tomous careened backward, barely missed by an enemy sword. Sanders bent for his knife, straightened and threw it, its blade sticking in the side of the Graygual neck. Not exactly on target, but it would do. Tomous finished the job.

  Sanders glanced back. The Captain had fallen from his horse, and lay on the ground in a ball. Whatever was attacking him was not visible, and it was a hell of a lot more painful than the slash on Sanders’ side. From the look of it, the Captain would not be able to hold on for much longer.

  “What is taking those boys so long?” Sanders yelled, more out of frustration than anything else. He hacked into a Graygual, no style in the effort, just pure rage. He then ran forward, attacking with everything he had.

  “One was too much for us, sir,” Tobias yelled. Blood coated the side of his face and a cut marred his forearm. “He’s probably got a few or more. It’s a wonder the Inkna aren’t killing him.”

  “Which is what the boys were for.”

  “Those Inkna probably know we only have one mental fighter, apart from Shanti, who is tied up in the city.” Tobias’ words dried up as two more Graygual came at him at once.

  That was the thing. They could’ve cut through the first bunch of Graygual, but more kept coming. Some of them were poor swordsmen, too, but there were just too many of them.

  Sanders growled, hacking into someone else. He stepped back and turned. A sword tip swiped past him, tugging at his shirt. The fabric parted. Thankfully his flesh didn’t.

  “Fall back! Regroup!” Sanders called desperately, cut off from Tomous by black shirts.

  Tobias jogged closer, but someone stepped in the way, the sword work fast and perfect. An officer.

  The tide was turning. Sanders couldn’t keep up. Hopefully Shanti would save the day, because he was all out of miracles.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Excruciating pain vibrated through Cayan’s body, searing his skin and scraping his bones. It felt like needles stabbed his eyes and sharpened sticks jabbed his inner ears. Everything in him wanted to let go. To let them beat him into unconsciousness so the unyielding pain would end.

  Breathing as deeply as possible, not letting the pain turn his breath shallow and have him blacking out, he held on to the thread of consciousness. If he gave in, the Inkna would turn their efforts onto Sanders and the others. The battle would be over nearly as fast as it had begun.

  One stream of agony winked out, relieving the pressure on the back of his head. One of the boys must’ve killed an Inkna attacker.

  Cayan sucked in air as the throb of the other attacks continued. Constant.

  Without warning, fire burnt down his throat and blistered the roof of his mouth.

  His eyes snapped open. He thought that someone had lit a flame. Through his watering eyes, he saw Sanders hacking at someone, brutal but slower than usual. He was tiring. Next to him fought Tobias, his feet dragging with fatigue. They were closer than they should’ve been, pushed back by a crowd of Graygual.

  No fire licked at their toes. Or his face.

  Another Inkna must’ve joined the fray. The boys were few and the Inkna many. The Hunter was obviously waiting for this attack, and he had planned well. The other side of the city was probably vulnerable. It was too bad Cayan didn’t have enough people to take advantage of that.

  The fire dumped into his stomach, churning. He curled into a tighter ball, trying to block out the soul-crushing pain. Trying to think of anything else.

  Shanti’s face swam into view. He couldn’t feel her through the Joining—he couldn’t feel anything but the attack—so he focused on his memory of her. He pictured her shining violet eyes, so expressive, as she assured him they’d make it through this. An image of her body swam into view as it lay before him, nude and glistening in the morning sun as they lay among the flowers in the Shadow Lands. Her thighs parted for him as a slow smile curled her lips. He could almost feel her soft thighs rubbing up his sides, and smell her scent, lilac and mysterious femininity. He wanted nothing more than to see her in that moment. To fight this battle with her, side by side. It was how it was meant to be. Them together, battling, felt as natural as breathing.

  A body-consuming throb added to the stew of pain right before a generalized sort of agony blinked off. The boys must’ve taken another one out of the conflict, which meant at least one of the Honor Guard was still alive. That was something.

  He noticed bodies drifting out of the trees like phantoms. In unison, their movements perfect and in sync, the men and women stepped forward without a sound. Swords held up in stances relaxed and graceful, their eyes swept the battle in front of them.

  Cayan blinked a few times through the searing pain. They looked like Shanti.

  Hallucinations—they had to be. He had pictured her so completely that now he saw her in life.

  “Should I kill them, sir?” Lucius’ voice drifted through Cayan’s consciousness. He had trouble making sense of it. “Sir?”

  Cayan focused on his breathing. He tried to push away the pain. Tried to think as he looked up at the blond man moving gracefully toward him. The man’s weapon was even like Shanti’s, delicate and well made, created by a master craftsman. Cayan could make a fortune with work like that, as unique and exotic as it was useful. Nobles all over the north and east would pay dearly for sword wrought in the style of the violet-eyed girl.

  “Captain.” Lucius’ face swam into view as the phantoms drifted closer, so perfect in their movements. So deadly.

  “Westwood Lands.” The man was close now, his eyes hard and gray, like the skies as a storm blew in.

  Cayan blinked up in confusion. The man could’ve been Shanti’s brother, with the high cheekbones and strong jaw. Her face was more delicate; beautiful where this man was ruggedly handsome. But then, Cayan had thought that about
Rohnan, too. They all bore a similarity.

  “He is taking the Inkna attack,” Lucius said, his arrow pointed at the man’s chest. Only three steps separated them. It would be an instant death. The man didn’t seem to notice.

  “Where is the Chulan?” the man asked, eyes beating down onto Cayan.

  Cayan tried to answer as tears of agony dripped from his eyes. His couldn’t get his jaw loose. Couldn’t take a deep enough breath to do anything but hold on and hope the boys worked faster. He didn’t have much left.

  “She’s in the city with Rohnan. We need to get to her,” Lucius answered.

  The man’s eyes widened a fraction. “Rohnan is alive?”

  “Yes. Are you from her land?” The plea in Lucius’ voice was evident. Or else Cayan was projecting his own plea. It was hard to say.

  The man glanced to the side where his countrymen spread out in a semicircle. As he turned back, Cayan could swear his eyes unfocused for a moment.

  The fire scorching his insides subsided. The bone-crushing agony slackened. Cayan sucked in a full, sweet breath as the pain reduced to a simmer, easily ignorable after what he’d just endured.

  He blinked up at the man, who was looking down at him with calculating eyes. The man said, “Only one in all the land could’ve endured power that strong by herself…”

  Shaky, Cayan uncurled. He flexed his fingers, working some blood into them. “Now there is two. If you mean to help, then help.” Cayan felt his Gift boil. He ripped down his shields and sent a pulse of power at the Inkna still breathing. The next second he was running, sword in hand.

  * * *

  Kallon stood in awe for a single beat, his Gift still tangled with one of the more powerful of the Inkna. He could feel the others in his merge shifting then slashing, trying to take out the remaining enemy fighting with their minds. The amount of power was…unreal. He wasn’t even sure if the Chosen could’ve stayed cognizant in the face of that.

  “Rumors are true. Chosen is a lucky girl. I wonder if she has learned to share…” Mela laughed, her sword in hand.

  “Are we going to drool, or are we going to fight?” Sayas asked, his anticipation coloring the merge.

  Kallon glanced at the others, relaying his intentions without needing words. As expected, everyone started jogging, falling into the fighting pattern most suited for this area and the layout of the enemy ahead. He and Mela lead the charge, intending to slice right through.

  An Inkna slashed at his mind. Kallon retaliated, grabbing the other mind and attempting to beat at it. More Inkna joined in, their enemy merge competing with Kallon’s.

  A peal of thunder rocked their mental battle, making Kallon stumble. It rolled and boiled, pounding into the Inkna minds. The Inkna wrestling with Kallon’s merge winked out, a silent scream announcing its defeat. Another man, off to the other side, let out a physical scream. His mind went silent a moment later.

  “That makes our job easier,” Sayas said as they gained speed.

  What must be the Captain of these men joined his fighters, running into the Graygual like a battering ram. His sword moved almost too fast to keep track of, his movements precise and powerful. He took on two immediately, freeing up a shorter man with harsh and brutal strokes.

  “Very lucky,” Kallon heard Mela yell as she sprinted at the Graygual.

  “Now we’re cooking!” the shorter man yelled, tearing into a Graygual in front of him with redoubled effort.

  Kallon lost track of their fight as he approached a Graygual, also running at the fight, coming from the city. The Graygual attacked using a straightforward style and rapid feet. Classic Graygual teaching, unlike the many Kallon had encountered across the land recently.

  With almost lazy efforts, Kallon met the sword strike, moved his blade in a circle, carrying the Graygual blade with it, and flicked. The Graygual struggled to hold on to his sword. He stepped forward, putting him off balance. Kallon lunged, sword puncturing the other man before yanking it free.

  He kicked the Graygual, knocking him out of the way, before engaging with another. With lesser skill, this Graygual couldn’t keep up. He swung his sword at Kallon, who blocked and struck. Another kick and Kallon was moving forward again.

  “What is your plan?” Kallon yelled at the Captain.

  The Captain blocked the thrust of one man, stabbed another with a knife, and then stuck his sword through the first’s neck. He was already moving to another man, the Graygual half stumbling backward, not wanting to go up against an obviously superior fighter.

  “We must get to Shanti,” the Captain shouted, on to the next.

  “They’re bringing men around,” the shorter man yelled. “Did you kill those Inkna?”

  “Yes.” The Captain downed two more men as though they were unarmed. The fight was no contest. But then, these men had few or no slashes. They had been sent out there to die.

  “Who holds the city?” Kallon asked as they ran toward the looming walls. Solid and stone, the barrier was built with defense in mind, except for one thing. Individuals climbing. The stone was coarse, with cracks not smoothed over, leaving plenty of pockmarks and crevices a skilled climber could navigate.

  “The Hunter,” the Captain panted, veering left. “Where are the horses?”

  “They fucked off,” the shorter man yelled in something like a growl.

  The Captain whistled, a shrill sound.

  “Here’s more!” someone shouted as a group of Graygual emerged from a large gate in the distance.

  Made up of two large wooden doors, this gate was open on one side. But as they approached, it was already starting to close.

  The whistle sounded again. A horse whinnied somewhere to the right. The thundering of hooves announced a large black stallion. The Captain darted to the great horse, climbing on with an innate athleticism. Another horse came running up with it. Shiny and sleek, this animal looked like a fine specimen. The shorter man reached out to it, but it chomped down at his hand and pranced away.

  “Damn horse!” the man yelled. The man ran forward. No one else reached out to the animal. “We need to get to that gate.”

  “I got it.” The Captain leaned forward with a “Haw!” The horse lurched forward, running straight at the group of approaching Graygual. Thunder rolled, the Captain’s Gift sending the enemy staggering and falling, clutching their body or heads.

  “Cut ’em down!” the shorter man yelled.

  “Very vocal, these men,” Sayas said as he ran with his sword at the ready.

  Kallon stabbed a man writhing on the ground as he ran by, seeing the Captain nearly at the gate. The others did the same—not much to do with a Gift that strong clearing the way.

  “He was not foretold!” Dannon said. He kicked a Graygual’s head, knocking the man out.

  “I love surprises.” Mela laughed, running beside them.

  The sound of more hooves announced two younger men, one as large as any of Kallon’s despite his age. Both with spatters of blood and pale faces, they reined in to join the larger group.

  “Help the Captain,” the shorter man yelled, pointing at the gate.

  The larger of the two new arrivals kicked his horse before the command was completed. The other was on the way a moment later.

  The Captain reached the gate. He urged his horse forward, probably trying to batter his way through. The horse reared, unwilling. The sleek horse whinnied, battering the black horse out of the way. It reared as well, but for a different reason. Its front hooves clattered at the wood, stopping the closing movement. It turned and kicked out with both feet, clattering at it again.

  Someone stood over the wall, arrow at the ready. Kallon struck, tearing through the mind like a knife through melon. The man fell away. Another took his place, before succumbing to the same fate.

  Another clatter as the horse attempted to force its way in.

  “That horse is a strange sort of wild,” Sayas said, out of breath. “I want one.”

  “We were foolish to leave
ours behind!” Dannon yelled.

  The Captain jumped from his horse, dodging the crazed animal, and sprinted at the crack in the gate. He made it through, disappearing inside.

  “Follow him!” the shorter man urged.

  The younger boys reached the gate right after the Captain, jumping from their horses and slipping inside. Another bout of thunder rolled, the sign of the Captain’s Gift. The gate started to open as more men appeared over the wall. Kallon shot out with his mind, killing them as he finally reached the gate.

  The wild horse barreled through, followed by the other horses. Kallon charged in behind them. An explosion sounded from somewhere to the right. A spray of rocks flew through the air. The Captain was in front of him, battling a line of disposable Graygual as his Gift boomed out.

  “Shanti is on the other side of the city,” he yelled, stabbing one of the Graygual through before turning to another. “We have to hurry. She’s getting bombarded by Inkna!”

  Kallon ran at the surging Graygual, not seeing one officer among them. He attacked, blocking a thrust and stabbing before moving on. A blade caught the sunlight, glinting, before swinging down at Kallon. He knocked it aside, slashing. Dannon appeared to his right and Mela to his left. The others arrived, forming a sort of hollow diamond, cutting through the inexperienced and altogether useless Graygual with ease. With his mind, Kallon reached farther still, cutting those down in front of them, clearing the way.

  “Holy shit, you guys make me feel lazy,” the shorter man growled as he ran into their formation. “And bored.” With a great show of strength, he hacked and battered his way through with skill Kallon wouldn’t have thought possible with the coarse and often brutal fighting style.

  “Where are the officers?” the Captain asked, taking out two Graygual. He ran back for his horse.

  “They will be fighting the Chulan,” Kallon said, feeling that urgency tug at him. “They will be trying to capture her.”