“But who’s going to watch his back?”
“He’ll watch his own back if it needs watching.” He turned her round and pointed. “Now get back down below with Cassus.”
“But. . . .”
“But nothing,” said Raker, patting her on the backside. “Jonrell left me in charge and I’m not one to put up with any lip. You get below deck and stay there until we’re out to sea or I’ll tan that little backside of yours.”
That’s what father used to say when he was mad at me.
Without thinking, she wheeled around, unhitching the bow from her shoulder. She whipped the bow up in a blur and slammed the black wood between Raker’s legs. She watched his eyes bug out and heard the sharp intake of breath whistle through his dry lips. He dropped to his knees, anger infusing his face.
She ran by in a blur as the mercenary fell to the deck in a slew of curses, calling her things she had never heard of before.
Reaching the end of the gangplank, she watched Jonrell disappear into the city, heading back the way they had come. She ran off after him, notching an arrow in her bow.
Yanasi raced along as fast as her feet would carry her, desperate not to lose sight of Jonrell. She looked up at the soaring buildings that blocked out the sky and then at the thin alleys, hidden from light. Although the battle raged ahead, here it was deathly still. She shivered, suddenly scared. She had grown so accustomed to having someone near her the last couple of weeks that she almost forgot what it felt like to be alone. With no one by her side, the city frightened her. The gray gloom of morning cast the surroundings in light that reminded her of a graveyard, the looming structures above like worn headstones.
Biting her lip, she pushed aside her fears and padded along the road, assuming that Jonrell simply back-tracked their path. Too focused on what was in front of her, she never saw the hand that grabbed her from behind. Someone lifted her off her feet and dragged her into a narrow alley. She lost her bow as she struggled against the strength of the man who grabbed her. She tried to scream but another meaty hand cupped her mouth.
The man spun her around. Jonrell wore a disapproving look. “What are you doing here? I thought I told Raker to keep everyone on the ship.”
“I wanted to help you.”
“It’s too dangerous.” He stepped aside and Yanasi saw a dead soldier at Jonrell’s feet. “If he hadn’t attacked me, then he would have come after you.”
She teared up. “I’m sorry,” she whispered, “I only. . . ."
Jonrell shook his head. “Later.” He extended his hand. “Here. You dropped this,” he said, handing back her bow. He grabbed her by her free hand. “Now hurry. I’ve been delayed enough.”
* * *
Krytien’s head hummed. His limbs felt numb from the endless assault.
They had reached the most narrow point in the tapering road where only a handful of men could stand shoulder to shoulder.
Krytien knew they would retreat no further. The final stand would be here.
Only a few moments longer, he thought, watching the sky from the corner of his eye change from gray into a faint bruise.
Covered in his own blood, a man in red armor hit the ground near Krytien, gasping for air. His last breath whistled in a high pitch that cut through the noise of battle.
The sound of dying.
Another man fell next to the first and Krytien felt the renewed effort of those mages he fought against as they tasted the imminent victory. A sudden calmness came over him as he prepared to die.
A battle cry fiercer than any Krytien had ever heard came from his left. Ahned had finally joined the battle, bringing fresh troops with him. They pushed toward Krytien, but Ronav would not give them passage.
Why? We can’t do this forever.
Ahned shouted a command and his men parted, giving him a path to meet Ronav head on. He charged the commander and his sword crashed down on Ronav’s shield, shattering the heavy wood. Watching the two men fight, Krytien had no doubt that Ronav could have taken him under normal circumstances. But, his commander’s body could no longer function at the level he needed it to. Ronav came across with a tremendous strike, but Ahned stepped aside and thrust his sword into Ronav’s side. Ahned forced the blade deep and lifted Ronav off his feet. Glacar barreled into Ahned, knocking him away but it was too late. Ronav was down. The Hell Patrol’s line that had somehow held for so long, collapsed. A wave of soldiers eager for revenge rushed forward.
Time slowed.
Krytien looked to his best friend. Ronav lay with a sword in his side, the movement of his chest barely visible. Tears welled in Krytien’s eyes and anger coursed through his body. He stood taller. Digging deeper than he ever had before, he pulled and pushed the forces of the world around him with a determined resolve. Snake-like flames danced around his body and pooled in his palms. The ground shook beneath him.
I know the way. Philik told me how and I’ve accessed it successfully now.
One eye on Ronav’s body, the other on the enemy troops staring wide-eyed and frozen in fear, he lashed out absent of remorse. Raising their shields and arms in defense, soldiers sprawled backward as balls of fire consumed them. Krytien’s nostrils flared at the smell of burning flesh. He found the aroma sweet, satisfied to reap retribution for the lives the Hell Patrol had lost at their hands.
He felt Hezen’s mages attempt to retaliate. He laughed. Having so much power in his grasp, he easily located their position and caused the earth to open beneath them. Scores of men fell into the abyss he created. He could not hear their screams over the burning men around him, but he imagined it.
Krytien gritted his teeth. He no longer wanted to die. He wanted to make them pay for the senseless slaughter of his friends. A debt that they can only satisfy with their lives.
With Krytien’s emotions overwhelming his senses, he found that burgeoning well of power that all mages drew upon easier to access than ever before. He felt his body absorb the power now that he had opened the path completely and knew he could kill them all. But a flicker of movement caught his eye from above. A small boy peered through dilapidated shutters, watching the carnage.
What am I thinking?
He wasn’t on some open plain, one army barreling down on another. He was in a city and although they had shown them little love, not all could be blamed for Hezen’s actions.
One Above, I can’t destroy so carelessly. The innocent people it’ll kill. . . .
He struggled to siphon the power he had accumulated slowly, but it was too much to bear. Rather than diminishing at his command, his panic sped its release. The excruciating pain of so much power leaving his body caused him to scream in agony. He watched in horror as wind gusted, sending soldiers flying through the air. The ground rumbled with such force that buildings toppled and spouts of fire shot through cracks in the earth. He did his best to shield those members of the Hell Patrol he could see. But as the sorcery exploded outward, he knew he had failed in protecting them all.
A blinding light flashed before his eyes and he fell to the ground, completely drained.
And then all went black.
* * *
They set off at a frantic pace. A sudden thinning in the air unlike Yanasi had ever felt caused her to feel dizzy. She heard Jonrell struggle to breathe. They stopped and she heard him whisper in a ragged breath. “Impossible.” And then, “One Above, help us.”
He lifted Yanasi from her feet and while carrying her, jumped into another alley. A concussive blast ripped past the safety of the stone walls. White light and a scorching heat washed over them.
Chapter 12
Jonrell rose to his feet, hand sliding to the back of his head. Crashing into the alley, he took the brunt of the fall and struck his head in the process.
An eerie silence engulfed the city. Fading sorcery lingered in the air. He inhaled deeply and death filled his nose, the smell of charred flesh.
That was more powerful than anything I’ve ever felt. Hezen has no one cl
ose to a High Mage and none of them have the knowledge to fully combine their power for such an assault.
A crash cut through the stillness as a building collapsed in on itself. It joined the many others that had fallen amidst the wave of power. Jonrell struggled to make out his surroundings through the dust and smoke hanging in the still air. He took a few steps back into the street. Burning rubble lay everywhere, hissing and crackling. The building they’d sheltered behind leaned precariously. He felt amazed he had not been crushed.
Yanasi stood next to him, shaking the dirt from her face and hair. She almost got herself killed.
He stared out over the wreckage. But if she and Hezen’s soldier hadn’t delayed me, I’d be dead.
He knew he should go back to the ship, but he couldn’t. He took Yanasi by the hand and they set out at a jog, weaving between fallen stone, an assortment of debris, and countless bodies.
At first, most of those bodies belonged to commoners, people who in Jonrell’s mind had felt relatively safe indoors, away from the fighting. Entire families, young and old alike, had perished.
As they sped along, corpses of soldiers joined the dead, some blackened, others battered and bloody. What did you unleash, Hezen?
The death and destruction grew, Jonrell saw the first casualty in crimson armor.
Twenty paces further, Jonrell found Glacar kneeled over Ronav’s body. One Above, I’m too late. Glacar looked up with red eyes.
“He fought as if there was ten of him,” said Glacar. “He was everywhere, even with his injuries. I only had an injured arm and I could not match him.” He paused. “Now I know why he bested me before.” He hung his head low. “He should not have died. Legends should not die.” He looked up again, anger flashing in his eyes. “If you and the others had not left us, he would be alive.”
“Would you have me disobey his orders? Defy him? He wanted me to get the others to safety. I followed his command.”
“Then why come back?”
To defy his orders. Jonrell chose not to answer the question. “What happened?”
Glacar pointed to his right without speaking. Jonrell followed his arm and saw a ragged man huddled in a ball. Once black robes were a sullen gray, long salt and pepper hair reduced to a memory with only a few wisps of white falling over the mage’s forehead.
Jonrell hurried over and kneeled beside Krytien. He rocked back and forth, staring wide-eyed at Ronav’s lifeless form while holding his hands against his head. He mumbled to himself. “Too much power. Far too much. Philik never told me how much was there.”
“Who is Philik? Is he the one of Hezen’s mages? Did he do this?”
Krytien shook his head, staring through Jonrell who leaned into his line of sight. “No. I-I did this. I couldn’t control it. I never learned how.” His face twisted in agony, the first sign of emotion in the mage’s blank face. A flash of coherency flickered in his eyes as he reached out and grabbed Jonrell’s arm. “One Above, don’t you understand. I did this,” he said, waving his arm about. “You must believe I never meant for this to happen. I only meant to throw back Hezen’s army. They were the enemies. I never meant to collapse buildings or kill innocents. I tried to pull back, I swear. But I couldn’t and all of it came spilling out.”
Krytien’s stared into his palms. “One Above, I killed women and children. So much innocent blood.” He looked at Ronav. “And what good did it do? He’s dead and so are the others. I only managed to save Glacar.” He pulled Jonrell in close and whispered. “Others stood beside Glacar. But now,” he said nodding to other bodies in red armor. “Now, they are all dead. I killed them unknowingly. It was an accident, I swear.”
Jonrell didn’t know what to say. Krytien had been able to access the kind of power that could rival any High Mage he had ever known. There was a good chance from the looks of a scorched figure in Hell Patrol gear, that Krytien did kill some of their own men. But he wouldn’t be the first to do so in the heat of battle, nor would he be the last.
But that’s not what he needs to hear right now.
“You did what you were commanded to do,” said Jonrell. “You did what Ronav would have done. You followed orders and you did the best you could.” He stood as a purple haze of light from the morning sky caught his attention. “By doing what you did, you gave others a chance to escape. You gave the Hell Patrol a future and that’s what Ronav wanted. But if we are going to be a part of that future, we need to leave now. Do you understand?”
Krytien let out a puff of breath and wiped his eyes on his gray sleeve, smudging soot and tears across his face. He nodded.
Jonrell extended a hand.
Krytien clasped it and Jonrell pulled the large man to his feet. The mage nearly fell back, lightheaded and dizzy. Jonrell steadied him and flung one of Krytien’s arms over his shoulder. “Glacar, we need to go now.”
Glacar stood and bent down to scoop up Ronav, managing the strength to fling their commander’s body over his shoulders. The warrior’s knees dipped before he straightened again.
“He’s dead. And we need to hurry.”
“I will not leave his body to be defiled. We’ll bury him at sea. It’s the least he deserves,” he growled.
Jonrell nodded. “Then let me carry him and you help Krytien.”
Glacar set off, ignoring Jonrell. So be it.
They made it only a few steps when a hoarse voice called out. “Jonrell!”
Jonrell looked over and saw one of Hezen’s soldiers braced against a half standing wall, his armor falling to pieces. He held a crossbow to his shoulder, aiming at Jonrell.
“Cord?” He halted. “Hasn’t there been enough death today?”
“There’s room for at least one more.”
Glacar growled, but Jonrell steadied him. “Don’t. You won’t make it in time,” he whispered.
Cord blinked as blood oozed down his face. “I still owe you for taking that little devil from me.” He flicked his eyes about. “Where is she anyway? I saw her a moment ago. I want her to see you die.”
Cord jerked and looked down at the arrow sticking from his chest. His eyes widened and blood dribbled from his mouth as he squeezed the trigger of the crossbow. Jonrell flinched as the quarrel clattered off the stone to his left.
Jonrell saw Yanasi step from behind a pile of rock, bow in hand. She walked over to Cord watching him fall to the ground.
There is no going back now, Jonrell thought with a heavy sigh.
Yanasi came over to Jonrell.
As they hurried along, a boy off to the right caught Jonrell’s attention. The lad looked to be no older than ten. He cradled the bodies of a man and woman in his lap as he wept. Jonrell found himself tearing up as well, remembering how he felt when he lost his mother.
And he lost both parents on the same day.
The boy looked up with eyes as cold as steel and met Jonrell’s before eying Krytien in turn. The mage was oblivious to the boy’s stare. Jonrell felt sorry for the boy, but he did not turn away his gaze in shame. He saw the boy’s parents in a different light. The boy’s father had been a soldier and the mother looked to be a minor mage. Jonrell thought about all the friends he had lost, not only today, but over the last several days, and the scars that would never fully heal.
We didn’t ask for this. We didn’t want this. I don’t feel sorry for their death, only for your loss.
* * *
Moments passed after the deafening crash and blinding light from the city. Buildings had toppled to the ground amidst clouds of smoke and dust. Where before the echoing clash and screams of battle had put Raker on edge with a sense of helplessness, an unnatural calm now gripped him by the throat. Others stood next to him, equally awed. He spat.
The entire crew, including the captain stood as still as marble statues, eyes fixed on the settling destruction. The first movement from the crew was from those who suddenly found their faith, dropping to their knees and praying to the One Above.
For a moment Raker thought about joi
ning them. Then he remembered. The One Above has never done me any favors so why should I pay the god any homage now?
He worked his jaw and spat again, thinking about those of the Hell Patrol still in the city, and then of Jonrell and that little pest, Yanasi, who went after them.
I’d just as soon pay them homage over you, he thought, looking up.
“Let’s quit the gawking, lads. Get her ready to push out,” shouted the captain.
Heads turned back to the captain with a look of confusion as men tried to reason out what they had just witnessed. “Get a move on, you dogs! If I have to give the order again, I’ll put a boot up each and every one of your backsides.”
Apparently the captain wasn’t known for hollow threats as the crew got their feet moving. Activity resumed at the frantic pace it had been before the disaster.
Raker joined the captain who watched over his crew with a hardened face. He tried to act indifferent to the clouds of smoke filling Asantia’s skyline, but Raker saw him cast an eye in that direction every time stone crumbled down from half torn buildings. He turned his back to Raker.
“Captain. We can’t leave yet. I’ve still got men out there,” said Raker.
The captain pointed and shouted more orders, but otherwise paid Raker no mind.
Raker clasped the man on the shoulder and spun him around. “I said. . . .”
A fist smashed into his jaw. Raker’s head rocked back from the impact and he swallowed a mouthful of chew and saliva. The mass got hung up in his throat and he fell to the deck coughing until he spat the wad out.
“Don’t ever presume to put your hands on me again. I heard you the first time. I’ve waited longer than I dared because of the debt I owed Ronav,” said the captain. “There is no sense in waiting any longer. No one survived that, and if they did, they ain’t going to get here in time.” He paused. “This is my ship and by my command we’re leaving. You don’t like it, jump in the bay and take your friends with you. Otherwise, get down below and out of the way.”
Walk Through Fire (Prequel) Page 10
