Adarra thought about gutting the big Northman, but just couldn’t bring herself to do it. One opened corpse was enough. Hearing a raspy groan from behind her, she quickly rushed to Aiden’s side. Her mother was already there, pressing her hand against the gaping hole where he had been stabbed.
The left side of her mother’s face was beginning to swell and turn the shade of a fine burgundy, which Adarra knew from her reading would eventually change to a rich cobalt-blue and a few weeks later settle into a lovely chartreuse. She shook her head to try bringing her random thoughts back to what was important. “We need to stop the bleeding,” she said as her mother held pressure on the seeping wound.
“He’s hurt pretty bad.”
Aiden lay there trying his best not to whimper as he clutched at the vicious opening in his stomach. “Hang on, Aiden. I’ll get some cloths and make a salve to help stem the bleeding.” Aiden acknowledged with a slight bob of his head.
Adarra got to her feet and looked at him with a warm smile. “Thank you for saving my mother’s life. You were really brave.”
“I was really stupid,” he said through gritted teeth. “I didn’t even have a real sword.”
“That’s what made it so heroic.”
Chapter 86 | Ty
“I’VE GOT TO STOP HER.”
His words were meant as a call to action, a way to muster what courage he had left in an attempt to force himself to act. However, the cries of death as men were being chopped down all around him seemed to cloud his thoughts and unhinge his nerve. Even worse was the witch and her magic. They didn’t stand a chance against such odds and he knew it. Time seemed to slow as if in a daze as he stood there watching the horrific confrontation in front of him.
What was left of the Sidaran guards were continuing to fall against the force of the Tallosians’ numbers. The savages had been cut nearly in half by the highly-trained soldiers, but even with what remained, Ty and the others were still heavily outmatched.
Ty watched his older brother, with blood running down his right arm, fight like a wild animal. He defended his position against two of the masked Northmen trying to flank him, cutting and slashing with his sickle while blocking and thrusting with his shortsword.
Lord Barl and a few of his lancers were holding off another siege on Ty’s right with Baeldor leading the charge. Near the center, Ty’s father was retracting a long dagger from the neck of one Northman while blocking the swing from another.
Everything was in chaos. There was so much blood. Ever since Ty had begun using magic, the Northmen had given up their attempts at capturing him unharmed and were now trying to do whatever they could to incapacitate him.
“Behind you!” Lyessa hollered, pulling Ty from his momentary lapse into self-doubt.
Ty turned and raised a shield of air to protect against the swing of a large mace. The heavy metal object slammed against the protective barrier, forcing Ty back a step. The heavyset Tallosian was about the ugliest looking thing Ty had ever seen. He looked as though someone had used his head to demonstrate the most proficient form of scalping and changed their mind halfway through.
With a graceful arc of her blade, Lyessa cut straight through the Northman’s lower gut and, after blocking a second failed thrust, hacked off his arm and then finished him with a swift stab to the throat. Ty was still astounded by not only her ability to wield a sword but by her utter lack of reaction to the gore she left in her wake.
On his right, Mangora was working her way around the clash of warriors for a clear shot at his father and Lord Barl. Both were too preoccupied fending off the Northmen to see the danger they were in. This was Ty’s chance to finally prove himself. So far, his actions, or lack of them, had shown him to be a complete imbecile when it came to the art of war. Lyessa had humbled him enough to admit that. But that was all about to change.
Ty had told his family not an hour earlier that he could fight. It was time to substantiate that claim. He straightened his back. Searching for the warmth of his magic, he started forward.
Lyessa grabbed him by the arm. “What do you think you’re doing?”
“I’m going after the witch.”
“No, you’re not! She’ll kill you.”
“Someone has to before she burns us all to death, and right now I’m the only one who stands even half a chance.” Her mouth opened in an attempt to refute his statement, but nothing came out. She knew he was right. It was nice, though, to see how much she cared.
Pulling away from her grip, Ty pushed on. Lyessa was right beside him, ready to cut down anything in his path. She was his guardian. Ty had found this embarrassing at first, but it was growing on him faster than he would have liked to admit.
He angled back toward the front of the house and worked his way around the back of the fighting. He had just moved into position when an angry Northman barreled through an open section in the lancer’s defensive line and rushed them. The big man didn’t need a mask. His face was covered with the whitened flesh of numerous scarred-over injuries. Over his head he swung a ten-point mace-and-chain flail.
Lyessa dove out of the way and Ty barely had time to raise another shield before the spiked ball hit. The momentum was so strong that it threw Ty off balance, causing the edge of the ball to graze the side of his arm. It impacted the ground beside him, flinging dirt and debris around his legs.
Ty cried out in pain and grabbed his bloody arm. The sudden surge of adrenaline fueled his anger. He didn’t have time for this. Mangora was almost within reach of his father and he was stuck playing dodge-the-flail.
Without waiting for the man to swing again, Ty gathered the wind once more. It came easier this time. Instead of using it as a shield, he lashed out at the ugly savage and punched him square in the chest. The force of the blow struck the man like a battering ram hoisted by a team of giant rock trolls.
The Tallosian plowed into the dirt. His chest had been completely caved in. A slight wheezing noise escaped the Northman’s lips as what little air remained inside was forced out. If only he had the capability of doing that on a larger scale, he could have stopped this battle before it had ever started. Unfortunately, Ty didn’t possess the experience or the strength to handle something like that.
Ignoring the pain and the flow of blood running down his arm, Ty turned around when he heard his father holler in pain. One of the savages had managed to impale him in the shoulder with a large dagger. His father grabbed the handle of the blade and punched the man in the face to obscure his attention. Pulling the blade out, he gave it back to the man, straight through his neck. The Northman gasped and dropped. His death left a clear opening for Mangora.
Ty quickly raised his hands and willed his fire to come, but like the last half-dozen times, nothing happened. “What is wrong with me? Why won’t you work?” he shouted at his open palms as though in hearing his desperation they would somehow spark to life.
His father was left to face the witch on his own. Not ten paces away, he watched Mangora raise her arms. Seeing his father’s unwavering courage as he willingly stood there ready to give his life for his family caused something inside of Ty to snap, and he realized, as cliché as it sounded, the only thing holding him back was himself. He was still afraid of who or what he was becoming, but in that moment, fear gave way to desperation.
Ty turned and hit his father with a wave of air that sent him flying to the left and out of the way of Mangora’s wrath. The old woman screeched when her fiery attack broke through their ranks and did nothing more than scorch the ground in front of the house.
Ty took his father’s place, filling in the breech. He raised his hands and they immediately burst into flame. Mangora flinched when she saw the ignition. Her eyes were fierce. Ty could see the hatred in them.
“You want me, witch. Here I am.” He didn’t have time to come up with something a bit wittier, but under the circumstances, it wasn’t half-bad.
Not waiting on him to make the first move, she sent an entire lance of
red-hot flame in his direction. Capturing him alive must have lowered in priority to staying alive herself.
Liquid flames, blue as a midday sky, poured from Ty’s hands as he met her attack. He’d never felt anything like it before. His body was numb, and yet on fire at the same time.
The two torrents remained locked in place, releasing red and blue ribbons of flame that burned everything they touched to ash. Mangora’s face twisted in rage. Her lips curled upward revealing a crooked set of yellowing teeth.
“Give it up, boy. You are no match for the likes of me.”
Ty could feel his energy being depleted. His strength was waning. He watched as the flames worked their way back and forth between them. He fought to keep his focus. He didn’t dare drop it. One slip and it would all be over, and not just for him.
“What happened to taking me alive?” His words were muffled under his strain.
Mangora sneered. “If we can’t have you, nobody will.”
Ty fought to hold onto his magic. It felt chaotic. He had no idea what he was doing. He was acting on pure instinct.
“I can feel you growing weaker. You don’t have the strength. Stop while you can. I promise to be lenient . . . spare your family’s life.” Mangora’s words were short and direct, due in part to her breathing growing heavier.
Ty wanted to lash out at her. To tell her what he really thought of her. Tell her how ugly she was, how bad her breath stank, how he was going to peel the rest of the flesh from her brittle bones and dance on her remains, but he didn’t have the strength. So he kept his mouth shut. Beads of sweat dripped from his eyes and nose and chin.
The two opposing sides of this battle separated, retreating to a safe distance to not get caught in the middle. Ty heard the sudden hum of a bow string as an arrow flew in the witch’s direction. She raised one of her hands and swiped it away, never losing a moment’s concentration.
She was strong. Ty would never have been able to manage something like that. He didn’t know how much longer he could keep up his own concentration. Thankfully, he was starting to see the signs of strain on Mangora’s face as well. Maybe she wasn’t holding it together as much as she wanted him to believe. Another arrow flew by. Ty figured it had to be Breen.
This time, Mangora sent a surge of air in the general direction of where the arrow had originated. Ty could hear someone behind him grunt as they were thrown from their feet. A moment later, he heard the thump of them hitting the ground further back.
Ty could see the extra magic expended to block his brother’s arrows had taken its toll on the old woman. Mangora released a loud, high-pitched wail as she sent one final pulse through the two streams of fire. Ty emptied every last bit of magic he had in order to keep her attack from consuming him as he met her fiery wave with one of his own.
The two interconnecting lines of flame cancelled each other out with a loud crack of thunder. Both wielders were sent flying backwards.
Everything went black before Ty hit the ground.
Ty could hear his brother’s voice, or maybe it was his father’s. It sounded distant and muffled. He could feel his body being lifted. “He’s not breathing!” Ty heard someone say. Strangely enough, Ty hadn’t noticed that fact until right then.
“Move! Let me through!” The voice sounded like his sister. Suddenly, he felt a sharp pain in his chest like someone had decided to make sure he was dead by beating on him with one of the Northmen’s war hammers. Without warning, the air rushed back into his lungs, and he sat straight up and inhaled a deep gulp.
The savages had ceased their engagement for the moment as they struggled to help Mangora back to consciousness.
“Wha . . . what happened?” Ty asked, still half-dazed. “Who was punching me?”
“I wasn’t punching you, doofus,” Adarra said. “I was forcing your heart to start working again.”
“What?”
“Oh, never mind … It’ll take too long to explain.”
Lyessa hovered nearby. “What happened to his . . . his hair?” Ty lifted his hand to rub the top of his head. Had the Northmen scalped him? “It’s white, like an old man.”
“Quiet, Lyessa,” her father said, trying to offer a rebuke. He was rather preoccupied with studying the change himself.
“She won’t be down for long,” Ty’s father said, adding the voice of reason back to the conversation.
Ty reached out. “Here, help me up.”
Breen steadied Ty as he struggled to his feet. He held his arm as he tried to regain his balance. They had barely made it to the front door when a high-pitched holler forced them to turn.
“What are you fools doing?” Mangora hissed from the other side of the yard as she pushed the ugly Tallosians off her. “I said kill them! Kill them all!” She collapsed again to her hands and knees as the Northmen lifted their weapons and charged.
“Where is Nyalis?” Ty’s father grabbed Lyessa by the arm. “Take Ty inside. Protect my family.” He grabbed his bow and nocked an arrow as he spun on his heels. With one swift move, he sent a shaft flying into the oncoming attack. One of the masked Tallosians in front dropped face first into the dirt with a shaft buried to the feathers in his chest.
Ty’s brother seized the short window of opportunity and pulled the last knife from his belt. He released it with pin-point accuracy into the neck of another charging Northman. Spurting blood with every beat of his heart, the man still managed to cross half the yard before realizing what had happened.
From the front window seat, Ty watched as the last of Overlord Barl’s guards were forced to defend against the onslaught, leaving Lyessa’s father to face Baeldor on his own. Ty was too weak to even get out of his seat, let alone mount a daring rescue. All he was able to do was watch and pray. He could see the tension in Lyessa’s jaw as she was forced to stand by and watch the others fight. She clearly didn’t find her new position as a nursemaid too appealing.
Even with his proficiency with the blade, Lord Barl was clearly outmatched in both age and strength. The huge Northman muscled his way through Barl’s depleting defenses. Back and forth Barl swung his longsword, blocking Baeldor’s attacks. The overlord’s stamina looked to have all but given out when the vicious Northman pulled a dagger from his waist and cut Barl’s already wounded leg out from under him. He fell hard and his sword dropped from his fingers, too weak to maintain their grip any longer.
Barl’s head spun about as he looked for help, but there was no one left to come to his defense. He crawled back to his knees and tried reaching for his sword, but Baeldor kicked it out of reach. The Tallosian took his time as he stepped in front of him, swinging his great axe like a pendulum, plainly taunting Lyessa’s father with the surety of how he would meet his end. He leaned over and whispered something in Barl’s ear. By the way Baeldor had looked at Lyessa, Ty had a pretty good feeling what he was saying.
Baeldor stood back up and raised his axe. Ty couldn’t watch. He was about to close his eyes when the buzz of a bow string forced his attention away from the window and to the front door where he caught a glimpse of Lyessa slowly lowering one of the unused bows. Ty’s head spun back to the window. Her arrow was sticking out of Baeldor’s left eye.
He screamed in pain and dropped to both knees. His axe fell from his fingers and landed on the ground beside him as he struggled to pull the shaft free. Overlord Barl, with what looked to be every last bit of strength he possessed, hefted himself onto his good leg. He leaned over and wrapped his bloody fingers around the momentarily forgotten weapon and hefted the huge cleaver into the air.
Shouting Tallosian curses as he struggled to pull the long shaft from his eye, Baeldor was oblivious to Barl standing over him. With a sharp roar, Barl swung downward, letting gravity take over as the great Northerner’s head separated from his body in a spray of blood. It rolled across the ground and stopped with his face looking up at the sky, still wearing a dumb look of disbelief.
“I told you I’d take your head,” Barl spat as he co
llapsed to his knees. He gripped the axe for support.
After seeing their leader decapitated, and the witch still on the ground, what remained of the Northmen horde abandoned Mangora and retreated for the woods.
“Get back here, you cowards!” Barely able to stand, she sent a small ball of flame after them. But she was too weak to prove worthwhile in compelling them to turn around. They melted into the woods and disappeared from sight.
“Get back to the house!” Ty’s father shouted to the others, and they began a quick retreat toward the front door. Breen and one of the two remaining lancers helped Barl inside. Ty’s father was the last one in. He shut the door behind them and moved to join Ty at the window to see what Mangora would do next.
“Do you believe you have won?” the old woman shouted. The hatred in her voice was unforgiving. “I have only just begun!” Raising her arm in the direction of the northwestern woods, a red pulse shot from her ring and tore its way into the surrounding trees. “Come to me!”
“Who is she talking to?” Lyessa asked, trying to peek around the others at the front window.
Ty glanced at Breen. He had the sinking feeling he knew the answer.
Chapter 87 | Orlyn
“A LOT OF GOOD that flaming wizard’s horn did us!” Feoldor shouted. “What’s the point in having a way to signal a wizard if he doesn’t even show up?”
Orlyn, Veldon, and Feoldor held the front line, standing side by side as they fought to hold back the bulradoer.
How they had managed to stave off death so far was nothing short of a miracle. Each of the bulradoer carried some kind of fire-conjured weapon: sword, whips, flail, even an axe. The strange armaments seemed able to cut through anything, and the heat they put off was nearly as bad as Veldon’s fire.
Orlyn couldn’t see how they were going to come out of this alive. Other than Veldon’s rusty old sword, which he had kept as a souvenir from the time his great-grandfather had served in the Sidaran Lancer regiment, Orlyn was the only one to have a physical weapon, and it was just a staff.
The White Tower (The Aldoran Chronicles: Book 1) Page 60
