The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy

by R. T. Kaelin

  “Do not strike! Let them through!”

  The cry was quickly picked up and repeated by the duchy soldiers.

  Nikalys watched in awe as the kur-surus bypassed the soldiers, ran through the protective ring, and charged straight into the oligurt ranks, turning their ferocious jaws and teeth against the gray-skinned beasts. A single, stunned word slipped from Nikalys’ lips.

  “Huh.”

  The Army of the White Lions seemed to have gained a new ally. A very unusual ally.

  Okollu approached where they stood, clearly wincing in pain, his yellow-eyed gaze fixed on Rhohn’s body.

  “Is he dead?”

  Nikalys nodded, muttering, “He is.” He had not been around the kur-surus enough to understand his expressions, but if he had been pressed, he would have said Okollu appeared sorrowful.

  Okollu was quiet a moment before growling softly, “Grieving comes later.” He looked up to the three siblings. “The battle is not over.” He turned and began to jog north, back to the fighting, limping as he went.

  “He’s right,” said Jak. “We’re not done yet.” He, too, began to hurry back to the fray. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Let’s go!”

  After one last glance at Rhohn, Kenders followed Jak without saying a word.

  Nikalys looked to Rhohn’s scarred, slack face and sighed. Reaching down, he closed the Borderlander’s eyelids, murmuring, “Maeana welcome you with open arms.”

  Making a silent promise to come back to bury the Dust Man himself, Nikalys stood and faced north just as a series of three, quick horn calls cut through the air. Looking back to the south, he spotted a great host of mounted soldiers sallying forth from the southern gate to charge a group of oligurts now cut off from the rest of the Sudashian army.

  “Good…”

  Turning his back on the dead Dust Man and battle to the south, he strode to Baaldòk’s corpse, gripped his sword’s hilt, and pulled his white blade clear. He stared at the lifeless monster and spat, “Go back to whatever Hell you came from.” He kicked Baaldòk’s face with the tip of his boot, hard enough that something cracked.

  Facing north, he jogged back to the ports.

  The combined force of the duchy soldiers and Okollu’s pack were quickly overwhelming the oligurt force to their immediate north. They were not only driving the enemy back, but small groups of men and kur-surus were actually pursuing the grayskins as they ran. The skirmish here was going so well that Khin and Nundle had halted their magical attacks. Sabine stood with her bow lowered, staring intently at the battle raging before her. Her hip quiver was empty, but she held one last arrow at the ready, already nocked on the bowstring. Jak was at the ports, directing fresh men as they came through, and the injured as they were carried back to the walls. Sergeant Trell and Zecus were nowhere to be seen. Nikalys hoped they were among those hunting down the fleeing oligurts and not the injured. Or worse.

  Bodies of Reed Men and Southern Arms littered the field, along with countless oligurts and kur-surus. Even a few black tunics lay among the dead, the white lion emblem more often than not covered in blood, gore, and Marshlands muck. Nikalys tried not to let every death here weigh on him, but failed miserably. Had he stayed on the walls, this would not be.

  As he approached the group, Kenders fixed him with a steady, almost wrathful glare, and said, “To be clear, you never get to chastise me for being rash—” She cut off suddenly, her eyes shooting open wide. Whirling around, she stared north. Khin did the same, albeit at a slower, more measured pace. A moment later, the aicenai spoke.

  “We must return. Now.”

  He had taken two steps toward the ports when one disappeared with a soft pop. Halting, he stared north again, worry in his ice blue eyes.

  “They are breaching the walls.”

  Nikalys looked north and was confused when he found the walls clear of the enemy. All he saw were colors of the duchy forces. Oligurts and kur-surus remained outside the walls.

  “What are you…?”

  He trailed off as entire sections of the northern walls began to collapse. Solid stone appeared to shift and shimmer before flowing outward like sand, spreading down the hill. The Sudashians were indeed breaching the walls, just not in the manner in which he had thought.

  “Oh, Gods,” muttered Kenders. “Tobias was on one of those towers…”

  Glancing at his sister, Nikalys asked, “Are you sure?”

  She nodded silently, her gaze fixed north.

  Nikalys eyed the melting walls, searching for any sign of the tomble, panic swelling in his chest. Besides causing the deaths of countless soldiers, Nikalys’ decision had led to the death of a White Lion. If he had not come down here, Kenders and Khin certainly would not have. And with them on the towers, the walls might very well still be solid.

  He set his jaw and swallowed his guilt. It would do him no good here and now while there was a battle still to be won.

  Facing his sister and the aicenai, he ordered, “Kenders and Khin. Get back through Nundle’s port and hurry over there.” He pointed to the disintegrating walls. “Stop that.”

  Kenders, already moving back to the fluttering black port with Khin at her side, said, “Good idea.”

  “Hold a moment!” called Nikalys.

  She halted and looked back

  “What?”

  “Tell every soldier—and I mean every soldier—between here and there to come through the port.”

  Kenders hesitated a moment, but rather than question him as to why he wanted the soldiers, she nodded.

  “Just promise me you aren’t going to do anything brainless.”

  “Will you do the same?”

  Cocking an eyebrow, she said, “I’ll send your men. Be safe.” She glanced at Jak and Sabine. “All of you.” Without another word, she hurried through the tear with Khin a step behind.

  Staring down at Nundle, Nikalys briefly wondered where the tomble’s ever-present hat was before saying, “Nundle, get back to the walls, keep that port open, and help the injured. And get those soldiers to hurry.”

  Nundle nodded, his red hair bouncing.

  “Do you want mages, too?”

  Nikalys shook his head.

  “They stay. If you can’t wield a blade, you stay on the wall, understood?”

  “Certainly,” replied Nundle. “Anything else?”

  “Yes,” answered Nikalys. “If you see Broedi, tell him I’m heading north. We are going to attack the Sudashians’ flank.”

  Jak, standing a few paces away, looked over his shoulder.

  “We’re going to do what?”

  Ignoring his brother, Nikalys said, “Go, Nundle. Quickly.”

  Rather than move, Nundle glanced north, a frown spreading over his face.

  “You’re going to…attack? Is that wise?”

  “Probably not, but it’s what we are doing. Right now, we have the numbers. We need to clear these fields before Tandyr’s western reinforcements arrive.”

  Nundle glanced west, sighed, and nodded. Eyeing Nikalys and Jak he said, “Ketus with you, then. You’ll certainly need him.” The tomble turned and hurried through the port, dodging a number of fresh Reed Men and Southern Arms soldiers moving from the walls to the field.

  Steeling himself, Nikalys turned to Sabine. The young woman was staring at him carefully, her eyes narrowed.

  “Sabine, I need—”

  “If that sentence ends with ‘go back to the walls,’ don’t finish it.”

  Keeping his expression blank, Nikalys exchanged a quick look with Jak. In a way only brothers can, Jak understood what he was thinking in that one glance.

  Jak looked back to Sabine and said, “You’re going back to the walls.”

  Sabine shifted her cool, collected gaze to Jak alone.

  “Interesting theory. Will you be carrying me there?”

  Jak shrugged.

  “If I must.”

  Nikalys said, “And I’ll help.”

  Sabine shifted her sta
re to him, her eyes full of the same icy determination as when she had sliced open the neck of the unconscious bandit at the Moiléne farm. It made him incredibly uneasy, yet he forced himself to hold the glare.

  “I’m one of the Progeny, too, which means you don’t—”

  Jak interrupted her, asking, “Do you know how to use a sword, Sabine?”

  “I don’t need one. I have a bow.”

  Nikalys pointed to her empty quiver.

  “You’re out of arrows.”

  Setting her jaw, she said, “I’ll go get more.”

  Jak nodded and waved a hand at the battlements.

  “You’ll find plenty up there. And as long as you are up there, you should probably stay.”

  Sabine glared at Jak for a moment before turning her chilly gaze to Nikalys.

  “I have just as much right to be here as you.” Glancing back to Jak, she added, “And more than you.”

  Jak flinched at the comment, his eyes narrowing sharply.

  “Please,” said Nikalys. “You can do just as much good for us on the walls as you can down here.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued on, raising his voice. “This is not about you, Sabine. It’s about Helene.” Jabbing a finger at the walls, he exclaimed, “You have a sweeter chance of getting back to her up there than you do down here!”

  His plea thawed her icy stare a bit, about as much as a candle could warm a block of ice. Nevertheless, she pressed her lips together and nodded once.

  “Fine.”

  She turned on her heels, walked to the port, and stepped through without looking back. Any soldier moving from the walls took one look at her and moved out of her way. Nikalys sighed and shook his head.

  Jak leaned over and asked, “That went well, don’t you think?”

  A slight grin graced Nikalys’ lips.

  “Could have gone better.”

  Jak studied his brother, one eyebrow cocked, and asked, “What about me? You sending me back to the walls? Or do I get to come along on your mad charge? And, to be clear, I do think this is madness.”

  “If I order you to the walls, will you go?”

  “Oh, Gods, no,” huffed Jak. “Remember, you’re still my little brother.”

  “Mad charge it is, then.”

  Jak nodded once.

  “Should be fun.”

  The stream of men coming through the port had increased already, the soldiers quickly bunching up into disorganized clumps.

  Keeping his voice low, Jak muttered, “Have you seen Sergeant Trell?”

  Shaking his head, Nikalys said, “No.” He glanced at Jak and frowned. “Zecus, either.”

  “Noticed that, too,” said Jak. “I’m glad Kenders didn’t.” The brothers stared west, into the forest where groups of Reed Men were chasing oligurt stragglers. “Let’s hope they’re safe.”

  “Let’s do that,” said Nikalys. Looking back to the growing force around them, he added, “For now, though, we need to get this assault organized.”

  “Agreed,” said Jak, staring at the confused groupings of soldiers. “Excuse me.” Stepping forward, he began to shout orders, getting the men to line up in formation. “Ranks of nine, three and three! Quickly! We have a war to win!”

  The soldiers leapt to obey.

  As his brother organized the ranks, Nikalys scanned the remnants of the battlefield. Okollu’s pack was helping chase down the last of the oligurts here. Okollu lagged at the rear, too injured himself to do much more than limp about the marsh and howl orders. Three, quick horn blasts pulled his attention back south. Some of the mounted Reed Men were riding north now, heading for Nikalys and his growing force. Facing them, he began waving his arms to get the attention of the lead horsemen, saying a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing.

  Chapter 58: Prophet

  Kenders rushed along the battlements, her boots pounding on stone as she ran, still one tower away from the first of the gaping breaches in the walls.

  The persistent buzz of Strands was deafening, the crackling sensation filled her chest and the air around her. Thousands of Strands—sizzling yellows, rippling blues, fiery oranges, glittering silvers, warm golds, and muddy browns—whipped around her, flying through the air, summoned by friend and foe alike. The display’s intensity was nearly overwhelming.

  As she hurried, she glanced west, ripping apart Sudashian Weaves when she could, picking and choosing the ones with the most Strands to unravel. Even though she did not recognize most of the patterns the enemy was using, she figured it was her best approach.

  Sabine ran at her side, having caught up halfway to the gaps. Kenders was surprised her friend had not stayed with her brothers, but was too busy to ask why not. As they sprinted over the walls, Sabine grabbed any free arrow she could find, plucking them from men’s quivers and dropping them in her own. They were keeping a quick pace yet Khin was only a few paces behind them, moving swifter than she thought possible.

  Two towers back, they had emerged to find the walls empty of men. Whether ordered to or not, the soldiers of the northern ranks were streaming into the streets below, perhaps afraid to be standing atop the ramparts as stone turned to sand beneath their feet. With empty walls and the massive breaches, the advantage had shifted to Tandyr’s forces here.

  Kenders cursed herself. She should never have left Tobias.

  Reaching the tower, she rushed up the outside stairs to gain a better view of what was happening below. Sabine was right behind her, taking the steps two at a time. Upon cresting the tower stairs, Kenders scurried to the side of the northwestern corner and peered over the wall’s edge. Her heart stopped.

  “Blast the Gods…”

  A two hundred foot section of wall between the tower she stood upon and the next had disintegrated. Tens of thousands of once-sturdy mud-bricks were now nothing more than a massive pile of sand filling the hole, the western slope, and the streets of Demetus as well. Some of the soldiers who had been positioned on the wall were now stuck in the sand, struggling to get out. Her gaze locked on a single, booted leg jutting from the sand, not moving. She swallowed the lump that had suddenly appeared in her throat.

  Reserve soldiers from within Demetus were clambering up the sand pile to help free those submerged in the walls’ remains. A pair of Shadow Mane soldiers was leading a contingent of maroon-clad Shore Guard over the pile to face a group of oligurts attempting to push into the city. Wil Eadding and Cero were at the head of the charge.

  Sabine arrived to stand beside her and remained quiet. There was little to say.

  “Are you going to do something about those oligurts?” asked a gruff voice. “Or just stand there and gape all day?”

  Looking to her right, Kenders eyes grew round when she spotted Tobias standing at the top of the northern stairs. She took a few steps towards the tomble, joyfully exclaiming, “Tobias! How did you—”

  He held up his hand. “Not now.” Jabbing his walking stick towards the collapsed wall, he instructed, “We need to stop them.”

  She halted in mid-step. He was right.

  Turning her attention below, she studied the scene again, this time with a less frenzied eye. The quick twang of a bowstring and arrow’s soft whistle as it whizzed through the air told her Sabine had resumed the assault. She needed to do the same.

  Glancing back to the tomble, she asked, “What should I do?”

  Tobias was in the midst of pulling together a Weave of pure Air. Without taking his attention away from the bright white Strands, he said, “This is not one of Khin’s lessons! Do what needs to be done!”

  Turning her head, she sought the thin frame of the aicenai, hoping Khin might be more help. Her teacher stood on the other side of Sabine, his attention focused below as he worked on a Weave of his own. She was on her own.

  She stared below, gauging the number of oligurts rushing up the sand to be close to four hundred. Easily ten times that many were rushing from the north and south, up the slight hill and towards the gap. Her gaze f
licked to the western horizon. The bulk of the God of Chaos’ army still waited in the distance. Her eyes narrowed as she stared west. There was something unusual about the distant Sudashians. A soft, flickering ripple of silver radiated from the western horde.

  “Kenders!” shouted Tobias, cutting through her thoughts. “They’re breaching the walls!”

  Her gaze snapped back to the chaos below, landing squarely on the demon captain leading the assault. At one time, it had been a man, but the grotesque figure below now had a long, piggish snout and curled, brown horns like a ram jutting from the sides of his head. He spun around to bellow something, revealing six giant spurs of jagged white bone running along his spine.

  Kenders decided to eliminate the Nine Hells’ spawn, hoping the same thing would happen that did when Baaldòk perished. Whatever thrall the demon had over Okollu’s pack had dissipated the moment he died.

  Pulling together Strands of Air, Fire, and Stone, she knit a large Weave and directed it to a lump of fallen stone near the wall’s edge. The chunk of brick and mortar launched through the air, bursting into an unnatural flame as it hurtled toward the demon. The monster saw it coming and, with surprising speed, leapt ten paces backwards just as the burning stone struck the sand, sending a plume of dust and smoke into the air. She had missed.

  Smacking the wall, she hissed, “Blast it!”

  “You’ll need to do better than that!” shouted Tobias. “They’re quicker than they look!”

  Kenders stared at the tomble White Lion, looking for direction.

  “Like what!?”

  Tobias was too busy to answer as he sent a Weave into the city proper, arched it back to gap, and directed it to slam into an oligurt who had reached the sand pile’s peak. The monster flew backwards to crash into three other gray-skinned beasts.

  Kenders considered simply mimicking Tobias’ Weave, doing the same thing she had done to keep the kur-surus off her brothers, but that would be only a momentary fix against the thousands rushing the gap.

  Determined to think things through before acting, she cleared her head while ignoring her thudding heart, the roar of the oligurts, and the throbbing, persistent hum of magic all around. Her mind went over the dozens of Weaves she had learned, trying to find one that would help now. She discounted one after another, though. Some might slow the enemy, but none would stop them.