Chronicles Of Aronshae (3 Book Omnibus)

by J. K. Barber

  Lady Amara regarded Tomas evenly, but Chyla, still so young, opened her mouth in disbelief. "I know you well, Ancient One," the older Nhyme stated coolly. "You know that all of your life force is required for a healing of this magnitude. You may die immediately after or in a few days, but you will perish doing this."

  "I understand the price, My Lady." Tomas replied with equal calm.

  "No, Ancient One," Chyla blurted out. "Please don't do this. I can't lose another loved one..." her voiced choked on tears she managed to barely hold back. Lady Amara put a gentle hand over her daughter’s, facing her and locking the younger Nhyme in her wise gaze.

  "Just as your father did, the Ancient One is willing to sacrifice himself for his young," Lady Amara spoke slowly and smoothly. "Such a gift is to be honored. It is your decision though, daughter, as our leader. There is risk to us as well if the spell proves to be too much for us."

  Chyla swallowed back her tears and leaned into her staff, the weight of its authority still new to her. She was untested. This was the first of many hard decisions she would have to make; Tomas was sure of it. Niko appeared at her other side, putting a supportive arm around the Nhyme leader's shoulders. Tomas didn't remember her male companion being there when they first arrived, but he was there now. The gesture seemed to be just what the young woman needed. She patted Niko's hand in thanks and then he stepped back, giving her the respectful distance she needed to stand alone in her decision. Tiny voices whispered all around them, full of worry and excitement. Tomas waited with the patience the ages had instilled in him.

  Razorik's daughter was not weak of heart. Chyla raised her crystal tipped staff above her head, quieting the crowd.

  "My mother and I will acquiesce to your request, Ancient One. We will commit to healing Sirus," Chyla stated boldly. The villagers cheered.

  Lady Amara looked upon her daughter with pride, but Tomas saw the worry in her eyes. Chyla was the last of Razorik's line. For her and her mother to participate put them both at risk, although the chances of success were greater with both of them working in conjunction, especially as mother and daughter. As well as they knew each other, they could anticipate what the other needed or wanted with a glance. Should something go wrong, the other could move in and provide a critical bridge over whatever crack formed in the spell's resolve.

  "Thank you, Lady Chyla and Lady Amara," Tomas said. "Your loyalty and courage are most welcome." The former Administrator bowed deeply, humbled. Those gathered stared at each other for a few moments in quiet reflection of the decision that was made.

  "Well, there is no better time than the present," Chyla said, breaking the silence. Her former light-hearted demeanor that made her so adorable had returned. Tomas chuckled along with the other Nhyme.

  "So be it," Tomas agreed and sat down, crossing his legs and placing his hands open-palmed on either side of Sirus. Chyla handed her staff to Niko to hold, and she sat down next to her mother. The dragon and two Nhyme held hands, creating a circle around Sirus.

  "We'll begin at the scar," Chyla said and began to close her eyes, but Tomas' voice caused her to open them again.

  "Know that the corruption you face will attempt to spread to you as well," Tomas warned both women. "Brace yourself and be ready."

  Chyla and Amara each nodded and then closed their eyes, their faces smoothing over as they relaxed their minds. All three of them shivered violently as the connection was made

  Chyla screamed.

  Chapter 14

  Jared rested on his back looking up at the desert sky. Even in the forests where he had grown up, far from the cities of man, he had never been able to see the stars this clearly. There was something about the dry air of the Aishe that made the light crisper somehow. Jared’s mind wandered to a tale Sirus had once told him. In the legend it was said that the stars above were the souls of great men and women, heroes of their age, waiting to be reborn to fight again. We could certainly use them now, he thought to himself.

  Jared shook his head, bringing his attention back to the dire matters at hand. Always a danger when he took on the traits of a willful animal, the hunter had lost his focus, caught up in the enhanced senses of the creature he had contacted. The woodsman closed his eyes so he could concentrate more fully on what he could hear and smell. Over the ridge of the dune he heard a tumultuous intermingling of sounds. He centered himself, letting the sounds wash over him, picking out individual strains in the disjointed symphony of noise that came to his now sensitive ears. He heard the voices of men, which did not surprise him. The Ice Queen’s army was camped just over the dune. However, there were too many to determine their number or what they were saying. Given more time, he may have been able to surmise both, but the Illyanders had neither the time nor the need to figure out either. Beneath the sounds of the men’s voices were the noises of impatient horses, stamping and whinnying; probably nervous in the presence of so many. Even deeper, Jared heard the sound of metal ringing on metal, a pair of swords impacting one another. It could have been two men sparring, but the hunter guessed it was more likely a duel. Jared shook his head sadly. Even in the face of a much greater foe, the Easterners fell to fighting amongst themselves, using the Hep to settle some old score or new slight.

  Jared inhaled deeply through his nose, sifting through the scents that came to him on the breeze from the west. In an effort to avoid detection, the hunter had insisted on staying downwind from the gathered army. This close to the Ice Queen and her forces, they were playing it safe, for now at least. The expected smells came to Jared’s nose. The acrid scent of sweat, both human and equine, registered and was quickly, and thankfully, passed over. The smell of roasting meat, a rare scent in the desert, lingered in the hunter’s nose but was regretfully put aside. No time to think of my stomach, he thought. Over the next several moments Jared detected and discarded a dozen different aromas in the camp until he found that for which he searched.

  Though not subtle, the odor of decay finally came to the hunter’s nose, almost lost among the myriad other scents. It was a stink that Jared knew all too well. It was the stench of the Ice Queen’s Shadow Walkers. Instinctively, the hunter blew air out of his nostrils to clear the malodorous fragrance from his nose, as if the physical act of expelling the smell would somehow protect him from its corruption.

  “What is it?” Sasha asked. From her position further down the hill, the warrior had heard Jared’s snort and interpreted it as one of derision.

  “Shadow Walkers,” the hunter whispered, silently chastising himself for forgetting Sasha’s presence, lost as he was in his borrowed senses. “And…,” he took another deep breath in through his nose. “There is… something similar, but different and… stronger?” Though he did not look at the swordswoman, she interpreted his interrogatory tone.

  “That’s likely the Death Drakes we saw on top of the butte,” Sasha replied, using the name that Talas had coined. Her hushed voice sounded concerned but not surprised. Hopefully, Tomas would eliminate these newest abominations, leaving the Ice Queen for the Illyanders. Sasha crawled forward, her metal armor scraping against the sand beneath her. To anyone else, the noise would have been barely a whisper, but to Jared’s ears it was a horrid screeching. The hunter fought against the instinct to release his borrowed perceptions. They would prove too valuable soon. “I’d like to get a look,” Sasha said. Jared rolled over onto his stomach. The swordswoman had crawled until she was almost next to him and showed no signs of stopping. Rising to his knees, the woodsman followed her up the hill.

  Jared crawled across the loose sand of the dune, sliding the last few yards flat on his belly to reach the top, next to Sasha. A low cacophony of voices came from the other side. Even without his acute senses, Jared would have been able to perceive such a large group from miles away. The combined noise of hundreds of men, horses and other sounds distinctive to a resting army was not something that could be hidden. Even if the sounds could have been muffled in some way, the light of the army’s
campfires was clearly visible for leagues against the Aishe’s night sky. The smell of cooking food came again to Jared’s nose, causing the hunter’s mouth to water. Unbeknownst to the men gathered below, it had also attracted a number of predatory animals to the area; a fact the hunter had used to his advantage. The promise of dried meat had allowed the woodsman to attract one of the large desert cats. A quick exchange later and Jared had known the general disposition of Salamasca’s army. He was better equipped to scout and fight the Ice Queen’s forces as well. It had cost the hunter the rest of the jerked beef in his backpack, but Jared had felt it a bargain nonetheless. The puma had been very forthcoming with the information Jared could glean from the cat’s mind as well as a handful of talents that would prove very useful in the upcoming battle.

  Still, Salamasca had been smart enough to set up camp in a natural depression in the desert. The high dunes all around kept her forces mostly hidden and a small palm tree-ringed oasis at the center kept her men supplied with water. Unfortunately, for her, she had not been as adept at picking the men used for patrolling said camp. Jared had felt bad about killing the conscripted Easterners they had ambushed, but there were larger matters at stake than the lives of a couple men; many more would fall by the end of the day.

  Peeking further over the top of the dune, the full size of the Ice Queen’s army came into Jared’s sight. With a quick glance the woodsman counted easily ten score campfires and more than twice as many tents. Under other circumstances Jared would have been impressed. Salamasca had amassed a goodly sized army in a short time. Even from this distance, the hunter could see that the tents were gathered in haphazard clusters. Despite being under the command of the Ice Queen, the Easterners still assembled according to their own sultas and allied tribes. Apparently, even Salamasca’s cold iron grip couldn’t change the fractured nature of the Easterners. The part of Jared that was his father’s son was saddened that even against a common foe, the sultas couldn’t put aside their differences long enough to repel the domination of the exiled Empress of Ice. The Illyander in him however, was thankful for the Easterners’ disunity. It would make their plan easier, as insane as it might be.

  After watching Salamasca’s army for a few more minutes, Jared and Sasha slid back down the dune, standing up once they reached the bottom. After a brief walk they rejoined the rest of their companions behind the next dune over. Talas, Olivia and Katya waited for their return. The older man knelt and was whispering quietly to himself, his eyes closed and his hand over his chest. Jared hoped that the Great Mother heard his words and took them to heart.

  Olivia sat next to her husband, her eyes alert, as she cleaned her blades yet again. It was a nervous activity meant to give her hands and her mind something on which to concentrate. Given the way the scout’s eyes darted around nervously, the exercise didn’t appear to be having its desired calming effect.

  Katya had her eyes closed, her hands resting on the staff that sat across her lap, though she was not praying as Talas was. The young sorceress was meditating, marshaling the mental discipline she would need for the upcoming battle. The Ice Queen was one of the most powerful sorcerers on Aronshae. Entering into battle with her unprepared was tantamount to suicide, not that their current plan was much better. If Akor’shi-kai did not appear, their attempt to destroy Salamasca once and for all would be abrupt and final.

  Jared’s eyes were drawn to Sasha. Even if the Mother’s Avatar does come, for two of us it will be final, he thought. The hunter didn’t smile at the bitter irony. The best possible outcome the Illyanders could hope for was that the Ice Queen was killed and that the twins were then lost forever, going wherever it was the last host for Akor’shi-kai had gone. According to the tiny amount of information Talas, the other priests at the Temple, and the King’s scholars could find, the last man who wore the mantle of the Mother’s Avatar had simply vanished once he had fulfilled his mission. Unfortunately, the lore was so old and sparse not much more could be found. Even the nature of the evil which the Avatar had fought was lost to the ages.

  Sasha slipped her hand into Jared’s, their gloved fingers intertwining, and she gave him a reassuring, if sorrowful, look. They both knew what was coming and the outcome. There was no point dwelling on it any further than they already had. The hunter gave the swordswoman a quick kiss and then spoke to the assembled Illyanders. Talas and Katya opened their eyes as he began speaking.

  “It’s as we expected,” he said simply. They had all heard reports of the Empress’ forces, so there was no point in rehashing what they already knew. “Katya,” Jared said, addressing the Master Sorceress. “Any word from Tomas and Sirus?”

  “They’ll be where they’re supposed to be, when they’re supposed to be there,” was her terse reply. A large part of their plan rested on the two dragons. They all knew it, but Jared’s repeated inquiries had begun to grate on the raven-haired woman. The hunter had spent his entire life relying on himself and himself alone. Having to depend on someone else, even if it was his former mentor, made the woodsman nervous. Katya had a point, though. Asking the question again and again was not going to change her answer.

  Jared relented. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m not used to…”

  Katya cut him off with a wave of her hand. “It’s all right, Jared,” she said, standing up, her tone apologetic. “We’re all on edge. There is nothing wrong with making sure things are in order. However, keep in mind that a bow strung too tightly will break when finally bent.” Jared envied the sorceress’ calm tone. Katya’s words were also heavily laden with a wisdom that belied her years. The young timid girl that the hunter had met in the woods, what seemed like a lifetime ago, was gone. In her place stood a confident woman, perhaps a bit callous, but strong in will and purpose. Jared placed his hand in front of his chest and bowed deeply from the waist. Katya raised an eyebrow but stood and returned the Eastern gesture of respect. When she lifted her head the sorceress wore a sad smile that was a near perfect match to the one the hunter had seen on Sasha’s face too often as of late.

  Talas stood slowly, the years weighing heavily on him. Jared tried to help the priest to his feet but both he and Olivia waived the hunter off. Though older than Jared and the twins, the former sellsword and scout were determined to enter the coming battle with dignity. Jared couldn’t help but smile slightly to himself. Again the hunter found himself hoping that when he reached the couple’s age that he was as vibrant. His grin quickly vanished though. Even if I survive to be that old, I’ll be alone.

  Jared cleared his head of such thoughts. He needed to concentrate on the matter at hand. There would be time enough later, if there was a later, to lament his losses.

  “Let’s get going then,” Olivia said abruptly, jarring the hunter back to the present. Judging by the looks on the twins’ faces, they too had been lost in their own contemplations of the future. “Sitting around counting grains of sand isn’t going to get the table filled.” The saying was a favorite of Olivia’s, an old Eastern idiom. Jared found himself growing fond of it, and the scout, the more he heard it. For the first time in many years the woodsman found himself wondering what kind of woman his mother had been. He imagined her being as strong and willful as Olivia, able to pull an Eastern man away from his sulta. The thought sat well with Jared and he nodded kindly to the older woman. Olivia returned the gesture, as she sheathed her weapons.

  “A moment, please,” Talas said. The Illyanders all turned to look at him. “Before we go into battle, I think it fitting that we should take a moment and thanks She who has brought us here.” Jared nodded, seeing similar gestures of consent from the others. Olivia bowed her head and clasped her hands together, letting them rest gently in front of her. The other Illyanders followed suit.

  Jared had heard Talas pray before, but usually quietly and to himself. As the priest-turned-sellsword-turned-priest-once-more spoke, there was a deep resonance of faith in each word.

  “Great Mother, we invoke you into our hearts a
nd into our bodies so that we may carry out your will in this, our hour of greatest need. We have been guided by your hand, sustained by your will and blessed by your presence with each step we have taken on your holy mission. And though as individuals we have walked different paths, now w journeyed forth together, humble servants whose only wish is to fulfill the task you have laid before us. As we take up arms to rid Aronshae of a great darkness, we do so with only good in our hearts and your will in mind. Although some of us may fall, we know that we will be taken into your embrace, that you will forgive us our mistakes, and set us free to run across your world again.” Talas paused for a moment before adding, “Great Mother, we also ask that you continue to turn your gaze upon our loved ones who are not with us, but with whom we hope to someday be reunited. It is also out of love for them that we venture forth, to protect them from this blight upon your world. If, in doing your bidding we cannot return to them, we humbly ask of you that you surround them with love and warmth all of their days, and that they shall never want for either until such time as they are taken into your embrace themselves. Blessed be.”

  “Blessed be,” intoned the other Illyanders. As Jared said the words that traditionally ended every prayer to the Great Mother, he felt a stillness wash over him as he had never known before. As long as he could remember, Jared had always felt out of place, an outcast amongst humans and an intruder amongst the beasts of the forest. Now, he was at peace. Jared felt an overwhelming sense that he was exactly where he was supposed to be and exactly with whom he was meant to be with. Even the wolf in him, the animal side of his nature that was responsible for the rages into which he flew, was content, its wary nature quieted. Jared felt a sense of wonder at the unseen presence that he now felt and looked around at the others. By the looks on their faces, it was clear that they felt the same calm that had made its way into his heart. Sasha smiled at him, and he felt his love for her returned silent in her gaze. The swordswoman embraced Katya, and Talas gently kissed Olivia, their feelings for each other spoken softly but clearly with such a simple gesture.