“I will make my way to the unit out front so word can be passed along to the outer legions. You are to brief the General of the news, tell him of my location, and then get yourself prepared to guard the palace at all costs. Make sure the men here are ready. It is your duty to keep these walls safe for the Queen and her son. Understood?”
“I never knew you could be so bossy –”
“I will be worse if Damir breaks through the palace gates. Are you clear or not?”
Their eyes met in silence, Leyna’s gaze hardened by the threat they were facing. She needed him to be serious. There was a time for lightheartedness, but this was not it. She was his Captain. If he couldn’t pull himself together, then there was no chance of protecting anyone.
“I’m clear, Captain,” he replied calmly, snapping to attention with a crisp salute. She cast him a grateful look as she walked past him, fastening her helmet in place, her legs seeming not to move fast enough to carry her to the door.
When the door opened, she found Cadell standing outside it, his mask discarded on the floor at his feet. The Prince was there with him, still concealed under a shroud of feathers and silk. “Ah, Captain. Do we have a report?” Cadell greeted in concern. Leyna said nothing, her hand raising to snap her fingers at Zander commandingly, never pausing in her determined strides toward the front doors of the palace. There was no time for her to explain it to Cadell. One of them needed to be with the troops, and at this moment, that someone was her.
Scattered gasps could be heard from the courtiers who saw her making her way down the halls. There was no use in trying to hide the imminent danger from them. It was inevitable that Cadell would order everyone from the ballroom to see Queen Vorsila and the Prince escorted to a shelter somewhere inside the palace. The party was over. They just didn’t know it yet.
Outside the air had a chill to it. It smelled like rain, mingled with something which set her mind on edge. Fire. Smoke was coming from somewhere, and close. Too thick to be any further away than a mile, two at most. The familiar feel of war surrounded her. Frightening and yet exciting. Every inch of her body felt alive with the thrum of danger, the need to destroy the enemy, and restore her people to peace.
Her boots gave off a dull thud with every step she took up the watch tower stairs, pounding over the stone in determined strides. At her approach, the soldiers said nothing, only offering her a handheld telescope to observe the distance, their expressions grim from under their helmets. She didn’t need help to see the orange glow on the horizon. The fighting had begun.
“Captain, what is the status?” Cadell’s voice cut through the stunned silence of the tiny room. Handing him the scope she kept her focus directed toward the light in the distance.
“The attack has begun. I will ride out to the front-lines to direct defense. It is where I should have been in the first place. Is the Queen safe?”
“The commander secured her in the shelter below the palace – Amand,” Cadell motioned firmly to one of the soldiers positioned at the window. “See that our horses are saddled and ready. I don’t care what you have to do, just see that it gets done. The Captain and I need to be riding in less than five minutes.”
With a sharp salute, the man hurried from his post to the stairs, his footsteps gradually fading into the distance.
Though her outward appearance was calm, Leyna’s insides were screaming. The Namiren soldiers had always displayed faults in their abilities to fight and plan attacks. Their most devastating allies had been in the Sanarik, and even they had their flaws when they came against a skilled defender. But these men who led the attack now – she knew them too well. Kael was strong and intelligent, despite his ridiculous obsession with her. Kyros had no such point of weakness, nor did Damir. Damir would be a formidable opponent. His magic was strong, beyond that of any Leyna could imagine. The Namiren soldiers had nothing of that caliber during their supposed crusade.
Cadell had known that from the start. He trained her in the ways of their own magic during her lessons, showing her how to counter the things Damir’s men might throw at them. But there was only so much preparation they could do without knowing the extent of Arcastus’s strength. Leyna’s body shivered to think on it. Stay focused. She couldn’t let herself get discouraged before they even had a chance to get going.
Behind Cadell another figure appeared whom Leyna was not expecting to see, her heart jumping in her chest in fear. The black mourning doublet of the Prince, though covered by very finely crafted armor over his chest, face and limbs, made him look out of place among the uniforms of the soldiers around him. Why was he there? Cadell should have been escorting him to a shelter, not into the middle of the battle itself!
In her confusion, she shook her head to clear her thoughts. She needed to think about the troops. Cadell was the General. All she could do was trust that he knew what he was doing. She gave a brief nod to the Prince, ignoring his presence beyond her short acknowledgement. “General,” she stated quietly, hoping the Prince wouldn’t overhear. “Why is the Prince here and not with his mother?” She couldn’t move beyond the burning question. If Cadell intended to ride with her to the front-lines, he couldn’t possibly bring the Prince along with him. It was foolishness for him to be there as it was.
“Because I have no authority to command him not to be,” Cadell snapped. “So I suggest you help me keep an eye on him.”
She could feel the eyes of the Prince on her, watching her, taking in her every move as he stepped forward. It was disconcerting. He was tense, standing there at Cadell’s side. As well he should be. He was a damn fool to have come out there.
“Amand is taking too long. I am going down to the horses,” she announced, brushing past Cadell to reach the stairs. There was no point in standing around in the awkward silence. They were wasting precious time that could be spent at the front-lines.
It was surreal. The way the wind blew across her face outside the watch tower, tossing about what little bit of hair protruded from underneath her helmet, the scent of smoke and fire wafting across her nostrils. It smelled of war. And even worse, it smelled of death. A strong stench brought upon the wind which smelled of decaying flesh. But that couldn’t be possible. An odor that strong would require corpses to be lying out for days. Leyna had walked through enough week-old battlefields, collecting the bodies of fallen friends, to know the difference. This assault was fresh.
Out of habit, she grabbed onto the saddle situated next to the horse’s feet, not yet having been placed on its back while Amand scurried about to ready Cadell’s horse. It was better for her to do it herself. She could never get used to having all of the soldiers under her thumb to do her bidding. As long as her arms and legs functioned, she could manage the menial tasks on her own. The men were soldiers after all. Not slaves.
She was already on her horse when Cadell and the Prince appeared through the door of the tower. She didn’t dare leave without Cadell, but he moved so slow! How could he be so calm and detached? Had he seen battle so many times that it really had so little sway over him? Either that, or he was simply the master at disguising his own fears. Some might think the same of her, the way she conducted herself in this situation. The truth was that she was simply too busy to waste time worrying. It would do them little good to work themselves into a frenzy. That was a reaction only the courtiers and townspeople had the luxury of exhibiting. The soldiers looked up to their superior officers and it would be almost a crime to let any of them see the uncertainty which flooded Leyna’s mind.
Calling out a command, Leyna directed Amand to send word to Varik, the Cavalry Commander. They needed his troops to reinforce the front-lines. The Prince would also be safer among the group than if the three of them rode separately. Any enemies they encountered along the way would need to get through them all first to get to him.
Their intentions of being on their way so quickly were not realistic in Leyna’s mind. Preferred, yes, but not plausible, regardless of what Cadell said. The
y couldn’t afford any mistakes caused by haste. She lost track of time while waiting for Varik to arrive, heart pounding at the sight of his men gathering around them, the clattering of horses’ hooves over the ground signaling their approach. “Commander Varik,” she greeted him with a steady voice. “Have your best men come to the front. We must keep His Highness guarded on all sides. Everyone else will need to be on the lookout. There is no word yet on how close the enemy has managed to come, if they have breached our defenses.”
Varik looked proud atop his horse, armor gleaming in the light of the moon overhead. His long black hair was pulled back, hanging down under his helmet. She could see his stern, glowing eyes, their deep green color flecked with tiny hints of yellow. Without hesitation, he did as Leyna commanded, directing his lieutenants to gather on either side of her and Cadell, blocking in the Prince between them. Once in formation, Varik took his place at the front of the unit, his arm clinking against the metal of his hauberk as he motioned for his men to move forward.
“Captain, you know our enemy best. What can you tell us about their strategies?” Cadell asked, his voice carried away on the wind as they galloped along the countryside toward the firelight in the distance.
Leyna shook her head in frustration. “I know nothing of their strategies. Commander Tercsin had more opportunity to learn of their methods than I. All I can tell you is not to underestimate them. They are all well-trained fighters and their leader, Damir, wields magic with great skill. As far as Arcastus, I do not even know what he looks like, but if rumor serves true, he will be unmistakable, and his power immense.”
At her side, the sudden whinny of a horse cut her off. The man next to her tumbled from its back, nearly trampled underfoot. There was a whistle coming from somewhere in the air. Instinctively, Leyna lifted her right arm just in time to deflect an incoming arrow off the surface of the vambrace, somehow managing to catch it at an angle to prevent it piercing through the armor. The unit came to a halt, shields raised protectively over them as a flurry of arrows rained down from overhead.
“Sanarik!” she hissed. Their arrows were unmistakable. The flights were perfectly cut for ample speed and accuracy, the points arranged of two heads combined into one for greater damage upon impact. They were fortunate one of the Sanarik had fired early. As the last of the arrows plummeted to the ground, Leyna shouted out to the troops, praying they would hear her through the startled cries of the horses. “Commander, direct some of your men to the east. They cannot be far. The rest of us need to move before the next volley. And fast. Keep your shields up and do not stop.”
In an instant, the group split off under the commands of Leyna and Varik, pushing forward through the open fields to the battle ahead. Knowing the Sanarik, they would not be found in a single mass like most enemy forces. She couldn’t risk the entire unit being compromised by their tactics. The number of Sanarik soldiers would be minimal, but scattered, and without any light to give hint of their hiding places, they would be a threat. To remain there with the Prince would be like delivering his head to the enemy on a silver platter. The men left behind would create enough of a distraction to allow them to get the Prince out of range, and to get to the troops.
“Those bastards gave us a run for our money back in Siscal,” Cadell grunted, coming up from behind Leyna. “What in the blazes are they doing with the Ven’shal?”
“Getting revenge for their defeat,” she stated. “If their presence here is any indication, I would not be surprised to discover that they have also recruited the Namiren army.”
The smell of smoke and decay grew stronger as they closed the distance. The ground was littered with bodies of fallen Ven’shal soldiers. The Tanispan forces evidently doing well even without reinforcement. Swords clashed. Shouts and commands echoed from somewhere, though by whom and to which side of the battle, Leyna couldn’t place. It was utter chaos.
How had they let this happen? Scouts had been stationed all over Tanispa, in abundance around Sivaeria to prevent exactly this. Either Damir and Arcastus found a way to sneak past the scouts, or someone let them through. Cadell’s men were too good to be outsmarted by such drastic proportions. It wouldn’t happen again, though. She would see to it.
Sword drawn, Leyna plunged into the battle. The number of enemy soldiers came as a shock to her, given how many fallen they had passed. For years, the Ven’shal were believed to be in hiding, their numbers greatly decreased from the war during Queen Nalashi’s rule, but it was evident now that somewhere, they never ceased to flourish, gradually building up their army once again. Amongst the dark colorless eyes of the Ven’shal fighters were the taller figures of the familiar Namiren race, their armor polished and shining under the orange glow of the flames behind them.
Her stomach sank at the sight of the fire consuming the land. Grass burned brightly, the line of fire spreading from one end to the other to crawl over the trees and plants along the forest borders. There was something unnatural about it, the color a little too bright, too precise in its direction of travel. It was being controlled somehow. Allowing the enemy forces to pass through unharmed into the battle while preventing the Vor’shai from penetrating into the waiting troops. A Ven’shal tactic no doubt. However, it seemed to Leyna that the constant control over the fire would be a strain on whoever maintained it.
A hard blow from the side knocked her from her horse, the impact with the ground forcing the breath from her lungs painfully. She should have been more prepared for it. She scolded herself through gasps for air, somehow managing to roll over onto her back, blade raised to block the attack of the Ven’shal soldier bearing down on top of her. With grace, she maneuvered around the strikes. The tip of her sword found its target, blood pouring from the wound as he collapsed to the ground.
Her foe finished, she started to turn away, ready to take on the next who tried to best her. Before she could move, something caught her attention. A grey light poured forth from the ground, covering the body like oil, seeping into its eyes, mouth, nose, and ears. The corpse trembled and twitched. Reflexively, Leyna stepped back.
A burst of blackened light lifted the body to its feet, eyes glowing with supernatural energy, fists clenched. Leyna was stunned by what she saw in front of her. This couldn’t be happening. She saw him die!
The fist connected with her helmet hard, sending her tumbling backward off her feet. He was strong. No. Not he – It. Whatever was empowering it was increasing its strength tenfold. In a display of incredible agility, Leyna rolled over her shoulder, absorbing the impact of the fall and climbing to her feet.
Her sword seemed suddenly worthless. She skewered the heart for a second time, then slashed its throat for good measure. It did not seem to notice. It showed no indication that it even felt the pain.
Baffled exclamations of other men all around her suggested that she was not the first to discover the phenomenon. The eerie light resurrected each corpse. A renewed army, unaffected by their weapons. It was terrifying. How could they beat something which couldn’t die? Something that was already dead.
In a final effort to deflect her opponent, Leyna sheathed her sword, relying only on her hands and feet to defend against this… creature. The thought of touching it made her shudder. It radiated evil. Like the spirits Damir had risen from the graves in Kaipoi…
Those spirits had been intangible. Non-corporeal beings. It had been a testament to Damir’s power, but she doubted his ability to animate these corpses. They were too complete. Too strong. Damir spoke of it taking time and effort to restore life after he struck down Yasar. No, this had to be the work of a far stronger sorcerer. But she’d managed to affect the specter that attacked her in the cemetery that night. Perhaps the same method would prove effective now.
Steeling her mind, she focused on her core. If she could force out the magic which animated the creature… But would she be strong enough? There was no time to worry. She had no choice but to try. That was all there was to it.
With a
jolt, she directed her energy outward, her hand wrapping around the neck of the moving corpse. She needed to find an area of the body not covered by its armor. Skin-to-skin contact. And it appeared to be working. The legs and arms ceased their striking, slowly becoming a wild flail, until it was nothing more than an occasional twitch of the muscles. The dark aura crept from the eyes, small at first, then increasing to a wave of shadow pouring forth from its eyes and mouth, opened now in a silent scream. Finally the twitching halted, the corpse going limp and slumping to the ground as the last of the darkness faded away.
She stared at it, unmoving, dark. The unnatural light gone. It is dead. An empty shell. She’d managed to push out the sorcery, but how long could she maintain that kind of power, and against how many other monstrosities? She placed her heel on the corpse’s head, applying all her weight to crush its skull, making sure it wouldn’t stand up again.
Around her, the battle continued on, the eerie corpse puppets starting to push her men back. The fire was weakening, no longer reaching toward the sky with the same ferocity she’d witnessed upon their arrival. A new wave of living soldiers marched over the line where it had been. They faced a combination of living and dead, and her men were still struggling in their attempts to cut down the dead ones. They weren’t ready for fresh foes.
She needed to think fast. Sorcery of this sort required assistance from some outside force to be sustained. The spirits in the cemetery under Damir’s control had been raised from the ground by the dark shadow which covered the grass, killing it. He had somehow sucked the life out of the earth itself to pull forth the spirits. Look down, she ordered herself silently. If that were true, then the ground she stood on now should be dead.
Cautious of the enemy still pressing forward, Leyna crouched down, hand outstretched to the grass covering the field. Her fingers sank into blackened earth covered in an ashy film of what, at one time, had been living plant life. How does this help us?
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 84
