Why couldn’t she think? The pounding of feet over the land signaled the rapid approach of new soldiers. They would be upon them in seconds, and each one that fell would only rise back up if she didn’t find some way to cut down their numbers. They would overrun Tanispa with sheer mass alone. All of her magic training under Cadell had been in war tactics. How to bend odds to her benefit in battle, strengthening her resolve, steadying her aim, and anything else she could do to take down an enemy. But this was different. She needed to pull the energy out of each corpse. All at once. Counteract the sorcery somehow.
She pictured Feolan in her mind. Years ago he had taught her how to use this magic for the first time. To quicken the bloom of a flower in the forests of Velorum while waiting on the Namiren troops to march through. There was something in that lesson which felt important to her now. But she couldn’t simply restore the grass. It would only replenish their source of power to raise more dead. No. There had to be another way. Another means of feeding that energy into the ground.
And then it came to her. Take it back. It made sense to her. If she could put her energy into the plants to help them grow, there must be a way to draw their energy back out of the animated corpses and return it to where it came from.
The soil felt soft and grimy under her knees, her palms flattened against the ashen surface. She hated to admit that she knew nothing about what she was preparing to attempt. There was no saying it would even work. Just do it. Try something. Anything.
Centering her energy, she felt a circuit form between herself and the earth. Gradually every beating heart that stood upon the ground thrummed in her ears. Their pulses radiated through her body. She knew their exact location on the field. She felt the ground, cold, but not entirely lifeless. But there were also pockets of emptiness, almost sucking the life from her spirit through the connection. Fight back. Pull it back.
There were too many of them for her to focus on all at once. She needed to start small. The stronger pull of the dead soldiers closest to her. Sinking deep within herself, she fought against the flow of energy, feeling it start to reverse. Whoever was controlling it was too distracted by the numbers to fight against her small, pitiful attempts. With every pull Leyna exerted, a weaker pull tried to take it back, like an invisible game of tug-of-war. She felt it getting closer. More powerful. She was winning, but she was tiring. The strain was too much for a single person to take on alone.
It was no excuse. Keep going! It couldn’t be much longer. She could feel it, the ground thrumming with energy once again, the way it had before being stripped of life. The blackened surface was slowly sprouting anew. Green. Life was forming again. And the dead were growing weaker. Their strikes were less precise, groggy and ill-timed, until finally they started to fall, collapsing to the ground in broken heaps of what remained of their bodies.
Through her connection with the ground Leyna could sense the strain on her body lessening, assisted by other unseen forces which told her that others among her men had discovered the same strategy. Enemy troops continued to march on them, however. Drawing her sword, she stood, her eyes searching the chaos for Cadell or the Prince. They were supposed to be watching him. If anything happened to the Prince…
She wouldn’t think about it. If she found Cadell, she would find the Prince. Cadell wouldn’t leave his side. Not at a time like this.
Their numbers were still sizable enough that the battle was far from over. They couldn’t afford to fall back to regroup with the enemy so close to the palace. They needed to push the enemy back, out of Sivaeria, and put a larger distance between them and the Queen. Cadell’s army was strong enough to do it. To hold their ground. They just needed to survive this fight.
It felt like hours before she finally reached the center of the battle. She cut down soldier after soldier, removing their heads after they fell. Then, she saw it, recognizing the familiar helmet of the General easily cutting through the lines of enemies. Hordes of undead pushed in around his unit. The eerie glow radiated from every orifice and wound as they attacked, savage and crazed. Cadell boldly dropped his weapon and extended his hands forward, a bright flash of light shooting forth from his palms, knocking the rotting soldiers off their feet to grant him a moment to regain his composure and breath.
At his side, Leyna finally saw the grand markings of the Prince’s armor, piercing the eye of one corpse as it began to rise. She was uncomfortable with the thought of the Prince fighting in this battle. It wasn’t his place. Maybe his siblings before him had the luxury of representing their kingdom in war, but not him. There was no one left if he fell to the enemy. And the devastation it would cause Queen Vorsila would be immeasurable. They couldn’t risk losing the royal heir on account of his inability to recognize his own importance.
Approaching from behind a new corpse which challenged him, she gripped her fingers around the bare skin of its neck, a blue light pulsing forth through her arm into the dead flesh, coursing through it until the body gave way, collapsing at the Prince’s feet. The Prince’s weapon lowered at the sight of Leyna standing there. His silver eyes flashed brightly from under his helmet, grateful for her assistance, but unable to speak before she turned away, throwing herself back into the heat of the fight.
Almost from nowhere, a ghastly figure appeared in front of them, troops from both sides stumbling backward to give him space. Unlike the other soldiers, he wore no helmet or armor. Scars marred every inch of skin across his face and hands, bone visible under layers of torn flesh. The glow of his yellowed eyes looked sickly. Evil. Full of menace. He was an impressive, grotesque sight. Pale skin, shimmering in the moonlight, an aura of shadow and light surrounding him, cape billowing in the wind. Leyna feared that her overuse of energy might be causing her to hallucinate.
“I think we found the lich,” Cadell muttered, his arm extending out across Leyna’s midsection, pushing her back behind him. His eyes shifted over to the Prince, content to see him taking a position behind Cadell and Leyna. “Your Highness, I recommend you keep cover from this one. Do not leave our guard.”
Unwilling to hide behind Cadell, Leyna stepped forward once again to his side, peering through her helmet at the disgusting creature standing in the center of the field, the fighting halted in awe of his approach. Arcastus. The name burned in her head, her eyes locked on him in disbelief. “You will forgive me if I don’t bow and grovel at the feet of your prince,” the lich rasped. “I have a bit of a bone to pick with his family.”
Cadell’s fingers tightened around the hilt of his sword. It was doubtful the blade would have any effect against this creature, but habit prevailed in the sense of security the weapon gave, just to know it was there at the ready.
“Mescavis did not act on behalf of our people. You are mistaken –”
Arcastus laughed, a horrid, rattling sound, his yellow eyes flaring briefly against his scarred and rotting flesh. “He was a Vor’shai, the same as you. He served the same Queen as every other damnable member of your race. The same Queen that banished my people, forcing them to live in exile like criminals. I may not have fought back then, but I will be the one to finish what started those years ago.”
With a wave of his hand, Arcastus released a pulse of shadow through his fingertips, aimed at one of the Vor’shai soldiers. It exploded over his armor, wrapping him in a veil of shadows, constricting around him, crushing organs and bones. His body went limp, suffocated under the pressure, the shadowy tendrils dropping it carelessly to the ground. It took no more than a moment, but felt like an eon to witness.
At the fall of the corpse, the sound of clashing swords could be heard, striking up the battle once again. Arcastus took a step forward. His hideous eyes were focused on them, shifting between Leyna and Cadell. He sought a strategy. She could read it on what was left of his face. He wanted the Prince, but they stood between him.
Cadell seemed the obvious choice for the attack. Take down their leader – the strongest warrior – then the Prince. Break their s
pirit. They were the most vulnerable points to the will of the Vor’shai people. With every step Arcastus took forward, Cadell and Leyna moved back, forcing the Prince to move with them, guarded by their bodies.
She watched his eyes. If he thought to strike, it would be telegraphed through them. A brief flash or dim of the yellow glow caused by the fluctuation of energy within. She could only hope her reflexes would allow her to move quickly enough to intercept the attack.
There was no conscious thought in her head when the flash erupted in his eyes, exaggerated by her imagination. The world around her moved in slow motion as she elbowed her way in front of Cadell, the hollow sound of his voice shouting at her ringing in her ears. She leapt into the air, sword raised. Her intended strike pattern flashed in her vision. Bash the side of the head with the back of her fist, slice the torso from neck to naval, throw him to the ground with a burst of energy, and remove his head with a sweeping motion.
Before her plan could come to fruition, the impact of shadowy fingers against her chest knocked the wind out of her, obliterating all thoughts of her attack. Tumbling backward, she felt Cadell lose his balance under the force of her body colliding with him. His hands grasped Leyna under her arms to hold her up, nearly causing them both to fall into the Prince.
In that instant, she felt her body go numb, lungs seized, unable to breathe. A black film passed across her eyes, but soon dissipated, air whistling into her lungs with a harsh wheeze. She was alive. Her chest felt as though a boulder had crashed down atop her from above, but she was alive. It didn’t seem possible. Not with how easily Arcastus demonstrated his magic before.
When she steadied herself on her feet, she could see the brief look of confusion in Arcastus’s eyes, narrowed at her angrily. Lunging forward, he plucked her from Cadell’s hands. “Why aren’t you dead?” he hissed.
“I could ask the same of you,” Leyna huffed. His hand was crushing her neck at the sides, fingertips digging into the skin, their skeletal shape piercing through the flesh. Focus. She knew he could kill her easily, but something was stopping him. He was too distracted to think about breaking her neck. Fortunate for her.
Gathering up her strength, she brought her elbow hard across his face, her nose wrinkled in disgust at the feeling of the flesh squishing against her armor, bones snapping and popping grotesquely at the force. He threw her down to the ground with a cry of pain. Smoke rose from his fingertips where they had pierced her skin, his features twisted in a grimace of agony.
Free of his hold, she scrambled to her feet. By instinct, she drew her arm back to strike him again. He evaded with surprising agility, side stepping, distancing himself from her.
Another wave of shadow shot from his other hand, impacting her armor, enough force to knock her to the ground, but deflected once again, leaving behind nothing but a painful chill through her body, lungs gasping for air. Desperately, she climbed to her feet. She needed to get at him again. Around her, the animated corpses fell to the ground, ceasing their movement at Arcastus’s distraction. But how could she kill him? They knew nothing about him. He was already dead, and her energy would not be enough to force his spirit from his body. His resurrection was different from that of the fallen soldiers. It would take more than a simple magic trick to take him down.
“Fall back!” Arcastus commanded, the raspy voice echoing through the open field. His men tried to break away from the Vor’shai soldiers, the front line finding it impossible to escape.
“Keep fighting!” Leyna shouted. They wouldn’t stop until the last of the Ven’shal soldiers no longer stood. At least the ones they could get to before a retreat was completed.
Swallowed up in a cloud of shadow, Arcastus disappeared from view. Leyna spun around hesitantly, unsure of what to expect from him. Was he really gone, or was it some kind of trick to distract her? To leave her vulnerable for another attack.
“Captain!” Cadell’s voice suddenly reached her ears. How long had he been calling for her? “Retreat, Captain. Let the men take care of the last of them.”
“We need to get the Prince out of here,” she stated firmly. “There is no way to know that they won’t come back again, and he made his target very clear.”
She moved toward Cadell, securing her sword in the sheath at her hip. He cut her off, his finger extended to poke at her armor. The tip of it passed through where the metal once had been. Leyna winced in pain at the pressure of his touch against the tender skin of her midsection. “You are done fighting, Captain. At least for now. Commander Varik will oversee the men and arrange them to take watch over the perimeter in case of any further attacks. I will see the Prince back to the palace and order camp to be set up a few miles out. You are to return to the watch tower and wait for me there. Do not deviate in your course for any reason. Do you understand?”
“Yes, General,” she sighed, frustrated by the orders. Why would he send her away? There was still so much that needed to be done.
“Then I suggest you get moving,” he pointed sternly in the direction of the palace. “Find your horse and get it to a run. You are in no condition to risk an attack by any stray Sanarik on the way, and I am not losing you or our Prince tonight.”
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Rounding the last stair to the top of the watch tower, Leyna tossed her helmet angrily down on the ground, her fists clenched in frustration. How did they possibly think they would be able to defeat Arcastus? His magic was virtually unknown to them.
“What the hell happened to you?” Zander asked from somewhere inside the room.
“We are fighting a war. What do you think happened?” she snapped. There was no one around to hear the informal address. And at that moment, she didn’t care if it was overheard or not. “Arcastus is raising his fallen troops against us. How are we supposed to win when we can’t keep the dead down?”
Zander moved over to her side, his hands unfastening the armor from around her body. He pulled the hauberk over her head, holding it out to examine more closely. A large hole had been burned through the breastplate. Streaked and charred. Leyna’s eyes blinked in surprise at the sight of it. “You look like someone raised you from the dead. I’m not teasing. You look awful.”
“Thanks,” she grumbled, snatching the armor back from his hands. What could have caused so much damage? And how could she have survived it? “It must have been Arcastus,” she mused. “I do not recall it feeling as if he struck with such force, however. Not enough to do this.”
“Those marks on your neck –”
“Why are you asking so many questions? I am alive. That is all that matters. We need to focus on how to beat this… thing.”
“No, we need to focus on your injuries. Why did you come here and not the infirmary?”
“I am hardly scratched,” Leyna sighed. But the pain was beginning to set in. The rush of the battle made it nonexistent, adrenaline pumping through her veins to keep her moving. All she wanted to do now was sleep. To close her eyes for a week. Maybe everything would be better when she woke up.
Noticing her start to sway on her feet, Zander guided Leyna to a chair next to the window. Careful not to hurt her any more than she already was, he tilted her head gently to one side, examining the marks there on her skin. “These look bad, Leyna. You have lost a significant amount of blood.”
“I am fine. Just a little tired,” she gestured for him to move away. “I am only waiting here until the General returns and then I plan to get back to the troops and make sure everything is in order.”
“Then while you are waiting, you can let me clean up some of these cuts. You may be my Captain, but you are also my friend.”
“We do not even have proper bandages –”
“Hush,” he chuckled, pouring a cup of water out of a jug in the corner of the room. “I can make do with what we’ve got.”
There was no sense in arguing. She knew Zander well enough to know that he wouldn’t back down if he had his mind set on it. At this point, she no longe
r cared. Her body ached and burned. The pain in her neck was excruciating and she was convinced at least one of her ribs was broken. Arcastus’s magic was more potent than she wanted to admit.
Breath caught in her throat at the pressure of a small cloth being pressed against the side of her neck. Against her will, tears filled her eyes at the pain, her teeth biting down on her lip in attempts to fight them back. She’d experienced so much worse in the past. This was nothing, or at least that was what she kept telling herself. The look on Zander’s face was all she needed to know the wounds were worse than she thought, but she didn’t dare ask him for the truth. It was easier to just pretend it was a mere scratch.
“Let me guess; Arcastus did this?”
“How did you know,” she grimaced. A miserable laugh tried to escape her lips, stopped by the discomfort it caused with the strain of her neck.
“You must forget that I’ve seen what that man – thing – looks like. The bruising is consistent with a hand, but the punctures are from something thinner and sharper. I assume his bony grip would dig in a bit more than any of the others.”
“I didn’t see any of the others. While that may be a blessing in disguise, it makes me wonder what they are up to. I fear them to have another army stationed somewhere that we do not know about and will miss until it is too late.”
Rewetting the cloth in the tiny water cup, Zander started to dab at the wounds again, his forehead creased in concentration. “Is the battle still going? I wouldn’t recommend you going back out.”
“No,” Leyna found herself bemused at the memory of Arcastus’s face before he retreated. There had been something there. Confusion mingled with pain, and what looked to be a touch of fear. No, not fear. Uncertainty. Whatever it was, it shook his confidence significantly. Enough to send him away to regroup. “Something must have spooked Arcastus. He and I were fighting and he suddenly just – stopped. He ordered his men to fall back. We were just finishing off the last of those remaining when I headed back here.”
The Myatheira Chronicles: The Vor'shai: From the Ashes (Volume 1) Page 85
