Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy)

by Tim Marquitz

  To further add to the ill news, Uthul was informed of the unexpected arrival of an army of Hull to the north. The massive stone creatures had descended through the Dead Lands and swept Y’Vel away and currently laid siege to Vel. Despite the irrationality of the Hull attack, the Tolen officer Uthul spoke to had made it clear the apparent goal of the creatures was Ah Uto Ree. His scouts reported the whole of the Sha’ree nation had been cut off from the rest of Ahreele. The news struck Uthul like an arrow.

  He’d continued on from Tolen and confirmed the Hull movements with his own eyes. His stomach churned as he stared at the mass of creatures that stood vigilant just inside the border of Ah Uto Ree. It was a full-scale invasion of his homeland, their numbers in the thousands. He had never seen anything like it. The Hull had always been hostile, but they had remained within their own borders and had never journeyed south in all their years. To see such a force of them so far from the Stone Hills was disconcerting. What purpose did they have for invading Ah Uto Ree? Uthul knew the answer would terrify him. Not knowing was even worse.

  Weakened by the plague and the removal of all their O’hra, the Sha’ree had no hope of defending against such a powerful army, especially if they had no knowledge of its approach. Distracted as they’d been by the plague, the Sha’ree were likely still gathered in the north training the O’hra-bearers. There would be no advance warning of the attack.

  Uthul knew he must get through, but he could see no break in the Hull lines. They would see him coming. He sighed, examining his possibilities. There was only one that gave him any chance of getting into Ah Uto Ree without the Hull spying or stopping him. However, it was no less dangerous than confronting the Hull directly.

  He lurked in the trees of Y’Vel, just outside the border of his homeland hoping for some movement in the Hull rank. They held their ground, forcing his hand. There was too little time to waste on the uncertainty of their intentions. Uthul stripped the O’hra off and placed them into the bag once more. The last Succor had stemmed the tide of the plague, but he could feel it worming inside deep his veins. It was a certainty he would suffer its virulent touch once more, but there was no way around it. He needed to warn his people of the Hull and the strange new O’hra they would likely encounter. He sighed, his choice made.

  Uthul slipped from the border and headed to the Dead Lands. He saw the destruction of Y’Vel as he passed. The Hull had left no structure standing in their wake. Splinters of wood littered the fields, material and foodstuffs crushed and mixed into the debris. He was surprised to see no bodies, yet grateful. The Yvir were a proud race, warriors all. He had expected the land to flow with the blood of its people, but it gave him hope to see the Yvir had not thrown their lives away against an enemy they could not defeat. Uthul wondered if anyone could.

  Once he arrived at the dark forest, he slipped through its gnarled branches and made his way to the closest of the magical fonts that grew rampant in the woods. He found it easily, following the glimmer of its power. As he stood before the blackened hill, watching the emerald green ooze of Ree’s life spill free, he knew the agony of his future. He had avoided the overwhelming influence of the goddess’ blood once the cause of the plague had become known, but the Grol aggression had drawn him ever closer. His paranoia had been disproven to a degree when it came to the O’hra, which he was pleased to learn, but there was no escaping the viral touch of the magic with what he intended. The influence of the O’hra and the wounds of the Grol battle had been but a smattering of the power he would have to endure now, and they had drawn the plague out. He could only imagine the suffering he was about to inflict upon himself.

  He stared at the font and whispered a prayer to the goddess that she protect him and grant him safe passage. Should she deign to do neither, Uthul prayed she look after Zalee and grant her the courage and determination to save their people.

  No words left, Uthul drew in a deep breath and ran at the font. The green of its power filled his eyes as he leapt over the crest of the hill and dropped inside the well. Ree’s blood enveloped him, the purest of the goddess’ magic. He had only an instant to regret his choice, his veins burning with the fury of the sun, before the essence dragged him down into the body of Ree.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  The push through the Hull blockade of Vel was fierce. Able to see the attack coming, the Hull fought back with unwavering ferocity. The Yvir pressed the ranks with their tree limb battering rams, but the Hull swarmed the ditch to hold their prey inside. Arrin and Braelyn took their toll on the enemy, Kirah and Jerul leaping onto the fallen creatures and finishing those that clung to life, but far too many of the Yviri warriors were lost as they bridged the trench. They fought to defend their blood-companions, giving their lives to allow the Velens safe passage across the battlefield. Though he wanted to join the fight and begged for a weapon, Arrin thought it best that Cael travel alongside the Velen. He did so with vocal reluctance.

  Though short, the fight was brutal and bloody. They left nearly two hundred warriors in the dirt of Vel. The only satisfaction to be had was that Arrin had been right about the Hull’s intent. They stood only to fight as long as there was an enemy before them. Once the survivors broke free of the blockade and had pressed south for Tolen, the creatures turned their backs to the battle and began to lay waste to Vel on their way to Ah Uto Ree. Less than a hundred horse-lengths from the nation, the Hull had lost all interest.

  Arrin glanced over his shoulder as they trudged on. Cael lurked a short distance behind him. His frustration was etched into his face and he avoided meeting Arrin’s eyes. Though he meant only to keep the boy alive, he knew he had wounded Cael’s pride. Cael knew fear but he was no coward and longed to prove it. Arrin would owe him an apology when there was time, but the boy needed to be alive to hear it.

  No time to salve Cael’s feelings, he shifted his gaze to the others. The Velen people appeared defeated despite not losing a single member of their village. Their dark faces expressed their weariness and sorrow. The Yvir helped them forward, staying close and pressuring the Velen to keep moving. Arrin kept glancing back as they traveled on, the speed of their passage slowed to meet the pace of the non-O’hra-wielding survivors. He growled low, voicing his frustration at the delay.

  “They mourn the loss of their blood-companions,” Jerul said as they walked, offering an explanation for the slowness of their journey. “They will not be given the opportunity to prepare the bodies and it vexes them greatly.”

  Arrin nodded to the warrior, feeling a pang of guilt for his lack of patience and compassion. There was simply no place for it now. “I understand,” he replied, “but I do not wish to bury anymore of your people or mine.” Kirah set a hand on his arm and squeezed to rein in his frustration. “We must carry on.”

  “I, too, understand.” Jerul looked back to the struggling crowd that followed behind. “I will do what I can to speed them.” He dropped back and spoke to the nearest of the Yvir.

  “You will need more men than this if you intend to defeat the stone creatures,” Braelyn told Arrin as she came to walk alongside him.

  Grateful for the bluntness of her candor, Arrin nodded. “I agree. That is why I believe we should take the battle to the Grol first before attempting to fight the Hull.”

  “You expect the Yvir to wait before trying to reclaim their land?” Kirah asked.

  “I don’t believe we will need to fight to reclaim Y’Vel and Vel. The Hull are moving on to Ah Uto Ree and will abandon any of the lands they’ve conquered, for the moment, at least. The ultimate battle will be in the Sha’ree homeland, from what I can determine, but that matters little at this point. For now, our fight is in the Funeral Sands.” He pointed ahead.

  “What of the training the Sha’ree offered? Can we defeat the Grol without it?” Kirah continued.

  “I believe so. The Grol are hardly a competent military force. They are succeeding on the merits of the
O’hra and their numbers. I don’t feel we need to be at full strength to break their will. However, I suspect we will lose many of us in the fight and will still need the Lathahns and Pathra if there is to be any hope of winning through to the end where the Hull and Ruhr await us. Worse still, the sands will likely take their toll before we even reach the Grol.”

  Braelyn looked to Arrin. “You are correct. The desert is dangerous. There were a multitude of creatures that sprang from the earth as I ran past with help from the O’hra. I do not relish going back.”

  “Nor would I expect it of you were it not for the sudden uprising of the Hull and Ruhr. I know well enough how it feels to be kept from home and family, and I wouldn’t wish such upon anyone. With the creatures blocking the north and Ah Uto Ree, it feels as though we are being forced to confront the Grol and ignore whatever machinations have set the Hull loose upon Ahreele if we are to have any hope of victory.”

  “The Sha’ree should be able to defend their land,” Jerul said as he returned to the conversation.

  “Perhaps, but I don’t believe so,” Arrin answered. “They would not have gathered us if they felt confident in their abilities. The Hull are a thousand times the threat the Grol represent. Whatever the purpose of the Hull and Ruhr assaults, I feel we are soon to see the end of the Sha’ree if we cannot amass an army large enough, and with enough power, to repel them.”

  Kirah sighed, running her hand across her furred scalp.

  “My people will fight until none stand,” Jerul told them, puffing his massive chest out. The purple veins stood out bright.

  Arrin acknowledged the truth of the warrior’s statement with a nod. “Let us hope we don’t require that sacrifice.”

  Jerul’s words to his people had worked to speed the Velen, and in turn, the Yvir. The travelers closed on Arrin’s back as he spoke. He looked at them and gave an encouraging smile he didn’t feel. Though he wanted nothing more to believe the warriors who followed could reach the mausoleum and obtain the O’hra and lead a successful push against the Grol, he could not help but see disaster and death ahead.

  As he led the army into Tolen, Arrin thought back to his exile. The bitter, black feeling of despair that crawled inside him now was so much like that which accompanied him on his long walk through the gates of Ahreele. As he set one boot before the other, he could see nothing but a bleak future ahead.

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Ellora stuck close to the royal family as Prince Olenn led them through the maze of tunnels and out through the massive door that had blocked their passage when they first tried to escape the city. Despite all that happened and the nature of her return, she couldn’t help but feel happy at being back in Lathah. It had been her home her entire life. She’d known nothing else.

  As soon as they had cleared the outer tunnel and had slipped onto the Crown, however, she knew immediately it had changed. Her home, such as it had been, was ruined. The tangy scent of smoke clung to the air, intermingled with dust. Rubble covered the cobblestone streets and massive stone blocks were piled just a short distance from where they had entered the city.

  “The spire,” Malya muttered as they were led into the dusty streets.

  Olenn’s gaze followed the wreckage, his eyes growing wide. “It seems there will be a need for reconstruction,” he said with a quite chuckle.

  Ellora drew her eyes from the mountainside where the spire had once stood and traced its length to the wall ahead where it had fallen. The Crown wall had collapsed beneath it, but the debris held the remnants of the tower in the air. The wall of the First beyond had weathered the impact and still stood. The spire creaked ominously above as the stones threatened to break loose.

  “Perhaps we should move along, sire,” one of Olenn’s men prompted. The prince didn’t argue.

  The group skirted the carnage and slipped through a hole in the wall that led to the first. Down below, Ellora could see funnels of black smoke rising into the air across the various levels. None seemed to have avoided damage. She looked to Malya and saw the sorrow in the princess’ eyes. She gazed about as they traveled through the deserted levels, dodging debris and smoldering craters. The further they went along, the lower Malya’s shoulder seem to sink. Falen shambled along beside in an effort to comfort her, but Ellora could see the princess was inconsolable. This had been her kingdom as much as it had been her father’s. To see it torn asunder must have been horrible.

  Ellora turned her focus back to Olenn as he brought the group to a halt. He scampered up a stony hill of wreckage that climbed the side of the Fifth and peered out across the city. His head swiveled for a moment, and then steadied as he found what he was looking for. He remained silent for a short while before finally scampering down the makeshift hill and returning to the group.

  “The Grol have perhaps one hundred beasts here to guard their captives.” He smiled to his soldiers. “I think it’s time to cement our position amongst the people. Let us go.”

  He waved the group forward and they circled around and through the remaining levels until they stood on the Ninth, just a short distance from a massive hole that had been blown through the front wall. Rubble filled the level, pieces of homes and shops scattered about the Ninth and casting shadows over the group as they passed. Ellora felt a cold sickness settle into her stomach as they marched by the wreckage of the orphanage she’d called home. Wooden pillars rose from the ground like the ribs of a skeleton, but all the flesh of the building was gone. Charred black and buried in detritus, it had been wiped from existence. Ellora’s eyes were locked on the ruin as they walked on. She only tore her gaze away when the building slipped from the line of her vision. There was nothing left but memories.

  They continued on until the prince raised a hand. He turned to Malya. “Let me be clear, sister. Our people lie just a short distance beyond the wall. I intend to slip into their ranks and free as many of the men as possible and lead them against the Grol.” He drew up close, his soldiers holding Falen in place. “Whatever you might think of me, be warned, should you draw attention to us, I will leave you and your family, and all of your beloved subjects, to the mercy of the hungry Grol. Do you understand me?”

  Malya stared a moment, her eyes wet with her anger, but she acquiesced, nodding.

  “Good.” Olenn turned to the men guarding the royal family. “Hold them here until we have killed the Grol. I will decide what to do with them afterwards.” He waved to the rest of his soldiers, and the force crept off toward the hole.

  Ellora stood silent as the soldiers encircling her followed after the prince, leaving her standing alone a few feet behind the royal family. All eyes were on the prince and his men as they slipped from the corpse of the city and went out to battle the beasts. Ellora scanned her surroundings and spied another hole through the far wall across the Ninth. It stood near the front gate, just a short distance from where the people of Lathah were being held by the Grol. She could see them milling about beyond the makeshift doorway.

  An idea called to her. She let her gaze flit back and forth between the disappearing entourage of the prince and the broken wall. If there was a chance at escape, for any of them, it was now. She might not be able to convince anyone the prince had taken his sister captive, but she could certainly show them. She just needed to get away first.

  Ellora waited until she was sure Olenn was too far to turn back and too close to the Grol to risk exposure. She looked to the guards surrounding the family and saw they had yet to even glance her direction since the prince left. With a quiet breath to gird her courage, Ellora cast one last glance at Malya and her family and ran. It sickened her to imagine what they might think of her, but there was nothing she could do about it now.

  She darted off across the rubble, lifting her feet high to keep from clacking stones together. The guards must have heard her, regardless. They spun and one went to shout but another hissed him to silence. None fol
lowed.

  Ellora grinned as she ran, putting more and more distance between her and the soldiers. They didn’t dare call out or threaten for fear of giving away their prince’s stealthy advance. Ellora felt confident they would do nothing to the royal family without Olenn there to direct it. And though she wished no ill upon the people of Lathah, preferring their freedom to enslavement, she couldn’t help but hope Olenn died in his assault.

  No certainty of that, she slipped through the outer wall and stepped onto the field outside of Lathah. She could see the prince and his men from where she stood. They slipped amidst the captives, cutting men free and drifting on to do it again, gathering a small army as they went. The Grol milled about on the other side of the gathered Lathahns. They stood close and menacing, but they appeared almost uninterested in the captives, and she could see why. The people looked forlorn, broken. They stood in tight groups, shuffling their feet, but offering nothing in the way of resistance.

  Ellora let her gaze survey the somber crowd and she spied a few she recognized. There at the back of the captives were several of the orphans she had been housed with. They looked dirty and sad, but none seemed to carry the burden of defeat as the adults around them did. They had not yet given up. Ellora felt a tear well up at their courage. They had suffered a form of enslavement their entire lives, so this was little different in their eyes. Knowing what was to come next, she saw the opportunity to free them before Olenn or his men spotted her. She could use their help.

  She dug quietly through the wreckage and secured a shattered stone that held a sharp edge, and then rooted out a few more. Nothing better to be found, she followed the prince’s example and crouched low, clearing the distance between the city and the ragged lines within just a few moments. She raised a finger to her lips as the orphans’ voices started to rise, calling them to silence. The men and women around her went quiet, as well, but nothing could mask the excitement and trepidation in their eyes. Ellora immediately went to work on the bonds of the closest orphan boy named Mikil. The stone cut quickly and freed his hands, and Ellora handed him another of the rocks as soon as he was loose. He went to work on another boy’s restraints, and she cut free one of the men who stood nearby.