Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (22 page)

“Most, but some give more warning.” She pointed off into the distance. “The closer we get to the great lake of magical essence, the
more dire
things will
become
.”

“Is it possible for those of us with O’hra to race to the mausoleum and collect the relics and transport them back?” Kirah asked.

Braelyn shook he
r head. “If we had time, perhaps
. Such a plan would surely save you the
lives
you are likely to
lose
, but even increasing your number each trip, it would take you
a handful of
days without rest.
” She motioned to the Yvir. “Were we to lose half of these warriors on our trip, there would still be enough to transport the O’hra back across the desert in
a
manner that would ensure you lost no more, and in less than half the time.”

“Then our course remains set,” Arrin stated, though he felt sick for the path he committed them to. He looked to the makeshift army and drew in a deep
, reluctant
breath. “Leave the dead or we will join them.” Arrin waved the force on
, giving them no time to debate his order
.

He turned and marched toward the mausoleum. The burden of their losses w
as
his to bear, and he wondered how many it would take before they bore him down with them.

Uthul’s blood boiled.

He crawled from
flesh of Ree
, his meager weight a mountain that threatened to drag him back inside the bubbling hill. His hands trembled as they grasped the blackened wall of the font
.
He
struggled to pull him
self
over the lip of its mouth.
Uthul’s
flesh was charred and ran with rivulets of bloody pus,
the ruin
extending all the way up his arms. His clothing had melted against his skin. What was left clung to him amidst black and
red wounds that seeped his life’s blood
.
The bag of O’hra was long gone, its contents swirling somewhere in the depths.

At last
Uthul
reached the tipping point and tumbled from the font to crash at its base. The fall knocked out what little breath remained inside. He exhaled a ragged gasp and tasted the coppery tang of
his
blood. His every bone throbbed with the fury of Ree’s essence, his skin afire as though a million insects feasted upon it. The battering ram of his heart slammed against his ribs as it pulsed beneath the magic’s touch, but he felt a cripple in a downhill race.

He dragged himself from the font, every movement a war fought and done.
The crystalline earth spider-webbed beneath him and sent silvered tendrils snaking ahead.
His vision was a blur, spots of black and brilliant white interspersed and dancing to a frantic tune with no discernible rhythm.
There was only the rush of
the
wind in his ears; the sound that had
shadowed
him his entire journey through the font. He could hear nothing else, not even the
huff
of his labored breath as he crept on. The
acrid scent
of burnt meat clung to him, and Uthul knew it was his own flesh he smelled.

After what seemed a lifetime
,
even to one such as Uthul, he left the scarred ground behind
and crawled onto the moist earth of Ah Uto Ree
. The grass glistened as he slid across it, his fingers digging into the soft soil
.
He was home, though he could spare no jubilation
at
his return.
He raised his head and cast his gaze into the distance
,
seeing nothing more than spotted images of emerald green leaves and shrubs, mixed with the soft brown of their trunks.

In his eagerness to be home and avoid the mass of Hull
,
whose location he could not fathom, he had ridden the essence of Ree to the furthest of the fonts that sprouted in Ah Uto Ree. Though it sat closer to the Sha’ree village, he wondered if the risk had been worth the agony he
’d
endured. Home lay several miles distant from the patch of earth he crawled over. He sighed, feeling the trembling in his limbs as he reached for yet another handhold to pull himself forward.

He cursed his weakness and cast a prayer into the
fertile
ground.
If there is to be hope for us,
my goddess,
grant me the strength to reach the firstborn of your loins
. Uthul pulled his knees under him and sat
until
his wavering vision
settled. He pushed to his feet and stumbled, crashing to the ground. His
body so battered, he felt nothing of what he did to himself
, so he forced his feet beneath him once more and stood.
He
swayed
,
grasping at
air, managing at last to solidify his balance
.
Able to stand
without moving for several moments,
he caught
his breath, and then took his first step. His body trembled as his foot struck the ground, the second step spearing him with acidic pain, but he went on.

Step after step, Uthul trudged toward the Sha’ree village that lay obscured by the distant greenery. He walked without thought, locking the pain behind a wall of devout concentration. The trees grew closer; his home.

Uthul staggered on, watching each foot as it struck the ground and willing the next to follow.
His vision darkened as he went, narrowing about the edges and swallowing the lights that flickered at his eyes, but he continued without pause. When his sight was little more than a sliver, Uthul raised his weary eyes to see the trunk of a great tree looming before him. He reached out for it and collapsed.

The jungle burned, but still Vorrul hesitated to order
the
attack.
He heard no screams of fear or pain from within the trees, nor did he hear the call to war. Only the crackle of the flames battling the wet foliage drifted to his ears. The recent storms and a steady rainfall in the region had kept the jungle from igniting as a whole, which only deepened the commander’s reluctance to march inside its depths. With only flash fires to deal with, the Pathra would be
lurking in wait of his men. His army
could take the Pathra were the battle to happen on even
, open
ground, but within the shadows of the jungle, Vorrul know no certainty.

The Bloodpack kept a steady rain of fire dropping into the jungle, but those not wielding the staves were growing restless. No doubt they questioned his courage, but he would not be rushed into a losing fight. For all the pack’s ferocity, he knew it was their thirst for meat that had always been their downfall. Too many battles had gone sour for the Grol
’s
desire to charge in blindly and
cast all caution aside
. If Vorrul were to fail, it would not be because of such foolishness. He would wait as long as he deemed necessary before he ordered the advance
o
n Pathra
le
, the doubters be damned.

Still
,
he watched the
pack that
gathered around him for signs of rebellion. It was unlikely a single Grol, or even a handful, would dare challenge him with the magic he wielded, but he knew he must be cautious not to delay too long and turn the whole of his army against him.

“The
pack
grow
s
anxious,” Morgron whispered at his side
as if reading his thoughts
.

“I know full and well the mood of the men, general,” he answered, sneering the last. “
They will wait,” he called out, raising his voice to be heard across the closest ranks, “until
I
am satisfied our enemy quivers in the trees and shakes shit from their tails.” He willed the relics to brighten, their emerald glow shimmering and casting its light across the general and the ground surrounding Vorrul.

There was a quiet murmur through the ranks and all eyes returned to the jungle, the Bloodpack at the staves speeding the pace of their mystical projectiles.

Morgron chuckled.
“They still fear you; a good sign.”

“For both of us, dear general. For both of us.”

“Do not think I have forgotten,” Morgron answered with a toothy grin. “
It is certain t
he Pathra wait for us
deep
in the trees
. There is far too much land for us to reach from here, and I doubt there is a single cat, outside of their scouts, anywhere near the portion of the jungle we
s
et afire.”

Vorrul nodded. “They wait for us to enter
so they can
surround us, picking our forces apart.” He gestured to the ranks. “These fools would rush in and die were I not reining them in. The whole of our nation would likely be dead before morning.” Vorrul growled. “We
must be certain of the Pathran
location
,
but I cannot trust our scouts. They have failed too many times, of late.”

“What of the Lathahn messenger? When he returns, do we remain here or seek out the other Lathahn?”

Vorrul shrugged
. “I had hoped to be through Pathrale by this time, but the silence worries me
,
and the damnable
wet trees spite the staves. I—”

A roar rose up in the rear ranks, howls filling the smoky air. Vorrul spun to see a silvered form striding toward him. His men cleared the way and let the Sha’ree pass without resistance. He could feel the eyes of the Bloodpack searing into his spine as the ancient visitor strolled casually to the commander. Vorrul waved the general away as the Sha’ree
came to stand
before him.

“Come,”
Sultae
told him with no deference to his rank.

Vorrul growled low at her back as she spun
away and walked to
an open space where no Grol stood near. He followed

Far enough away to not be heard, the Sha’ree stopped and turned to face the commander
when
he caught up. “I had higher expectations of you than this,
commander
,” she said, shaking her head.
“The
felines
should be dead by now.”

Vorrul cleared his throat. “I will kill them soon,” he promised.

“No, you will
not
.
Erdor and his
Yvir
i warriors
will take
the fight to the felines in wake of your failure.
” She drew a step closer, her large pink eyes just inches from his snout. “M
y brethren
have
join
ed
the fray while you loiter
ed
here.
”

Vorrul shook his head.
“I have seen
another
of your kind. He joined the fight
earlier,
at Lathah.”

“I assume he still lives?”

The commander swallowed hard and nodded. “
Most likely.
He used the relics to
hold off
my men, but
disappeared
when
one of
the city’s spire
s
collapsed on the field. We recovered no body.”

Sultae’s eyes opened wider. “He wore the O’hra?”

Vorrul nodded. “He took them from
my
dead
men
.”

The Sha’ree went silent. Her gaze drifted toward the trees and she stood as though frozen. After a few moments, her eyes returned to Vorrul. “I will deal with my people, but I have a mission for you.”

“But the P
a
thra
…” he started.

“They
are no longer your concern
.” She narrowed her eyes as if to ward off further questions.

The Commander remained silent, though fury sweltered inside.
He longed to see the Sha’ree bleed for her arrogance.

“My people ha
ve
intentions of raising an army trained in the use of the O’hra and turning them loose against you.”

The words struck Vorrul as though they were stones.
His anger drained away.
All he strived for crumbled in his mind’s eye as he stood stunned, unable to reply.

“
Do not worry so, commander. I have kept my brethren’s pets from reaching Ah Uto Ree, but I had not learned of their
true
intent until it was too late. They march south without Sha’ree guidance.”