Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (24 page)

She looked to Falen and he gave the barest of nods. Ellora had not thought this far into her plan. She had hoped to free Falen and let him take out the guards, but his obvious weakness gave her little faith he could do so. She stared at the armored back of the man standing before her and wondered if she could do what was needed to free the royal family.

Nearby, Falen raised his arm above his head and took the choice out of her hands. The club swung down and collided with
one of
the guard’s head. There was a muffled crack, like a stone dropped from the city walls, and the man crumpled to the ground.

The
closest
soldier looked to the sound and Ellora tightened her grip and did what she must. She thrust the dagger at his back, but he spun
away
to draw his sword, changing the angle of her attack. The dagger sunk into the soft flesh of his throat
. His
half-drawn
sword slid back into the scabbard as he gurgled blood and clutched at the
protruding
knife.

“Hey,” one of the
other
guards
shouted. He turned his back on Mikil
and raced toward the family. The other turned and followed. The
orphan
s started after.

Falen snatched the sword from the
mad he
knocked unconscious and move
d
to meet the other two, blocking their path to his family. Thelis leapt onto the back of the
guard
Ellora has stabbed
and rode him to the ground, punching wildly at his head.

The first of the guards swung at Falen. The blow was parried, but Ellora saw the strain in
Falen’s arm
. He shook and nearly stumbled at the impact. The guard saw it, too. He pressed the attack, driving Falen back.

The second guard
joined
the other when he cried out and dropped to a knee. Brandon stood behind him with a smile, holding his sword up. Blood dripped from the
tip
. The soldier turned and was buried under a hail of blows, swords and clubs and daggers, stabbing, slashing, and pounding him without mercy.

Still bound,
Malya
herded
her children from the fight, Falen and the guard clashing in what was clearly a losing battle for the princess’ husband. Ellora grabbed a rock from the rubble and hurled it at the guard. It bounced off his armo
red cuirass and he
growled
, determined to kill Falen. He raised his sword high and then feinted, drawing Falen’s guard away, before changing the angle of the swing. The guard’s sword flew at Falen’s unprotected side and Ellora looked away.

The
meaty
chunk
of a butcher’s shop sounded in her ears and she waited to hear the wails of Malya and her children. They didn’t come. Another
thump
rang out and Ellora
looked
back to the battle.

The guard lay face down with a short sword protruding from his armpit. A broadsword wavered in his armored back. Mikil and Falen stood over the body with relieved smiles brightening their lips.
Falen stood in a weary slump.

Ellora let out a loud gasp, releasing the breath she had not known she held.
They had done it.
One of the orphans cut the princess free as all the boys cheered
the victory
, Argos and Kylle the loudest.

“Shhh,” Malya told them as
s
he went to Falen. They went silent immediately. “
Thank you all for saving us, but we must be quiet. There may well be more of Olenn’s men around.”

Ellora shook her head. “The prince is gathering an army to go aft
er Arrin.
”

Malya sighed, wrapping her arm about her husband’s waist. “Then we must gather the rest
of the people
and take them to Pathrale.”

Falen shook his head. “We must get you and the boys to safety first.” Malya’s eyes narrowed, but he husband cut her off before she could speak. “Olenn has the people convinced he’s a hero and to prove otherwise would take more time than we have to spare. We must return to Pathrale, now. We can gather a force from there and secure our people after.”

“But I cannot
leave
—”

Falen silenced her once more, and Ellora watched as Falen convinced Malya that to stay in Lathah was to risk the lives of her children
and
her people. Olenn would not treat them well if he learned of
the family’s
escape.

“We must go,” Falen told his wife.

“
Don’t worry,
Arrin will kill Olenn,” Ellora said, hoping to ease the princess’ mind, before caging her errant tongue.

Malya only looked at her and nodded, her chin sinking the tiniest sliver lower. Ellora berated herself. Olenn was still
t
he princess’ brother, for all his cruelty. No matter how things turned out, Malya’s heart would suffer.

With Malya finally giving in
, the ragtag group of orphans and royalty returned to the caverns hidden beyond the Crown. The Tumult had blown past, but it made trudging through the ankle-deep wat
er only slightly more bearable.

Once they
managed to reach
Pathrale
,
Falen
assured
Malya
they could
convince the warlord to take the fight to her brother and rescue Camron,
and
Arrin if they could.
Seeking the Pathra was their best choice.
The princess
agreed but
walked
on
in silence. Ellora could see the sorrow etched upon her features, the glimmer of tears held tight within her eyes. Ellora could only feel sorry for the princess for the choices she
was forced to
make.

The sounds of splashing footsteps echoed through the canyon. Even the boys were quiet, but she could see the wonder in their wide stares. The clouds were slowly clearing, tiny glimmers of light shining down upon them as they walked. Without the rain spilling atop them, they could see the massive walls of the Fortress Mountains climbing up into the sky. It was majestic. Even
Malya
took a moment to gawk.

Ellora sighed as she imagined the whole of Lathah could well fit within the massive space. They could have been spared the Grol indignities and
traveled
to Pathrale to join forces with the cat people. It was a sickening realization as to the value of human life in the prince’s world.

Her cheeks warmed at the thought. The prince had condemned his people to death and now they thanked him for it when he scampered back after the battle was over. She growled, the boys looking over at the sound.

Ellora knew it was wrong, but she hoped Olenn found Arrin. If Ree was just, the warrior would serve the prince the justice he deserved.

The desert was everything Arrin had feared, and more.
Their early encounter with the worm had been nothing compared to what followed. On more than one occasion
,
he
considered
listening
to the whimper
ed pleas of the
Velen and
turning tail before they ran across something that could not be beaten. He d
ashed that thought against the wall of his skull
and soldiered on. The only opportunity to escape death lay before them at the mausoleum. Without the O’hra, all of Ahreele would be laid to waste. Weighed against that, the relatively few deaths they tolled now were nothi
ng more than drops in the ocean however callous it might seem.

The thought tasted bitter, but it was a soldier’s duty to carry on and win the war. For all his years of exile, he still saw himself a soldier. It had been his everything until Malya came along, and th
at
discipline kept him alive in the wilderness, the power of the collar aside. The task ahead was just one more battle he needed to win. Orders had been given and the soldiers marched.

He heard the voices of the Velen at his back. They were subdued, fearful of what might be drawn to the sound, but still they
whispered
on.
There was no silencing them. The Yv
iri warriors hung close to their blood-companions
, but the rest of the group had drifted away out of fear for their lives. Cael stuck close to Arrin and mimicked his silence. Arrin gave him reassuring grins as they walked, doing what he could to bolster the boy’s will when it seemed to flag. They had been through much during their journey and Arrin believed Cael was growing weary of it. It had simply been too much to cope with.

Kirah also hung close, and Arrin found his attention wandering when she brushed against him.
It was as though he was a young man again
. He longed for peace so he might explore opportunities he had long denied because of his infatuation with Malya.

The name sunk into his stomach like a stone.
It triggered
a wave of sorrowful memories that circled around and back
around
, rousing a bout of animosity and disgust.
So much wasted time, and to lose everything…
his child.

His thoughts drifted into the darkness and Arrin sped his pace, pulling away from Cael and Kirah. A storm of emotions whirled inside his head
and
he fought to push them aside. He cursed himself for his weakness, questioning why he never returned to Lathah and claimed his child, why he never found the courage to confront Olenn and learn the truth about Malya when there had still been some life left inside his heart. Now it hung cold and withered, kept alive by anger and the power of the O’
hra.

Arrin’s feet sunk into the sand and he could feel Kirah’s concerned stare on his
back, but he didn’t slow. He’
d been better off alone in the wilderness, ignorant of the true pain that awaited him. His breath huffing out of him in forceful waves, he spied the glimmer of the great lake Braelyn had told
them
about. She had stopped a ways ahead and seemed to be waiting for him. As he drew closer, he felt the peppering tingles of pure magical essence. So far away, it amazed him how much of the power seeped into the air. He wondered how it felt up close and worried it might well be too much to bear for the Velen. Though their magical sensitivities were less than the Sha’ree, and likely even less than his own due to the O’hra, he knew they could feel the lake’s energy. He heard their voices stutter, their conversation derailed just moments after he had sensed the lake.

Arrin didn’t stop or acknowledge he noticed. He continued on toward Braelyn, wondering what it was she stared at so intently. A short distance behind her, he saw her spin about, eyes wide. He felt the vibration an instant later. There was no time to call out.

T
he
ground
came alive. Like
a wave sent by the Tumult, the sand
rose up and rolled
toward them. Arrin saw the first of the creatures as he ran to intercept them.

A dozen red and glassy eyes the size of bird eggs clustered on a black head that looked a cross between a spider and a wolf.
Spiny hair sprouted from its skull
in random tufts
, glistening wet and dark.
A wide maw split
the creature’s face in half,
filled with jagged shards of teeth that hooked inward at the tips.
It
ran forward on eight legs, skipping
its sleek body
across the ground with ease, yellowed claws slicing through the sand.

Many of the Yviri warriors screamed out
, “Cruwarg!”
in unison
as they
pointed at the advancing creatures
.

Arrin had no idea if the word was a curse in
the
Yvir
i tongue
or the name of the things that attacked them, but it stuck as he ran to join the
approaching
fight.

There were easily over
a hundred
of the creatures.
Arrin came up behind the closest and cleaved the legs from one side of its body. It loosed a wet scream that seemed to bubble inside its throat. The rest of the
Cruwarg
responded in kind as
the thing
fell to the sand, using its remaining legs to spin around in an effort to bite Arrin. He jumped
away
as
it skittered forward and snapped, hooked teeth biting air just inches away. Its nest of eyes glared. Surprised at its ferocity, Arrin drove his sword under its chin, angling the blade into its skull. The creature stiffened and died without a sound. What remained of its legs
curled beneath
its body and it
appeared to deflate, drawing in on itself. It
sunk lifeless the moment Arrin pulled his sword loose.