Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (25 page)

He looked up from the
shriveled
corpse just in time to see the
wave
of
Cruwarg
crash into the
line of
Yvir.
The screams of
the
wounded and dying joined with those of the Velen’s terror. Kirah shoved Cael aside and raced at
the
backs of the
Cruwargs
.
Arrin ran to join her.

She reached around one of the beasts and raked its eyes with her blade. Crimson fluid spewed across the sand as spasms
w
racked its body. She finished it off by burying her sword in its head, kicking the dead Cruwarg into its companions.

The Yvir fought on. Their jagged swords rained down upon the creatures but their lack of technique and reliance on brute force left many open to attack. The Cruwargs raked at the warriors with razored claws, tearing deep gouges in the thighs and groins of the Yvir. Many of the soldiers dropped only to meet
their end buried beneath the
gnashing jaws and hooked fangs. The screams went on.

Arrin severed the head of one of the Cruwarg and cleaved yet another in half as he fought to save as many lives as he could. Though the Yvir fielded an easy two thousand fighters, the size of the Cruwargs made it impossible to put that advantage to use. Low to the ground, the creatures found cover in
their victims
, limiting the ability of those behind the first rank to strike.
A bitter sickness
rose up in Arrin’s throat as he hacked yet another of the things apart. He cast
his gaze
across the sands to find the rest of the empowered fighters.

He spied Braelyn and Jerul battling to his left, working their way toward Arrin and Kirah. Braelyn moved like a serpent, darting in
to strike
and pulling back to
do it
again, leaving withered husks
curling
in her wake. Jerul, like the rest of his people, lumbered through and sent
dripping
pieces of Cruwarg flying through the air with every powerful blow. He went a
t them as though chopping wood.

A hundred
piercing agonies brought
Arrin’s
focus back.
He
stumbled
a
nd looked to see one of the Cruwarg had slipped past in his distraction and sunk its teeth into his leg. The wound burned as though on fire. He cleaved the creature’s head off, biting down as the impact jarred the fangs hook
ed inside the meat of his calf.

Another came at him and he pinned it to the sand, his sword driven down through its skull.
He pulled it free as yet another Cruwarg skittered toward him. Arrin pivoted to strike and felt his leg give way. He dropped to the sand, eyes blurred by pain. Trying to blink it away, he spied the mass of red eyes just before the fetid stench of the Cruwarg’s breath struck him. He
rolled
onto his back and raised his sword to defend but the creature never reached him.

A silver streak whipped past and the Cruwarg fell away in two pieces, its snapping jaws biting
instinctively
at the dirt where it landed. Its back end curled and twitched a few feet from the rest of its body.

Jerul stood over him, hand extended to help him up. Arrin wiped at his eyes and took the Yvir’
s offer.

“They
’re
turn
ing
! Watch out!” Cael screamed.

Arrin looked to see the mass of Cruwarg scurrying back in the direction where they first erupted
from
the sand.
Some instinct had clearly told them the fight was lost and they scrambled to
escape
. H
e and Jerul stood right in their path.
A dozen
or more
came straight at them. Arrin went to jump aside but his wounded
leg would not
hold his weight. He tumbled forward and landed
on his knees
in the sand. A bitter smell wafted to his nose
and he connected it to the Cruwarg instantly. He lay over their den.

Jerul reached down and dragged Arrin to his feet
,
but it was no simple task for the Yviri warrior. Powerful as Jerul was, Arrin had spent fifteen years under the influence of the collar, the magical essence reconfiguring his frame to meet the demands he put on it. He was no Velen to be tossed about.
Jerul grunted at the unexpected weight as Arrin did his best to help. A moment later, he was on his feet but the
mass of
Cruwarg had closed the distance. Arrin turned and
leveraged
his weight on his good leg
,
cursing the lack of mobility the stance would provide. It would have to do. Jerul stood at his side, spread-legged and blade high. There was no time for lessons.

The ranks of the Cruwarg engaged. Arrin swept the ground beneath them to slow the charge, dragging his sword through their faces on the return swing. Several shriveled and died but more followed after
, climbing the dead backs of the first
. Braelyn and Kirah and the rest of the Yvir chewed away at the rear of the mass as he and Jerul fought the front.

Great sweeping blows kept the Yvir free of danger as Arrin piled corpses before
them
to slow the advance, picking away at those that clambered over their fallen brethren. His leg throbbed as he
dug
in
to help his
stability,
but
it
held. Out of his peripheral vision, he saw a number of the Cruwarg
burrowing into the sand
. His first thought was they might come up fro
m beneath him, but there was no
time to worry about that now.

The bodies were piled t
wenty
deep before the first managed to slip past
Arrin’s
guard
. It leapt over the corpses and came hurtling toward
him
. He raised his sword and met the creature with the point. Momentum impaled it. Blood and blackened pus gushed from its speared mouth. Arrin closed his eyes and turned away just as the wash of gore hit. Warm fluid splattered across his ear and cheek and ran unchecked down his neck.

He opened his eyes to see a Cruwarg close its jaws on Jerul’s neck. Another clung to the warrior’s sword arm. Arrin flung the corpse on his sword away and
struck
at the creature at Jerul’s throat. He cut its body away just
as the Yvir
stumbled and fell to his back. A wave of creatures crested the morbid hill
then
and crashed over top
of them
just
as Arrin reached out for Jerul.

Arrin’s vision went black, a swarm of
biting
Cruwarg blotting out all sight.
He lashed out with panicked strokes, some inner voice seeping through his fear to remind him of his critique of Jerul’s form, but he went on heedless of the
sad
irony.
The creatures bit and clawed
,
and he felt strips of his flesh and muscle ripped away under their assault. He collapsed beneath their fury. Pain lanced through his body, from too many wounds to keep account of. Still he fought on. Every stroke was a trial.
He was losing the fight.

Then they were gone.

Arrin blinked his eyes to adjust to the sudden brightness and looked up into the scarred face of Braelyn.
Kirah stood at her side, her purple eyes wet with tears that streaked her spotted fur.

“He lives,” Braelyn called out.

He heard the shouts of the Yviri warriors nearby, and raised his head. Sharp pains ran through his neck and back, but he spied the warriors clearing a pile of the Cruwarg bodies. A pale form lay beneath.

“Jerul
?
” he asked as he stared at the man’s limp arm.

Cael appeared before him, blocking his vision. The golden rod was in his hand. “You will be fine,” he said as he set the cold steel of the
O’hra
against Arrin’s
chest
.
The flutter of its power was instant, its essence sinking into his veins.

Arrin let the relic wash his pain away, grunting as Kirah cut the Cruwarg’s jaw away from his leg. After a few moments, Cael hopped up and
turned to Jerul. He set the rod against the warrior’s pale flesh. Jerul lay motionless. Arrin drew a deep breath. Jerul was dead.

“Cael,” he said, his voice ragged from exertion, “There are other who need your help.”

The young man pushed the rod harder against Jerul’s skin, but still nothing happened. He was too far gone for even the O’hra.

Arrin sat
up
and looked once more to Jerul
as Cael fluttered above
. The warrior lay on his back, eyes open, staring at the sky. The normally bright purple of his veins were a sallow black against his pale skin. A handful of
Cru
warg heads were still attached
to
his body, blac
k blood oozing from the wounds.

“I’m sorry.” Arrin reached out and set a hand on Cael’s shoulder. The boy shrugged it off, tears moistening his eyes as he stood. Cael staggered away.
Arrin bit back a curse as he climbed to his feet
and watched Cael go.
They’d lost the boy’s uncle and now Domor’s blood-companion
, Cael’s father having been run down by the Korme at the start of the war
.
Jerul was the last who Cael could call family, and now he was gone.

Arrin felt for the boy but there was still more they must do. He strode off
to assess the damage.
Bodies lay scattered across
the desert sand
with
pieces of the creatures littered
all about
.
They had lost another twenty warriors
, at first glance
. He looked to the Yvir and met their sad eyes. They were warriors and understood
death
, but the journey was wearing them down
, especially
after the unexpected assault
by
the Hull. They were losing people they cared for, brothers and sisters they had grown and fought
with
, laughed and cried
alongside
. They were family, and they were dying all because they believed Arrin knew what was best for Ahreele.

It was a burden that chafed at his conscience
on top of all that Cael had suffered
.
Arrin hadn’
t wanted any of it. His plan was to rescue Malya and his child, nothing more. Now he stood on the graves of soldiers
and friends
, with too many left behind and a certainty of more waiting
to die
ahead. He wondered how it had come to this.

The bitter stink of the Cruwarg still in his nose, he cast one last glance at Jerul and wished him well in death, before turning back to the rest. Cael had finished healing those who
could still benefit from it
, so it was time to move on.
Once more making a decision that weighed upon the lives of everyone who followed him,
Arrin
motioned for the group to continue on. Bile in his throat, he turned and started toward the lake without saying a word.
Braelyn met his pace.

Cael hurried after to join them.
“We’re just going to leave them?”
The words were thick with accusation.

Arrin simply nodded.

Cael raced around front, confronting Arrin and forcing him to stop
with a trembling hand on his chest
. “We can’t just leave Jerul in the dirt. Those…those
…
things
will
eat him.”

“
Better the dead than us.” The moment the words were loose Arrin regretted them. Cael’
s eyes went wide, his cheeks filling with color.

“I—”

Arrin cut him
off. “I’m sorry, Cael, I don’t
mean to be so callous.” He drew a deep breath through clenched teeth, and went on, setting his hands on Cael’s shoulders to keep the boy from storming off. “Jerul was a great warrior and a good man, but the longer we stay here in the desert, the more of us die.” He gestured toward the somber crowd of Velen and Yvir at their backs. “Every one of these people has lost someone they care about on this mad quest, and every moment brings the likelihood of yet another friend or family member dying. There simply isn’t time to worry about the dead now, as cruel as that might seem. When the war is over, that’s when we mourn, but now we soldier on, we fight…we survive.”

Tears glittered on Cael’s cheeks as he stared without saying a word. Arrin couldn’t tell if the boy understood, but like sentiment for the dead, there was no time for discussion. He slid his hands from
his shoulders. “I’m sorry,” he said again as he stepped past Cael and went on. He could worry about hurt feelings later, if they lived.