Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (29 page)

He pushed the group onward, shifting to the back of the group to slow the creatures that followed. A few moments later, they circled the far end of the bubbling lake of magical energy and the ground began to harden. Crystallized sand crackled beneath his feet as he went on, spurring the group
forward
with snarled shouts. The first of the serpents to reach the glassy surface veered away from its touch, inching back to be away from it. The ones behind did the same.

Arrin glanced about, seeing the creatures stopping short of the dark earth. He looked back to the group to see they were nearly in the shadows of the great building. They had not noticed the be
asts
had been left
behind. Laughter burst from
him
, sharp and almost hysterical.

It took a few moments, but one of the Yvir glanced back
at Arrin, slowing to a halt. He started a chain reaction, the warriors stopping to stare at the wall of hissing and chittering creatures that dared not cross onto the crystalline surface.
A smile stretched Arrin’s face almost uncomfortably against the grime of drying gore and blood, but he could not help himself.
He dragged his boots across the surface,
reveling in its solidity,
still laughing as he made his way back to the rest of the group.

Kirah looked at him, one furry eyebrow raised
. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and nudged her toward the
huge, obsidian building that loomed before them.

“I didn’t think we would make it
this far
,” he told her, his words stuttered through his continuing laughter.

She looked up at the monolithic building and joined in, their joy contagious. Despite their losses, the laughter spread through
the Yviri
ranks. Even the Velen began to
crack
smile
s
.
The creatures of the Funeral Sands but a handful of horse lengths away, the travelers paused to celebrate
their survival.

“Is that where we are going?” Cael asked. His voice betrayed his tiredness
and frustration
, but he stood tall as he stared down the mausoleum.

“It is,” Braelyn answered, returning to their sides. “Trust me, it is an oasis in this
sandy wretchedness
, child.” She set her hand on his shoulder. “You did well
out there, but l
et us go inside and be free of the heat.”

Cael grinned
at her praised
and darted off, Braelyn at his heels, clearly allowing him to remain ahead.
Hardin
looked to the Velen and waved them onward.

“Come, brothers of my blood, safety
and rest await
s
us
.” He herded the
group toward the great buil
ding, giving Arrin a grateful salute
as he passed.

Arrin returned the gesture
and
glanced over the procession of wounded and
dirty travelers
as they streamed by
.
His laughter fell away.
It was a ragtag group.
They had lost
close to
half of the soldiers they started with, at a quick count. Nearly one thousand men had died in the sand behind them, and Arrin had no certainty he could bring the rest north to solid ground. Even if he could, the Grol far outnumbered them. He had faith in the powers of the O’hra, but he also understood the
bitter reality of what they faced
. The Yvir could
easily
be overwhelmed by the beasts, shattered and beaten before the battle
had truly begu
n.

Hope was dwindling. Unless he could transport the O’hra to the Pathra
,
and arm them against the Gro
l, Arrin saw only failure ahead
.
These people were no army…they were survivors, nothing more. They would fight because they had to
,
but what little morale they had would crumble
when the Grol swarmed
.

Kirah pulled him from his bleak reveries, nuzzling her nose against his neck. “Come inside, Arrin, and worry about the future when it comes.”

He forced a smile and drew he
r toward the mausoleum.
“It’s here
already
.” He gestured to the backs of the straggling mass of Velen and Yvir as they made their way toward the
shadowy tomb.
“The Grol must be assailing Pathrale as we speak.” Kirah’s ears dropped to her skull, reminded of the threat they had yet to face.
Arrin groaned at his insensitivity.
“
I have no doubt your father holds still, wearing at the beasts, but we must make ready to join him. If we move fa
s
t enough, we can catch the Grol unaware and shatter their rear guard, squeezing them between us and your people.”

Kirah growled, her lips pulling back into a cold sneer.
She sped her pace, pulling him along. “Then let us be about it.
I would be home soon.
”

Arrin let her tug him about
. He hadn’t meant to worry her, but still his lifelong exile from social graces had struck once more. She would think only of her family until they were back in the land of the Pathra.
He trailed along until she came to a sudden stop, just inside the mausoleum.

Blackness filled his eyes.

The obsidian structure was a marvel of
ancient
construction, once more asserting the dominance of the Sha’ree. That they could build such an amazing edifice so far into the desert sands and have it remain standing without so much as a blemish marring its beauty was breathtaking.

Just
within
its
darkened
entryway, the temperature dropped
and the light dimmed
. The sand and heat and the
sounds of the
creatures melted away within its hall. Excited voices echoed around him as the
Velen and Yvir crowded inside. They spilled into the adjoining chambers as the foyer grew too crowded, silence suddenly taking the reins.

Arrin slipped his arm loose of Kirah’s and ran through one of the archways to see what they’d found.
The collar at his throat thrummed as if in welcome, the metal warming against his skin.
He stopped cold as the immensity of the mausoleum spread out before him. The relatively low ceiling of the foyer disappeared to be replaced by a great sloping roof that seemed to cling to the sky outside. It rose up the full height of the mausoleum. The dead surrounded them.

Set in crafted alcoves, lined ten high all the way to the gloom of the ceiling, were the bodies of Sha’ree. The Velen dropped to their knees in waves, staring up at the corpses. They sat silently, as though in reverence of the ancient people. The Yvir shuffled about to make room, far less interested in the show of respect t
han their blood-companions. The
pale people were more realistic, but yet
inordinately
patient. They
would
likely
wait
for the Velen to finish
gawking
before they set about ransacking the bodies.

Those closest to the entry were missing a number of their O’hra; clearly the ones Braelyn had in her possession.
She stood before those with her head bowed in solemnity.
Arrin pushed past the crowd and laid a hand on her shoulder, giving it a gentle squeeze. Braelyn looked up and smiled.

“I’m just thanking them once more for their sacrifice to my continued life, an
d for what we intend to do.” She glanced back to the Sha’ree. “It is always good to have the dead on your side. You never know when you will join them.”

Arrin grinned. “I only hope it’
s not too soon.” He turned to watch the Velen, giving them a moment to come to terms with their feelings
before he
waved the Yvir on. “We need all of the O’hra, but let us show respect to the ancients.”

The warriors muttered muted agreements and slipped by their kneeling companions to climb the crypts. Like ants, they skittered up the wall with a grace belying their muscled forms, and began to pluck O’hra from the bodies. They handed
them
down the line, piles of the magical artifacts collecting quickly on the floor.

Arrin went over to the closest of the piles, plucking a number of ite
ms for Kirah
and
he
to use. The O’hra vibrated in his hands, the sense of their power reverberating
within
his hand and up
through
his arm
s
, settling in his chest
.
He immediately felt energized. The
piles
of O’hra growing around him, he felt excitement surging. They might well have a chance after all.

The gatherers returned in a rush. Uthul
fought
to restrain a smug smile at Kalto’re’s choked realization Uthul had been speaking
true.
It was a bitter victory.

“There are
thousands
.” The number settled over the gathered Sha’ree as though it were a brewing storm.

Uthul’s amusement was washed away a moment later as the cold realization of what they faced settled in. He
had
been right. The Hull planned an attack, whatever their reasons. At this point, it did not matter. The Sha’ree numbers had been diminished by the plague, and further weakened by the loss of O’hra. The tools had become a crutch to be leaned upon, and it had made the Sha’
ree weak, dependent.

Though Uthul had fought the Hull at various points in his long life, it had never been more than
small skirmish
es
, and he had the luxury of Ree’s magic. This battle was to be different. He felt they might still win through despite the Sha’ree only being able to field less than five hundred soldiers to meet the crush o
f Hull, but it would be difficult. The creatures were relentless, immune to pain and fear. They would march without halt into the heart of Ah Uto R
ee until the last of them lay dead
.

All around him, the Sha’ree clustered, having gathered
what
weapons th
ey could find;
none
bore
the taint of pure magic
as those had long since been cast away
. There were few at hand. It was yet another sad realization how comfortable his people had become with Ree’s essence. They would miss their O’hra, but Uthul knew from experience the sickness that followed such a congregation of magic would kill them even if the Hull did not.

It was a strange feeling to be hunted, and Uthul did not like it. Never before had the Sha’ree been so vulnerable. Fear was new to them, its taste bitter and unsatisfying. Death was frightening, and he was beginning to see what drove the other races to be so careless with their lives, so willing to give them up or take them. There was a sickening thrill that reverberated through him as he acknowledged he might die. It was both disturbing and exciting, in equal measure.

“Why do you think they
’ve come
?” Marii asked, pulling him from his disgusted thoughts.

Uthul shook his head. “Who could fathom a mind of stone, child? Not I.” He looked off toward the horizon, smoothing his shaking hands against his thighs. “Perhaps we have simply grown too complacent as the first born of Ree and they resent our arrogance.”

“But we have done them no harm.”

“Who is to say we haven’t?” Uthul turned to meet her wavering eyes. “We have long been too self-absorbed, too worried of our status in Ree’s eyes, always looking down upon those lesser than us. Perhaps this is a lesson in humility the goddess has chosen to teach us as we have been too blind to see the truth.” A quiet laugh slipped free. “
Perhaps
they just want to fight.”

“Wisdom of the elders…how poetic, Uthul.”

Uthul did not need to turn to recognize the sour voice of Kalto’re. “Have you a better idea?”

“Ree has abandoned us.”

Marii hissed and covered her mouth, her pink eyes wide above her hands.

“
If she hasn’t, I would be surprised.” Uthul turned to face the other elder. “
I, too, would have turned my back on such miscreant children as
some of us
have become.”

Kalto’re took a step back, glaring.

“We
are
the disease which torments Ree, not the other races.
We
are the ones who bleed her for her magic. We are the ones who have forsaken our vows to companion her and keep her from slipping away. She falls into the darkness of her own thoughts because
we
have failed her.” He waved a hand toward the blockaded border. “This is justice
for our failure
.”