Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (30 page)

“You are—”

Uthul’s words sliced the throat of Kalto’re’s bluster. “Be silent, fool!
” He rose up to his full height, daring the other elder to
continue
. When Kalto’re did not, Uthul sneered. “If we survive to see another of Ree’s glorious dawns, then you and I will have words as to where the Sha’ree will go from there. If
we
are to die this day, I would not have your shrill voice
being the last
in my ears when I go to meet my goddess.”
He dismissed the elder with a wave.

Kalto’re huffed and stormed down the lines. Marii stared after, a crooked smile gracing her face. The grate of stone wiped it away.
The whole of the Sha’ree defense dropped low in preparation.

Uthul’s breath thickened in his lungs as he glanced toward the sound, which could only mean o
ne thing: the enemy approached. The quiet tremble in the earth grew with every passing moment. Uthul could feel the tension in those who stood beside him. They waited in absolute silence. Not even the soft whispers of their breaths slipped from their
mouths.

Stone grated against stone as the Hull army advanced. The vibration in the ground tingled at Uthul’s feet. His knuckles ached as he realized his hands were clenched into unconscious fists, and he eased them open with a muffle
d
grunt.
Despite the thick grass that covered the land between the two armies, he could see clouds of dust rising in advance of the Hull. Their heavy feet tore the ground to its foundation, no doubt leaving a tortured swath of brown behind where there had been green
just
moments before.

Uthul felt Marii inch closer as the thunder of footsteps drew nearer. There was no denying it. For all its absurdity and unexpectedness, the Sha’ree were at war.

Only recently, the shimmering collar about Arrin’s neck had been a rare treasure he would never have imagined seeing more of
,
let alone wielding another. Today, the ransacked Sha’ree mausoleum left long behind, he swam in relics.
The collar remained in its faithful place about his throat, but its power was augmented by the array of O’hra that covered his body.

About his torso was a silvery harness, which seemed to cradle him as he moved. Its power rumbled in his chest
in coordination with those about his wrists and ankles. They fluttered with a gentle green belying the volcanic surge of energy that careened through his body
,
begging for release. The desert gave him plenty of opportunity.

In
each hand
, he held Sha’ree swords, which he’d traded for his own. While longer than he was used to using, the blades were perfectly balanced and as light as air.
It took him a few moments to adjust, but once he did, it was as though they were meant for him. The swords cleaved through everything that dared rise up along their path, sending it back to the desert floor in pieces, the sand stained red in their wake.

They had outfitted the Velen with anklets allowing them to keep pace with the rest of the group, but it had been decided not to bother providing them with weapons
with which they were just as likely to harm themselves with as the enemy
.
Those were reserved for the Yviri warriors, Kirah, and even Cael, who Arrin was certain the sting of the O’hra would give the boy the confidence to face what lay ahead
and an outlet for his fury
. For all the bleakness they had encountered, it was only going to get worse, especially now that the Sha’ree weren’t there to teach them the ancient tricks of the O’hra.

For all his tenacity, Cael was still a child, and Arrin had to remember that as they battled their way north. He had stood his ground bravely, and healed the wounded, as the creatures of the desert threw themselves at the travelers without mercy, but as harrowing as that was, the Grol could fight at range. There would be no buffer of safety where he was shielded by Braelyn, Arrin, and the mass of Yvir. They would all be in danger even with the O’hra to call upon.

There had been no ranged weapons amidst the Sha’ree dead, which worried Arrin. It was
yet another obstacle
that only added to the already near-insurmountable disadvantage of numbers. As good as he felt with the O’hra sting in his veins, Arrin had to face the reality of what they were up against.
This would be no border skirmish, but an all-out-war.
The Grol faced extinction should they lose
. T
hey would fight to the very last beast despite their
cowardly
nature. If Ahreele were to ever know peace, the Grol must be killed off…every male, female, and cub. There could be no exception.

He knew
the Grol
would feel the same of them
.

Empowered Lathahns and Yvir would also fight to the end because an even greater enemy awaited beyond. The Hull and Ruhr were mobilizing and would need to be taken out or driven back to their rocky homes in the north.
Arrin and his forces could leave no Grol at their heels for they could be certain of being harried until the Hull crushed those who remained.

The Grol must die
.

Arrin sliced through the sinewy neck of a serpent, sending its shrieking head tumbling to the sand. The body writhed and squirmed, following after the rest. Blood oozed from its wound once it crumpled to the earth, the cut at its neck clean and nearly cauterized by the shimmer of the Sha’ree sword.

All around him, the Yviri fighters laid waste to the mutated beasts of the Funeral Sands.
They were a frightful blur of viciousness, maintaining a huge perimeter around the Velen and making sure nothing came within a handful of horse lengths. A number of the pale warriors crept within the Velen ranks, listening to the ground in search of lurkers waiting to pop into their midst.

It was an effective system. Though the creatures had no sense of fear, their numbers dwindled nevertheless. Be it from the simple fact of the empowered force culling the sands of its predators or the rank stench of death warning the rest away, fewer and fewer of the creatures assailed them as they moved north toward solid earth.

Braelyn had since stopped circling the group and had settled in to a casual run alongside Arrin and Kirah.
Cael
ran
a ways
behind them.

“What
do we face
ahead?” she asked. “More of the stone beings?”

Arrin shook his head. “Not at first, I hope. They may well have come south from their homes, but the
river
and the Barren Lake will keep them from driving too deep into Pathra territory. They can likely stroll through the depths of the water, but it would leave them exposed as they attempted to exit its steep depths.
The Pathra could use the Hull’s weight against them and keep them in the water indefinitely.”

“What about those little volcanoes? Can they use those?”

“No. There aren’t any in the western lands, at least as far as I know.”

“And the Grol?
Where will they be?
”

Kirah sighed. “They will be burning our jungles, trying to draw our forces out into the open. They’ll fail. Pathrale is lined with tributaries from the river, all prepared to be used to douse fires and separate the land from invaders should they make it inside.”

“The Grol will most likely be stalled at the border of Lathah and Pathrale. They won’t want to close into javelin rang
e until they’re certain they’v
e cleared the Pathra from the nearby trees.” A smile cracked his lips. “That is also unlikely.”

“Don’t forget the Korme,” Cael chimed in
from his place behind them
, sadness tingeing his voice.

Arrin nodded
,
casting his eyes behind him
. “True. They also harry the Pathra, though I suspect it is like a fly to horse’s ass as to how effective they are
against an enemy that knows they’re coming
.”

Kirah giggled, her voice
vibrating
with
a purr.

Braelyn went quiet as the
y continued on, her eyes locked on the distant horizon. The battle around them had slowed to almost nothing. A trickle of creatures still dared to make the travelers a meal, but the group had lost only five warriors and one Velen since leaving the mausoleum. It gave Arrin hope they might well be strong enough to wreak havoc upon the Grol
even if they could not win out
. He plotted their course in his head, factoring in the Lathahn landscape in an effort to plan the safest approach, which gave them the greatest element of surprise.

~

The time passed quickly. Arrin
pushed the travelers forward, taking no breaks along the way. He knew the O’hra would keep the group strong and delay the need for food and drink as well as rest. As they neared the end of the Funeral Sands, its denizens having long since given up interest in them, Arrin was glad to see the Fortress Mountains casting its shadowed presence into the sky. They were nearly
free of the desert
.

The jagged range snaked upward, to their left, as the promise of solid earth grew nearer. Smiles littered the faces of the Velen as their Yviri guardians told them what the mountains meant. Arrin smiled as the excitement filtered through the group. They had lost a great many warriors on the way to the mausoleum, and they would most certainly lose a great many more before the journey was done, but they had survived. There was comfort in this, however small or shallow.

The good feelings ended moments later. Braelyn pointed a ways into the distance. The chattered voices of the group faded as Arrin’s focus followed her extended finger. A brown cloud of dust swirled at the edge of his vision. Even with the O’hra, he could not clearly see what caused the turbulence, but a lifetime of military service gave him the answer without needing to spy it directly.

He growled, calling for the group to halt. “An army approaches
at haste
,” he stated, pushing his voice so that it carried across the ranks.

“Your people?” Braelyn asked Kirah.

She shook her head without hesitation. “My people would never kick up dust.” Her voice was filled with disgust. Her whiskers lay flat along her cheeks, purple eyes seething above.

Arrin cupped a hand over his eyes to as he stared
the short distance
into Fhen. The cloud was building, the brown of it twirling and being whipped into a frenzy. He looked behind them and sighed as he spied their own trail of dust kicked
up
in their passage.

“They’re coming faster,” Braelyn announced.

“They’ve
see
n
us,” Arrin answered.

“They
who
?” Cael drew alongside Kirah, looking toward the growing cloud. She set a hand on his arm and nodded
, her shoulders slumped
, but she did not answer his question
.

Arrin stared on, doing his best to assess the approaching force before they came too close. It was the Grol, he had no doubt. Their muffled howls drifted on the wind
,
whispers of it
fluttering to his ears in guttural
stutters.

“Is it the Grol?” Cael insisted on an answer.

“I thought they would
be fighting your—”
Braelyn let her question go
, her face twisted with regret
as she glanced at Kirah.

Their presence could only mean one thing: the Pathra were dead. Arrin went to Kirah and pulled her in close. To her credit, she remained quiet
, her strength evident in her silence
. Her whiskers trembled and twitched,
pinned against her cheeks,
but her purple eyes were clear of tears. Arrin could see his reflection in their depths. It stood alongside her rage. She would know revenge before she gave in to grief.

Arrin knew the O’hra fueled her emotions, so when she stiffened and seemed as though she would charge, he locked his ha
nd
about her elbow. “Look closer before you throw your life away, Kirah.” He motioned with his chin toward the closing enemy.

She stared off without saying a word, the tenseness evident in her posture, her arm straining ever so slightly against Arrin’s grip.

“This is not the fight for us,” he told her,
despite
his own ire surging through his veins.
“Not now.”

“We may not have much of a choice,” Braelyn cut in
, slipping her swords from their scabbards
.

Arrin and Kirah turned to her. She pointed along the horizon,
focusing their attention on
the
growing
clouds of
a
hurried passage.
The howls of the Grol filled the sky like thunder. Its sound
boomed
across the intervening space.