Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (7 page)

The Pathran warriors struck together to bring one of the Lathahn soldiers down, but they paid dearly for their success. Outnumbered, the cats were rushed by men wielding the strange blue swords. The
Pathran
weapons shattered
as they tried to parry, and they
fell beneath the frigid blades.

Commander Maltis and Falen stood side-by-side as they moved to circle, but there were too many soldiers. Malya’s husband cleaved the arm from one of the Lathahns and sent him stumbling away with a ragged screech. Falen wasn’t so lucky with the second. A blade grazed his side and forced him back. Maltis was struck down as Falen spared a glance at his wound. The old commander was
pierced
by a half dozen swords. He collapsed stiffly to the ground, the impact doing nothing to break the coating of ice that encased his upper body. His dead eyes swam beneath the frozen covering.

“Keep
Falen
alive,” the voice at her ear shouted.

The soldiers responded, batting away Falen’s
attempt to parry, and closing. They pummeled him with fists and pommels and rode him to the earth. He fought all the way down, but the blue and gray tabards buried him, raining down blows.

Barold stood as the last defender. He dropped yet another of the Lathahn soldiers, a number of them dead at his feet already, and ran to aid Falen.

“We have them!” a voice cried out.

Ellora cast her gaze to the sound and saw a handful of soldiers roughly leading Malya and her sons back to the camp. Ellora looked back to Barold and realized he must have seen it as well. He stood frozen, despair etched clearly across his dark face. A flash of blue at his back crumpled him. He fell with a sigh, his sword tumbling from his fingers.

“You bastard,” Malya shrieked as she was dragged closer.
She reached desperately for her children but the
men
kept them apart.

Ellora was
shoved
into the arms of another soldier
as the family was brought to a halt. The leathered grip was traded for a bare-armed one, but it was no less restrictive. Her gaze leapt from the princess to the man who’d held the blade at her throat. She slumped against her captor
when she recognized him
.

“Hardly a bastard, sister,” Prince Olenn answered, pointing to where the king lay. “We both know my lineage is pure.
”

“Release us now.” Her eyes shifted and she looked to her husband. He lay still on the ground, a trickle of blood running from his mouth and foreh
ead. “If you’ve hurt him, I’ll—”

“He lives…for now. His wellbeing from here out depends entirely on you, dear sister.” The soldiers near Falen rolled him over and
tied
his arms with the rope Barold had tossed at them. “If you behave and keep your sharp tongue
sheathed
inside your mouth, I will not harm him. However, should you challenge me in
any
way, I will hack him apart in front of your sons. And should that not be enough of a lesson to still your fire, I’ll start on Argos next, and then Kylle, if need be.”

The boys trembled as their uncle spoke, the soldiers at their backs laughing and shaking them about. Malya glared at the men, her eyes shifting softer as her gaze
turned
to her children.

“He won’t hurt you, boys,” she told them, forcing a smile. It slid away as she looked back to her brother. “I’ll do as you ask, but do not threaten my family again
.
”

“Fair enough
. We are agreed.” He motioned to the solider holding Malya. “Bind her and
rope her to her husband.”

“The children, my lord?” one of the soldiers asked.

Olenn let his gaze drift
to Ellora before drifting to
Ar
gos and Kylle
. “We won’t have any problems from any of you now, will we?” he asked, his tone sugary. He bared his teeth. “I’d hate for anything untoward to happen to
your parents
.”

The boys shook their heads and Ellora just stared. She knew she served no purpose in the prince’s plans so she remained quiet, hoping he was too blinded
by
his
victory
to realize it.
The words of the grans echoed inside her head as she cast furtive looks at Olenn
. They had said he was cruel, but she’d never seen any
direct
evidence of the sort. But standing before her, the smugness wiping away all trace of the man’s handsomeness, she saw Olenn as the grans had described. He was evil. Lathah had fallen and its people had been killed or captured, and here stood the land’s prince threatening children with the death of their mother, his
own
sister.

“What do you want, Olenn,” Malya asked.

“
Only what is
due me.” He circled around his captive sist
er and walked over to the king. Olenn dropped to his knee beside the old man and set a gloved hand under his chin, turning the king’s face toward his own. He stared into the blank eyes of his father, the king’s lips mouthing words no one could hear. “It seems you have lost your kingdom, father.”

“
You
lost—”
Malya started.

Olenn snapped his head about and pressed his finger to his lips. “Shhh, sister, remember our agreement
, and do not try my patience
.”

A soldier set his sword to Falen’s
prone
neck and Malya relented. There was no hiding the fury that seared her cheeks, but she held silent.

The prince turned back to the king and smiled down at the old man. “Don’t worry though, for I’ve a plan to win it back.
” He slid his hand beneath the king’s head and held it up. “I’m sorry you won’t be there to see the land
returned to
Lathahn rule.”

“Olenn, no!” Malya fought to be free, but the men held her fast. She frothed and screamed in their grasp.

Ellora heard the rasp of steel being unsheathed and saw the prince loose his sword. For an instant, she didn’t understand what he intended, and then it struck her
as Malya’s panicked shouts sunk home
. Chills prickled her skin as Olenn pulled back his arm and drove the sword through his father’s skull.

King Orrick died without a sound. Black blood seeped from around the pommel and dripped thickly onto the dirt. The cloak that covered him rose up once as though the king intended to savor his last breath
, and then settled
into stillness
. The body seemed to deflate as Olenn pulled his sword free, Orrick’s face rolling to stare blankly a
t
his murderer
; his son
.

Malya sobbed and collapsed into the arms of her captors as her children did their best to stay brave. Argos held his chin up high and glared at his uncle, while Kylle stared into the jungle, silver tears spilling down his cheeks.

Olenn walked before his sister, his bloody sword still in his hand. “Tell me where the exile is. Where is Arrin?” Frothy spittle struck her cheek.

Malya looked up through swollen, red eyes, straightening as best she could in the grasp of the soldiers. Ellora stared at the princess, expecting her to unleash her rage upon the prince, but Malya said nothing.

“Come, sister, what does he matter now? He’s been gone for fifteen years. If he can serve Lathah one last time, will that not repay his transgressions
against the crown
?” He drew closer.

Still, Malya stood in silence. Tears ran from her eyes, but she only stared at her brother.

“Do not force my hand.” He shifted the sword so the point aimed at Argos’s groin. The boy edged away, but the
soldier
at his back held him fast. “Would you rather see your son unmanned?”
Argos whimpered.

Malya cringed and opened her mouth to speak, but Ellora called out, “Stop! I’ll tell you where he is.” Ellora knew nothing
of Arrin
, but she could see the torment in the princess’ eyes at the mention of his name. It was clear Malya would not let her son come to harm
over the exile, but there was something there, something in her hesitation,
which
spoke of feelings for the man. Ellora had seen the bodies piled at the warrior’s feet as he fought to secure their escape from Lathah. If the prince wished for death so boldly, Ellora would point him in the proper direction. “He’s gone to Ah Uto Ree
, with the Sha’ree
.”

Malya slumped with a sob as the prince turned and walked to stand before Ellora. “You speak true, child?”

“I do…my lord,” she replied, adding the last in hopes of pacifying the prince.

He smiled and spun away with a flourish. “Gather them up and let us go before the Pathrans check on their men.” He waved a soldier forward. “You know your mission?”

“Yes, my lord.”

“Then be about it.”

The soldier nodded and dashed into the trees, heading in the direction of Lathah. Olenn motioned for the rest of his men to follow, and strode toward the mountains. Ellora was dragged behind the
soldiers
who held Malya and her children, and Falen who lay limp over the shoulder of a
nother of the men
. She listened to the princess cry as they marched on and hoped
Olenn
found exactly what he searched for.

Uthul woke from his slumber
with a start, feeling at peace despite his trials
. The
balm
of the Succor
had
eased away his weariness and softened all but the worst of his wounds
, pulling him from his sleep
.
The dreaded plague had slowed as well, its viral touch tempered by the miraculous fruit, but Uthul could still feel its rancor deep inside. His body had absorbed too much of the errant magic of the O’hra
. He
could not properly process its poisonous overload
so quickly
. But for now,
he felt nearly as well as he had before he threw himself
at
the Grol forces.

From his vantage point, he could see the whole of Lathah between wafts of blackened smoke and the swirling gray dust that drifted up from the shattered city. A gathering of tiny ants clustered together in the open field south of the gates, in no formation Uthul had ever seen an army take. He suspected the people were
Lathahn prisoners, the city streets nearly barren of life. Glimmers of steel reflected off a number of shapes that circled the larger group, confirming his presumptions
as he identified
the be
asts that
patrolled
the perimeter.

He let his gaze wander and spied the whole of the Grol army as it marched north, clouds of dust
swirling
in its wake.
Though it wounded his spirit to let such creatures roam free
, he knew there was little he could do to stop them now. He was needed back in Ah Uto Ree, to help train the warriors so they stood a chance of collecting the O’hra from the halls of the dead. Uthul wished he could have prepared them without the long trek to his homeland, but
the younger races were blind to all but the most basic of the O’hra’s capabilities. It would take the combined knowledge of the surviving Sha’ree impressed upon the minds of the wielders and a communion with Ree to unlock the full potential. Those chosen few could then spread the knowledge amongst their kind, the wisdom translated into its most primitive form.

Despite the need,
Uthul still wondered at the risk of opening the minds
of the younger races
to the power of the O’hra. History had shown the Sha’r
ee how careless, how cruel, they
could be, but his people had agreed it was their only option to keep the plague from decimating them once more.
They had seen the darkness that came and closed the eyes of many of their kindred when they’d always believed themselves immortal. Fear of that darkness now directed the politics of the Sha’ree and forced their hand. They had become like the younger races, destined to die, never to feel the touch of their goddess, never
again
to hear her voice that rippled through the fonts. Worse still, were the Sha’ree to pass from this world, there would be no one to stir
Ree
from her slumber. She too would drift into the blackness of the void and be swallowed within her memories.
What would come of the world then?

A chill started at the nape of Uthul’s neck and wormed its way down his spine. He could not think of such horrors; he would not. The Lathahn and his followers must succeed, and Uthul must ensure such.

He thought of his people and the glories of Ah Uto Ree as he opened the bag of O’hra he’d taken from the dead Grol.
His breath fluttered in his lungs
while
he stared at the
tools
he now knew was nothing more than a poison they’d once so willin
gly embraced. If he were to make it home in time to ready the relic-wielders for their trial, he would need to embrace the magic once more. One last Succor inside his pouch to stem the virulence, Uthul believed he could use the power of the O’hra and reach his homeland before the plague resurfaced to its contagion point.
It was a risk he would have to take.