Resurrected Soldiers: The Tyrus Chronicle - Book Three (38 page)

Every part of me wanted to check on Hamath, but I fought that urge as I sensed a change in the artifact. Hamath’s contact, brief as it was, managed to dampen the effects of the sorcery so that the power radiating from the sky above and around us lessened.

The artifact fell out of Amasa’s hand. The sorcerous power lessened again.

I looked to the barely conscious High Mage for help, but when our eyes met, he seemed insane. The artifact had done something to him. His skin turned pale. His body clenched into a ball, then straightened rigid as a board. He didn’t move again.

Dead.

The air shifted again, faster. My attention returned to the artifact. The reduction in its power from both Hamath touching Amasa and the High Mage releasing the artifact was beginning to come back.

I guessed that once activated the artifact would not stop until it completed its task.

Hundreds of thoughts ran through my head. I had to do something. Thousands of soldiers counted on me below. They’d be the first to die by the artifact. Millions more around Chayal also counted on me if this artifact was truly meant to destroy the world.

Most importantly, Ava, Myra, and Zadok counted on me.

No pressure.

I moved quickly to the thing, raised my sword high and brought it down. An intense jolt ran up my arms, and the sword disappeared from my hands. I lay on my back, blinking.

That wasn’t a good sign and neither was the ever swirling sky.

Examining the wooden artifact, there was only a small scratch from where I had struck it.

Lightning arced down in various locations around me.

Molak-be-damned. Nothing ever came easy.

I reasoned out what had happened. My sword wasn’t resistant to sorcery. I was. I doubted my resistance was strong enough to stop something of this magnitude before dying, but I had to try.

I crawled, then dove the last few feet toward the artifact, latching onto it with both hands. Immediately, I wished I hadn’t.

Cold so intense it burned engulfed my hands, then my lower arms, then my upper arms, traveling into my shoulders. I could see my breath in the air as I gasped from the pain.

Everything in me wanted to let the artifact go, to make the pain stop, but I couldn’t. Not until I was either dead or the artifact was destroyed. I closed my eyes tight, then clamped my jaw down harder, putting pressure on my teeth as the cold worked into them as well. I tried to focus on my resistance, imagining it eating away at the sorcery.

The wind seemed to slowly subside.

Then there was a surge of power in the artifact, and the wind’s strength returned. With the surge of power, came something like anger from the artifact. Then satisfaction permeated from the thing as I screamed in pain, doing everything in my power not to reflexively drop it.

Was this thing alive? Was I feeling something from the Geneshan god that the artifact resembled?

The first question I could hypothesize on later. The second increased my stubbornness to new levels. I hated the idea of the Turine gods and goddesses, and our gods were nowhere near as awful as the Geneshan god. If this was my chance to finally face a deity, then I was not going down easily. Instead of letting the artifact go, I clenched my hands tighter, bending over myself and pulling the wood close to my body so that I wrapped myself around it.

The wind lessened again.

The artifact seemed to fight back again as if alive.

Inconceivably, I bore down harder.

This struggle continued for what seemed like an eternity, all the while I endured more pain than I ever had. A mental image of my kids is what drove me not to give into the pain and let go.

Even still, I’m only a man. Even my stubbornness has a breaking point. The artifact must have sensed me tiring for it pushed harder. It was almost too much for me. I began to weaken.

Then a hand fell on my shoulder. I didn’t look to the hand lest I break my concentration, but I knew even before he spoke whose hand it was.

Tiredly, Hamath rasped. “I’m with you, Tyrus.”

Hamath had almost died with his initial attempt at stopping the artifact by touching Amasa, and though I had a stronger resistance, I could not stop the artifact’s power either. Together though, we seemed to have just enough strength to battle its efforts.

Almost as if the thing was truly sentient and sensing its demise, the artifact gave off one more blast of cold that ran through my bones. Hamath must have felt the same for he gasped for air. But neither of us let go. I held the wood tight, and Hamath squeezed me tighter.

That last effort must have been all the artifact had left in it for after that rallying surge, the power it once held embedded inside leaked steadily away.

Geneshan words ran into my mind then, words that promised revenge, that promised pain and suffering. I actually managed a laugh as those repeated themselves over and over. The Geneshan god, or the life within the artifact, or whoever owned those words didn’t understand that pain and suffering were old friends to me.

Promises of more would not break me.

CHAPTER 42

The Geneshans attacked them with everything they had.

A couple hundred of the enemy’s infantry came into view at the bottom of the low mountain, leaving the dead forest they had organized in behind. Immediately, Ava saw the fruits of Myra’s earlier plans. The time their group had spent pushing rocks and repositioning felled trees on the slope leading to the cave mouth created a narrow path that allowed for only two Geneshans to come through at a time. That helped alleviate some of the advantage the enemy had in numbers.

The Geneshans did not arm their infantry with spears which also hindered their efforts at pushing through. The path Myra constructed limited the ability of someone wanting to swing a sword, meaning the Geneshans would need to get very close to their group to attack.

Ava’s small force had no qualms against using spears though, and therefore held a big advantage in reach with their weapons.

Ava found herself grinning as she watched the first Geneshans fall under the quick, stabs of her group defending the path. She was proud watching them maintain discipline and not falter under the pressure of so many of the enemy in front of them. She almost chuckled as the Geneshans at the front not only tried to protect themselves from the spear thrusts, but also pushed against the press of their own men. Those at the back of the enemy couldn’t understand what was causing their delay in advancing while those at the front had no desire to sacrifice themselves in order for the surge of so many to overtake the defenders.

As long as we don’t get some fanatics eager to kill themselves for the benefit of the others, we should be all right for a time.

As Ava watched the first clash of battle unfold, she worked several attack spells. She was ready to unleash them, one after the other, but then felt the niggling use of sorcery not her own. She figured the enemy had at least one sorcerer among them, but since they had not attacked in unison with the infantry, she had hoped that either her assumption had been wrong, or the sorcerers had suffered injuries preventing them from joining the battle.

The use of sorcery forced her to drop her attack spells before they were finished so that she could prepare for the enemy. She reached out with her power, trying to feel how many sorcerers she’d have to deal with. She cursed aloud when learning the answer was three. If there was one low-grade sorcerer, or even two, Ava felt like even in her current state, she had nothing to worry about.

But three? Three is just enough to create a stalemate.

Locked into a personal battle with those three, she had to turn most of her attention away from the spears and swords, trusting Myra to handle any changes in strategy. She negated many spells designed to send dread into the hearts of their group so they would falter under the press of Geneshan soldiers. Other spells included blinding light, annoying insects, and small balls of fire.

Ava repelled them all, one after the other, over and over. Occasionally after a small break in her own battle, she’d try to aid those fighting below on the slope, but all she’d have time for was watch her people fight, grow tired, and in some instances die.

Though she could no longer see Hol, having left the back entrance to their cave in order to face down the Geneshans as they came up toward the main entrance, she’d been hearing the fighting in the distance for as long as theirs had gone on. She had taken those sounds as a good sign, but also doubted it would be enough.

Certainly not good enough for Balak’s army to win, and then just so happen to stumble upon and save us in time.

Fatigue and superior numbers began to win out. The Geneshans pushed up the first third of the hill and looked like they would keep going as Myra called for an immediate withdrawal upward.

Despite her battle with the three sorcerers, Ava was able to watch Myra trigger one of the traps she had told her about, cutting bindings on logs lining part of the narrow path they had created. The sides of the path collapsed, killing more than a dozen of the enemy in the process. The delay also blocked the path upward. Myra repositioned her men further up the mountain, rotated those who were wounded or fatigued to the back of her formation, and caught their breath while waiting for the Geneshans to haul the debris away that prevented their ascension.

Ava wanted desperately to talk with her niece to give her encouragement and let her know how proud she was of all they had accomplished thus far. She also wanted to see to the others in the group and make sure they didn’t lose heart at their first withdrawal. However, the three sorcerers would not let up in their efforts, forcing Ava to trust in Myra and the group’s training.

After a small ten minute break, the fighting began again. The Geneshans pushed forward with renewed determination as if angry at their failing to notice Myra’s trap. They managed to make it two thirds up the path to their cave this time and Myra had to call for another withdrawal. Ava only wished she could have seen the faces of the Geneshan soldiers as her niece’s second trap was sprung, collapsing the path once again.

Ava’s thoughts on the enemy’s faces didn’t last long though as the Geneshans cleared their path much quicker the second time, and pushed ever harder. The labors of the enemy forced Myra to withdrawal yet again and spring the last of her three traps.

The Geneshans had learned what to expect by the third ruse. They suffered only one death and moved at great speed to clear the debris. Myra saw the same and hustled the surviving ten fighters in their group still alive up the pass toward Ava at the mouth of the cave as it was the last best position to fight from.

Ava’s heart dropped at the bleakness of the situation.

Gods, only ten?

There was another small break in her battle with the sorcerers, and she took the moment to stare down the trail of Geneshans moving ever upward. She knew they had killed at least a third of their number, but despite their efforts, it would not be enough.

Ao’s teats.

The arrival of Myra and the surviving defenders caused those who had stayed behind in the cave—children, most of the women, the elderly, and wounded—to shout or sob.

As the small break in attacks from the three sorcerers lengthened, Ava rested to gather some final reserve a strength while helping situate all who could fight into position at the cave mouth.

Myra came to her. “What can you do?”

“Same thing I’ve been doing. Not much with three sorcerers occupying me.”

“Then kill them.”

“It’s not so easy to—”

“Focus on wherever you think one is located. The weakest. Try to kill that one first, then work on the next one and so on.”

“If I focus on one, the other two mages will be able to target them,” she said, nodding to the soldiers at the cave mouth, crouched with spears raised.

Myra whispered. “I know. Do it anyway.”

Ava sighed in resignation and understanding.

What does it matter at this point? We have to try something,
she thought as shouts from the enemy grew in volume as they neared their position.

The charging Geneshans slammed into those at the cave mouth, just as Ava began work on a spell to find the weakest of the three sorcerers. She felt Zadok come up beside her, careful not to touch her. She wasn’t sure if it was to protect her or because he was scared.

She quested outward with invisible hands, searching for the three sorcerers. She found them one-by-one. They were mostly even in power, but one seemed more fatigued, so that’s the one she chose to eliminate first. She had never tried her spell to take someone’s breath away from such a distance, but she didn’t have many other options at her disposal.

A blinding light shone through her closed eyes and those around her swore.

They acted faster than I thought once I stopped defending against them.

“Hurry up, Aunt Ava,” she heard Myra shout.

She squeezed her eyes tighter, drawing in power from the world around her and pushing it out to her target through her spell. She felt it take hold, the sorcerer breaking off his own attack from the other two. Ava no longer felt the third one’s connection to sorcery and knew him to be dead.

Or at the least unconscious.

Despite the hopeless nature of their situation, she couldn’t stop herself from smiling, taking some pleasure in what she knew was inevitably her last moments.

Something painful entered her thigh, and a jolt ran through her body. She went rigid, collapsing hard and striking her head.

“Aunt Ava!” Zadok shouted.

She opened her eyes and saw another arrow like the one she had been shot with before protruding from her leg.

But there are no Master Sorcerers in the area.

Looking to the opening of the cave, a Geneshan carrying a bow drew another arrow back aimed at her.

Perhaps there doesn’t need to be if the runes bind the spell properly.

A ball of fire struck the cave mouth. Both Geneshans and members of their group burned.

The other two sorcerers.

For a moment she was appalled they’d strike so recklessly around their own, but then the enemy had done that before. They’d gladly sacrifice their own if it was what their god, Beel, willed.

Myra and Nason tried to extinguish the fire on the defenders’ clothes. In the process, flames found life on their arms or legs.

She heard Myra scream in pain before rolling to the ground while a bloody Damaris dove on top of her to stifle the fire crawling up her back.

Not like this. Not while I’m helpless.

She looked to Zadok. “Pull the blasted thing out!”

But he was diving after Myra.

Bees filled the cave next.

How are those two acting so quickly?

Ava pushed aside the pain from falling and lunged at her nephew’s legs. Her fingers dug into his ankle. He yelped, turning back toward her.

“Pull it out!” she screamed at him while pointing to the arrow in her leg.

Ava wasn’t sure if it was understanding or fear, but Zadok moved in a blur toward her and yanked the arrow free. Her connection to the power began to return. Hoping to keep the Geneshans at bay, she drew on that power and extended a hand to throw fire at the enemy waiting for the flames to dissipate near the entrance. But it didn’t work.

She cursed and screamed in frustration at the goddess of sorcery for the piece of crap she was. She watched in horror as a Geneshan managed to lop off the head of someone from their group while she lay too weak to do anything about it.

Not like this. Make them pay in some way.

She got to her knees, hand going to her waist to draw her sword.

I still have steel.

Then the world spun.

As best as Ava could tell nothing shook or trembled, but everyone acted as though it did, falling down from feet or knees to their backs. Friend and foe alike dropped weapons to clutch at their heads and guts, some spasming.

But not Ava. Almost as quickly as the world spun for everyone else, it righted itself for her. In fact, Ava felt better than she had in a long time. In over a year.

Then she knew.

The eruptions always attacked sorcery. But this is the opposite. Is the artifact gone?

She didn’t care. She’d figure it out later. Right then, it was unimportant. She stood, drawing in power without effort. It was unlike anything she felt before.

Gods, I’ve missed this.

She glanced over at her niece and nephew. They looked rough with wounds and fatigue, but neither seemed to be feeling any effects from the release of sorcery.

Their resistance.

They came to the same realization then, crawling to lay hands on those around them.

With many at least partially incapacitated from the surge of sorcery, Ava used those moments to pull in power like a drunk reacquainting themselves with whiskey.

The first of the enemy stumbled toward her, weapon in hand.

Her hand flicked out and an invisible force threw the Geneshan back, slamming him into the wall, his head cracking against stone. Others rose, but Ava threw them against the walls of the cave with ease. She walked toward the cave entrance as Zadok and Myra looked at her in awe.

I’ve never had this much control before, especially not with this sort of power.

Her mind buzzed with the possibilities.

“Where are you going, Aunt Ava?” asked Zadok eyes wide.

“Outside. I’ve been wanting to do something for a long time now.”

She stepped into a slowly brightening sky. Gray faded and in its place, a once-familiar blue began to return.

The artifact must be destroyed. Please be alive, Big Brother.

She looked up as black clouds turned gray, then white. Then movement to her left caught her eye. A giant fireball descended on her position.

So they’re recovered as well. And it feels like they’re more powerful too. Good.

She grabbed the ball of fire the Geneshan sorcerers had thrown at her.

Months of practicing when I barely had any connection paid off.

She turned the fireball back on the position of the sorcerers. It zipped down at impossible speed, slamming into the earth as distant screams sounded.

She grinned, though not so much because she eliminated the sorcerers with one blow, but because the rest of the Geneshan soldiers came at her, wanted to continue the fight.

Nothing could have pleased Ava more.