Authors: Daniel Arenson
But Cam's eyes
remained dark. "Tor . . . there something else I didn't want to
tell you on the road. Last we've heard, Serin had destroyed
Fairwool-by-Night. He burned down the houses. He . . ." Cam's
voice choked. "He slew everyone there, we think, and now he
musters an army on the ruins. Koyee and Madori are right across the
border. I pray to Idar that they fled to safety deeper in the night."
Torin lowered his
head and his eyes burned. "After I saw what Serin did to
Kingswall, I feared as much." His breath shook in his lungs.
"Our home is gone."
A dead, empty space
filled Torin, a cavity in his chest. Fairwool-by-Night. His home.
Burned down. The Shadowed Firkin, the tavern where he had spent so
many hours with his friends. His home, the cottage where Mayor Kerof
had raised him, where he had grown up with Bailey, where he had
married Koyee, where he had raised Madori. The maple tree. The
library. The fields of rye and the gardens he had spent his life
tending to. All gone. All his friends and neighbors—fallen.
How
can I go on?
he thought.
How
can I keep fighting when it feels like I have nothing left to fight
for?
Nitomi looked up
from her bowl of mushrooms. She spoke softly, interrupting his
thoughts. "And I pray for my brother, for little Jitomi. He was
with Madori at Teel, did you know? In her last letter to us—it was a
whole moon ago!—Koyee said that Jitomi was with her in Oshy, but
that he planned to leave, to return to Ilar, to my father."
Nitomi shuddered. "Oh, my father was always so mean to him."
Torin rose to his
feet, his appetite gone. "Serin is attacking Qaelin through the
dusk? So we cut off his supplies." He pounded his fist into his
palm, sudden rage washing over his grief. "Mageria is in the
west. Qaelin is in the east. We're here right in the middle, sitting
above his supply lines. We keep raiding the roads. We cut off his
eastern host from his western kingdom. He can't fight a war if he's
starved for food." He gripped his sword. "Why are we here?
Let us organize another raid, a larger raid. Surely Serin's wagons
are rolling east along the roads, his ships sailing east along the
river. We'll burn them."
Cam sighed, placed
down his bowl, and stared at the campfire. "Not so simple, old
boy. There's a new Radian army mustering in Kingswall. They're not
just Magerians either; a whole lot of Nayans have joined them, and
even Ardishmen who've turned coat and now raise the eclipse banners.
They're calling themselves a united army of the Radian Empire. And
they're about to march north, to seek us in the forests, and to try
and stamp us out. They're fifty thousand strong, we hear." Cam
grimaced. "They have mages. Chariots. Cannons, Torin! We have
ten thousand weary, hungry soldiers and five thousand refugees to
protect. The enemy might already be marching; they might be here by
the full moon."
Nitomi nodded.
"Qato and I saw them from our hot air balloon. They have
elephants too, Torin! Real elephants. I always thought I'd love
elephants, but these ones are wearing armor, and there are little
towers on them—howdahs, they're called—and there are archers
inside, and they're going to come here, and I really don't want to
kill those elephants, and . . ." The dojai covered her eyes.
Hulking Qato patted her shoulder, silently comforting her.
Torin felt queasy.
He couldn't take another bite of his meal. "Serin might have
rallied Nayans and even some Ardishmen, but not all in the sunlight
flock to his banners. On the road, I heard Gehena and his soldiers
speak." Torin grimaced to remember those long turns of pain in
darkness, tortured and famished. He suppressed a shudder. "They
spoke of battles along the Icenflow northwest from here. The kingdom
of Verilon has refused to join this so-called Radian Empire. From
snippets I've heard, it sounded like Serin has been sending troops
across the Icenflow to raid Verilon's forests. Only one Magerian
returned from each raid, speaking of Verilish warriors butchering his
comrades and feeding them to the bears."
Cam blew out his
breath, eyebrows raised. "Lovely folk, the Verilish." He
chewed his lip. "Right now, I don't even know if I'm serious or
sarcastic."
Torin clutched the
hilt of his sword, seeking comfort from the heavy leather grip. "My
father fought Verilon in a war many years ago—before I was even
born. He spoke of horrible barbarians, great bearded warriors who
rode on bears and wielded hammers that weighed more than a man. In
his stories, the Verilish were like monsters. If they now fight
Serin, we have powerful allies." He stared at Cam over the
campfire. "We need not fight the Radians in this forest, humble
wooden walls around us. Verilon lies only a three turn ride north.
Let us join our forces to theirs. When Mageria's buffaloes open a
northeastern front, they will meet an alliance of bears and ravens."
With creaking armor
and creaking joints, Cam rose to his feet and paced around the
campfire. "Will Verilon welcome us? The raven and bear have
never been the best of friends."
"The enemy of
my enemy is my friend, as the old cliche goes." Torin smiled
wryly. "Serin has committed the bulk of his troops to the
eastern front, to conquering the night. Many of his other troops are
mustering in the west, besieging the marshlands of Daenor; many
Daenorians too fight against him. Serin thinks his army at Kingswall
is enough to conquer the north." He sneered, surprised by the
sudden rage that flowed through him. "We will make him bleed in
the north."
Cam stepped closer
to Torin, grabbed his arm, and whispered into his ear, "Tor,
I've seen Orewood, the great Verilish city on the border. Massive
towers. Huge walls coated in ice. Thousands of iron-clad warriors
thrice my size. If we march there, there's a good chance Verilon will
slay us and feed us to the bears."
Torin smiled
grimly. "And if we stay here, the Radians will crush our camp.
I'll take my chances with the bears. Massive towers? Huge walls?
Burly warriors? Good. I'd like that on our side."
They turned toward
the others—Queen Linee, Prince Omry, and the two dojai. Beyond them,
many soldiers moved back and forth, preparing for battle.
Torin looked back
at his friend. "What do you say, Cam? You and me. We'll ride
ahead, just the two of us, like in the old turns. We'll knock on
those great frozen walls and forge us a little alliance, then invite
the rest of this lot over."
The king rubbed his
shoulders. "The last time we rode out together, we ended up
jumping into a river, arrows raining down onto us."
"Exactly."
Torin smiled. "It's always fun. But if you insist, we'll bring a
few guards this time."
As fresh snow fell
upon the forest, Torin, Cam, and a handful of soldiers rode out of
their camp, heading north through the wilderness toward the distant
city of ice and snow.
CHAPTER ELEVEN:
BLOOD IN THE DUSK
Ten thousand Elorians stood in
the dusk, the orange light shining upon their scale armor, the silver
moonstars on their shields, and their drawn katanas. Ten thousand
pairs of blue, silver, and purple eyes gleamed, staring west,
waiting. Ten thousand hearts beat with fear. The Host of Twilit
Spirits, the Qaelish empire's western division, waited for battle.
Koyee
sat at their lead upon a nightwolf, a shaggy black beast named
Senduan. Her scale armor hugged her, and her long white hair hid
within her helmet. She held a round shield in one hand, its surface
engraved with a moon within a star, sigil of her empire. In her other
hand, she held a new katana, a sword she had named
Tuanshey
—slayer
of light.
"Once more, we stand ready
for battle, Eelani," she whispered.
Her invisible friend rested upon
her shoulder, a hint of warmth and a barely perceptible weight.
Little hands seemed to caress Koyee's cheek.
"I know you're scared,
Eelani," Koyee said. Her voice was so low she barely heard
herself. "I am too."
She thought back to her first
battle—a great dance of fire and steel upon the walls of Pahmey.
That had been twenty-one years ago, and she had been only a youth,
only a girl of sixteen—younger than her daughter was now. Back then
she had been quicker, perhaps braver, a mere urchin with nothing to
lose but a bone flute and a few copper coins. Now she was a wife, a
mother, a leader, a protector of an empire. And the fear was greater
than ever, the weight upon her shoulders nearly too much to bear.
Yet
I will bear it nonetheless,
she swore to herself and tightened her fist around the silk-wrapped
hilt of her sword.
And
I will fight with more courage than ever.
She gently nudged Senduan. The
shaggy nightwolf—he was large as a horse—stepped forward, parting
from the ranks of troops. The gloaming spread around Koyee, the
orange light falling upon pale grass, twisted trees, and
brambles—the only flora that could survive in the shadows. Duskmoths
flew around her, and one landed on the hilt of her sword. She turned
to face her troops. The ten thousand stood in orderly lines, a
machine of metal as fine as any clock. They were young men and women,
many barely older than her daughter, all clad in the same scales, all
holding the same swords. Boys. Girls. Their eyes frightened but
determined, shining in the twilight.
"Soldiers of Eloria!"
Koyee called to them. Her voice carried across the dusky forest. "I
am Koyee, Daughter of Salai. You've heard tales of the battles I
fought. Many of you were just babes when I slew Timandrians in the
great War of Day and Night. Now the sun rises to burn us again. From
the towers of Salai Castle, we have seen them muster, and now we have
seen them enter the dusk. Twenty years ago, they took Eloria by
surprise. This time we will cast them back into the light." She
banged her sword against her shield. "We are the night!"
Ten thousand blades clanged
against shields. Their voices rose as one. "We are the night!"
"Show no fear!" Koyee
shouted. "Show no weakness to the enemy. Do not despair in the
face of battle, not even in the face of death. We will shed the blood
of Timandra! We will defend the darkness. For Eloria!"
"For Eloria!" they
cried, swords rising like a forest of steel.
Though her words perhaps
inspired courage, Koyee's innards trembled. Yes, she had seen the
enemy from the rooftop of Salai Castle. She had seen a hundred
thousand troops gather—swordsmen, pikemen, archers. She had seen
five thousand horses bearing armored riders. She had seen scythed
chariots, siege engines on great wheels, battering rams on chains,
catapults and ballistae, and even cannons shaped as life-sized
buffaloes. Worst of all, she had seen hundreds of mages in black
robes. At the thought of them, the scars that snaked around her
arm—given to her by a mage in Sinyong years ago—blazed with new
pain.
This
is a battle we cannot win,
she knew. She had sent messengers to all corners of the night. She
had begged for aid, for more troops, for anyone who could wield and
sword. Yet here were all the swords Eloria could wield. For every ten
living souls in Timandra, only one lived in Eloria; there were no
more soldiers to spare.
She
tightened her lips.
They
outnumber us ten to one. So each among us will have to kill ten of
them. And I will kill many more than that.
The enemy's chants rose in the
west, and Koyee turned back toward the light. Her heart pounded and
her breath fluttered in her mouth. Her nightwolf growled beneath her,
fangs bared.
"They're here."
She
couldn't see them yet, but their sound rose slowly, louder with every
heartbeat. Thousands of thumping boots. Stamping hooves. Chinking
armor. War drums that beat a rhythm of slaughter.
Boom.
Boom. Boom.
A blaring horn that sounded like a dying beast. Chants in many
languages all united under the eclipse banner. More drums.
Boom.
Boom.
She heard their voices. At first
they were too distant to hear clearly, but with every beat of the
drum, with every thud of boots, those voices grew nearer, coalescing
into a mantra.
"Radian rises! Radian
rises!"
Koyee snarled upon her nightwolf
and held her sword high. "We are the night!"
The soldiers of darkness howled
behind her. Koyee breathed heavily through clenched teeth, her pulse
thrumming in her ears. And then she saw them.
They emerged from the sunlight,
marching between the trees, the hosts of the Radian Empire. Horses
rode at their vanguard, clad in armor. Some horses bore riders armed
with lances and swords. Other horses pulled scythed chariots, archers
within them. They filled the dusk, more plentiful than the stars.
Lances rose, crested with bright
steel, and the riders of sunlight charged.
Koyee shouted wordlessly, kneed
her nightwolf, and raced toward them. Around her, hundreds of other
nightwolves raced forward, their riders howling and pointing their
swords.
With shattering steel and
spraying blood, the hosts crashed together.
Koyee's nightwolf roared and
snapped his teeth. A lance drove toward Koyee, and she swung her
katana, slicing its shaft. A horse reared before her. She thrust her
blade. She severed a knight's leg, cutting deep where his plates of
armor met. Another horse galloped toward her, and Koyee's wolf
leaped. They soared over the rider, then plunged down like a comet,
fangs and blade driving into flesh.
Around her, the myriads fought
in the dusk. Nightwolves tore off pieces of Timandrian armor and dug
into the meat beneath. Horses trampled over Elorian swordsmen, and
lances crashed through scale armor. Trees burned. Every heartbeat,
more fell dead. The corpses covered the land, and severed limbs lay
strewn like so many fallen branches.