Soul Blade, page 15
part #3 of Sword of Light Series
Jurrien smiled. “Forget us, Gabriel. Our time is done. We cannot return, not without sacrificing more than I am prepared to ask. I will offer you only this: if the time comes when you have nowhere left to turn, nowhere to run, look again to the Soul Blade. The answer will come to you then,” the God raised his hand. “Farewell, Gabriel.”
Gabriel opened his mouth to argue, but Jurrien was already fading, the white world falling away.
*************
Enala’s heart raced as she fled the room, the mad laughter of her friend chasing after her. A boom came from behind, followed by a wave of heat. She spun around a corner and leapt for the stairwell, thumping down the wooden steps as flames licked at her heels.
Another boom shook the air and a wave rippled down the stairs, shattering the boards beneath her feet. She stumbled on a jagged edge and went tumbling down the last flight, arms raised to protect herself. Then she was up, swinging herself into the corridor and racing for the outer doors.
Other men and women filled the hall, stumbling towards the exit, the healthy carrying the injured. Most of the army remained on the wall awaiting the next attack though, and Enala realised there were not enough able-bodied to carry all the wounded. Panic gripped her chest as another roar came from overhead.
Racing outside, Enala spun to face the building. Flames poured from the upstairs windows and thick smoke stained the sky. A crash came from inside as walls began to collapse. The blaze was spreading far too quickly – the building would collapse long before it could be evacuated.
Enala cursed her hesitation when she’d seen Gabriel standing over the Soul Blades. She should have grabbed him, tackled him, done whatever it took to stop him. But she had not even had time to grab the other Soul Blade. Now they had lost the God power it contained, and only the Sword of Light could match the power flooding through Gabriel’s body.
Overhead the noonday sun streamed down on the clearing between the walls, but its heat was nothing compared to that of the burning building. Screams came from within and Enala knew she could not hesitate any longer. Something had to be done, or innocent lives would be lost.
As people streamed past her, fleeing the burning building, Enala reached down to the power burning within her. Its red light rose at her touch, snapping at her mind, but she had no patience for its wilful nature now. Clenching it with a will of iron, she released her mind and opened her spirit eyes.
Staring at the building, she saw the eerie glow of the flames and reached out for it with her magic. Taking a firm grip of her power, she soared closer. Lines of magic stretched out from her, wrapping around the flames and binding them to her will. They fought against her, desperate for freedom, to feed their ravenous hunger, but Enala refused to give in. Gritting her teeth, she pulled the ropes tighter, and hurled them skyward.
Screams came from around her as flames rose from the barracks and took to the sky, soaring over their heads towards the wall. Embers drifted down and the crowd flinched back as one, panic spreading through their ranks. But the flames did not fall, and a moment later they disappeared beyond the curve of the wall, tumbling into the wasteland beyond.
“What’s happening?” Eric’s shout came from beside her.
Enala drew back to her body. “It’s Gabriel,” she gasped, her thoughts still half with her magic. “He picked up the Soul Blade.”
Eric swore and reached for the Sword of Light. Flames lit the blade as he drew it, sizzling in the air, and she raised an eyebrow. “I don’t think we need more of that,” she offered.
Shaking his head, Eric closed his eyes and the white fire died away. Beads of sweat sprang out on Eric’s forehead and his breathing quickened.
“Are you okay?” she sensed the tingle of power from the building and knew the flames were growing again.
Eric shook his head. “No. I… I’m still exhausted from the fight. But I have it under control. It’s just a good thing I didn’t use my magic in the battle.”
“Can you help?” Enala asked, nodding at the glow of fire coming from the upper windows.
Eric flashed a smile. “We’ll find out soon enough.”
He lifted the Sword and pointed it at the building. Enala closed her eyes and released her spirit again, pulling her magic with her. The fire leapt as her magic touched it, hungry to devour everything within reach. She sensed the surge of magic thumping in her ears and knew Eric was using the Sword’s power to do the same.
Together they wrapped their magic about the fire. A muffled roar came from the building as the roof collapsed and the flames rushed outwards, breaking free of their grasp. Enala raced after them, flinging out hooks of energy to pull them back. Slowly the flames began to calm, surrendering to their will.
As one they pulled the flames skyward and hurled them across the wall. As they disappeared beyond the wall the air grew still. Voices whispered around them as the injured continued to be carried from the building. Then another boom of thunder came and Enala sensed fresh flames take light.
Sweat beading her forehead, Enala threw her spirit back into the conflict. Beside her she sensed Eric’s own determination, but worried for his soul. Whatever he said, using the Sword clearly cost him. And her own strength was already wavering. They could not keep this up forever.
Still they kept on, determined to save the injured souls still fleeing the building. Overhead a river of fire streaked the sky, rising from the barracks to fall on the desert beyond the wall. Enala panted for breath, desperate for water in the sweltering heat of the flames. The air was growing thin and her muscles burned as though she had run a hundred miles. Her mind swam, crying out for relief.
Then with a final boom, the lightning died away to nothing. Silence fell as the last of the flames disappeared and a hush fell across the crowd. As one they turned to the building, waiting to see what would come next.
Enala sank to her knees, swallowing a mouthful of air, her throat like sandpaper. Eric sat down beside her, his fingers clenched on the dry ground. He gasped, his face pale and his eyes ringed by shadow.
“What happened?” Inken appeared beside them, sweat running down her forehead.
“Gabriel,” Enala croaked.
Before Inken could reply a whisper spread through the crowd. Enala turned, seeking out the source of the disruption. They sat at the front of the gathering, nearest to the barracks, so it only took Gabriel two steps to reach them. His eyes were clear now, empty of the darkness from earlier, though they were ringed by exhaustion. His clothes had all but burned away and his skin had bubbled in places, unprotected against the fire.
He stumbled as he reached them, almost falling before staggering to a halt. He looked down at them, his eyes filled with fear and wonder.
“Jurrien,” he murmured. “I saw him.”
Fifteen
Inken strode down the empty stone corridors of Fort Fall, shivering as a cool breeze swept through an open window. Three days had passed since Gabriel had picked up the Soul Blade, and the mood of the fortress was now teetering on a fine balance. Hundreds had witnessed the power wielded by Eric and Enala to save the barracks and those inside from the fire, but others whispered about what had happened afterwards, of the man who had been last to stumble from the building.
Even May had taken some convincing just to keep Gabriel from the hangman’s noose. As it was he had been locked away until the Magickers could confirm the dark magic had truly left him. Eric and Enala had not had the strength for the task. The magic they’d spent saving the infirmary had cost them dearly and the two had spent the last few days confined to their beds.
For the rest of them though, the last three days had been filled with the ring of blades and screams of combat. Archon’s forces hardly paused for breath now, the enemy coming night and day to climb the walls and die beneath the defenders’ blades. Each attack would continue for long, gruelling hours. And each time the enemy would be fresh, while Inken struggled to find the strength to lift her blade again.
Exhaustion clung to her very bones now. They fought in shifts, rosters of men and women taking turns to hold the wall, but even so the defenders were lagging. Even with the extra soldiers from Lonia, there were only so many of them, and the long hours of battle sucked the strength from her soul.
Their only source of hope was the impending arrival of the Trolan army. The ten thousand swords they brought would provide a welcome relief, and the Trolans were renown throughout the Three Nations as fighters. Word from their army said they would arrive tomorrow.
Until then though, it was up to their weary arms to hold back the black tide outside. Inken clenched her bow tight, drawing comfort from the firm wood. Her sabre slapped at her side as she moved. She had lost count of the number of men that had fallen to her blade. It was all a daze now. All that mattered was staying alive, keeping out of reach of the swords and axes of the enemy, and the arrows flashing up from below.
In truth, even with her skill she would have fallen long ago without Caelin and Alan. They fought together as a unit, smashing through any resistance the enemy could mount, the big man’s strength providing them an anchor in the chaos.
She saw him now, a wide grin spreading above his greying beard. Caelin stood beside him in the gates from the citadel, waiting for her arrival. It was their shift again, their turn to hold the fortress against the evil of the north. Feeling the weight of her bow in her hand, Inken hoped she had enough strength left to survive the day.
“You okay, missy?” concern edged Alan’s voice as his soft eyes inspected her.
Inken shook her head and straightened. “Only tired. I hope the Trolans arrive early; it’s about time they had a turn against the buggers.”
She felt a hand on her shoulder. She looked up, expecting Alan to dismiss her back to the citadel. But the big man only smiled. “Just remember, stay close, missy.”
Inken opened her mouth and then closed it, fighting back tears. There was such a kindness in Alan’s eyes she found herself lost for words, unable to respond to the compassion there. Choking out an unintelligible response, she pushed past them, wiping tears from her eyes when she thought they would not see.
Where did that come from? She cursed her weakness and swallowed the emotion. Turning, she called back to them. “Well, what are you waiting for, boys? Don’t tell me the years are catching up to you?”
Alan’s booming laugh chased after her, bringing a smile to her face. Together they marched through the gates of the first two walls, glancing up at the men stationed on each. All three were manned now, ensuring if one fell there would be enough to hold the others from a sudden rush by the enemy.
At last the outer wall loomed ahead. Inken’s eyes lingered on the ruined barracks as they moved past, remembering the stream of flames that had leapt from the building into the sky. Not even Enala and Eric’s best efforts had been able to save the barracks, but hundreds had been able to escape in the time they’d bought with their magic.
When the building had finally collapsed, the company had made their way into the ruin. The stench had been overwhelming, sending rescuers staggering back into the open air. But there was something they needed to retrieve, though Inken would rather have left the cursed things where they lay.
The Soul Blades.
She shuddered as she remembered uncovering them, finding them untouched amongst the wreckage. The blades still glowed with the eerie colours of the magic trapped inside, bathing her with their power. But she felt no desire to wield that power. It was a curse she was glad to avoid.
Gabriel had passed on Jurrien’s words, that the Gods could not be returned to this world. Enala had paled then, stumbling away, open terror on her face. The rest of them stood in silence, unable to find an answer to the news. From this point on, the Three Nations stood alone against the might of Archon.
Shaking her head, Inken turned her thoughts back to the task at hand. There was no point stewing over matters beyond her control. She did not have the power to face the dark magic wielded by Archon, but she had her bow and her sword. War at least she excelled at, and she did not intend to lose that battle.
Silence carried down from overhead as they began their ascent to the ramparts. Inken breathed a sigh of relief, glad at least that the fighting had not yet started. Determined as she was, a few extra moments of rest would be welcome.
As they reached the top they moved quickly to their station and sank as one to the cold ground. Inken leaned back against the crenulations and looked up. The sky was an endless blue and the air was crisp and dry. A cool winter breeze blew across the wall, but in the shelter of the battlements they remained warm. Any other day and she would have called it beautiful. Today though she could think of little else but death. Blood stained the stones around them, reminding her all too vividly of the violence to come.
“Another lovely day at Fort Fall,” she commented wryly.
Caelin laughed, stretching in the sun. “Almost makes me wish for a swim,” he said, nodding towards the distant surf. “Although it looks a little rough.”
“Little man,” Alan chuckled. “You don’t have the stones for that water.”
Caelin grinned back. “That sounds like a challenge, big man.”
“Oh the arrogance of youth,” Alan shot Inken a wink and she smiled back. “You think the wolf worries when the puppy barks?”
“A challenge it is then,” Caelin slapped his hand on his knee and pointed to the far off water. “When this business is done, we’ll see who lasts the longest.”
Alan raised an eyebrow. “Five silvers say you don’t last five minutes.”
“Deal!” Caelin held out his hand and they shook.
Inken grinned at them. They had spent most of their spare time over the last two days in similar debates and she had already lost count of their wagers. The contests between them would be something to look forward to after all this; if any of them survived. She had joined in more than a few bets herself, but today she could not find the energy. Weariness gripped her soul, and she yearned to return to the citadel and Eric.
She still hadn’t told him; told anyone but the king for that matter. She was not sure why she hesitated, but the knowledge felt personal, a secret she was not yet ready to share. Perhaps because when the truth came out, it would become all too real.
And despite her trust in Eric and Enala, she struggled to find hope for their future. Even without his army, Archon was just too powerful. Antonia and Jurrien, with all their knowledge and power, had not been able to stop him last time. Archon had crushed them like insects beneath his boots.
Even with the Sword of Light, the Gods had only had the strength to banish him.
Horns sounded along the wall and with a long sigh Inken forced aside her doubt. There would be time for that later. For now, she had another battle to survive. Putting her hands beneath her, she pushed herself to her feet and hefted her bow.
From below came the familiar screams of the horde as they rushed forward to meet their deaths. Closing her eyes, Inken let the sound wash over her, trying to calm her racing thoughts. How she longed for the peace and quiet of the forest, to return to the glade in Dragon Country where she and Eric had first made love. If only they could leave all this behind.
But it was not to be. Biting her lip, Inken reached down and strung her bow. The familiar call went out along the line, ordering the archers to the fore. Below, the enemy dead covered the ground, marking the range of the defenders’ arrows. Then the order to fire came and the first wave of arrows rose into the sky.
Inken could not have said how long the assault continued, only that her arms and legs were aching and that a dozen men or more had fallen to her sword by the time the enemy horns sounded their retreat. The whole time Alan and Caelin had stood strong beside her, their contrasting styles of brute force and subtle skill unstoppable. Together they held the centre of the line, their courage providing the backbone of the defenders.
As the last of the enemy fell Inken stepped back from the edge, her breath coming in heavy gasps. The blade was heavy in her hand and she knew she was close to the end of her strength. Turning away, her stomach lurched. Unable to hold the nausea down, she stumbled to the backside of the wall and hurled her breakfast over the edge. An acrid sting burned in her throat as another convulsion shook her. The strength fled her legs and she slid to the ground, gasping as she leaned against the cold stone.
“Inken!” Caelin was at her side in an instant. Alan was not far behind.
She waved a hand to show she was okay, but another wave of sickness swept through her and she found herself too preoccupied to reply. Tears stung her eyes as she struggled to breath between heaves.
“I’m okay,” she croaked at last.
“What’s wrong?” Caelin gripped her by the shoulder and forced her to look at him.
She saw the concern in his eyes and tried not to look away. “Not now,” she whispered. Taking a hand from Alan, she struggled back to her feet. “Are they done?”
Caelin nodded. “For now,” but even as he spoke, the horns began to sound again.
Around them, murmurs of fear came from the defenders.
“They’re attacking again, already?” Inken groaned. She searched deep inside for some forgotten store of strength, but she had little left to give. Her energy was spent, stripped away by the endless days of combat.
“Ay,” Alan stood at the edge of the ramparts, staring out at the enemy. “They’re coming. But not men. Beasts.”
Pain twisted in Inken’s chest as her heart fell to the pit of her stomach. “The beasts?” she breathed.
She moved with Caelin to stand beside Alan, her eyes sweeping out to search the plains below. Far in the distance, but closing at a frightening speed, came a host of creatures born from the pits of their worst nightmares.
The Raptors led the charge, their razor sharp teeth glinting in jaws wide enough to swallow a man’s head whole. Thick black tails stretched out behind them as their massive feet carried them across the open ground. Behind them Inken glimpsed flashes of fur and scale, teeth and claw, but a cloud of dust obscured the details of the other creatures.
