Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (28 page)

He had led the charge to separate the ill from the rest of his people, fearful of what might happen should all of the Sha’ree fall prey to the wasting plague. Too many of Ree’s children met the true death before they learned it was the O’hra, the constant immersion in pure magic, that had overwhelmed their systems and allowed the plague to take hold. He watched Kalto’re until he disappeared into the shadows of the trees
.
Uthul wondered if he would feel any different had it been Zalee sent to die amongst the sick. He doubted he would.

Guilt welling inside, Uthul turned to those who remained. “Come, we must hurry.
” Never before had the Sha’ree fought a battle where they were not certain of victory. This was to be a first.
He feared it would be the last.

Chapter Thirty-
Three

Vorrul rounded the furthest corner of the smoldering ruins of Lathah, coming to an abrupt stop. General Morgron nearly collided with his back. The ranks behind
shuffled to a halt
with a clatter of weapons and guttural complaints. Vorrul sniffed the air, catching the scent of fresh death.

“They’re gone!” he shouted, racing toward the open field where the meat had been collected. His men ran at his back.

The commander stopped at the first of the Grol corpses that lay scattered in the dirt. Its head had been nearly cleaved from its shoulders,
the
vicious cuts and wounds covering the soldier’s body nothing more than insult to injury, the fighter dead long before they had been inflicted. He recognized the man. Morgron grunted just over his shoulder.

His breath cold in his chest, Vorrul eye’s went to the soldier’s wrists. There was nothing there. “The relics!” He snatched up the corpse roughly, flinging it aside. The magical bands were gone. Sickness welled inside. He looked across the field and hurried to another of the bodies. It was the same.

The men he had left behind to guard the meat were all dead, as were the soldiers he’d sent to free the Lathahns. He had presumed to find the people of the walled city loose and milling about within their ruined homes, but he had not expected to find his warriors killed
or
all the meat gone
. Even those
from Fhen
were missing
. His lips trembling, he glared at the wreckage of Lathah.

“Search the city!”

Vorrul’s army scattered to follow his command, barked acknowledgments crowding the air. Morgron came to stand alongside Vorrul.

“You
waste your time. You
have been betrayed.”

The commander spun on him, grasping the general’s throat in his clawed grip. He squeezed as Morgron stood stoic. “If you value your tongue, you will keep it in your mouth.” He drew closer, his whiskers fluttering against the general’s cheek. Morgron said nothing but did not try to back away. Vorrul had always admired Morgron’s courage. He snarled and released the general, shoving him back a step, before he returned his gaze to the army searching in vain for meat they would never find.

“You could always track them.” Morgron moved beside the commander so he could be seen, pointing at the obvious trail, which led away from Lathah and toward Nurin.

Vorrul followed his finger, shaking his head as his eyes came up to meet Morgron’s. “You know as well as I that we have no time. The meat is gone.” He grunted as he looked off toward the south.

“The
pack
will grow difficult soon.”

Vorrul growled. “Form ranks, but remember what I said about your mouth.”

Morgron nodded and walked off to relay the command. As the general’s shouts cleaved the din, Vorrul wondered if he had missed the empowered Lathahn in his advance. The people were nothing more than sheep. They would never have stood up against
his
soldiers
guarding
them. Only an army or those with their own relics would dare to assault Grol warriors in a bid to free the people. Vorrul had left the city in wreckage, dust and soot the only thing left to the people of Lathah. He could think of no one else capable of culling his men and making off with the meat under their guard. The pathetic new king certainly couldn’t have done it
, as Morgron had suggested
.

His stomach roiled as he thought of the Lathahn and the knowledge he carried. Had Vorrul been this close to the man and let him slip past? It sickened him to think so. The Sha’ree had sent him to kill him, to stop the Lathahn from escaping the sands of the desert. Had he failed?

Vorrul spit the phlegmy taste of his fear into the dirt. He needed to be sure. The Lathahn was his only hope to be rid of the Sha’ree at his back.
Could she have been wrong about the man’s intent, his direction
? The question rang in his mind as he let his gaze drift south once more. Did it matter? The meat was gone and soon his army would begin to feel the pangs of hunger
and
of rebellion. He needed a battle to keep them on their leash, to keep them from challenging his command. If the Lathahn has slipped free there was nothing Vorrul could do about it, but his men needed a purpose.

“Hurry, you goat-raped pieces of dung,” he called out. “We have a world to conquer!”

A raucous roar rang out at his back. Vorrul smiled. He had them a little longer.

The gaping maw blocked his path. Arrin dug his feet into the sand and leaned
away
just as the serpent’s mouth
clacked
shut before him. A cadaverous wind ruffled his hair and set his nose afire with its foul stench.
He felt his stomach roil as he thrust his sword into the creature’s glistening, orange eye, puncturing it and driving the point into its
skull
.

The serpent shrieked and whipped away, rising up on its tail only to topple over
o
nto the pile of its dead brethren.
It squirmed in its death throes. Arrin gagged as he cleared his blade with a flick of his wrist. Thick ooze flung away as he heard the
crunch
of snapping bone at his back, agonized screams catapulted over the hiss of the enraged serpents that surrounded them. What was worse
than the horrid stench
, Arrin had grown used to the sound of his companions dying.

He turned to join the fight with yet another of the strange creatures, numbly noting the dying Yviri warrior’s cries had been silenced, the great worm slithering away with the man’s legs protruding from its serrated mouth.
Arrin could only be grateful the fighter’s legs hung limp. He was already gone
, death a mercy
.

Kirah speared another of the worms beside him, ending its life with a frantic handful of thrusts to its
head
. Covered in the soup-green pus of the snake, Arrin could see the weariness in her. She tugged her spear fr
ee with effort, tendrils of gore running down her chin as it mixed with her spit and sweat. Her shoulders hung low as she gathered her breath for the next creature to come.

Arrin glanced off to see the serpents moving in slower, having grown
slightly
hesitant, at last, after so many of their companions ha
ving
been felled.
A throng of Yvir
hung close to Cael, both standing near the gathered Velen.
The boy held his golden rod in his hand, ready to do what he could to heal the wounded, while his
gangly
relatives
looked as terrified as they had when the first beast
s
had risen up from the sand. They hunched together, starting panicked at every sound. They were like children.

Arrin growled as the Yvir laid several more of the serpents to rest near where the Velen squirmed. He admired the warriors’ dedication to their charges, but Arrin could see no point in having the Velen
along
. They had lost more than a reasonable share of the great fighters
, to include Jerul,
simply because their priority was to protect the
cowards
from harm. M
any a warrior had given his life
so a Velen could live, but Arrin suffered each loss with a grimace and a curse for such attachment. He understood it,
sentimental
fool that he was
deep inside
, but with every death there was one less soldier to take the battle to the Grol.
They might make it to the mausoleum, but what then? He could make no army out of the Velen no matter how many O’hra he strapped to the
ir
frustrating
hides.

The dark building grew ever closer in the shifting glimmer of the golden sands, but still it seemed so far away. Braelyn had drawn the creatures out of hiding so that Arrin might better formulate a plan of attack, which kept them from losing men through surprise. Arrin loosed a bitter laugh. Like ants from a hill, the creatures rose up in Braelyn’s wake and surprise had stepped aside in exchange for
what appeared to be
impossible odds.

The plan had done nothing but stir the beasts into a frenzy. Spiders, serpents, and numerous other creatures he could not recognize, swarmed over them, gnawing away at their ranks and stealing his army
-to-be
from him with every cruel bite and sting.

At least Braelyn had spied the failure early and returned. She was a whirlwind of silver, her blades threshing through the limbs and torsos of the creatures without resistance.
Near the outer edge of their lines, she danced and swirled through the enemy, wet chunks flying with every blow, but even she was beginning to show the wear of it all.

“Keep moving,” he shouted, fighting to be heard above the din.

Had they been battling an intelligent enemy, they would all be dead. The
ir
flank was wide open as Arrin drew the travelers forward
,
carving a swath through the creatures. They had only just begun to understand fear with the battlefield covered in the carnage of their brethren, but it did little to slow them. They knew only food and the madness of the pure magic that tainted their flesh and
had
driven them to a mindless rage.

“We can
not
keep this up much longer,” Braelyn told him as she darted past, cleaving her way through
a
massing of serpents.

Arrin heard the screams of yet another Yviri being ripped apart. He wiped his cheek with a blood
-spattered hand and called out his
agreement, drawing back to be closer to the group. He caught
the attention of a nearby Yvir
, hailing him with a
barked
shout as they had no time to exchange names
.

“We need to push forward…
everyone
.
Spread the word.
”

The pale-skinned warrior cast a furtive glance at his charges and let out a whistled sigh. He looked back to Arrin and nodded.

“On my call.” Arrin drifted back to the front, signaling to Braelyn as she
passed once more. “We are going to run.”

A twisted grin broke across her lips as a sickened laugh slipped
loose
. Kirah came alongside, her own
tired
laugh joining in
with the insanity
.

“Might as well. We’ve nothing to lose.”

Arrin couldn’t
agree more. He glanced back at
Cael
. The boy
stood stoic, but ready
, his anger still red upon his cheeks
.
It was now or never. Arrin, Braelyn, and Kirah pushed forward in unison, slashing though the gathered serpents, spearing the mutated spiders that darted in from the sides. Once they had laid a path of corpses before them, Arrin raised his hand and motioned for the group to
follow
.

The Yvir
took up the call, spreading it through the ranks with harsh voices. They didn’t give the Velen the opportunity to resist. The Yviri warriors pushed and forced the group to a sprint. The sudden movement surprised the mass of creatures, many coming to a halt as instincts waged war
against their
violent nature
. Arrin took advantage of the lull.

He dove into a cluster of writhing serpents
and hacked his way through
, Braelyn and Kirah widening the path alongside. Warm blood fell like rain, alien viscera spilling from the guts of the creatures to coat the desert floor in blacks
,
reds
, and sickly greens
.

Silent for once, the Velen scurried for their lives. The Yvir stuck close, striking down any of the beasts that drew
near
as the group moved on. Not more than a few moments later, the
assembled
creatures
were
at their back
s
, scrambling
, no doubt,
to
determine how they had lost their prey. Arrin gave them no time to figure it out.