Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (5 page)

Zalee crept back to the group. She raised ten slim fingers for a moment, and then closed her fists before showing another five. A quick point to her wrist and a shake of her head told Arrin all he needed to know about what lay ahead. He pointed to Jerul, Zalee, and then himself, motioning in turn for each to take five of the
Yviri
warriors. Domor shifted on his heels and Arrin drew his and Cael’s attention. He pointed to both and then at the ground, making his intent simple for them to understand.
They would only be in the way once the fighting started.

Jerul smiled at Domor and removed his sword from the sling at his back
without a sound. He pointed
toward the thick of the trees and started off. Zalee drifted toward the shoreline, leaving the center track for Arrin. He drew his blade and slipped through the foliage, the collar warming his neck as he called upon its pow
er. The sounds of men talking grew louder as he approached, their voices giving no hint they had heard the enemy in their midst. Arrin grinned as he crept closer. There’d been no discussion of fleeing or avoiding the conflict. He was amongst warriors. Their solution was to kill those who stood in their way. It reminded him of his time
i
n Lathah when he was just a soldier.
There was a visceral satisfaction in knowing the enemy and
understanding
what must be done, all politics
except that of the sword
cast
to the wayside.

Just a few yards from the Yvir
camp, Arrin glanced between the shrubs to see the soldiers milling about
in a
small clearing
. They laughed and joked and stood about the fire
, which
huffed black smoke. Hung above the
flames,
with a spear shoved through its hindquarters and its point protruding from its mouth, was a creature that might have been related to a dog. It bore the twisted deformities of a beast that had come from the Dead Lands. Eight meaty legs swung limp as tongues of
fire
licked
at
its torso. Its
four
eye sockets bubbled with blackness
, ooze dripping tar-like down its
long snout
.
Despite its horrific appearance, Arrin felt his stomach flutter at the scent wafting from the creature. It wasn’t unpleasant. It reminded him how long it had been since he’d eaten. He contemplated
tasting
a piece after he killed the cooks.

The Yviri warriors
loitered
, the dark lines of their tribal markings standing out against their pale flesh. Like Jerul, they were built powerful, nothing
of their frame
hidden
save what lay
behind the tiny loincloths they wore. Their heads were shaved in the Yviri way, leaving only a long
, white
strip that ran down the center of their heads and hung in braids down their back. Muscles rippled at every movement as they shoved and taunted one another in the warrior way.
These were fighters
born. Arrin had only encountered
a small number
of the Yviri in his
years
, but he knew their ferocity. He smiled. Their prowess meant nothing today.

He waited as Jerul and Zalee found their place, tracking the subtle tickle of their
O’hra
as they surrounded the warriors. There was no signal to start the attack. There didn’t need to be.

Arrin darted from the trees low. Within half a heartbeat, both Jerul and Zalee had broken cover to converge upon the Yviri. To the warriors’ credit, they responded with speed and without fear. Jagged swords were swung loose of their binds as the Yviri spun about to face the threat. Arrin was on the first before
the warrior’s
blade had cleared his shoulder.

His
sword punched a hole in the
man
’s chest, the blade driven between the ribs and finding a home inside the warrior’s heart. He stiffened, his hand falling free of the hilt, as Arrin yanked his sword free. Blood spewed
from the wound
. Arrin ducked away as
a blade streaked overhead. He l
ashed out and severed the sword-
wielder’s hand and let the momentum carry the strike through. The Yviri’s leg fell away at the calf. He toppled to the ground with a shriek. Arrin silenced him with a slash across his throat
before
he brought his sword around to parry.

Steel clashed against steel, but for all of the
Yvir
’s muscle, it was nothing compared to the strength firing through Arrin’s veins. He batted away the jagged blade and threw his weight into the counter. The warrior’s head tumbled away from his body,
h
is brig
ht blue eyes wide with surprise. The headless body fell into the path of the remaining Yviri, and Arrin cast
a quick
glance at
his allies.

Jerul had dropped two of his five, the viciousness of his attack baring his hatred to the bone. The warriors at his feet had been cleaved downward, the point of entry at the collarbone. White shards were visible amidst the blood, Jerul’s sword having cleaved all the way to the pelv
is of his opponent before he
ripped it free.
A sea of crimson surrounded his feet as he went at the third, his thick sword wielded in two hands and
swung overhead like a berserker. His fury led the charge.

Arrin kicked the falling body
of his opponent
aside and thrust at the
next
warrior, the tip of his sword puncturing
the man’s
eye and sinking into the brain behind it. As
Arrin
pulled his blade free, he glanced at Zalee to see her dispose of the last of her targets. Unlike Jerul, the bodies of her foes were not scattered about her in ravaged pieces. Each was crumpled to the ground and
stilled
,
yet whole. Were it not for the shimmer of
blood that coated her sword, Arrin would have believed the warriors knocked cold or magicked to sleep.

Parrying a blow from the last of his opponents, Arrin shifted and drove his fist into the warrior’s face. The snap of his nose echoed in the trees as Arrin dropped low and drew a line through the man’s stomach. Air whistled loose and his entrails
raced to be free
, hitting the ground with a wet
splash
. Jerul cleaved his foe down
at the same time
, the lifeless body falling back and landing atop the man Arrin had just fell
ed
. Zalee took down the last
. H
er sword pierc
ed
his back and
was
drawn out so fast Arrin barely had time to recognize she’d
lashed out at all.

The
Yviri
fighters down, Arrin drew in a deep, warm breath. Only the crackling sounds of the fire and the grunted exhal
ations of Jerul could be heard.

Zalee spun away from the corpses
, flinging the blood from her blade with a casual flick of her wrist
. “I’ll retrieve the others.”
She disappeared into the trees.

Arrin nodded
at
her back
and glanced over at Jerul. The big warrior stared at the bodies, his lips pulled back into a fierce sneer.
His breath was like a bellows.
He held his d
ripping sword in his hands
as though he was not yet finished with the battle
, hovering over the pieces
. After an uncertain moment, Jerul seemed to settle,
using
the loincloth of
one of the bodies Zalee had killed
to wipe his blade clean
. He looked over at Arrin and snorted
as he hooked his sword into the harness at his back.

“Forgive me,” his voice was quiet. “Domor and I were
only recently
taken captive by
a number of these beasts. They—”

Arrin raise
d
a hand, waving away the need for explanation. “I’m no neophyte to battle or to the consequences of rage. I’ll not judge you, friend.
We are at war
and others must die if we are to live
.
”

Jerul smiled, his gaze snapping away as Zalee led Cael and Domor into the clearing.
Cael’s eyes narrowed as he saw the bodies; Domor looked away, keeping
his eyes on
the trees.

“We must continue moving
,” Zalee said, waving the group on.

Jerul collected another sword and attached it to his harness
. “Come, Domor.” He grasped two of the cooking animal’s legs and tore them off the beast, strings of skin and meat peeling away from the torso
with a wet
snap
. The gangly Velen shambled around the edge of the clearing, doing his best not to look at the
array of
corpses.

Arrin tore a leg loose from the animal and offered it to Cael.

The boy waved it away with a disgusted shake of his head as he followed after Zalee. “I’d rather find a Succor, thank you.”
He licked his lips.

Unsure of what Cael referred to, Arrin shrugged his shoulders and went on, taking a bite from the beast’s leg. The meat was tough with gristle and bone,
the flames having seared the flesh black,
but he gnawed on it as they walked.
Its juices trickled from his mouth and moistened his shaggy beard.
The O’hra at his throat could only sustain him for so long, and he suspected the battles ahead would only grow more difficult. He’d learned long ago, as a soldier, to eat and sleep when the opportunity arose
, for there was no certainty another chance would present itself. His fifteen years in exile had only strengthened that habit.

He ate as he ran, following the course set by the Sha’ree. The unknown ahead and the Grol behind, Arrin wanted to be ready for both. It was a long road to revenge, and he wanted to see it through to the end of the journey.

Commander Feragh glared at the pathetic Grol
scout
his
men
held on his knees
, his arms held
apart
wide
. The beast kept his muzzle low, his eyes on the ground. He
sat quiet
, trembling
. General Wulvren stood behind the captive, his hand on the Grol’s shoulder.

“You bear a message?” The commander asked,
forcing
the words through clenched teeth.

The Grol whi
ned
, but said nothing.

“We have seen the ruin of Fhenahr and know the
whole of the
Grol
nation
march
es
on Lathah
, so
w
ho is your message for?”

The answer was a
low
growl.

“
There is no one left in Gurhtol, so tell me where you were going.
”

Still nothing.

“We will learn the truth
of your mission
whether you resist or not,” Wulvren prompted, “so tell us what we want to know and we will release you.”

“You lie,” the Grol snarled, shaking his head
as he found his courage
at the mention of his release
. “Vorrul will tear the meat from your bones if you harm me.”

Feragh raised his arms and spun in a slow circle. “I do not see your precious warlord here, do you?”
His
men
chuckled
as
h
e leaned near the Grol’s snout and grinned. “Vorrul will be dust
before the snows fall, and you
long
before
him if you don’t tell me what I want to hear.”

The prisoner raised his snout and met the commander’s gaze. “When Vorrul is done with the Lathahns
and felines, you Tolen will learn what it is to be slaughtered. Do not think the warlord has forgotten you
r cruelty to the Grol. We will—”

The commander drew his sword and stepped in close. He set the point at the Grol’s extended arm, between the biceps and triceps, and pushed. The blade sunk into the meat as the Grol screamed. Feragh
pressed
the sword deeper and twisted the tip away, severing the biceps at the elbow. The Tolen soldiers held the Grol tight as he thrashed and screeched, the muscle of his arm dangling
like a crimson pendulum. Blood spilled across the beast’s chest as he howled his misery. Wulvren grabbed the Grol’s scruff and raised his face to Feragh’s.

“Piece by piece, we’ll take you apart, dog.”
Feragh
wiped his sword clean on the squirming Grol
’s fur
, gazing up to Wulvren. “Find out where he’s going and what his message
is.
” He looked back to the Grol who twitched before him.
“
I want to hear his screams.
”
The general nodded.