Child of the Sword, Book 1 of The Gods Within (39 page)

He’d returned to the Elhiyne camp, watched
them through the night as they made preparations for the day’s raid
on the wagons. And then with the rising sun he’d slipped away to
his present vantage.

He’d sat there quietly watching his friends
watching the army pass, first the columns of mounted soldiers, then
rank upon rank of foot soldiers, and now the wagons. He’d also
observed Bayellgae hovering high overhead, a tiny streak of winged
venom snaking through the clouds. The serpent had certainly spotted
the Elhiyne forces below and reported the fact to its master,
though it was not until much of the army had passed that Morgin
spotted the company of Kulls sneaking carefully into position
behind Tulellcoe and his men.

Tulellcoe’s intention was to strike quickly,
then retreat up a small ravine that led to a large game trail, the
only path through the forest growth wide enough for a company of
more than sixty riders. It was there that the Kulls had chosen to
wait for them, hiding in the shadows just off the trail. They would
attack the Elhiyne force once they recombined into a single unit
after the raid. In that way, Illalla could insure that few, if any,
escaped..

From Morgin’s vantage he could see quite a
ways up the road, and when the leading elements of the army began
to stop he knew it was time for him to move. He turned away from
the ridge, found Mortiss waiting quietly behind him, mounted up and
started working his way down toward the Kulls. He knew it would
take some time for such a long procession of men and supplies to
grind to a complete halt, but he moved hastily nevertheless,
conscious that if he were late, or Tulellcoe moved too quickly, the
Elhiyne warriors would all die.

He stopped a short distance behind the Kulls
to cast a spell of shadow over he and Mortiss, but found that deep
shadow already lay about him like a cloak, and he realized that he
must have been living in shadow constantly now for some days.
AnnaRail had once warned him to beware of spending too much time in
such a nether state, that wizards before him who had made such a
mistake had slowly lost contact with reality, and become more
nether than mortal. That frightened him, but he had no choice, so
he shrugged off the thought and extended the shadow to include
Mortiss. Then he nudged her forward slowly, quietly, until he was
only a few strides behind the waiting Kulls who sat atop their
horses in an eerie silence, broken occasionally by a spluttering
horse, or the creak of saddle leather as one of the animals shifted
its weight. From Morgin’s new position he could see only their
backs, and a chill ran up his spine.

Suddenly shouts and cries broke the
stillness of the forest air. Morgin silently shifted his position a
little until he could see a small stretch of the road. There
JohnEngine’s small platoon had charged down the opposite slope and
chased away several of the wagon handlers. They quickly
commandeered a half-dozen wagons and bunched them together in a jam
that blocked the road, then released the teams of oxen and set them
loose. They commandeered another half dozen wagons, added them to
the already formidable jam, then JohnEngine tossed a water skin on
top of one of the wagon tarps, and with a stroke of his sword he
split it easily. A shower of glistening oil ran down the tarp and
soaked into the material. Each of the other riders split a skin of
oil over the jam of wagons, then one rider with a torch touched
flame to the oil, and in moments an inferno blocked the road.

Morgin suddenly understood Tulellcoe’s plan.
If the other platoons did the same as JohnEngine’s, then the road
was now blocked by five such infernos, each of which would blaze
well through the day, the night, and into the next morning, and
even then they would still be too hot to clear. Illalla could
conjure rain to put them out, but bending an elemental to one’s
will in that way used incredible amounts of power, and the wizard
would be exhausted for days to come. Tulellcoe had done well, for
Illalla’s army would be stalled for at least two, maybe three days.
But now it was up to Morgin to see that the Kull trap failed.

JohnEngine and his men disappeared from
Morgin’s view as they moved down the road to regroup with the rest
of the Elhiyne force. Morgin, with exaggerated slowness, quietly
drew his sword, then touched Mortiss’ flanks with his spurs and
nudged her forward. She moved naturally among the deep shadows of
the forest, and without making a sound took a position in the midst
of the mounted Kulls, just another shadow among the many in which
they hid. And there he waited, wrapped in his Kull cloak and his
shadow.

The leader of the Kulls was on his feet near
the trees at the side of the trail. He watched the trail, while the
rest of them watched him for the signal to attack. Then suddenly
Morgin’s ears caught the distant sound of straining men and horses
riding hard. The entire company of Kulls tensed, and many began to
reach for their swords, and in that moment Morgin picked the Kull
nearest him, raised his own sword high over his head. He intended
to cut the halfman down without warning, then, from within his
shadow, deal as much death and havoc among them as he could,
creating enough noise to warn the approaching Elhiynes so that they
could disperse into the forest. Then he would disappear into the
shadows beneath the trees. But in that infinitesimal instant his
plans changed.

The sword in his hands flared with red fire
high over his head and screamed into life, and before he could even
begin to bring it down it brought itself down, with his hand just a
passenger on its hilt, and it literally cut the halfman and his
horse in two.

Screaming out its hatred of all living
things the sword cut through a flat arc and beheaded another Kull,
then flashed down and took off the head of another’s horse. Then
pandemonium erupted in the shadows as the Kull’s mounts panicked,
while it was all Morgin could do to hold onto the sword and stay in
the saddle at the same time.

Mortiss reared and brought her fore hooves
down in the face of a halfman, bucked and kicked another out of the
saddle with her rear hooves. She worked with the sword as if its
efforts and hers were coordinated in some way, while Morgin was
nothing more than the thread that held them together, though he was
ever on the edge of losing his grip on the hilt and his seat in the
saddle. With his free hand he let go of her reins, gripped the
saddle horn and held on for dear life, while she and the sword
ripped through the company of Kulls without mercy.

~~~

As JohnEngine charged headlong up the trail
with the rest of the company of warriors, it was the flow of power
that he first sensed, a vast unleashing of energies beyond anything
he would ever hope to control. Tulellcoe must have sensed it in
almost the same instant, for both of them reined in their horses
simultaneously, and the men behind them bunched up as they tried
not to override them.

A mounted Kull sprang out into the middle of
the trail. JohnEngine had his sword out in an instant, but it was
not needed, for the Kull’s horse was bucking and kicking wildly,
and out of control it quickly carried the halfman off into the
forest. Suddenly Kulls on screaming, panic-stricken mounts were
everywhere, and it was all JohnEngine could do keep his own mount
under control. He could hear the scream of some monstrous beast,
alternating between a constant, low growl and a wild shriek, and
then a creature of shadow and death lunged into the trail before
him, and at the power and evil he sensed flowing from it, he
thought then and there that his life would end.

It was a monstrous sight, a constantly
shifting, undefined shape, streaked with power and darkness, and it
towered over JohnEngine as it advanced. But then another Kull on a
panicked mount shot in front of it, and a flaming red talon the
length of a sword reached out and cut both halfman and beast in
two. Then suddenly it was gone, disappearing into the depths of the
forest, vanishing without a sound, leaving behind a trail littered
with parts of dismembered Kulls and their mounts. And in the
distance JohnEngine could hear the scattered, surviving Kulls
trying desperately to regain control of their panicked horses.

It was France who spoke first. “What in
netherhell was that?”

Tulellcoe shook his head wonderingly.
“Perhaps something from netherhell, though I think not. It didn’t
feel like the netherlife, and in fact there was something oddly
familiar about it. But it was certainly something that doesn’t like
Kulls.”

Valken Surriot looked at the carnage that
lined the trail. “Well, let us thank the Unnamed King that it
doesn’t feel the same way about us. In fact, we owe it our
lives.”

“Well I certainly appreciate that,” Cortien
Balenda said, “but I’d rather not stick around to express my
thanks. Let’s get the netherhell out of here before it comes back
and decides it doesn’t like us either.”

~~~

Morgin spurred Mortiss through the forest,
running from something he couldn’t define. The sword had come so
close to JohnEngine, it had wanted to taste the blood of his own
brother, and had not the mounted halfman suddenly come between
them, and provided a meal for the sword’s hunger, Morgin was not
sure he could have kept it from devouring JohnEngine’s life. He ran
from that thought, rode blindly with all the speed Mortiss could
deliver, rode himself to exhaustion.

“That was a good raid last night,” JohnEngine
said. “We didn’t lose any men, and we cut further into Illalla’s
supplies.”

Tulellcoe shook his head, looked at the
empty road far below. “But that’s not enough. We didn’t slow him
down and he can spare the supplies.”

The Balenda nodded. “Yes. We have to do
more.”

JohnEngine turned his back on the road,
surveyed their temporary camp. They’d bivouacked on a high slope
overlooking the road. The men were resting while he and the Balenda
and the Surriot and France and Tulellcoe and Abileen held a short
council of war. They all needed rest, a long night’s sleep and a
hot meal.

“Look,” Abileen said, pointing down at the
road. “Here they come.”

JohnEngine turned back to the road. A little
earlier Illalla’s lead patrol of Kulls had ridden past scouring the
road before the oncoming army, and now in the distance they could
see Illalla riding at the head of the main column. JohnEngine
looked at the Balenda. “But what more can we do, Cort? I thought
we’ve been doing great.”

Tulellcoe shook his head and answered him.
“Illalla’s been one step ahead of us all the way.”

The Balenda’s face twisted with hatred and
she looked up into the sky. “It’s that snake of his, hovering about
in the clouds, watching us.”

“But we’ve been successful,” JohnEngine
argued. “We’ve struck at him a half dozen times in the last four
days, and his army’s barely moving at a crawl now.”

The usually silent Surriot spoke up. “Thanks
to our protector,” he said flatly.

JohnEngine turned on him angrily. “What do
you mean, our protector?”

“Haven’t you sensed him, John?” Tulellcoe
asked, “Hovering about nearby. He’s been watching us as closely as
he’s been watching Illalla. He saved us this morning from that Kull
ambush. That rock that landed in the trail in front of us didn’t
just drop out of the sky. It was thrown, as a warning, and it
served its purpose, for if we’d continued on those Kulls would have
cut us to pieces. It wasn’t as dramatic as the first time he saved
us, but it did the job.”

“The first time he saved us?” JohnEngine
asked. “You don’t mean that monster is protecting us in some
way?”

Tulellcoe shrugged, turned to look down at
the road. “All I really know is that we’ve only been marginally
effective, and in fact would already be dead twice were it not for
our protector.”

“But Illalla’s army is moving at a crawl,”
JohnEngine pleaded. “His foot soldiers look as if they haven’t
slept in days, as if they’re about to collapse in the road.”

Tulellcoe looked at him carefully, frowned,
then twisted slightly to shout over his shoulder at the men.
“Packwill. Please come here.”

The scout rose slowly to his feet and joined
the small council of war, though Tulellcoe continued to look at the
advancing army down on the road as he spoke to JohnEngine. “Haven’t
you noticed the graves they leave behind each morning when they
break camp? They’re scattered all the way up and down the length of
their encampment. And there’s always two twelves of them, never
more, never less.”

JohnEngine frowned. “That is odd. I’d
noticed the graves but I hadn’t counted them. I assumed Illalla’s
men were fighting among themselves.”

Tulellcoe shook his head thoughtfully. “Not
yet, though that’ll begin soon. Packwill. Tell Lord JohnEngine what
you did this morning and what you found.”

The scout looked uncomfortable as he spoke.
“Like you told me, my lord, I took two men and dug up a couple of
them graves.”

“And what did you find?”

“Their throats was cut. Probably in their
sleep. No other marks on ‘em.”

Tulellcoe pointed at the army below. “Those
men are afraid to go to sleep at night. Someone or something sneaks
into their camp with impunity and cuts throats at random, and
Illalla is powerless to stop him. He’s quadrupled the perimeter
guard, and still it continues. And last night the desertions began;
two or three twelves of his men snuck off into the forest. Tonight
that number will probably double, and soon they’ll begin fighting
among themselves.”

“Look,” the Balenda said suddenly, pointing.
“Down on the road. This side of that sharp bend in the road. Do you
see it?”

They all turned to look intently at the
road, but JohnEngine could see nothing at the point the woman
indicated. Illalla’s army was approaching from the north, but she
was pointing to a spot some distance from a sharp bend in the road
that would yet be out of sight of the High Lord and his men.