Sovereign of the Seven Isles 7: Reishi Adept (26 page)

Anatoly motioned for Iker to lead the bulk of the unit through, then took his guard, twenty men st
rong, and charged toward the breach. Liam and Oliver rode with him. The first barbarian Anatoly reached tried to spear him off his horse, but his dragon-plate armor blunted the tip and the spear slipped off to the side. He brought his battle-axe down, one handed, into the back of the man’s head in passing.

His charge
staunched the flow of barbarians into the channel he’d cut through their defensive line, but he found himself in the midst of the enemy, in the very melee he wanted to avoid. A barbarian stabbed up at him but he brushed the spear point wide with his axe haft, then drove the top spike into the next man, leaving the first one for the soldiers behind him. A series of three blue shards of force streaked by him, striking three soldiers dead center.

Anatoly
wheeled his horse to bring his axe down on another soldier, then seeing that his guard had closed the breach, he turned to the cluster of barbarians stabbing into the side of the cavalry riding past and charged into them, swiping with his axe on one side and then the next as he rode through.

Three
men saw him coming and moved to bring him down. He was already committed, there was no changing course now, so he charged into them. One hurled a javelin and it hit hard, striking him in the middle of the chest and almost knocking him off his horse. The other two speared his horse in the chest, causing the animal to rear and throw Anatoly to the ground.

He landed, stumbled a few steps and found himself face
-to-face with two charging barbarians, both armed with spears. He set himself, axe raised, and waited. Moments later, both spears leveled at his chest, he turned to the right, letting the weapons just miss him as they passed and brought his axe down on the side of the first man’s neck, cleaving his head and shoulder from his body, then allowing the axe’s momentum to carry him into a spin that brought it around full circle and caught the second man high in the center of the back.

Both immediate threats down, he scanned the battlefield.
More than half his cavalry were through the breach, but the barbarians were pushing toward his reconstituted eastern defensive line again. Another volley of javelins took down several more of his men.

“Look out!” Liam shouted.

Anatoly spun just as a barbarian reached him, driving his spear point into his breastplate with so much force that it knocked him to the ground, curling the tip of the spear in the process. The barbarian looked at Anatoly and then at his spear point with growing realization.

“How is it that you wear dragon armor?” he demanded, drawing his sword.

Anatoly pulled the knife from his belt and threw it at the man, burying it to the hilt in his chest before rolling to his hands and knees and staggering to his feet. Liam crashed into another barbarian who was charging Anatoly from behind, trampling him into the ground. Anatoly casually drove the top spike of his axe into the man’s heart before he could regain his senses.

The cavalry line broke again when a large group of barbarians charged it with spears raised. The bulk of his forces were through at this point. Carnage littered the ground, blood of friend and foe mingling
in the dirt. Many of his men who’d been unhorsed were fighting a pitched battle without organization or order, striking out at any barbarian close enough to hit, but on the ground, in single combat, the barbarians had the advantage.

A column of wyverns roared overhead, casting rocks into the enemy ranks. Anatoly saw Corina toss a bubble of liquid fire into the back ranks of the enemy, well away from
friendly forces. He scanned the battlefield, blocking a spear thrust with his axe and whipping it around to cut savagely into the side of the man who had attacked him.

Liam
appeared out of the din of battle, splattered with blood, his sword blade dripping red, and offered Anatoly a hand up onto his horse. After another quick scan, Anatoly swung up behind his squire.

“Where’s Oliver?” he asked.

Liam pointed to the south. The young wizard had found a patch of high ground just past the enemy lines and was busy sending force-shards into the barbarians as quickly as he could cast his spell.

The last of
the cavalry reached the breach. He looked around for Iker but couldn’t find him. The captain was supposed to signal the soldiers defending the eastern flank of the gap to withdraw.

“Run the line,” Anatoly shouted to Liam, pointing to the defenders about to be overrun by a m
uch larger force of barbarians.

Liam spurred his horse into a gallop, racing behind the line of defenders as Anatoly shouted
, “Retreat!”

The
men began to peel off, racing to keep up with the bulk of the force that had just cleared the gap and was moving into the grasslands to the south. Soldiers on foot swung up behind others still mounted and the entire regiment fled the battlefield as the Sky Knights made a final series of attack runs at any barbarians who tried to pursue.

For several minutes they ran, just trying to put some distance between themselves and the enemy.
Anatoly found Iker, blood-splattered and a bit shaken, when he arrived at the main body of his regiment.

He
dismounted before Liam had fully stopped the horse.

“Head
count,” he said.

Iker stared at him blankly.

“How many did we lose, Captain?”

Iker blinked.

“Captain!”

Iker seemed to snap out of it a bit. “I didn’t expect it to be like that,” he muttered.

“What?”

“
Battle,” Iker said. “That’s not how it is in the stories.”

“You think,” Anatoly barked, taking the man by the shoulders and shaking him a bit to get his attention. “Set that aside and focus. How many did we lose?”

“I … I don’t know.”

“Well
, go find out, Captain. And while you’re at it, get this regiment moving. The enemy will be right behind us and we can’t afford to fight them on their terms.”

Iker nodded as shadows flitted by. The Sky Knights had finished their attack
runs and were flying south to scout a good place to make camp.

By
midday, the energy of battle had dissipated and they were riding hard. Iker found Anatoly when they stopped to feed and water the horses.

“Just over
forty-four hundred,” he said. “We lost nearly five hundred men today.”

“Still think battle is glorious?”

Iker shook his head solemnly.

“Good. For a lot of your men, this was their first battle. Make your rounds, talk to them, help them come to terms with the killing they did today, and teach them to direct their anger over the losses we took toward the enemy.”

Iker nodded, still looking a bit stunned. He wandered off into the throng of soldiers. Anatoly turned to Liam and Oliver.

“You both did well today. Think about the battle while you ride. Play it over in your mind. Look for the mistake
s you made and learn from them.”

Both of his charges nodded
absently.

“Hey.”

They both looked up.

“This is going to get worse before it gets better. You both need to mentally prepare yourselves for that.”

They were quiet for several minutes until everyone had finished their meal and the regiment was preparing to ride.

“Do you think they’ll run to catch up with us tonight?” Liam asked.

“I doubt it,” Anatoly said. “They have to sleep sometime. If all goes well, we won’t face them again until Fool’s Gap.”

Chapter
20

Isabel opened her eyes when she heard the footsteps approaching. She’d been confined to her circle cell for days. Wraithkin brought food and water but ignored her questions, refusing to utter even a single word to her, no doubt at Phane’s instructions.

She’
d used the time to alternately fret about Azugorath and to meditate on the light. Though her collar prevented her from touching the firmament, and the Wraith Queen was again actively blocking her link to the realm of light, every now and then she could still find that spark she’d discovered at the center of her being.

She
quickly learned that searching for it, working toward it, and struggling to find it were counterproductive. The true path lay in effortless silence. When she was able to quiet her mind and still her emotions, it would find her, blooming unbidden in her mind and soul, consuming her with a sense of belonging and connectedness like nothing she’d ever felt outside of Alexander’s arms. She found that it called to her, beseeching her to return. In that place she was content—at peace.

While Phane likely considered her isolation a punishment, she found it helpful in her pursuit of this new and unexpected facet of her existence. She spent most of her day in meditation, patiently quieting her mind in the hope that the light would come to her again.

Her meditation was frequently interrupted by Azugorath’s efforts to subvert her will and claim command of her body, but so far, she’d been able to resist. What frightened her most was the Wraith Queen’s growing strength. Each attack was more intense and more invasive. Deep down, Isabel knew that it was only a matter of time before she would succumb, but she resolved to resist for as long as possible. She might lose in the end, but her enemy would know that she’d been in a fight. Also, she reasoned, the more she fought, the more energy Azugorath would have to devote to her, thereby sparing the Seven Isles from whatever other uses Phane might have for her.

Isabel
stood and brushed herself off before the door opened. A single wraithkin smiled at her.

“Master has summoned you.”

She was tempted to sit back down, but the prospect of escaping her cell, even if only for a few hours, outweighed her desire to snub Phane and his minions, so she followed without a word. After a ten-minute walk through the innards of the black tower, they came to a set of double doors guarded by a pair of wraithkin. They opened the doors without a word. She stopped at the threshold, scanning the room and feeling a little thrill of fear at what she saw.

A long banquet table was set with all manner of food and wine. Serving girls stood along both walls, all looking down as if they thought doing so might make them invisible. Phane sat at the head of the table. To his right was a slight little man with a narrow face that made him look vaguely like a rodent. He was dressed in a perfectly fitted gr
ey suit and he sat very straight, his hands clasped on the table.

The rest of the
dozen or so people at the table seemed capable, powerful even. While all of them deferred to Phane, it seemed that some did so grudgingly. Her heart caught in her throat when her eyes landed on Hector and Drogan.

“Ah, Isabel, how nice of you to join us,” Phane said. “Please, come, sit. Share a meal with us.” He motioned to the empty chair on his left.

At the mention of her name, the little man to Phane’s right looked at her sharply, a hint of rage flashing in his beady grey eyes. She ignored him, instead boring into Hector with her glare. He glanced at her once before casting his gaze back down at the table.

She sat down, never taking her eyes off
of him. “You can’t even look at me, can you?” she said.

He didn’t respond.

“You want to know why that is, Hector? It’s because you’ve betrayed your own conscience and you know it.”

Several of the men at the table laughed at her.
She ignored them, glaring at him, daring him to look her in the eye. He kept his head down, almost like the serving girls lining the walls.

“Come now, Isabel,” Phane said with a jovial smile. “Don’t taunt the man, he’s lost so much already. You can hardly fault him for wanting to save his family.”

She turned her glare toward Phane. “He’s not saving Horace and we both know it. The only one who seems to believe that lie is Hector.”

“On the contrary, my dear
Isabel, Hector has served me well. He’s delivered the key to victory right into my hands. Would that all who serve me did so as diligently.” He looked at her pointedly.

“I don’t serve you, Phane, and I never will
,” she said.

He smiled like the sunrise, even as the man sitting across from her scowled.
The rest of the people at the table fell silent, all eyes on her.

“Do you allow all of your slaves to speak to you like this?” the man in gr
ey asked.

“Of course not, Babachenko,” Phane said.
“Isabel is special. I have great plans for her.”

“Oh,
” Isabel said with a laughing smile, “so you’re the man who thought he could lie to my husband and get away with it.” She stopped to laugh out loud. “How’d that work out for you?”

The Babachenko’s
scowl turned to anger. He raised his hand toward her, beginning to mumble under his breath.

“Stop!” Phane said,
slapping the table hard enough to cause all of the silverware to rattle. “Babachenko, Isabel belongs to me. You will not raise your hand to her.”

He struggled to regain his composure, then smiled unconvincingly, rage still dancing in his eyes.

“As you wish, Prince Phane, but I must ask … why have you not used her against the pretender?”

“Oh, I intend to, but she’s not ready yet,” Phane said. “Perhaps later I’ll show you the extent of my preparations to that end. For now, suffice it to say that you and your Acuna wizards have arrived just in time to see the begi
nning of the end of our enemies, all thanks to Hector and Drogan here.” He held out his hand toward the two men.

Hector still didn’t look up.

“Their successful return has also provided me with an opportunity to demonstrate my power and my generosity. When I sent Hector on this very dangerous mission, I made him a promise—a promise that I intend to keep. In doing so, I’m confident that I will put any doubts you may have to rest, as well.”

The Babachenko started to protest but Phane stopped him with a raised hand and a boyish smile.
“It’s all right. I’d be concerned if you didn’t have doubts about our alliance, especially after you’ve lost so much. Tomorrow, under the moonless sky, I will show you that you’ve chosen wisely.”

“How exactly do you plan
on doing that?” one of the Acuna wizards asked bluntly, drawing a sharp look from the Babachenko.

“I’m going to resurrect Hector’s brother,” Phane said.

Hector looked up, renewed hope burning in his eyes. The rest of the table sat in stunned silence, a mixture of disbelief and wonder etched on their faces.

“You have every right to be skeptical. I w
ould be were I in your place, but rest assured, after tomorrow night you’ll be as certain of our victory as I am.”

Isabel started laughing, stopping only after all eyes were on her.

“If you believe any of that, you’re as delusional as he is,” she said, motioning toward Phane with her head. “First off, the magic of the netherworld is the magic of death. Do you really believe that such darkness can return life to the dead? Second, you’ve met my husband, Babachenko. You had him in a cage wearing a collar inside a warded section of your keep and he still destroyed your city. What do you think he’s going to do now that he’s free to wage war against you on his terms?”

The Babachenko
deliberately composed himself and smiled, though his eyes remained alight with anger.

“Admittedly, I underestimated him
,” he said. “I can assure you, that won’t happen again. Besides, I’ve recently learned that he has returned to Ruatha. When he had the opportunity to press his advantage and take all of northern Andalia, he chose to run. Not exactly the mark of a courageous leader. In fact, some might say that he’s behaving like a coward.”

“Others might say he has more strategic goals in mind,” Isabel said. “After all, Andalia is of tertiary concern now that the Lancers have lost their magic. I’m curious, do you still call them Lancers now that Alexander has
destroyed the power of their force lances?”

The Babachenko started to bristle but collected himself quickly. Phane sat back
, swirling his wine goblet, smiling like a kid at a carnival.

“
Were it not for Prince Phane’s protection, I would see you suffer for your insolence.”

“I’ll bet,” Isabel said, stabbing a piece of meat and chewing deliberately while looking him in the eye.

“I can cause her great pain without doing any damage,” the Babachenko said, turning to Phane. “Perhaps we could use her to make her husband suffer.”

“To what end?” Phane asked.

“Punishment.”

“I appreciate your anger, Babachenko. I even share it, but your idea of punishment is insufficient for my taste. When I’m done with dear Isabel here, she will become my weapon. She will strike the blow that kills her beloved husband. I expect his despair in that moment to be crushing. But even that isn’t enough for me. After he dies, his soul will be drawn into the Sovereign Stone. There, in that timeless place
, I will come to him often to describe in great and sordid detail all of the things I will make his wife do in my name. He will hear stories of lives and kingdoms crushed by her hand. I will tell him of her children—of our children. For every day of my life, I will torment him with the enormity of his failure. So you see, Babachenko, he will pay for his crimes against us.”

The Babachenko nodded d
eferentially. “You have indeed given this more thought than I have. Your plan for vengeance is quite thorough.”

Isabel chuckled to herself, washing down a bi
te of bread with a sip of wine to mask the thrill of dread that spread through her at the prospect of Phane actually doing the things he described. “Aren’t you two getting ahead of yourselves? I mean, he did just defeat you pretty soundly,” she said to the Babachenko. “And you’ve been trying to kill him for the past year, Phane. Sounds to me like both of you are underestimating him … again.”

“I will admit that Alexander has acquitted himself far better than I would have imagined,” Phane said. “But he can’t win. Hector and Drogan have returned with the remains of the Goiri. I will use the power of those cursed bones to open the warded box containing the final keystone to the Nether Gate
and then we will depart for the Reishi Isle. With all of my Master’s minions to serve me, the Seven Isles will succumb to my will. Alexander will fall. Your friends will all die badly.

“Your stubborn optimism is becoming sad and delusional, Isabel. You’ve lost. You might as well embrace that painful truth and accept the world as it is. Life will become much better for you once you do.”

Worry about the Nether Gate occupied her mind. The moment she’d seen Hector, she knew that he’d returned with the cursed bones, and that Phane would soon have all three keystones … but she wasn’t about to let him or his henchmen see any hint of concern.

“
I think you’ve told so many lies that you can’t tell the difference anymore,” she said. “I think you believe that simply saying something makes it reality. From where I’m sitting, there’s a long way between here and the fantasy you just described.”

She saw a flicker of doubt in the Babachenko’s eyes.

“In fact,” she continued, “Alexander will probably come at you in ways that you never expected. He’ll blindside you, hit you where you’re weak, bleed you one cut at a time. And when you strike back, he just won’t be there.

“You know what I’m talking about, don’t you
, Babachenko? He was alone, stripped of his weapons, deprived of his magic, a prisoner and a slave. And yet, he took so much from you. Your city, your Lancers, your home. If you go against him again, I suspect he’ll take your head.

“But it doesn’t have to be that way. Alexander is nothing if not fair. If you offered him Phane’s head instead, I’m sure he would let you return to Andalia and rule the isl
e in the name of the Old Law. You could have your title, your power, your privilege, your wealth … everything you’ve lost. All for the price of one man’s head.

“Think about it. Phane seduced you with
his lies. He set your nation on a path to war—a war that’s cost you terribly. What has it cost him? You and your people suffer so that he can have dominion over you? Not much of a bargain if you ask me.

“You have ten wizards in this room with you. Together
, you could kill him right now.” She leaned forward, a bit surprised that Phane hadn’t interrupted her. “Put an end to this war. Kill him and preserve yourself. This is your chance at salvation … take it.”

The room fell silent as she held the Babachenko with her piercing green eyes. He twitched slightly, seemingly unable t
o break free of her gaze, until Phane started clapping slowly, breaking the spell of her words.