The Children of the White Lions: Volume 02 - Prophecy (103 page)

Nikalys nodded. Kenders’ face fell and she squeezed her eyes tight.

“Blast it.”

A single, sharp howl sliced through the air, startling them both. Brother and sister stood quickly and spun around to find Okollu, amazingly, standing upright. The kur-surus cradled his left side with his right arm.

In his thick, wet voice, he called, “Drept, ascuta la min!”

Every kur-surus turned to stare at him.

Spinning in a quick circle, Okollu barked, “Mes cimes!” Releasing his injured side, he pointed to Baaldok’s corpse. “Diavol naret bahir tas-vilku il Drept!” He tapped his white-furred chest. “Tiyale bahir tas-vilku il Drept!” Turning to face Nikalys, Kenders, and Jak, he extended his arm, pointing it at the siblings. “Gludu mus zems il Drept! Kunan hiret!”

A few hundred yellow-eyed gazes shifted to the Isaac siblings.

Jak muttered, “Uh-oh.”

Nikalys glanced over at Baaldòk’s corpse and the sword sticking from the demon’s back, wondering if he should go get it now.

Okollu did not give him much time to consider as he tossed his bloody muzzle northward and barked, “Noga adas! Omaroo peil gril!”

As one, the hundreds of kur-surus turned and ran north, rushing past the startled siblings and straight for the ring of soldiers around the port. Sergeant Trell’s voice shouted over the racket.

“Do not strike! Let them through!”

The cry was quickly picked up and repeated by the duchy soldiers.

Nikalys watched in awe as the kur-surus bypassed the soldiers, ran through the protective ring, and charged straight into the oligurt ranks, turning their ferocious jaws and teeth against the gray-skinned beasts. A single, stunned word slipped from Nikalys’ lips.

“Huh.”

The Army of the White Lions seemed to have gained a new ally. A very unusual ally.

Okollu approached where they stood, clearly wincing in pain, his yellow-eyed gaze fixed on Rhohn’s body.

“Is he dead?”

Nikalys nodded, muttering, “He is.” He had not been around the kur-surus enough to understand his expressions, but if he had been pressed, he would have said Okollu appeared sorrowful.

Okollu was quiet a moment before growling softly, “Grieving comes later.” He looked up to the three siblings. “The battle is not over.” He turned and began to jog north, back to the fighting, limping as he went.

“He’s right,” said Jak. “We’re not done yet.” He, too, began to hurry back to the fray. Looking over his shoulder, he called, “Let’s go!”

After one last glance at Rhohn, Kenders followed Jak without saying a word.

Nikalys looked to Rhohn’s scarred, slack face and sighed. Reaching down, he closed the Borderlander’s eyelids, murmuring, “Maeana welcome you with open arms.”

Making a silent promise to come back to bury the Dust Man himself, Nikalys stood and faced north just as a series of three, quick horn calls cut through the air. Looking back to the south, he spotted a great host of mounted soldiers sallying forth from the southern gate to charge a group of oligurts now cut off from the rest of the Sudashian army.

“Good…”

Turning his back on the dead Dust Man and battle to the south, he strode to Baaldòk’s corpse, gripped his sword’s hilt, and pulled his white blade clear. He stared at the lifeless monster and spat, “Go back to whatever Hell you came from.” He kicked Baaldòk’s face with the tip of his boot, hard enough that something cracked.

Facing north, he jogged back to the ports.

The combined force of the duchy soldiers and Okollu’s pack were quickly overwhelming the oligurt force to their immediate north. They were not only driving the enemy back, but small groups of men and kur-surus were actually pursuing the grayskins as they ran. The skirmish here was going so well that Khin and Nundle had halted their magical attacks. Sabine stood with her bow lowered, staring intently at the battle raging before her. Her hip quiver was empty, but she held one last arrow at the ready, already nocked on the bowstring. Jak was at the ports, directing fresh men as they came through, and the injured as they were carried back to the walls. Sergeant Trell and Zecus were nowhere to be seen. Nikalys hoped they were among those hunting down the fleeing oligurts and not the injured. Or worse.

Bodies of Reed Men and Southern Arms littered the field, along with countless oligurts and kur-surus. Even a few black tunics lay among the dead, the white lion emblem more often than not covered in blood, gore, and Marshlands muck. Nikalys tried not to let every death here weigh on him, but failed miserably. Had he stayed on the walls, this would not be.

As he approached the group, Kenders fixed him with a steady, almost wrathful glare, and said, “To be clear, you
never
get to chastise me for being rash—” She cut off suddenly, her eyes shooting open wide. Whirling around, she stared north. Khin did the same, albeit at a slower, more measured pace. A moment later, the aicenai spoke.

“We must return. Now.”

He had taken two steps toward the ports when one disappeared with a soft pop. Halting, he stared north again, worry in his ice blue eyes.

“They are breaching the walls.”

Nikalys looked north and was confused when he found the walls clear of the enemy. All he saw were colors of the duchy forces. Oligurts and kur-surus remained outside the walls.

“What are you…?”

He trailed off as entire sections of the northern walls began to collapse. Solid stone appeared to shift and shimmer before flowing outward like sand, spreading down the hill. The Sudashians were indeed breaching the walls, just not in the manner in which he had thought.

“Oh, Gods,” muttered Kenders. “Tobias was on one of those towers…”

Glancing at his sister, Nikalys asked, “Are you sure?”

She nodded silently, her gaze fixed north.

Nikalys eyed the melting walls, searching for any sign of the tomble, panic swelling in his chest. Besides causing the deaths of countless soldiers, Nikalys’ decision had led to the death of a White Lion. If he had not come down here, Kenders and Khin certainly would not have. And with them on the towers, the walls might very well still be solid.

He set his jaw and swallowed his guilt. It would do him no good here and now while there was a battle still to be won.

Facing his sister and the aicenai, he ordered, “Kenders and Khin. Get back through Nundle’s port and hurry over there.” He pointed to the disintegrating walls. “Stop that.”

Kenders, already moving back to the fluttering black port with Khin at her side, said, “Good idea.”

“Hold a moment!” called Nikalys.

She halted and looked back

“What?”

“Tell every soldier—and I mean
every
soldier—between here and there to come through the port.”

Kenders hesitated a moment, but rather than question him as to why he wanted the soldiers, she nodded.

“Just promise me you aren’t going to do anything brainless.”

“Will you do the same?”

Cocking an eyebrow, she said, “I’ll send your men. Be safe.” She glanced at Jak and Sabine. “All of you.” Without another word, she hurried through the tear with Khin a step behind.

Staring down at Nundle, Nikalys briefly wondered where the tomble’s ever-present hat was before saying, “Nundle, get back to the walls, keep that port open, and help the injured. And get those soldiers to hurry.”

Nundle nodded, his red hair bouncing.

“Do you want mages, too?”

Nikalys shook his head.

“They stay. If you can’t wield a blade, you stay on the wall, understood?”

“Certainly,” replied Nundle. “Anything else?”

“Yes,” answered Nikalys. “If you see Broedi, tell him I’m heading north. We are going to attack the Sudashians’ flank.”

Jak, standing a few paces away, looked over his shoulder.

“We’re going to do what?”

Ignoring his brother, Nikalys said, “Go, Nundle. Quickly.”

Rather than move, Nundle glanced north, a frown spreading over his face.

“You’re going to…attack? Is that wise?”

“Probably not, but it’s what we are doing. Right now, we have the numbers. We need to clear these fields before Tandyr’s western reinforcements arrive.”

Nundle glanced west, sighed, and nodded. Eyeing Nikalys and Jak he said, “Ketus with you, then. You’ll certainly need him.” The tomble turned and hurried through the port, dodging a number of fresh Reed Men and Southern Arms soldiers moving from the walls to the field.

Steeling himself, Nikalys turned to Sabine. The young woman was staring at him carefully, her eyes narrowed.

“Sabine, I need—”

“If that sentence ends with ‘go back to the walls,’ don’t finish it.”

Keeping his expression blank, Nikalys exchanged a quick look with Jak. In a way only brothers can, Jak understood what he was thinking in that one glance.

Jak looked back to Sabine and said, “You’re going back to the walls.”

Sabine shifted her cool, collected gaze to Jak alone.

“Interesting theory. Will you be carrying me there?”

Jak shrugged.

“If I must.”

Nikalys said, “And I’ll help.”

Sabine shifted her stare to him, her eyes full of the same icy determination as when she had sliced open the neck of the unconscious bandit at the Moiléne farm. It made him incredibly uneasy, yet he forced himself to hold the glare.

“I’m one of the Progeny, too, which means you don’t—”

Jak interrupted her, asking, “Do you know how to use a sword, Sabine?”

“I don’t need one. I have a bow.”

Nikalys pointed to her empty quiver.

“You’re out of arrows.”

Setting her jaw, she said, “I’ll go get more.”

Jak nodded and waved a hand at the battlements.

“You’ll find plenty up there. And as long as you are up there, you should probably stay.”

Sabine glared at Jak for a moment before turning her chilly gaze to Nikalys.

“I have just as much right to be here as you.” Glancing back to Jak, she added, “And more than you.”

Jak flinched at the comment, his eyes narrowing sharply.

“Please,” said Nikalys. “You can do just as much good for us on the walls as you can down here.” She opened her mouth to protest, but he continued on, raising his voice. “This is not about
you
, Sabine. It’s about Helene.” Jabbing a finger at the walls, he exclaimed, “You have a sweeter chance of getting back to her up there than you do down here!”

His plea thawed her icy stare a bit, about as much as a candle could warm a block of ice. Nevertheless, she pressed her lips together and nodded once.

“Fine.”

She turned on her heels, walked to the port, and stepped through without looking back. Any soldier moving from the walls took one look at her and moved out of her way. Nikalys sighed and shook his head.

Jak leaned over and asked, “That went well, don’t you think?”

A slight grin graced Nikalys’ lips.

“Could have gone better.”

Jak studied his brother, one eyebrow cocked, and asked, “What about me? You sending me back to the walls? Or do I get to come along on your mad charge? And, to be clear, I do think this
is
madness.”

“If I order you to the walls, will you go?”

“Oh, Gods, no,” huffed Jak. “Remember, you’re still my little brother.”

“Mad charge it is, then.”

Jak nodded once.

“Should be fun.”

The stream of men coming through the port had increased already, the soldiers quickly bunching up into disorganized clumps.

Keeping his voice low, Jak muttered, “Have you seen Sergeant Trell?”

Shaking his head, Nikalys said, “No.” He glanced at Jak and frowned. “Zecus, either.”

“Noticed that, too,” said Jak. “I’m glad Kenders didn’t.” The brothers stared west, into the forest where groups of Reed Men were chasing oligurt stragglers. “Let’s hope they’re safe.”

“Let’s do that,” said Nikalys. Looking back to the growing force around them, he added, “For now, though, we need to get this assault organized.”

“Agreed,” said Jak, staring at the confused groupings of soldiers. “Excuse me.” Stepping forward, he began to shout orders, getting the men to line up in formation. “Ranks of nine, three and three! Quickly! We have a war to win!”

The soldiers leapt to obey.

As his brother organized the ranks, Nikalys scanned the remnants of the battlefield. Okollu’s pack was helping chase down the last of the oligurts here. Okollu lagged at the rear, too injured himself to do much more than limp about the marsh and howl orders. Three, quick horn blasts pulled his attention back south. Some of the mounted Reed Men were riding north now, heading for Nikalys and his growing force. Facing them, he began waving his arms to get the attention of the lead horsemen, saying a silent prayer that he was doing the right thing.

Kenders rushed along the battlements, her boots pounding on stone as she ran, still one tower away from the first of the gaping breaches in the walls.

The persistent buzz of Strands was deafening, the crackling sensation filled her chest and the air around her. Thousands of Strands—sizzling yellows, rippling blues, fiery oranges, glittering silvers, warm golds, and muddy browns—whipped around her, flying through the air, summoned by friend and foe alike. The display’s intensity was nearly overwhelming.

As she hurried, she glanced west, ripping apart Sudashian Weaves when she could, picking and choosing the ones with the most Strands to unravel. Even though she did not recognize most of the patterns the enemy was using, she figured it was her best approach.

Sabine ran at her side, having caught up halfway to the gaps. Kenders was surprised her friend had not stayed with her brothers, but was too busy to ask why not. As they sprinted over the walls, Sabine grabbed any free arrow she could find, plucking them from men’s quivers and dropping them in her own. They were keeping a quick pace yet Khin was only a few paces behind them, moving swifter than she thought possible.

Two towers back, they had emerged to find the walls empty of men. Whether ordered to or not, the soldiers of the northern ranks were streaming into the streets below, perhaps afraid to be standing atop the ramparts as stone turned to sand beneath their feet. With empty walls and the massive breaches, the advantage had shifted to Tandyr’s forces here.