Thy Father's Shadow (Book 4.5) (36 page)

Once the night had claimed the land for its own, Amenon rose from where they had waited. “Come along,” he whispered, his voice hushed as they moved forward out of a thicket that had frosted over in the winter.

The squeak of a hinge caused Terian to freeze as though he’d had snow dumped down the back of his armor. He hesitated only a moment before snaking behind a tree, pressing his armor against the bark. He watched Grinnd do the same against a nearby pine while Dahveed went prone, finding cover behind a bush. Bowe had disappeared, as had Amenon.
An invisibility spell.
But where’s—

Terian saw movement to his side and craned his neck around the tree to see Xemlinan caught in the open, frozen in the middle of the snowy ground, his black silk clothing obvious against the white background.

A dwarf came around the corner of the nearest house, whistling lightly to himself as he trudged down into the snow. It came to his waist, and he trod a path that had already been partially cleared. The crunch of his footfalls was the only noise in the night save for a barking dog, and his sure steps carried him toward where Xem waited.

The dwarf’s head was down as he walked, oblivious to the dark elf just in front of him. Terian could see Xem’s eyes wide, and his head turned slowly, as though it were stuck.
He can’t move now or he’ll be heard and seen, but if he stays still there, he’ll be seen in a matter of moments—

Terian looked to the ground just below him for a stone, a stick, something to throw as a distraction.
I have to get Xem out of there before the fool makes obvious our presence—

He felt a jarring sensation down his spine as his muscles straightened.
He’s trying to get us caught. Because …

Because …

Shrawn.

Terian felt the icy clutch of fear and turned his gaze back to Xemlinan, who waited, his hand on his dagger. Terian saw his muscles twitch, and he started to cast a spell, then stopped himself.
What if he’s just a fool caught in the middle of a daft moment?

The dwarf had come close enough now to be within inches of Xem, and Terian held his breath.
I’m not like the others. I can’t lash out blindly at a friend just because I’ve been betrayed before, or else the Sovereign and Shrawn win. Xem has been loyal. Xem is not a fool. He is indebted to my father—

He is—

The dwarf paused in his shuffle, and Terian could see the dim awareness on his face that something was wrong, that something was lingering in front of him.
Are his eyes weak?
Dwarves can see in the dark, can’t they?

Can he see Xem?

The dwarf said nothing for a long moment, staring into the dark, his jawline twitching as he squinted.
He doesn’t know what he’s seeing? Maybe he sees something but can’t figure out what it is?

Xemlinan was mere feet away, and Terian found his breath caught in his throat.
Don’t move, Xem.

Terian clenched his jaw as the dwarf leaned forward slightly.
Don’t move. Just … don’t … move
.

There was a long pause and a desperate silence. The dwarf seemed to pull away slightly, his face slackening.

And then there was a flash as Xemlinan drew his dagger and struck at the dwarf. The dwarf recoiled at the sudden motion and threw up a hand. The blade caught him across the palm on a thick leather glove, and he cried out in pain as he stumbled.

Xem moved toward him, pursuing the kill, but it was too late. The dwarf shouted into the air, loud enough to call for oblivion.

“DARK ELVES! DARK ELVES IN THE VILLAGE! DARK ELV—”

The slash of Xemlinan’s dagger across the dwarf’s neck ended the cry. A rattle of doors and the sound of alarms being raised across the village echoed through the valley. Cries of “Dark elves!” rang forth with the thunder of boots and the clatter of weapons.

“We’re buggered,” Grinnd said, hoisting his sword and snugging the barrel closer to his back. “They’ll be coming, now.”

“Time to fly,” Terian said, turning to look at Bowe. “Get us out here.”

“Hold,” Amenon said, and the wind kicked up a bitter gust that found every crack in Terian’s armor. “We shall not fail.”

“We were supposed to complete the mission and escape unseen,” Terian said, gesturing with his arm toward the village. “There are a hundred dwarves heading toward us at the moment that will make that nigh impossible.”

Amenon unsheathed his blade, and the glow of the red in the night caused the chill to seep into Terian’s bones.
Surely he doesn’t mean to—

Amenon turned toward the town, eyes narrow and cold, his blade clutched tight in his hand. “We kill them all.”

“Father, this is a town of dwarves—women, children.” He extended his hand outward. “We can’t just—”

“We can.” Amenon’s voice was heavy and hard like steel. “We will. Make ready for our foes as they come to us.” His words came steady and sure like the way he had been before, but there was a cold and furious edge that Terian had not heard since the night he had ordered Sareea Scyros to cut his own son’s throat. “And we will leave none alive.”

Chapter 55

This is madness.
The thought echoed over and over in Terian’s head as he dropped the axe blade again and again. A dwarf caught it in the middle of his skull and the bone was split open, dashed out in streaks of red on the snow. The smell of it sickened him, but he controlled his stomach’s urge to empty its contents and buried his axe into the chest of a dwarf coming at him from the side with a pitchfork.

“They’re breaking!” Grinnd’s shout echoed over them, crackling against the peaks that surrounded the valley. He let out a mighty bellow that sounded over the field of battle and then cleaved a dwarf in half with a blow from his sword that would have split a log in two.

Terian felt something sharp at his back, the screaming pain of a hatchet hitting his armor and slipping into the crack at his waist. He wanted to scream but controlled it into a grimace then spoke words under his breath while pointing his hand at the red-haired, red-bearded dwarf who had sunk the wood cutter into him. He tore a scream from the dwarf’s throat, a bloody scream that caused the man to fall in pain, blood seeping out of his side onto the snow.

“Not so much fun when someone turns your own harm back upon you, is it?” Terian asked, tasting blood from what the dwarf had done to him. He knew if he checked under his armor, the wound would be healed, flawless skin peeking from beneath the broken chain main. The blood remained, however, as did the phantom sensation of pain.

“You’re all making this far too easy on me,” Dahveed said calmly from behind them. “I never truly get a chance to exercise my skill when I’m with you.”

Terian turned his head slightly to see the healer with a long, thin-bladed short sword in his hand. There was only the body of a single dwarf at his feet, and he sighed as he looked down at it. “Looks like you’re practicing one of your skills,” Terian said.

“But not one that the Leagues would encourage me to practice, if you can believe it,” Dahveed said with a shake of his head. “As though a healer’s sash would protect me on the battlefield; dogma would have me go unarmed, as though preventing the wound from happening is somehow less glorious than healing it afterward.”

“You’re in charge, why not change that?” Terian asked, fending off the strike of two dwarves with a strike that took off an arm at the elbow.

“Dogma is not so easy to change as you might think,” Dahveed said, and Terian could hear the healer’s smile in his answer. “And just because I’m in charge of the Healer’s Union in Saekaj, don’t assume I have much power over our direction.”

“You blathering fools!” Amenon said, and Terian turned his eyes to his father. Amenon was covered in blood, cutting through a dwarf with his red-bladed sword, which glared as though it were drinking in the blood of his foes.
Like legend says it does.
“This is a time for battle, for proving ourselves to the Sovereign!”

“It would appear Grinnd’s pronouncement about their breakage is somewhat optimistic,” Terian said. He blinked, looking around. “Where’s Xem?”

“I don’t see him,” Dahveed said, glancing about. “Is it possible he’s dead?”

“By these earth diggers?” Grinnd struck down three dwarves wielding mining picks. “If he is, it should be of shame for falling to their pitchforks and pickaxes!”

The throng of dwarves was growing thin, their numbers slackening as Terian watched a few of them run. A blast of lightning followed by balls of fire blazing through the air struck down a few of the fleeing number. Terian turned to see Bowe standing over a stack of dwarven dead, a curved-bladed scimitar gripped in one hand while magic flew from the other.

The smell of smoke drifted under Terian’s nose, the scent of something burning coming from the corpses of Bowe’s victims and pines set aflame by stray magic. Terian counted three trees and a nearby house that were engulfed, flames rising around them.

“Set the village aflame, Bowe,” Amenon said, unyielding. “Let us track the stragglers—and Xemlinan, if we can.”

“If?” Terian asked. “Why can’t we?”

“No footprints,” Bowe said in his slow drawl. “He has the Falcon’s Essence and could have gone in any direction.”

“That treacherous son of a bitch,” Terian said. “He landed us in all manner of hell on Shrawn’s orders then abandoned us to the flames.” He turned his head to look at the burning house before them. “Literally.”

“Burn it all,” Amenon said, sweeping forward through the flaming forest. “We have work to do.”

“Keep the flames away from me,” Grinnd said in warning, dodging around a tree as he advanced toward the town. “Just a suggestion, given my cargo.” Bowe did not answer, but he did nod—the only concession to show he was listening.

Terian advanced into town with the others. The single street was quiet, a few stragglers running here and there. Bowe cast flame and lightning, striking them down. Terian watched as a female dwarf hurrying on stubby legs burst into flames, and he turned his head to avoid looking.
This is madness. Damn you, Shrawn, for pushing us into this. If I ever catch Xem
…

A fireball struck a nearby house, gusts of flame bursting out of the window, and Terian flinched away from the heat. “Perhaps we should search the houses,” Terian said hesitantly. “Keep from wasting Bowe’s magic.” He turned to see his father’s reaction.

Amenon did not flinch. “This town must burn. We must leave no sign.”

“Blackened corpses are a sign,” Terian said. “Usually a bad sign.”

“I am going to run low on magical energy soon,” Bowe said, more calmly than Terian would have in his position. “Anything we can do to limit the waste would speed our task’s completion.”

“Very well,”Amenon said grudgingly. “Terian, Grinnd, search house by house. If there are survivors within, kill them. If there are too many, signal Bowe to burn them.” He raised a hand at a dwarf crossing an alley between houses as he strode forward. The dwarf fell, clutching his throat. Amenon strode to his side and drove his red blade into the dwarf’s skull as casually as if he were sheathing it. “Hurry; we still have a mission to attend to. This is all distraction and foolishness born of sabotage. Dahveed and I will circle the village and make certain we can track down and kill any fleeing survivors.” His eyes narrowed as he looked to Dahveed. “Keep an eye out for footprints in the snow.”

Terian saw Dahveed raise a skeptical eye. There were countless footprints, running in all directions, forward and backward. “I will do all that I can.” The healer ran down the street, his blade still in hand.

“Come on then, Terian,” Grinnd said. Terian saw the warrior’s heavy expression; there was no joy in it. “We have a task. You take the left side of the street, I’ll take the right.”

“Aye,” Terian said, drawing a sharp breath. The sick feeling in his belly persisted. He cut left, running toward the first house at the end of the street.

It was a dwarven hovel, a stone mortared little building with a straw roof thatched tight against the elements. There were no windows to allow him to look inside or the occupants to look out. The door was wood and probably barred, Terian reflected. He stood just outside, paused, waiting for a beat—listening. He heard movement inside and kicked down the door. It broke open, shattering upon the impact of his boot.

He stood in the entry, staring into the darkened dwelling. A fire burned in the hearth, and his gaze shifted to the dwarven children huddled next to it, a teenage girl standing before them. Her arms protected them only slightly, her body sheltering them. She was not a dwarf but a human, and fear was written all over her face.

Terian clutched at his axe as he stared in. The smoke from the hearth wafted over him, a gentle smell of home, and he felt a trickle of sweat bead and run down his forehead as he stared into the house. The girl stared back at him, light hair and fair skin overshadowed by eyes wide with terror.

Terian felt his jaw quiver, and he hefted his axe.

Duty
.

Chapter 56

Sixteen Years Ago

“This is the day,” Amenon said with great relish. Terian could see the pride warring with something else on his face. “You have never yet disappointed me, my son.” His expression wavered, just for a second. “Hold fast through this day and I will be as proud of you as any father has been of any son, ever.”

“Yes, Father,” Terian said, standing almost at attention. They were in his father’s study, and Terian could feel the nerves ripping at him. He glanced at the suit of armor standing just before the desk; a beautiful, dark-metal axe now leaned against the figure that the armor was placed upon. He almost reached out and touched it but stopped himself before he did so.
Not yet. Soon. So soon.

“The soul sacrifice is the single most important ritual for a dark knight,” Amenon said, and Terian pulled his eyes off the waiting armor and back to his father. He chuckled. “Though I suppose I don’t need to tell you that.” He clapped Terian on the shoulder. “You’ve been waiting for this day nearly as long as I have.”

“Yes, Father,” Terian said, and he felt the quiver of excitement pass through his body.
I mustn’t fail now. I am the best in the Legion; whatever comes my way this day, I am better prepared to handle it than any other student.
He’d heard the whispers, of course. Gossip about the soul sacrifice was forbidden in the Legion—but that didn’t stop it from happening.