Bones of the Empire (36 page)

The three Turessians exchanged concerned looks, and the man at the center called back, “What do you want, wildling? Your very existence is reason for war. Respect is not something we would be happy to give, certainly not when your clans attack us dishonorably.”

Raeln drew his weapon again and watched with some amusement as every sword around him raised defensively. They were terrified of him, likely because they had no idea what to expect. Turning, he pointed his own sword toward the approaching undead, which had poured out of the woods and were engaging the rear of his clans’ troops. “You use decaying ancestors as soldiers, and you say I am a reason for war?” he growled. The Turessians looked to the hills, and Raeln saw many eyes widen in surprise. “They flank us and seek to attack in the night. Now you act as though we are the aggressors? Which customs are more important…the marking of only humans or the care of our dead?”

The man who had spoken moved his mouth, but it took a moment to find words. “Whether we believe your marking was just or not, we would not do this. I swear this to you. By my clan and blood, this was not our doing.”

“Then explain it to me. My people were surrounded. What would you do in my place? Stand by and watch your clan be slaughtered, or order the attack?”

Wincing, the man bit his lip and tugged at the edge of his robe nervously. “I would attack. I would rather follow a wildling into war than be slaughtered by dishonor. I will have the clans stand down.”

“Not good enough,” Raeln said, taking a few more steps forward. The armed Turessians hunkered down, trying to hold their ground as though a horse were charging them. “You will join us and fight our mutual enemies.”

“Over our dead—” said another man who had not spoken to that point. Before he could finish, a knife appeared at his throat.

“Be careful what wishes we make, yes?” Yoska said, using the Turessian as a shield when the others turned on him.

“A wanderer assassin,” griped the woman who had spoken first to Raeln, raising her hands to cast a spell when she had a clear shot at Yoska. “Your kind have no honor!”

Yoska spit on the ground. “You insult my friend for trying to end war, and you say I have no honor? Maybe I have honor and you are one without, no? Think before speaking.”

Appearing from the far side of the group, Ceran gestured broadly at the warriors between Raeln and the clans’ leaders. A dozen men fell instantly, their eyes rolling back as they hit the snow. Raeln could not even be certain if they were alive or dead. “Assassination is entirely honorable, so long as the victim knows who ordered it and why,” she announced, giving a warning glare to the remaining soldiers, who hesitated. “I speak for my clan when I say Raeln is an honorable creature, and I am the one who would have you die if you do not see reason. Raeln represents us in this battle and these talks. Either accept his negotiations, or you are declaring war against all of us. We do not have time for lengthy discussion.”

The two preservers who were not at the end of Yoska’s knife looked quickly between Ceran, Yoska, and Raeln, entirely ignoring the slaves and Turessians standing at Raeln’s back. Before Raeln could react, the woman flicked her hand, and a wall of shimmering light separated the two of them from the rest of their clanmates.

“You think this is honorable?” Ceran demanded, walking right up to the barrier. “Hiding while we kill off your entire clan? You bring shame on our order, preserver. Stand against the winds and come forward to fight, if you believe this is unjust. Let the wisdom and strength of the victor determine both of our people’s direction. I would do it quickly, before the fallen ancestors are on us.”

The two preservers in the dome of energy whispered briefly, and the woman shook her head.

Frowning at her, the man stepped forward and touched the barrier, dismissing it. Bowing before Ceran, he announced, “I will accept your challenge, preserver.”

Ceran laughed and pointed at Raeln. “He is our battle leader. Your quarrel is with him. I follow his orders, not he mine.”

The Turessian eyed Raeln with some dismay, but nodded and bowed again to Raeln. “She challenged me and the challenged normally sets the terms, but I would defer to you, given the oddness of this. What are your terms, wildling?”

Raeln glanced back toward the woods and saw the undead were tearing into his troops and overwhelming the ditches. The entire battle was starting to collapse as the two armies were pushed together by the new foe. No one out there was ready to fight two fronts.

“Strength and magic,” he announced, twirling his sword. “The clans prize both skills. I allow and encourage both. If you can defeat me, you control these clans and will have the chance to bury any evidence of my having been marked. If I win, you follow me as a brother of the clans, and we stand together against whoever is using ancestors to attack us.”

The Turessian softly agreed and gave a far deeper bow. When he came back up, he began a spell before Raeln even realized the fight was on. In the back of his mind, he chided himself, having learned that lesson once already.

Tumbling sideways, Raeln avoided a blast of flame that melted the snow where he had been standing, narrowly missing the men and women who had been with him. Steam rolled off his clothing as he righted himself, but he forced himself not to rush at the man. Charging a wizard without a plan was foolish at best. He had to be careful. Instead of running, he walked at the preserver as the man prepared another spell. He let his mind go blank, seeking the calm that had aided him in the fight against the child during his first dealings with Ceran’s clan. This would be far worse, but magic was magic, and he had to try. He had to prove himself, and he had to do it in a big way.

When the spell went off, Raeln found a razor-thin focus within and forced himself to turn with the spell, knocking it aside as though it were a weapon. Sparking lightning flickered over his arms, down his sword, and all across his shield, making his arms tremble and ache, but he managed to avoid the worst of it while keeping his face calm. He did not have to win this, he merely needed the Turessian to think he had. So long as he was standing at the end, he could be already dead for all it mattered.

Frantically casting another spell as Raeln got within five feet, the Turessian flung his hands at Raeln, and the air between them flared with heat and light. Again, Raeln twisted around the spell, forcing it aside with his upper arm. Pain flooded his shoulder, but he fought to remain calm. The spell went wide, as though the man had missed, though Raeln’s arm from wrist to shoulder smoked and stunk of burned fur. Heat flashed across his shield, making him wish he had grabbed a second weapon, rather than a large piece of metal. Hurriedly, he released his grip on it and threw it aside, freeing his off hand.

The Turessian tried one last time, but Raeln slapped his hands aside, destroying his concentration. With a lunge, Raeln grabbed him by the neck and threw him onto his back. Lowering his sword to the man’s neck, Raeln asked quietly, “Are we done yet? You may be marked as a wise one, but I have just walked through your magic alive without using any of my own. Would you die like this or follow me? One might argue I am both wiser and stronger than you. Who among your ancestors will remember you if you die here? I can assure you I will be remembered by your whole clan, no matter what happens after this moment.”

Frantically looking about for help that would not come, the man relented and relaxed as he stared at Raeln’s tattoos. Turning his head away in what appeared to be shame, he said loud enough for others to hear, “This…man…has proven himself in a battle of wisdom and strength. Until there is reason to resist, we will follow him and seek to honor our ancestors by destroying the monsters they have become.”

Shouts began all around them as the order was passed to the rest of the clan. After giving it a few seconds, Raeln lifted his sword from the man and offered him a hand up, though the Turessian eyed it as though it would somehow defile him. Instead of taking Raeln’s hand, the man raised his own in surrender.

“We are allies now,” Raeln said. “Best we work together. Can I have your name?”

“Nimmas, of clan Dorith. Shamed preserver of our clan.”

Clasping Nimmas’s hand despite his effort to avoid the contact, Raeln pulled him up and leaned close. “Raeln of Hyeth and defender of Lantonne. Cross me again, and I will splay your guts across the snow for miles. Are we understanding each other?”

Nimmas nodded slowly. “Our clans will follow you, Raeln of Hyeth. Tread carefully, and we will follow that much longer.”

Nearby, Ceran pointed at the sky. Where she pointed, a burst of green flame appeared to alert their clans that the battle had changed. They had worked the signal out earlier in the day, and the clan reacted Nimmas’s people could change their own targets. The woman with Nimmas quickly let off a similar explosion, and all of the remaining Turessian forces backpedaled toward Raeln and Nimmas, moving as one, despite having been trying to kill one another seconds before. Even the slaves of both sides fell in, forming a defensive line against the undead. The clans were clearly used to putting aside hostilities for common goals.

“Who leads them?” Nimmas asked, once he had a good look at the vast army pouring out of the woods. “None of the clans would allow such a betrayal of their people…”

Raeln snorted and picked up his shield as he walked toward the front lines, with Nimmas, Ceran, and Yoska following close behind. “I have my hunch who’s out there. Those aren’t your ancestors…they’re my people’s. They are the dead stolen from their graves by a hundred or more Turessians who refuse to obey even their own laws.”

Nimmas glanced over at Raeln as they walked, and the disgust that had been evident previously was gone. A hardened anger burned there instead. Raeln had no doubt of his loyalty now. Nimmas would follow him to the ends of Eldvar to avenge such a horrific act.

“You have our clans at your disposal until we learn why this is happening and end it,” Nimmas pledged, waving off a group of slaves moving to intercept Raeln. “I may question your presence here, but if my people are doing this, we have larger concerns. I will not allow anyone’s ancestors to be treated this way. I would sooner marry off my daughter to your kind than back down from this battle.”

Smiling to himself, Raeln dug in and ran, outpacing Nimmas within seconds. He raced into the massive group of slaves who were only a thirty feet from the first wave of undead. Between the slaves and the undead, the last of Raeln’s people were running to escape, their lines broken.

The stench that burned his nose made it difficult to concentrate, but Raeln did not need much to fight the dead. He only needed to keep moving.

Raeln dove into the front lines of the undead seconds before they reached the wall of slaves. As if backing him up, flame and lightning fell from the sky into the seemingly limitless waves of undead that continued to pour from the woods.

As Raeln crashed into the first of the undead, turning and slashing with each impact, he saw more explosions of magic striking at the Turessians helping him. That confirmed his suspicions. Dorralt would not send so many troops without a leader. There was someone among the undead, and he was willing to bet on who Dorralt would have chosen.

Roaring as he kicked a bloated corpse into those behind it, Raeln pushed forward, cutting through every limb that reached for him as he tried to drive through them. He was forced to strike with his shield and feet as often as his sword to make headway, while more undead poured in around him, trampling those he had knocked down.

Mere moments after Raeln had charged in, the slaves of the four clans came in behind him, cutting down undead nearly as fast as he did. They were joined by their masters, wading into the battle using combinations of magic and weaponry with blurring speed and skill, keeping the undead from closing in behind Raeln. Despite the calm Raeln had learned to expect from the Turessians, now facing undead, they were ferocious and visibly angry.

Raeln pushed on with the others at his back, practically running over top of the undead he managed to cripple or knock down. They would not stay down long, but the Turessians in the group behind him were steadily burning them to ash with magic. Hacking undead apart usually failed, but magic seemed to bring their thrashing to a halt swiftly.

More than once, Raeln saw a human reduced to tears, even as they incinerated their foes. This battle was more than war to the Turessians. It forced them to come face-to-face with the defiling of nations their own kin had engaged in. It was as close to a religious war as the Turessians had likely ever faced, and they had managed to ignore it until he had forced them to look it in the eye.