Etchings of Power (Aegis of the Gods) (57 page)

At first, Eldanhill’s soldiers faltered. On many a face, Galiana saw fear, the kind of raw fear that paralyzes a man.

But Stefan, Guthrie, Devan and many others had seen this sort of battle before. Undaunted, Stefan barked orders and his Generals obeyed.

Dagodin formed ranks among the chaos. Sword and spear gathered in ordered lines. Galiana recognized several of Eldanhill’s Weaponmasters at the forefront of each group and behind them, several rows of archers. Guthrie shouted an order and arrows loosed, struck true and made pincushions of shadeling and Sendethi alike. Pained howls and shrieks ensued.

The response of Eldanhill’s defenders stemmed the tide of the battle for the moment. The advancing army paused.

Wraithwolves and darkwraiths by the hundreds turned to the new threat. Green eyes glowed above elongated snouts and red eyes shone from within the black depths of smoky darkwraith hoods. How could there be so many? She and Stefan had made preparations, assuming but hoping against hope the shadelings hadn’t crossed the Vallum. But now, the proof lay before her, the stench from the wraithwolves holding dominion over the smell of burnt wood, cooked flesh, offal and blood. The shrieks, howls and wails from the shadelings drowned out the crackle of the blazes, the clash of weapons, the marching feet, and the cries and moans of the wounded and dying.

How did the shade breach the Vallum of Light? And without anyone’s knowledge?

Galiana didn’t spare another moment. She leaped from the back of her dartan. When she landed, she shouted, “Ashishin, dismount! Form ranks!”

She didn’t need to look behind her to know the other Ashishin had dismounted and formed an ordered line behind her according to their strength. As in the days of old, when the shade ran rampant, they did as she commanded.

The shadeling and Sendethi forces recovered from their momentary lapse. A command bellowed out. Swords and shields rose, pointed toward the Eldanhill lines. With howling screeches, the enemy charged.

“Hold!” Stefan yelled as his dartan swept up and down the Eldanhill ranks.

In front the other cohorts, Devan, Guthrie and the Weaponmasters stood, repeating the same command.

The rumble of a thousand feet and hundreds of shadeling cries drowned out the thunder that pealed in the heavens. Boots shifted uneasily. Eyes showed uncertainty. However, not one Eldanhill defender broke formation. Not one raised a hand to wipe away the rain running down their helmets onto their faces.

Galiana’s smile tipped imperceptibly at the edge of her mouth, and she waited. Stefan and the army became as still as a venomous snake just before it struck.

Goaded by their bloodlust, the wraithwolves bounded ahead of men and darkwraith, maws spread wide, white fangs gleaming. Driven by the need to sink their black blades into living flesh, the darkwraiths sped even faster like oily, black smoke blown by a fierce wind.

The first wraithwolves Blurred, and the darkwraiths followed their lead.

“Now!” Galiana yelled. She opened her Matersense and the other Ashishin did the same.

Shade lay in thick blankets around the Sendethi, wraithwolves, and darkwraiths. Galiana ignored the Sendethi for now. The shadelings posed the real threat. Picking out the telltale trails of the Blurs, she split her Forge into several hundred different strands, loosing light and fire essences. The strands flew like incandescent arrows. When they connected, the trails blazed.

At the same time, the Ashishin behind her took a hold of the storms above. They linked the lightning with Galiana’s Forging. Several others pulled fire essences from the flames around them and added those.

When the shadelings emerged from their Blurs, sheets of lightning and balls of fire greeted them. The blazing trails coalesced amongst the creatures with loud booms. The concussions from the blasts rocked the beasts and any nearby structures, blowing holes in limbs, wood and stone alike.

The carnage didn’t deter the remainder of the shadelings or the Sendethi. If anything, it incensed them. They surged forward, screaming curses, eyes aglow with hate. Unflinching, Galiana’s Ashishin continued to tear into the shadelings. Masses of acrid smoke billowed up into the air.

The black beasts that managed to reach the first wave of Dagodin were met by silversteel
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weapons. In unison, as if a part of a synchronized dance, spears stabbed. Any shadeling that cleared the spears were met by swords.

But the creatures moved with an uncanny speed many were unprepared for. Soldiers fought to find purchase on the slippery ground as they tried to fend off the attacks. Exploiting the weakness they didn’t share with Eldanhill’s defenders, the shadelings remained in perpetual motion. As many shadelings killed, twice the number in Dagodin and soldiers died, gutted by claws, throats ripped by fangs or sliced to shred by black blades. The darkwraiths moved like greasy death among the Eldanhill forces, side stepping attacks to slice into a soldier or Dagodin who was too slow to defend.

The Sendethi soldiers reached the Eldanhill lines, engaging with wild abandon.

“Single target attacks only,” Galiana yelled. She dared not use the same Forges this close to their own forces now. The results would be catastrophic for all.

Single firebolts or balls and streams of light shot forth from the Ashishin into individual targets. Each strike sent a shadeling or an enemy soldier crumpling to the ground. Galiana concentrated on helping the trainees and lightly garbed defenders.

Stefan, his Generals, and the Weaponmasters were at the forefront of the battle. They protected any small pockets the shadelings and Sendethi came close to overwhelming. Stefan’s sword darted and sliced faster than her eyes could follow as he danced between the enemy, taking arms or spilling guts with deadly efficiency.

A darkwraith flowed toward Stefan, and the graying man turned to meet the creature. His silver armor glinted with the flames, the green insignia on his breast standing out.

Black, Hydae-forged ebonsteel lashed out as the shadeling struck. Stefan parried the attack, his
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sword flashing up. Sparks cascaded into the air.

The darkwraith circled Stefan, its movements as quick and elusive as its sword rose and fell, stabbed and sliced. Stefan was a picture of concentration and calm. He slid between the attacks, parrying each with not much more than a step or a shift of his body. The darkwraith howled in frustration.

Attacking faster and faster, its black arms a blur, its iridescent black blade near invisible at times, the darkwraith drove forward. Stefan’s defensive speed increased to match.

Then, as if the creature wasn’t pushing him back, Stefan shifted his stance, positioning his front foot forward. At the same time, he stepped to the left. The darkwraith, still in all-out attack, couldn’t compensate. Its sword flashed by where Stefan’s body once was. Stefan’s sword swung above the blow and took the creature’s head. Stefan whirled around looking for his next target.

A roar and thundering boots on cobbles sounded behind Galiana. She turned to see the heart of the Eldanhill infantry led by old man Rohan, in golden armor chased with silver, charging between the homes and alleys. They joined the fray, beating back the attackers.

But the damage had been done. More than a third of the Dagodin lay dead or wounded.

A trumpet sounded from the dark out toward the open fields. The Sendethi stopped and turned to flee. A few of Eldanhill’s defenders gave chase before the Generals yelled for them to stay their ground. What remained of the shadelings were nothing more than piles of wet ash. By now, the rain had abated and the remaining fires petered out. Blackened frames and timber filled the spaces where homes once stood. The retreating soldiers ran or limped to meet the main Sendethi army gathering in the fields.

Groans and calls for help rose from the wounded. Dagodin strode out among the carnage while unseasoned defenders still stood in place, dazed. When the Dagodin found a wounded Sendethi, they put them down with a swift stroke to the neck. This brought on fits of retching by the novices and trainees. Others who held their composure helped wounded Eldanhill defenders to their feet. Calls came for carts to move those who couldn’t walk on their own.

“Ashishin, assist with mending,” Galiana ordered. She strode to meet with Stefan and his Generals.

The former Knight Commander drew them aside, the concern in his eyes plain for all to see. “How in Ilumni’s name have shadelings managed to breach the Vallum?” Blood splatter dotted his filigreed silver armor.

Shrugs and dumbfounded looks on faces dripping water and sweat were the answers he received. Brows wrinkled with worry and anxious gazes turned to Galiana.

Just as baffled as they were, Galiana shook her head. “I have no idea myself. There is no mention in history of them being able to cross the kind of wards built into the Vallum. My other worry is if they can cross the Vallum, why not come in greater numbers?” Galiana's brow wrinkled as another thought struck her. “Where is the daemon that must have created the darkwraiths? Can they too cross the Vallum? If they can, why allow the shadelings to attack without guidance? The fight was too easy. Not once did they try to come after us.”

Guthrie whispered a prayer to Ilumni. A few others touched fingers to their lips, then their foreheads and their hearts in their own reverence to the god of Streams.

As if in answer, trumpets blared from the Sendethi army in a long bray. Wails, howls and screeches answered from somewhere within the Greenleaf Forest’s darkened interior.

A flood of black-furred bodies, forms that moved with the fluidity of smoke, and those covered in dark armor, spilled from the Greenleaf. At their head, on a large dartan, rode a figure silhouetted in shadow and swathed in the blackest armor Galiana had ever seen. It was as if all light shrunk away from the man. A huge sword stood out at his hip.

“I guess we have our answer,” Stefan said, his hand on his sword hilt. “Dagodin, Ashishin! Form ranks! We won’t be easy meat.” His voice boomed with unnatural power. “Shin Galiana, you remember during the Shadowbearer War when you sent signals by shooting those great balls of fire into the air?”

Galiana raised an eyebrow. Why would he require such a thing now? She nodded.

Stefan’s emerald eyes were cold steel. “On my order, spring the traps. At the same time have several of yours shoot three fireballs as big as they can make as far into the sky as they can. Whatever happens after that, do not attack the Dosteri.”

Dosteri? Galiana opened her mouth, but another blare from the trumpet stopped her question.

Across the field, the black armored man whipped his dartan into a gallop. The shadelings charged with him. Behind them, the Sendethi followed suit, the earth shaking as thirty thousand Sendethi feet and hooves thundered.

“Go, now,” Stefan commanded.

“May Ilumni help us,” Galiana prayed. She ran back to meet her Ashishin who were scrambling to form up once more and pointed to the five closest. “When we spring the trap, launch three of the largest fireballs you can Forge into the sky.”

“Yes, High Shin,” they replied as one.

Over the din of the oncoming forces and the storming weather, Stefan’s voice rose, clear and deep. “Ashishin, ready.”

Galiana linked with the other Ashishin. For this, they would need her complete guidance. She reached through the ground, gathering essences of the Forms. Earth and metal stood most prominent, mixed in with the Flows of rainwater. She felt for the weaknesses out in the fields that she’d painstakingly Forged over the last few days. The Forgings of the other Ashishin followed hers. They’d taught these exact skills to manipulate Mater for years now. It came as second nature.

When her power touched the thirty pillars she’d Forged to give the ground the impression of solidity, Galiana paused. She waited for the others to grasp the supports as she did. Then with a squeeze of her mind, she used the Forms to crush the pillars of earth.

A chasm several hundred feet wide and a hundred feet deep opened up beneath the onrushing army. The hole swallowed those too slow to react. Cries and wails of triumph and bloodlust abruptly changed into panicked screams.

Orange light bloomed, illuminating the carnage within Eldanhill and the roiling mass of shadelings and men trapped on the chasm’s far side. Three fireballs the size of wagons sailed into the sky, before arching down toward the rent in the earth. They passed below the lip and a loud thump followed. More screams rose. Flame tongues licked hungrily from the lips of the chasm.

The majority of the shadelings either Blurred to the top or across the trench. The earth opening up had missed their leader altogether. The man came on undaunted, cloak flying behind him, the fiery backdrop highlighting his charge like a god out of a storybook.

From the north rose a roar as if from several thousand throats—loud, barking grunts, growls and men’s battle cries. Galiana’s head whipped around.

Across the field, on the Eldanhill side of the crevasse, rumbled several thousand white-furred beasts. Some were smaller than the wraithwolves. Others were larger still. Along most backs rose dagger-like ridges made of bone. Galiana’s eyes widened. She’d never before seen so many daggerpaws and mountain wolves. Big men, wearing mostly fur and leathers rode several of the beasts. Charging behind them came at least a legion’s worth of soldiers in blue and gold armor. A battle standard of a wall with a shield and a sword in front of it flew high in the air—the Guardian Wall—the Dosteri insignia.

Galiana inhaled sharply. How had Stefan managed to bring together both the mountain tribes and the Dosteri? How had he managed to convince the Dosteri to fight for Eldanhill in the first place?

“In the name of Ilumni, the shade shall fall,” yelled Stefan. He charged toward the oncoming shadelings and their black armored leader.

CHAPTER 45