Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (91 page)

The defenses focused on the northern, western, and southern slopes of the hill. The lone blessing granted by the terrain was that the eastern side of the hill was incredibly steep, almost a cliff, making the chance of an advance by the Sudashians from that direction nigh impossible. The only possibility of an attack from the east would require some sort of aerial assault. Recalling the way Kenders, Broedi, and Nundle had practiced holding rocks in the air with magic, Nathan was suddenly uncomfortable with their eastern flank being so exposed.

He frowned at the fortifications the Sentinels had prepared.

“Hells. Perhaps all of this is pointless”

He stood in the mud, rethinking everything he knew about tactics, attempting to account for how magic changed it all, when a shout interrupted his thoughts.

“Sergeant!”

Nathan turned south and found Jak running up the hill, slipping and sliding on the mushy ground.

Due to the rain, the ground was a mess. If anyone tried to move faster than a steady walk, the leaf-covered mud gave way. Footing during the battle would be terrible. As the oligurts were the ones who had to charge up the hill, the slippery ground would be more of a detriment to them more than his men. Mentally comparing that one bit of good fortune against the long list of things stacked against them prompted yet another low sigh.

Putting on a brave face, he smiled at the eldest Isaac sibling and asked, “How goes things, Jak?”

The young man stopped before Nathan, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “As well as can be expected.”

Jak looked tired, bags drooping beneath his bloodshot eyes. Sleep had been hard to come by for anyone after the bone-chilling screeches that had echoed through the forest last night. No one had seen the Soulwraith, yet the consensus was the cries belonged to the creature that had emerged from Latius.

“Do you have a moment?” asked Jak. “There’s something I want to show you.”

“Sure. Lead on.”

Jak nodded and headed south. Nathan followed, walking across the wide summit of the hill while keeping an eye on preparations.

Jak led him to a small grove of stunted oaks on the slightly raised southern section of the hilltop. Nikalys was there, arranging large, broken branches from other trees between the oaks’ trunks, creating a layer of sticks that shielded one side from view of the other.

Intrigued, Nathan asked, “What’s this?”

“Well, I saw these trees earlier and thought that if we could cover the spaces between them, there’s room enough inside the blind to fit twenty horses.”

“A blind?” asked Nathan. “Like for hunting?”

Nodding quickly, Jak said, “Every summer, Nik and I would help Father build one just like this to hunt deer.” He paused, tilting his head while staring at the massive blind. “Although, this one’s much bigger than those ever were.” He glanced back to Nathan and gave small smile. “And we were hiding from deer. Not oligurts.”

While Jak’s idea and initiative impressed Nathan, he wanted to see how much thought the young man had put into this. Crossing his arms, he said, “So we hide twenty horses here. Then what?”

“Well, if they come from the west and get past that set of fortifications down there—” Jak turned, pointing down the hill to the piles of branches, logs, and ripped up bushes “—we can charge their flank from here. We’d surprise them, perhaps kill a few. Or at least cause some confusion. That’s good, right?”

Nathan nodded slowly. It was a nice addition to their meager defenses. Even though he was ready to agree to the plan now, he asked, “And what happens if they come from the south? Or the north?”

Smiling, Jak said, “I already thought of that.” He faced south and pointed again. “If they come up through there, the men can circle out of the grove and join the rest of us. Then this screen becomes just another impediment for the oligurts.” Looking in the opposite direction, he said, “And if they come from the north…well, then this was a waste of time, but we’re not at a disadvantage.”

Nathan looked over to Nikalys. The young man had not slowed his stacking of brush and branches.

“Did you have anything to do with this?”

Without pausing in his work, Nikalys said, “I did not. Jak thought all this up on his own.” The expression he wore clearly revealed that he was proud of his brother. He had good reason to be.

Nathan eyed Jak. The young man appeared a touch apprehensive as he waited for Nathan’s blessing or criticism. With a short nod, Nathan said approvingly, “It’s a worthy idea, son. A very worthy idea. Good job.” As the young man beamed, Nathan stepped forward, clapped a hand on Jak’s shoulder, and said, “I’ll give you your twenty horsemen.” He glanced around the incomplete blind. “You should all fit, I think.”

Jak’s smile faded as his eyes widened.

“You’ll give
me
twenty horsemen? As in—”

“As in you’ll be in charge. Follow your plan. It’s a good one.”

After a few moments of stunned silence, Jak said, “But I’m not a soldier.”

“Perhaps not. But you’ve a good head and stout heart. You’ll be fine.” Nathan patted Jak on the shoulder again. “Now, I need to go check on the rest of the preparations.” He glanced one last time at the grove and blind. “I’ll send up a few men to help with this.”

“Yes, Sergeant,” mumbled a still-surprised Jak.

As Nathan turned away, he caught Nikalys smiling at his dumbfounded brother and then issued a quiet, teasing jest.

“Congratulations,
Corporal
Isaac.”

Nathan chuckled as he walked away from the pair and back north. While Nikalys’ words were spoken in jest, they were not far from the truth. With the proper training, Jak would make a good soldier.

“First, we need to live through today.”

As he crossed the hill, he happened to glance to where Broedi and Nundle were working with Kenders. He stopped in his tracks and stared with wide eyes.

“What in the…Nine…?”

An amorphous, translucent humanoid figure stood amongst the trio. Half the height of Nundle, it looked like a tiny man made of pure water. The White Lion and tomble were staring at Kenders as she peered at the watery figure, her gaze intense. Suddenly, the little man lost its shape and collapsed to the ground with a splash. Kenders smiled wide and looked to Broedi, clearly pleased with herself. The figure reformed an instant later Nathan heard Broedi rumble, “Again, uora. Faster.”

When Nathan had stopped by the lessons earlier, Nundle had tried to explain what they were doing—something about unraveling the magic. Nathan had watched a few moments, listening to Nundle’s excited mutterings about Strands and Weaves, and then excused himself. Magic still made him uncomfortable. A lifetime of distrust could not be swept aside in a couple of weeks.

Shaking his head, Nathan resumed walking toward the western set of fortifications when men’s shouts came from the north.

“Riders incoming!”

He began jogging toward the cries, slipping in the slick mud, scrambling, almost falling, down the hill. Reaching the edge of the stacked branches, he saw Cero and Hunsfin riding up the muddy slope. As they moved past their fellow soldiers, men called out, pleading for details about the enemy, but the pair remained silent as they moved toward Nathan. He had been specific in his instructions earlier: only he was to hear their report.

The soldier and Tracker halted a few paces from Nathan and dismounted, their boots squishing as they landed in the rain-softened ground. Deep furrows lined both men’s foreheads, their lips so tightly pressed they were white. Nathan’s face mirrored their grim expressions.

“Gentlemen.”

They both gave silent nods in response. The other Sentinels started to gather round them, anxiously anticipating some particulars. Based on the scouts’ expressions, Nathan did not think he wanted the rest of the soldiers to hear what the pair had to say. He sighed, unsure that he wanted to hear, either.

Eyeing the pair, he mumbled, “Follow me, please.” Looking at the other Sentinels, he ordered, “The rest of you, back to work.” The men frowned, but complied, moving back to their tasks, murmuring and staring at the scouts.

Nathan marched up the hill with Cero and Hunsfin, toward an open area where no other soldiers were near. He stopped, faced the pair, and asked, “So?”

The scouts shared an apprehensive look and Hunsfin motioned for Cero to talk. With a worried scowl, Cero stared Nathan in the eye and said, “Four hundred, perhaps more.”

Nathan fought hard to avoid showing dismay at the figure, biting the inside of his cheek hard enough that he tasted blood. After a moment, he swallowed his surprise and asked quietly, “You are sure?”

Cero nodded, running his hand through his thick black hair.

“Yes, Sergeant. After I saw them and counted, I rode ahead and stumbled across Hunsfin. We waited for them together and he confirmed my number.”

Nathan glanced at Hunsfin. The crag-faced man gave a short, simple nod.

“I marked four hundred and twenty four.”

Nathan dipped his chin to his chest and muttered, “I suppose that’s better than
nine
hundred and twenty four.” A long, silent moment later, he lifted his gaze back to the morose pair. “Either of you see Blainwood?”

Blainwood had been the first scout Nathan had left behind on the trail and should have been the first to return.

Both men shook their heads. Cero murmured, “Sorry, Sergeant.”

Nathan sighed and then gave a quick, almost formal nod.

“I see.”

Blainwood would not be the only one to die today, he just happened to be the first. Nathan swallowed his sorrow and focused on what he could to do to keep as many others alive as possible.

Careful to keep all emotion from his voice, he said, “I need details, please. What did you see?”

Crossing his arms over his chest, Cero answered, “Well, close to fifty oligurts on those wolf-pig beasts, two hundred fifty more marching on foot, and a hundred of those short, bladed creatures. Razorfiends.” He paused for a moment before adding, “I have to tell you, Sergeant, those things terrify me. Their blasted arms are covered with knives.”

“You forgot the demon-man and the ijul,” said Hunsfin.

“Right,” muttered Cero. “Them, too. Not sure how I forgot the demon.”

Nathan sighed. Placing his left hand on his chin, he scratched his beard while asking, “How far away are they?”

“They’ll be here by early dusk,” answered Cero.

Nathan stared up at the gray sky and dug his fingernails into his whiskers and skin.

“That does not give us much time.”

Shaking his head, Cero agreed, “No, Sergeant, it does not.”

Nathan remained silent, thinking. Thunder rolled through the forest, louder this time. It would seem that Saewyn had ignored his earlier pleas. The storm sounded as if it were edging closer.

Behind Nathan, a low rumbling joined the thunder as Broedi asked, “Did any of the oligurts have colored markings on their heads?”

Nathan turned to see the White Lion approaching. Nundle and Kenders still sat together some distance away near the ridge and staked horses.

“You heard them return, I suppose?”

“Impossible not to,” replied the hillman as he stopped beside Nathan, stared hard at the two scouts, and repeated his question. “Did any of the oligurts have colored markings on their heads? Or necks? Anything at all?”

Eyes narrowing, Cero shot a quick glance at Hunsfin before answering, “Yes. A few. How’d you know?”

“How many?” asked Broedi, dismissing Cero’s question. “Guess if you must.”

After Cero and Hunsfin exchanged another look, Hunsfin said, “Fifteen or twenty.”

Nodding along, Cero added, “Perhaps a few less, perhaps a few more.”

“And the markings? What did they look like?” demanded Broedi.

A short, dry laugh escaped from Cero.

“Sorry, I had no desire to get close enough to see.”

“Understood,” rumbled the hillman. “Could you at least see the colors used?”

“Red and yellow,” said Hunsfin without hesitation.

The hillman glared at the man. “You are sure?”

While Hunsfin nodded, Cero said, “He’s right. Without a doubt, red and yellow.”

Broedi let out a slow, pensive sigh

“
Laurr-Othraul
, then.”

Nathan asked, “And that means…?”

“‘Desert Fire’ in Argot. They are a sect of mages among the northern clans of Sudash who specialize in Fire, Charge, and Soul.” He frowned and stared back to where Kenders and Nundle sat. “We must amend our lessons.”

The White Lion turned and began to trudge up the hill, his steps long and quick. Nathan watched him go while trying to think up a defense that gave them at least a slim hope of victory.

Fifty oligurts mounted on bullockboars.

Two-hundred-fifty more on foot.

At least fifteen mages, perhaps twenty.

A hundred razorfiends.

Plus a demon-man and Jhaell Myrr.

Besides the Progeny and the White Lion, Nathan had a hundred men and horse, a lone tomble mage, and two farm girls, one of whom was a mere child.

He did not see how they could survive.

A sharp intake of breath from both scouts pulled his attention from the mossy log at which he found himself staring. Glancing up, Nathan saw both men peering past him, their eyes wide and fixed on something behind him.

A mournful shriek pierced the relative quiet of the hilltop.

Whirling around, Nathan reached for his sword’s hilt and squeezed the leather handle tightly. Staring west, he spotted a smoky, night-black figure running at an incredible rate up the slope, straight toward him.

“Bless the gods…”

He whipped his blade from its sheath, preparing to defend himself—if that were even possible against this thing—when the Soulwraith halted a few paces in front of him. The foul creature stared at him, its glowing, silver-orbed eyes pulsating, the only points of light in the lanky black void. Nathan lifted his blade and waited for it to attack but it never did. It simply hovered a few inches above the ground, staring at him.

Glaring at the wraith, Nathan asked, “What do you—”

A shriek, full of torment and despair, howled from somewhere deep within the creature, sounding as though it came from the bottom of a cold, empty stone well.