Progeny (The Children of the White Lions) (93 page)

“That’s a good question…”

Turning in a slow circle, he inspected the hilltop. There were certainly fewer trees here than in the forest below, but for the first time he noticed they were also shorter, their growth stunted for some reason. It reminded him of a ridge near his home in Deepwell, a small rise called Rockbump Hill. The reason for the name was obvious to anyone with a shovel who tried to dig more than a few inches into the soil.

Dropping his gaze to the mud at his feet, he pulled his dagger from his belt, bent to the ground, and sunk the tip into the ground. A few inches into the soft, wet earth, and he met resistance. He tapped the knife against what he had hit. Solid rock.

“Huh.”

He withdrew the dagger from the ground, moved to a spot a few paces away, squatted down, and repeated the probe with the dagger. Again, he met stone.

Kenders asked, “What is it?”

Looking up to her, he said, “Well, they may be able to burrow through dirt, but not stone. I think this entire hill is one giant rock.”

Kenders studied the hill a moment before saying, “It would explain the trees.”

“It certainly would.”

“Lucky for us.”

“Let’s hope Ketus can spare a little more.”

Standing from his crouched position, Nundle called his findings to the group below. Nathan repeated the ground-probing exercise with his own steel longsword. He, too, met resistance after a few inches. Soon, most of the soldiers were doing the same, all with the same results. They indeed stood on a small mount of stone.

A raucous, booming roar halted any further investigation as the oligurt chanting began again. Nundle hurried back to stand next to Kenders and looked down the hill, wondering what was coming next.

The voices quickly fell into a too familiar, steady rhythm. After a few anxious breaths, Nundle realized the sound was getting closer. He shot quick glance at Kenders.

“Felt anything?”

“Not since the lightning.”

“Good. Stay alert.”

Between the trunks of the ebonwoods and oaks, Nundle spotted flashes gray skin and dusty red, hairy hide tunics. Dozens of hulking figures emerged from the forest, stomping up the hillside, their line stretching across the hill, three rows deep. Nundle estimated nearly two hundred oligurts—no razorfiends—marching toward them, led by the demon-man.

The description that Zecus had given of Urazûd mostly held true—the spiral horns were terribly unsettling—yet the demon-man appeared to be at least as tall as the oligurts. According to Zecus, he had looked the demon-man eye-to-eye only weeks ago. Nundle was not sure exactly what happened when a demon soul inhabited a mortal’s body, but rapid growth seemed to be one of the effects. Urazûd wore a blood-red metal chest piece with matching greaves, and carried a long, curved sword that ended with a barbed, hooked point. Nundle cringed, thinking what that weapon would do if plunged into a person.

Nathan’s voice rang out and over the chanting of the oligurts. “Steady, men! We have the high ground!” The soldiers did not appear reassured by the meager tactical advantage. A moment later, he added, “And we are much better looking than that lot down there!”

Despite the gravity of the situation, Nundle smiled. He noticed he was not the only one, as longlegs up and down the line grinned.

The oligurts moved slowly, purposefully, up the hill, knowing their prey had nowhere to go. Each oligurt carried a simple club with wooden or metal spikes on the end. None had a shield or wore any sort of armor besides their tunic. Their strategy clear and lacking any sort of subtlety: march forward and hit hard.

The moment they were in range, Nathan called, “Bows! Steady fire!”

The first volley flew through the air.

As the hail of arrows struck the Sudashians, Nundle’s stomach dropped. If the shaft stuck the monster’s arm, leg, or chest, the oligurt would snap off the shaft or ignore it altogether. Only two fell, both from a lucky shot that had pierced their face. The Sentinels kept up a steady cycle of shooting: fire, pluck an arrow from the dirt, nock it, draw back the string, and fire again. They did not even take the time to aim, not that it was necessary. If they did not hit a tree, they were going to strike an oligurt.

Nundle watched the advance with growing unease. The repeated volleys were not slowing the Sudashians down. By his estimation, all but a couple dozen of the lumbering beasts would breach the first row of fortifications. When they reached the second line and the Sentinels, he guessed well over a hundred and fifty of the huge, incredibly strong beasts would still be standing.

“Nundle?” said Kenders. “I’d like to try something.”

He looked up at her, about to ask what when he realized she was informing him, not asking for permission. Her eyes were shut tight and her face a taut mask of concentration.

“Be careful! We cannot afford to have you faint.”

“I know. I’m only trying something small.” Her forehead creased as she frowned. “I hope.”

Worried, Nundle watched. Whatever she was doing, it did not involve Will, Charge, Life, Void, or Air. He sensed nothing.

Two new sets of bowstring twangs joined the first fifty soldiers as both groups of mounted soldiers began to fire now that the oligurts were in range. A thunderous voice bellowed over the chanting of the oligurts, trembling with unearthly power, as Urazûd urged the Sudashians to move faster.

Sensing movement behind him, Nundle spun around and found Sabine running forward with her bow, arrow nocked and drawn. Her eyes cold and fixed downhill, she loosed the shaft at the horde and immediately pulled another from her hip quiver. Nundle watched as she began to fire arrows at an incredible pace, faster than the soldiers were. One arrow had barely left the string before she was nocking the next.

Looking eastward, he spotted Helene’s tiny form huddled in a ball beside a tree trunk, her legs drawn to her chest, her head buried between her knees. As he stared at the frightened child, the ground shuddered. A massive chunk of soil exploded further up the slope, between him and Helene, forcing him to shut his eyes against the blast of dirt. When he reopened them a moment later, he found a hole the size of his horse in the earth. The smell of wet mud filled the air.

“What in the—?”

Behind him, down the slope, there was a solid, ground-shaking thud, accompanied by dozens of deep, guttural screams. Whipping around to face downhill, he spotted a muddy boulder in the middle of the Sudashian line with oligurts crushed beneath. The enemy’s advance slowed briefly before Urazûd bellowed at them to hurry. The line resumed its steady march forward, only fifty paces from the first row of makeshift fortifications.

“Blast it,” said Kenders. “I thought that might work.”

Nundle glanced up, stunned. One of Sabine’s arrows zipped over his head.

“
You
did that?”

She nodded, frowning. “I did.”

He stared down the hill at the boulder, stunned. Accomplished Stone mages could do what she had done, but he would never have expected Kenders capable. Not yet, at least. Especially as neither he nor Broedi had taught her anything about the Strands of Stone. They could not. They were both deaf to that type. She must have relied on her gift.

As Sabine loosed another arrow, he peered back to Kenders. “How do you feel?”

“Fine, I suppose. A little tired. But not too bad.”

Another of Sabine’s shafts whistled downhill.

“Do you think you can do it again?
Without
passing out?”

Kenders peered down at him, hesitated a moment, then nodded. “I think I can remember the Weave and do it the right way.”

“Then do it.” He stared down the hill. Some of the oligurts had breached the first row of fortifications. “And hurry, please.”

As Sabine loosed another arrow, she asked, “Is this wise?”

Nundle stared up at her. “Perhaps not, but we have little choice. We either stop them or die.”

Sabine stopped shooting for a moment to glance at Kenders. “Do
not
pass out.”

Kenders did not respond, already staring in the empty air, her eyes focused on something only she could see: the ruddy brown Strands of Stone.

Moments later, another chunk of stone ripped forth from the ground, soared high into the air, over the Sentinel line, and came crashing back to earth with a sickening crunch, landing on more oligurts. The ground shook and the advance faltered. Again, Urazûd’s threatening shout drove the beasts forward.

Nundle caught Broedi’s warning eye and could guess what the hillman was thinking. Nikalys was staring up the slope, visibly concerned as well.

Sabine fired another arrow.

Looking back to Kenders, Nundle asked, “Do you still feel strong?”

Nodding, she said, “Mostly.” She stifled a yawn.

Nundle was worried. This was not as hard on her as the other times she had relied on her gift, but it was still tiring her. Gambling, he asked, “Do you think you could manage another one? I think they might break and run.”

Kenders nodded and set her jaw. A few moments later, four large stones exploded from the ground, one right after another, each the size of a bullockboar. They tumbled through the air, hurtling straight toward the line of oligurts. Four successive, thudding crashes later, the Sudashians broke. Nundle did not blame them. Giant boulders falling out of the sky would intimidate any army.

The oligurts turned and ran down the hill despite Urazûd’s violent cursing and shouting. Nundle watched, abhorred, as the demon-man chased down some of the fleeing oligurts, cutting them down from behind, howling for them to return, and decapitating a number of his warriors with his wickedly curved sword.

As Sabine lowered her bow, she muttered, “If he wants to help our side, that’s fine by me.”

Soon, the thick cover of trees at the bottom of the slope swallowed the fleeing oligurts. A great cheer exploded from the soldiers, one that quickly evolving into a chant of “Kenders! Kenders! Kenders!”

Smiling, Nundle turned to look at the hero of the moment. While Kenders was still standing, she was visibly woozy. Sabine reached out to grab Kenders’ elbow to help steady her.

“Four?” said Nundle. “One might have been enough.”

“I know…but they just came. I didn’t—”

“Uora!”

Nundle spun around to find Broedi striding up the hill, glaring at them, a hot rage simmering in his eyes.

“Uh-oh…”

Upon reaching them, Broedi demanded, “What are you three doing back here?”

Kenders started to explain, saying, “I was just trying to—”

“Stop! Do not
‘try’
anything. If you are unconscious when Jhaell and the other mages attack, we will be defeated. We need
you
to hold them at bay! Do
not
do that again!” The hillman’s eyes were typically as calm as a stagnant pond’s surface. Now, they raged like a white-capped sea during a spring tempest.

“I’m sorry, Broedi,” mumbled Kenders. “You’re right.”

“Yes, I am,” growled the White Lion. “You are lucky they do not seem to have Stone mages in their ranks. If they had, you would have accomplished
nothing
other than nearly passing out! Those boulders may have even fallen atop our own men.”

Nundle frowned. He had not thought of that.

Shifting his glowering gaze to Nundle, Broedi rumbled, “And you! If you do not stop encouraging her foolishness, I will find you a sword and a helmet, and put you with the soldiers!”

Nundle decided not to point out the boulders were originally Kenders’ idea.

With one last, low growl, the hillman turned and strode back to where Nathan and Nikalys stood to resume his watch for the next advance. Kenders, Sabine, and Nundle all stared at his back in silence.

After a few moments, Sabine muttered, “A short ‘thank you’ would have been nice.”

Kenders shook her head. “No…he’s right. I need to be careful.” Looking down at Nundle, she added, “Sorry I got you in trouble.”

“I’ll take being in trouble and alive over dead and in good-standing any day.” He smiled up at her. “You did well. Take a moment to rest.” His gaze drifted back to the forest below. “You’ll need it, I think.”

Jak’s heart would not stop pounding.

He had been but a breath from ordering a charge into the Sudashian flank when the hill had exploded. Like the twenty-two men with him, he had watched in awe as boulders flew through air to land amidst the oligurt line.

Now, with the oligurts were gone, he was staring with widened eyes through the screen of stacked brush at where Kenders and Nundle stood. Broedi had just marched away—the hillman did not look pleased—and now Sabine was rushing east, back to Helene. The little girl’s faint sobs drifted through the forest, mixing with the painful cries of oligurts caught under the boulders and still alive.

“Your sister is quite impressive.”

Jak turned to stare at Zecus. Like every man here, the Borderlander sat in his saddle, watching and waiting.

Nodding, Jak said, “Yes, she is.” He looked back to where she stood. “I just hope she knows what she’s doing.”

Zecus gestured in the direction of the boulders.

“Those seem to indicate that she does.”

“Yes, well….apparently, there’s more to it than that.”

“If you say there is.”

Looking over his shoulder, Jak checked the soldiers behind him and found twenty calm, determined faces staring back at him. If they were anxious, they hid it well.

For reasons he still could not fathom, Sergeant Trell had placed these well-trained, capable soldiers under his authority, none of whom had batted an eye when the sergeant had told them that Jak was their commander. When Jak had asked Hunsfin how he felt taking orders from an olive farmer, the cragged-faced man had said, “If the sergeant thinks you can do it, you can” and moved on, helping with the final cover of the grove.

Jak stared to the rear of the group and whispered, “Cero!” When the Tracker had volunteered to ride with them, Jak had assigned the sharp-eyed man to watch their southern flank.

Cero glanced at Jak and gave a quick headshake. Jak nodded, relieved there still was no visible threat from that direction.