Trial and Glory (49 page)

She continued to feel sorry for herself, not paying attention to the hushed conversation of her aunt and uncle until a name caught her attention. She bolted from her seat. “What did you say?” she asked, much louder than she intended.

“Shhh,” her aunt scolded.

Lucia ignored her. “Uncle, did you say something about Kaz?”

“It’s nothing. Sit. Rest.”

She felt her way toward him. “No. What did you say?”

He sighed. “There are stories circulating in the streets. Apparently your husband has returned with the Kifzo that went off with Nachun. They say he is fighting with them and leading the charge against the enemy. It’s just nonsense. Rumors people like to spread in times such as these.”

“But—” she began only to have the words ripped from her mouth in a gasp. The pain in her side had returned. It twisted and tugged. She moaned low, doubling over.

Hands from both her aunt and uncle latched onto her.

“What’s wrong?” asked her uncle.

She took a deep breath, trying to straighten. “It must be something I ate. I keep getting these shooting pains.”

She heard her aunt click her tongue against her teeth. “Describe these pains.”

Lucia did her best, answering several follow-up questions her aunt pressed her with.

They took her to one of the bedrolls. “Lay down, child. Then pull up your dress.”

Lucia felt herself blush in the darkness. “I’m fine.”

“Do as I say. I need to examine you,” her aunt snapped. “And no need for modesty. We’re family.”

Lucia leaned back until she lay flat with knees up.

“Now relax.”

Her aunt examined her. A long sigh pierced the quiet.

“What’s wrong?” asked Lucia.

“You’re in labor.”

Lucia blinked. “That’s impossible. The child isn’t due for three months.”

“Even so. The child is coming. And it couldn’t have picked a worse time.” Her aunt gave orders to her husband about water and towels.

“Can’t you do something to stop it?” pleaded Lucia

“I’m no shaman.”

“But I can’t have the baby now.”

“You don’t have a choice.”

* * *

Krytien thought it best to reach the gatehouse first. There, he hoped to slow the tide of invaders and take pressure off the city’s defenders. However, most of the invading force had already breached the city. Only a few hundred warriors continued to climb ladders up Juanoq’s walls or traverse the mass of debris clogging the moat in front of the city’s gate.

Still, it would be a few hundred less to worry about.

He canted a quick spell, setting the ladders ablaze. Men jumped or fell to their deaths while trying to beat out the flames licking against their skin.

Krytien performed another spell focused on the piles of splintered wood used by the invaders to gain entrance into the city. Logs and boards exploded outward, sending most of the broken timbers into the air. Flailing bodies of those who were crossing the moat joined the fractured logs in their flight. Each landed with a thud. The small current of the moat, fed by the Paritia Ocean, managed to clear the rest of the debris. The remaining invaders stared dumbly at the city’s walls, unable to join their brethren in the attack.

Satisfied, Krytien teleported to where the fighting looked worse.

The bulk of the defenders had positioned themselves in a side street, narrower and with less entry points than the main thoroughfare. Though grossly outnumbered, and clearly overmatched, the men held.

A large man, whose mere presence commanded respect, shouted orders that rose above the cacophony of fighting. Krytien could not make out the man’s face due to the helm he wore. However, the warrior’s movements reminded him greatly of Kaz.

The line began to fail. The warrior pushed aside two of his own men to take their place. Four of the enemy fell by his blade in a matter of seconds.

Definitely Tobin. He’s willing them to hold. No shamans for now. But I can still help elsewhere.

* * *

Though his men had fought hard, fatigue began to take its toll. Despite his demands to hold and the efforts of his warriors, they continued to lose ground.

We’ll run out of street before long. And then they’ll have us with our backs literally against a wall.

Tobin sensed a sudden change, stronger, rejuvenated. The lines began to tighten. Men no longer tried to hold. They held.

Something is different.

Tobin couldn’t quite place what that something was until he noted the attitude of the enemy. The ferocity in their actions changed into sloppy, less confident attacks. The burning hate in their eyes became one of panic.

Sorcery.

He scanned the area. None of his shamans had the strength to affect a battle in such a way.

But Nachun could. Was Teznak wrong? Has he also returned? Out of guilt? Or does he need more of my help to further his ambitions?

A lone figure stood near the edge of a roof on a nearby building. The man wore dark robes that flapped behind him in a slight breeze. Silhouetted against the bright moon, the man was too round to be mistaken for Nachun.

Then who?
He thought about the reports of Kaz’s return.
Don’t tell me you made the same mistake, brother?

Tobin rejoined the press, hacking away once again. For now, he would use the advantage of the shaman’s efforts.

* * *

Durahn felt a weight being pressed upon his shoulders. It tired him, making him lethargic. A few breaths earlier, he had been ready to rip every warrior apart by hand.

And now all I want to do is sleep.

A guttural howl burst through his lips. Shaking his head, he stormed toward his rear ranks.

Blasted sorcery.

He snatched up the robed man he found by the sleeve. “Sorcery is affecting our lines.”

“Yes, we felt it.”

Durahn glared. “What are you doing to stop it?”

“We’ve never fought against anything like this, and we haven’t fully recovered from earlier.”

“Do you know where it’s coming from?”

The shaman pointed. “There.”

Durahn followed the man’s gaze to a lone figure atop the roof of a building.
Just one. Where did he come from?
“What are you waiting for?”

“I was trying to explain. The person is extremely powerful. We aren’t—”

Durahn threw the man to the ground. He met each of their eyes. “Do something now or so help me I’ll kill you all myself. If you can’t stop him, then distract him until we’ve won. Now, go.”

The shamans scrambled away, splitting into different groups as they approached the building.

Durahn cursed in disgust.

* * *

A spout of water, angling in from below, knocked Krytien back several steps and broke his concentration.

Water? You don’t see that often.

Flame raced toward him from the right. He deflected.

Fire. That’s the more common approach.

Fire and water struck at him simultaneously. Though he defended the attack, a wall of steam engulfed him, blocking his vision.

That’s different. No matter. None of them are on Nareash’s level.

He started to cast a spell to scatter the steam when an unfamiliar shift in the air gave him pause. He sniffed.

Smells like a wet dog.

A large beast burst from the steam. It pierced his defenses, tackling him. He banged his head against the roof. Razor sharp teeth pierced his shoulder.

Krytien found his breath long enough to scream. He watched as the animal resembling a wolf, reared, snarling. It ripped his robes, pulling away a chunk of shoulder. Pain raced across his body. A glint in the beast’s eyes jarred him from the sudden agony.

It’s human. One Above, a shapeshifter.

The beast’s muzzle descended toward Krytien’s neck. His free hand glowed red as it came up to meet the animal’s face. Smoke rose from the beast as hair and flesh burned. Krytien gagged on the musky smell, yet refused to let go. The animal howled and thrashed before going limp as warm blood poured from its orifices.

Krytien rolled the creature off him, grunting in pain from his shoulder. He stood, and pressed his hand to the wound. He bit his lip, tasting blood, as the heat from his palm cauterized the gash.

Two more of the creatures bounded onto the roof. Each wore loose, yellowed bone around their torso. Several more shamans came into view, some wearing gray robes, others orange. Wisps of smoke rose from the hands of those in orange, while small plumes of water spun in the hands of those in gray.

You idiot. You grew overconfident. Let this be a lesson to you, Krytien.

Over a dozen shamans fanned out to encircle him, closing with each step.

And I only have the use of one arm. That will make things more difficult. Well, serves you right.
He breathed deep, watching the shamans eye each other, sending signals through each other’s movements.
Well, if losing half an arm didn’t stop Raker, why would losing the use of an arm, stop me?

Krytien canted a quick spell that sent tendrils of blue sorcery coursing around his body. Another that made his eyes glow red. He considered both spells parlor tricks, but they caused the shamans to hesitate.

He took the moments he bought to tweak his defenses against another physical attack by the shapeshifters. Then, he performed the anti-nausea spell Wiqua showed him.

He finished as the shamans attacked him in unison.

* * *

Tobin felt the shift once again in his lines. Men gave up a step where moments before they would not. He glanced up to the building where the strange shaman had stood. Steam rose skyward. A dozen robed figures appeared along the roofline, some hunched like an animal.

A howl of pain emanating from the roof pierced the sounds of battle. Flashes of blue and orange danced above the structure. Lightning descended from clouds. Water ran over the sides and into gutters. Several of the enemy shamans fell over the ledge screaming.

He’s still alive then.

Other shamans hesitantly climbed the stairs leading to the roof.

But he’s busy.

Tobin began to steel himself when a burst of shouting from behind the enemy lines sounded.

A sweeping wave of blue-and-gray-armored soldiers slammed into the enemy’s flank. The great heave of pressure caused the push against his men to slacken.

The enemy went on the defensive. Tobin took advantage of the reinforcements by redistributing his lines.

A single warrior pulled his attention away from his men. Moonlight danced off the strange red and blue armor. It seemed to twist and move with its wearer as if alive. The enemy fell easily beneath the man’s onslaught. Tobin didn’t have to watch long to recognize his brother’s style. The guttural war cry coming from Kaz’s panther-shaped helm sent a chill down his spine.

He
is
alive.

* * *

Durahn swatted at the men under his command, pushing, prodding, and threatening to get them to move into position. The force behind the Kifzo reinforcements killed any momentum he had regained after removing the strange shaman from the battle. Anger seeped through his entire being as he felt his hold on Juanoq falter.

Where did they come from?

His great sword hacked mercilessly. As he killed the newly arrived Kifzo, he cursed each one along the way for being too weak, too small, to deny him his right as warleader.

I’ll kill every last one of them myself if I have to. This is my time.

His men began to rally around his brutal efforts.

Durahn caught a glimpse of a strangely-armored figure dominating the Kifzo’s lines.

Kaz.

He recognized the man’s fighting style. He barreled over men by the score in an effort to reach his old warleader.

I’ll make sure you stay dead this time.

Durahn’s sword swept down, crushing an opponent with the weight of the blow. “Get out of my way, runt!”

As his opponent fell to the cobbled streets, the largest creature he had ever seen stepped into his path. The figure looked bigger than a bear from the Green Forest Clan’s territory. Durahn might have confused the man for a bear except he wore armor and carried a large warhammer and massive shield.

The giant spoke in heavily accented Heshan. “Who’re you calling a runt, little man?”

Durahn had never been called little by anyone. Standing half a head taller than even the tallest of Kifzo, he found the thought strange.

The giant let out a deep growl, moving with surprising speed. Warhammer descending toward him, Durahn stepped aside, feeling a gust of air too close for comfort. He tried to counter the attack, but the giant’s shield deflected the blow. The warhammer came from below next, clipping a Yellow Clan warrior without slowing its trajectory toward Durahn. He avoided the attack, then the next. The giant screamed and pushed Durahn backward.

Quit fighting defensively, you fool.

You’ll never get to Kaz like this.

He ducked under the next sweeping attack and charged. The change in technique surprised the giant. Up close, the behemoth could not use his warhammer with the same ease. The giant led with his shield, trying to overpower Durahn. However, he had anticipated that strategy.

Durahn slipped around the massive shield, thrusting with his sword for the killing blow. Only his sword never met resistance.

The giant had managed to dodge the strike. A massive hand wrapped around the Kifzo’s wrist, squeezing until bones cracked. Durahn refused to scream, but could not maintain the grip on his sword.

Dropping his shield, the giant used his other hand to grab Durahn by the neck.

He kicked and punched at his opponent, but the blows had no effect. The giant slammed him to the ground with such force his spine snapped.

Struggling to breath, Durahn no longer felt anything.

It can’t end like this.

The head of a warhammer descended toward his face.