Embers of an Age (Blood War Trilogy) (9 page)

Arrin shifted to dodge a blow but there were two of the Ruhr before him. He sidestepped the first and moved directly into the path of the second. A stone fist slammed into his left shoulder. It was like running into a mountain. Pain flared
,
and then gratefully went numb
,
as he was knocked to the dirt, landing several yards from where he was struck. He crawled to his knees as
Kirah
engaged his opponents, his arm hanging limp at his side. There was no time to worry if it was broken. He jumped up
and charged back into the fray just as Kirah was knocked away.
A glancing blow caught her side and flung her into the trees. Arrin saw her roll and take control of her fall, confirming she was unharmed. He turned back to the battle.

Zalee and Jerul danced before the Ruhr, casting strikes of opportunity at the creature’s heads but the mass of them made it difficult. Jerul parried aside two attempts to strike him, but the third slipped past, Arrin still feet away.

The Yvir let out a strangled shout as he was struck in the chest. The downward force of the blow slammed Jerul’s back hard into the ground
and the snap of
shattered
bones filled the air
. He groaned and rolled
limply
to his side as he tried to
catch his breath
. Zalee stepped in and batted aside the follow up blow from the Ruhr, but her feet became entangled on Jerul and she stumbled into the line of the creatures.
She was pulled into their midst.

Arrin shifted targets at the last instant, sickened by his choice, but Zalee needed him more. He leapt past the Ruhr that hovered over Jerul and slammed his sword through the skull of one that turned to assail the Sha’ree. His sword sunk in with a grinding scrape that rang in his ears
. The Ruhr crumpled
into his companions. Arrin saw several of the stone fist
s
crash into Zalee as he struggled to pull his sword loose of its rocky sheath.

Before he could free it, a shadow flickered in his peripheral vision. He leaned away from the incoming fist, but it had come too quickly. Stone knuckles scraped across his cheek and jaw and spun him away with its force. His face struck the ground and he inhaled the dust of Hespayrin soil, its blackness invading his lungs. He coughed and rolled to his knees to see he’d landed beside Jerul.
Kirah came to stand
over
him.
The Ruhr that
felled
the Yvir
loomed
several feet away
. Cael sat bare-chested on its shoulders
,
his tunic wrapped about the creature’s head as though it were reins
,
while Domor did his best to bring the Ruhr down with his Yviri sword.
It clanged uselessly against the creature’s back.

Arrin clenched his teeth and felt the crunch of sand in his mouth
. H
e looked back to Zalee. Two of the Ruhr had pulled her to her feet, each holding an arm out to her side
s
. She was covered in blood that seemed to run from everywhere. Her flesh was shaded in black and red, her head hanging limp at her chest. The Ruhr
at her arms
turned and started to drag her from the fight.

“Get her. I’ll protect the boy,” Kirah shouted.

Arrin
wasted no time. He
raced to stop them,
but the remaining Ruhr blocked
his path. His sword flickered like a serpent’s tongue, slicing shards of stone from the creatures but they crowded close and
pressed. Grazing strikes knocked him about as he tried to catch his rhythm, sending spears of agony lancing through his body.

He heard the slap of stone against meat and heard muffled shout
s
behind him. Arrin leapt from the Ruhr
to give him
space and looked to the sound.
Kirah clutched to a tree, her
free
hand at her head.
Tendrils of b
lood trickled between her fingers.
Cael lay
on the ground
yards from the Ruhr he’d been riding. The boy
scrambled
to his feet
, seemingly unhurt
. The Velen lay in the dirt, his eyes wide, terror carved across his obsidian face.
Kirah
shook her head and stumbled toward Domor.

Arrin was hit from behind
before he could move
. The sturdy blow crashed into his
shoulder blades
and sent him tumbling forward. As he fell, he saw Domor go limp beneath the stone fist of the Ruhr
, Kirah too far away to
protect him
. Arrin hit the ground and popped to his feet
, ignoring his battered body’s complaints
. The creature plucked Domor up and turned toward the rest of
its
kind
before the Pathra
arrived to help
. Arrin glanced to Jerul, who barely stirred, and
then to Kirah. She
raised her sword
,
but
Arrin could see she had yet to recover from the blow to her head. Her legs wobbled as she walked.
Cael stood frozen
nearby
, and
Arrin
knew the battle was lost.

“Cael
! Kirah! R
un
!” he shouted. “Run for the trees.”

The boy hesitated as Arrin spun about and raced to Jerul’s side. He
sheathed his sword and
hefted the Yviri warrior
with his good arm. Without ceremony,
he
slung him ove
r his shoulder
. Jerul
groaned and spit warm blood down Arrin’s back, but he couldn’t stop to check on the man.

Heedless of Jerul’s discomfort, Arrin ran. He reached out and spun Cael about as he passed, shoving the boy into motion. “They’re lost,” he screeched. “
Run
!”

His words sunk in and Cael broke free
,
sho
o
t
ing
toward the woods.
Kirah got the message, as well, and followed on the boy’s heels. She moved a little slow at first, but seemed to gain her legs quickly. Once they were ahead, Arrin ran after
. He could hear the scuff of the Ruhrs’ feet over his labored
breaths as they followed
behind
, and dared a glance back. There were
only
two that
gave chase
.
The shadows of the Dead Lands looming ahead, he had only a moment to ponder if he’d made the right choice before they broke past the tree line and slipped into the murky forest.

His failure wouldn’t just kill him and what was left of his companions
;
it would damn the whole of Ahreele.

Uthul raced on the breeze. The sting of Ree’s magic
stung
his senses as he pushed the collective O’hra to their limits. He had flown across the open fields of Fhen, spending no time mourning the ruin of its capital city, Fhenahr, its wreckage little more than a blur that flickered past.

The surrounding land was near deserted. He spied only a small number of pitiful survivors
who
had escaped the fury of the Grol, but like those he left behind at Lathah, he could spare them no mercy. He ran on without slowing, keeping his eyes averted to remain focused on what he must do. The smell of charred meat and burnt wood faded into the distance, the shouts of the Fhen people along with them. All he heard now was the whip of the wind and the slightest scuff of his boots that skimmed the surface he trod on.

Near the border of Gurhtol, the land of the Grol, Uthul had turned northeastward. The number of beasts at Lathah told him there were little to none of the nomadic creatures still in their own land, and he was unlikely to encounter any
en masse
, if any at all. What few he might run across would be
no threat even sans the O’hra.
Unconcerned, he pressed on toward the narrow river that split the lands of Korme and Tolen. He wished to speak to the warrior people of Tolen as he made his way to Ah Uto Ree, in hopes of recruiting them to the effort of ending the Grol threat. Natural enemies, and far more skilled in the ways of battle, Uthul felt they would be the best choice to confront their wayward brethren.

As he thought of what best to tell the Tolen to garner their aid, Uthul spied a lone traveler out of the corner of his eyes. She ran across the barren Gurhtol soil at haste, but also with confidence. A flicker of green and silver and the sudden waft of Ree’s energy brought
Uthul
to a halt. He turned toward the woman and stared as she spied him in turn. She pulled up short and drew two strange blades: one black as night, the other the color of ice. She bore a large number of O’hra
Uthul
recognized as being Sha’ree made. Given their nature,
he
had a clear idea as to where she might have procured them.

“Greetings, traveler,” Uthul spoke, his hands raised as he examined the woman standing a short distance before him.

The short crop of her
hair
stood on top of her head as fierce gray eyes took the measure of him. Though Uthul was not one to judge the looks of a woman not of his race, he had difficulty thinking of her as what the Lathahns might call
attractive
. Her jaw was squared and jutted out slightly, her forehead, cheeks, and what he could see of her neck
,
was pocked and scarred as though it might once have
only
just escaped a fire. She was built powerful for a woman; not short, but thick-limbed in a way that spoke of a physically difficult life. Her feet were set perfectly, her hips dropped only slightly, as she stared at Uthul. There was no doubt she knew well how to wield the blades she hefted so easily.

She said nothing in reply, so Uthul went on, bowing slightly. “I mean you no harm.” She looked to his O’hra, and then back to his face. Her stance turned more defensive. “No, no, child.” He waved his hands and took a short step back. “I know well you have seen more of my kind and where you have acqu
ired your O’hra…your vestments…
and hold no ill will toward you. Please, I would speak with you a moment. I am Uthul of the Sha’ree.”

The woman stared for a moment, her eyes narrowed, and then seemed to settle somewhat. The points of her swords dropped, but stayed defensive. “Go on, say your piece,” she said.

Uthul smiled. Her voice was melodic and charming, so at odds with her appearance. “Where does your journey take you?”

Again, she remained quiet a moment before speaking, as though questioning how much she wished to say. “I travel north, to my homeland of Ryell.”

“Ryell?” The name slid easy from his tongue, but his memory could find no purchase for it. “Do you hail from Lathah?”

“I know of no place
named Lathah. My home is north of the Languid Sea that borders the great hills of stone,” she explained, pointing with the bluish sword.

Uthul followed the motion with his eyes, a sickening uncertainty knotting his stomach. For all his many years upon Ree
,
he had seen no other beings save for those that resided in Ahreele. It had always been his understanding that only lifeless waters existed beyond the shores. Ree had never spoken of anything outside of the boundaries he knew, and for an instant he questioned the limitations of his goddess. Had more lands, more beings, sprung to life as Ree faded into the darkness of her being? Was she blind to their existence in her growing stupor? He looked back to the woman but could sense no falsehood in her manner. The revelation filled Uthul with dread.

“How did you come to be here?”

“My crew and I
set sail to collect
my peoples’
rations before the true winter set in.” She sighed, sorrow dimming her eyes. “A fierce storm came in fast and knocked us from our course, pulling us far from our shores before its grip lessened. We’d only just begun to regain control when the water began to boil and sucked us further south before tearing my ship apart. I only just survived.”

Uthul stared at the woman, unable to believe there was life beyond Ahreele. “I am sorry for your losses.” He drew a few steps closer to look at her, doing his best to keep her at ease. “Forgive my curiosity, but I have lived upon Ree’s flesh for longer than I can put into words, and I have never known there to be life beyond the dead waters.”

“Who is this Ree you speak of?”

A wide grin broke across Uthul’s face. “She is the earth you walk upon, the air you breathe, the trees you b
urn to stay warm during winter—”

Braelyn’s eyes narrowed. “
This is y
our faith?” The question was filled with doubt.

“
No, Ree
is much more than that, but I understand your reluctance to take my word
for
you would have been born long after her spirit drifted into the
darkness of herself. Ree is
truly the land and all that spr
i
ng
s
from it. She is the spirit of this world,
the world itself,
but such wisdom is unnecessary for the conversation at hand.” He gave a shallow bow of apology. “If I might ask, what is your name, warrior?”