Golden Tide (Song of the Aura, Book Four) (9 page)

The hallway outside her chamber grew dark as night. Time seemed to slow to a crawl as she shouted.

“
Get out of the way, boy! Move!” In an instant she was leaping to knock the lad out of the way… but she was too late. A white blade burst through the messenger’s chest, and he stared down at it in shock.

“
Help…” he whispered, and toppled to the floor. In the swirl of shadow and smoke that had appeared behind him stood a
thing
with red eyes and skin as smooth and black as its hooded cloak. It stepped over the messenger’s body, leering. Walls and locked doors didn’t seem to faze the blasted things!

“
Whindmissstress!”
The creature hissed, raising the sword. Flames ran along the edge. A Pit Strider. One of the golem’s masters.

“
Wind
master
!” Karanel spat, mid-leap. She struck out with both hands, and lightning flashed from her to her foe; a thunderous sound and light that blinded her momentarily. Wetness splattered her body and face, burning like acid. She tripped over what was left of the Pit Strider, slipping in his blood and falling over the messenger’s corpse. With a cry of rage Karanel sprang up, forcing herself to push the memory of his chocked face away as she clattered down the smoky hallways in her armor, cursing and calling out for Yotun’s men. No.
Her
men. “We’re under attack!
Cough…
An attack, you fools! Rally to me!”

Somewhere along the frantic run through the keep, she realized that soldiers were actually running behind her, answering her call as they poured out of barracks and mess halls, already ready for combat. Some were bloodied and others barely able to stand: the Pit Striders had come for more than just her.

Early on someone pushed a spear into her hands. She hadn’t even thought of it, and her knives were back in the command chamber. Very well. She didn’t need weapons to fight, but she kept the spear, just in case.

As it turned out, she was lucky she had. Two more Pit Striders were still living, killing Vastic soldiers indiscriminately with fire and sword- until she shoved the spear down their throats, crackling with lightning from her Sky Striding.

All her life, Karanel had known there were limits to what she could do. But ever since the Wisp Demon, and Vail’s sacrifice… Those limits seemed to have disappeared. She was unbeatable… but she was only one.

“
Windmaster! Windmaster!” A young boy with a winged helmet far too large for him stumbled through a door to the side and fell at her feet, blood streaming down his face. She stopped and dropped low beside him, knowing with sickness in her heart that it was already too late. She lifted the lad’s chin: it was Ran, the second messenger. “Wi… they… courtyard… a golem… inside the dalheim…”

Ran’s head fell to the side and he collapsed. Karanel did cry this time, and she let the men see it, too; but she kept on moving, no matter what. “Mancaptains Yorun and Ragan! Rally men to you and clear this keep of any of the invaders! All else to me! We’ll drive these fiends from the dalheim once and for all!”

The men believed she could work miracles. They cheered her on, barely aware of the dead boy on the ground. Biting back her horror and fear, Karanel calmly ordered the body moved to a place where it would rest out-of-the-way until the battle had been won… or lost.

Life was a mass of sensations: burning lungs, ragged breath. Wet eyes and dry mouth. The taste of salt and bronze and blood. Determination. Fear. Rage. Courage. At last Karanel and her ragtag horde reached the keep’s main gate.

“
Open!”

She called, and it was done. The bolt was thrown and the great double-doors swung outwards, angry sunlight revealing the blood-soaked courtyard beyond. The lone golem was out there, a great golden beast of metal plates and spikes and gears, vaguely shaped like the giant apes of the Far West, flames spurting from its mouth, its eyeless mask of a face covering the Pit Strider who lay inside, controlling the demonic machine with his powers. Another Coalskin, probably, like the one that had attacked her.

The golem was ravaging the courtyard, massacring horses and men alike, slaying those who fled and those who fought. Its flaming breath and slashing claws could tear through any armor, and crush any flesh. Only stone seemed to hinder them, for no reason Karanel could tell.

Stone… and Lightning.

“
For the Sky King!” Karanel shouted, raising her spear. “For Vastion and Larion!”

“
For the Aura!” someone behind her screamed.

Then she charged. The burnt grass in front of the keep crunched under her feet. The wind blew all around her, speaking in a voice only she could hear. The golem turned and saw her, its metallic screech drowning out the wind-voice. Karanel grimaced as it swung towards her. Her spear lifted, her legs blurred as she ran up through the air, dodging the golem’s clumsy swipe. Tiredness and exhaustion meant nothing to the euphoria of battle. She landed atop the golden monster, stabbing it with her spear again and again. Lightning crackled and flashed along her blade, and flickered in her eyes.

“
Die, unholy thing!” she spat. The golem rocked to one side, trying to throw her off, but she stabbed the spear into it and pierced the Coalskin inside. It died without a sound. Fire licked up from the iron belly of the beast, curling around the sides and scorching her. Letting go of the spear where it stuck in the shining hull, Karanel leaped skyward, propelling herself with Wind Striding as she watched the flaming hulk of the golem crash to pieces beneath her.

That was their secret. Kill the Coalskin, hit the heart of the golem, and it would die.

She landed in front of her men, trying to scream with excitement… and fear. She had not meant to do that… not so quickly. It had just
come
. Things were changing, too fast. She wasn’t strong enough. Not strong enough…

“
By the Aura,” gasped one soldier. He was in awe of her, she saw, as were the others. They kept in a huddle, looking as if they were deciding between trying to kiss her and trying to run away.

“
Give me a bloody weapon,” she growled. One of the soldiers threw her a sheathed sword. She tried to catch it, but her hand would not work, and it crashed down beside her. Cursing, she fumbled for it, finally clasping it between her hands and managing to make it hang on her belt. The men seemed not to see. Fine with her. She looked at her hands.

Blood and Wind,
she thought.
Just like Vail.
She had tried to heal him, in that time that seemed so very long ago… but it had hurt him more. Now she had done the same to herself. So much power, so much lightning… her hands were beginning to turn black, and flaky. She could barely bend her fingers, except around the hilt of weapons she knew so well.

The price of victory.

“
Windmaster…” one of the men said in a hushed voice. Somehow she had not realized the quiet that had fallen. That couldn’t be good. She turned, slowly, hand on the sword-handle, ready to draw.

Five golems, waiting outside the smoking ruins of the gate.

“
So this is how it ends…” Karanel whispered. It would not be a bad way to go. She could feel the power within her, the Power of Sky filling her and craving to be used, let loose, burning out of her in sparks of lightning and gales of wind…

So many things were different, now that Vail had died. She had held him, and he… he…

He had given himself to save her.

Turning abruptly, she faced the soldiers. Behind her now, one of the golems outside screeched, and charged through the gate.

“
All of you, flee!” she said. “Flee the dalheim! Find your fellows! Get everyone out, and flee to the North! Meet the King’s army, and turn back this tide another day!” The men fled… all but one.

“
What in Vast are you going to do?” shouted the lone soldier.

“
Die,” Karanel said simply, “And kill the golems first. Now go!” The man ran.

Karanel turned, letting the Power of Sky surge through her. The five golems had broken through, and the first was mere yards away.

“
FOR VAIL!” Karanel shouted, spinning and drawing her blade. Above her, where no clouds had been before, a storm swirled down from the heavens, light flickering along its rim.

The golem leaped. Karanel swung her sword into the grassy earth, plunging the blade in deep.

A bolt of lightning arced out of the sky, blasting the golem into oblivion. Winds of horrible hurricane strength tore at Karanel’s pale braid, whipping it around her neck, but she felt no fear. Not anymore. When she could see again, the golem was a smoking hulk of metal debris. The sky was dark with clouds, and a heavy rain pelted her from all sides.

The last four golems had her trapped. She could feel her body shaking, starting to snap under the strain of so much Striding. Killing them one by one might work, but it might not. She did not have time. The men…
I hope the men escaped through the postern gates. I hope. I hope…

Karanel gritted her teeth. The sword she had stuck in the ground was glowing a blue so bright she could barely look at it. The world was falling apart around her, growing darker and darker…

Fire streaked from the golems; four deathly balls of flame that would not even leave her ashes behind.
The men must have made it out. They must have.

Karanel leaped into the air, higher than she had ever done before. The wind carried her as she willed, and when she had soared above the gates of the keep and far over the heads of her enemies, she stopped.

For half a second, the Windmaster hung suspended in the air.

Then a funnel of fiery wind fell from the skies, sweeping past her into the dalheim. Stone cracked and crumbled as the keep collapsed. The golems roared in rage.

Then Karanel Winter hurled herself down to the earth in a glowing bolt of light. Everything within a hundred meters was ripped apart like a leaf in a blaze, struck by energy so potent that the golems and their Coalskins, the horses in the stables, and the stables and keep themselves all melted into ash.

The storm died away in minutes, and a mighty wind that rose from the west blew away the remnant of the dalheim and the battle that had been fought there.

All but Karanel. She lay, broken and shuddering, clothes and hair in tatters, amid a dark wound in the earth where the lightning had cast her.

She was dying… but not dead.

The Windwalker’s tale seemed impossible, but somehow Avarine knew it to be true. None she knew could have done what this male human said he had… but if anyone could, it was he. Lauro Vale. A prince. He drew her like birds to the sky, or a blade to flesh. One of the two, and she was not sure which.

One thing was certain, though, and she knew it. Her dreams… and Kalzikir’s… had been about this human. She could not ignore him, whatever she did. Kalzikir had lost hope, but she would not. She
refused
to.

“
That is how I found myself here, nymph. I ask only that you would let me go free, to continue this quest I have been set on, and…”

“
The treetoken,” Avarine said quietly, and the Windwalker prince stopped amidst what he had been going to say.

“
What? I don’t know what a treetoken is, Nymph.” His voice seemed less forceful, now. The lack of air was getting to him. Still, Avarine curled her lip. That he could not see her was no excuse.

“
My name is Avarine, Openlander. Call me by it, or I leave you here. Just because you cannot see me is no reason for rudeness.”

There was a pause. Obviously the prince had not thought of it this way before, but his answer came quick enough. “Fine… Avarine. But don’t call me Openlander, then. My name is Lauro.”

“
Lauro. Show me your treetoken, Lauro.”

“
I already said I don’t know what that is.”

Avarine sighed. “You carry it, you speak of it… yet you do not know what it is?” That gave him pause. Perhaps he was lying, and knew he had been caught… or perhaps he had not really known, and only now realized what he carried. “I… the wooden bird? It’s hanging around my neck. I can’t reach it, not with my hands stuck like this.”