Heir of Shandara (Book 4) (22 page)

“Did any of them make it into the city?” Aaron asked.

The fighting in the distance, at the main gate, intensified as the FNA forces fully engaged the Zekara.

Verona shook his head.

“That’s something at least,” Aaron said.

Aaron’s comms device buzzed on his arm.

“We’ve got Forsaken loose in the city. Multiple places.”
 

Aaron’s stomach clenched at the news. How had they gotten into the city? The message repeated, and Aaron shared a grim look with Verona. Aaron divided his forces to hunt for the Forsaken loose in the city. He glared toward the main gate, where the battle raged on. Halcylon had planned this perfectly.

Aaron and the others sped through the city, engaging pockets of Forsaken where they found them. The Forsaken seemed to be able to sense people nearby. They tore through buildings to get at them. The fighting grew worse because now they were facing newly infected Rexellians who still looked human. Cracks appeared along their ashen skin, with inky blackness visible beneath. Those who had been infected longer looked like something else entirely. Elongated hands ended in jagged claws, as if the process had been rushed. The claws cut through skin easily but were brittle against armor.
 

Smoke billowed into the air above the city, and the cycle continued. The airships hovering above would give the location of any group of Forsaken they saw. They, along with the city guards, would hunt them down. The groups they encountered increased in size, while they lost soldiers in the fight. By midmorning, they were already exhausted, with no sign of the fighting letting up. Rexellians, no longer feeling safe in their homes, were fleeing into the interior of the city.

Gavril had things in hand at the front, while Aaron was racing around the city, trying to prevent the Forsaken from overrunning them. General Halcylon kept his main force fighting at a distance, which forced the Free Nations Army to do the same. The FNA didn’t have the ability to charge in and take the Zekaran army in a frontal assault.
 

Gavril contacted Aaron through the comms device.

“I need for you to take your soldiers and converge on the eastern gates. They’re being overrun,” Gavril said.

“By who? The Zekara are clustered at the western gates,” Aaron said while signaling to the soldiers around him that they would be moving out. The FNA encampment was outside the eastern gates. If the gates were being overrun, then the FNA encampment was lost.

“It’s the Forsaken. You must hurry,” Gavril said.

Aaron glanced down the street they were on, looking for a tall building. He needed a better vantage point.
How could the Forsaken be overrunning the eastern gates?
Halcylon couldn’t have infected so many people yet. The buildings in their immediate vicinity were only two stories high. Aaron leaped to the top of the nearest building and was quickly joined by the others. Hythariam strapped on gliders to their feet, and several FNA soldiers did as well. Former Elitesmen and those of the Safanarion Order with him had no need for the Hythariam machines. He peered to the east but couldn’t see much through the smoky air.

“We go to the eastern gates,” Aaron said.
 

Aaron leaped into the air, covering a massive distance. The bladesong churned inside him. He felt the others behind him, and he resisted the urge to help move them along. He had done small things during the fight today to help keep those with him alive. Every time he did so, he could almost hear the High King chuckling. Strengthening others’ connection to the energy around them wasn’t control. He reached out to the others and only those open to his touch did he help.
 

While former Elitesmen fought with them, many remained closed off. Surprisingly, Bayen was able to keep up with him without any help at all. The only other person who could do that was Sarah, and thankfully she was safe in Khamearra.
 

Hovering over the eastern walls of Rexel were eight airships unleashing hell’s fury down at the clustering attack force below. A barrage of crystal-tipped arrows rained down from the airships. Aaron’s breath caught in his chest at the sight of the FNA encampment beyond the wall. The encampment was a smoking ruin, as if a fiery tidal force had swept through the area, bringing destruction in its wake.
 

Tanneth hovered next to him on his glider, and Verona came to his side.

“Goddess be merciful,” Verona whispered.

Hundreds of Forsaken threw themselves at the eastern gates. The smoke cleared, and Aaron got his first real look at the Forsaken attacking. His mouth fell open. They had been the remnants of Zsensibar’s army. Aaron recognized the brown leather armor that left the wearers’ arms exposed. Zsensibar was located far to the south in a much warmer climate. How could they have not been alerted that one of Zsensibar’s armies had been consumed by the Forsaken? The ground lit up in a succession of explosions from crystal-tipped arrows that stalled the Forsaken’s advance. The forces at the gate were barely holding. If this many Forsaken reached beyond the walls, then Rexel was lost.

“I’m going to give them something to chase,” Aaron said.

Verona’s crestfallen eyes wouldn’t leave the crumbling line of defenders trying in vain to hold the eastern gates.

“It will buy you time to regroup,” Aaron said, squeezing Verona’s arm.

Verona’s eyes blinked in rapid succession, and he snapped out of his shock. “We’ll go with you.”

Aaron shook his head. “Not this time. Once I see that you’ve regrouped on the wall, then I will return.”

Bayen stepped closer. “I can keep up with you. You need someone to fight at your back,” he said. His white armored shirt appeared unscathed much like what the Hythariam provided the rest of them. It couldn’t do much against the impact of a blow, but it would prevent a sword from tearing into you.

Aaron gazed at Bayen, considering. He was right: Aaron could use the help, and Bayen had kept up with him before. “All right, you’re with me,” Aaron said.

Aaron sent the rest toward the gates while he and Bayen circled around. Aaron drew in the energy, aligning it inside him. Strengthening his muscles and bones. He could sense the lifebeat of everything around him except the Forsaken. They were the shadowy reflection of life. They sucked it in and snuffed it out. He clenched his swords and leaped into the air, streaking across the sky. He used the particles in the air to extend his jump. Aaron sensed Bayen behind him and was surprised that the youth allowed him to strengthen his connection to the energy. They came to a stop behind the line of Forsaken who were throwing themselves at the gates, desperate to get inside. Aaron wielded his swords, unleashing the bladesong. A sea of darkened figures perked up and spun around. Aaron bounded away, and the Forsaken charged after them. He pulled in the energy from the earth and pushed it through his swords. The crystals in the pommels glowed brightly, and Aaron slammed them down, sending a swath of pure energy tearing through the Forsaken.

Aaron leaped to the side, and the tide of Forsaken followed him, snapping at his heels. Bayen swung his bladed staff in wide arcs, cutting through a wave of attackers. They guarded each other’s back, trusting each other with their lives. They settled into a deadly rhythm of attack, moving when the Forsaken mass grew too much to handle. All the while they drew them farther away from Rexel’s walls and into the encampment. The way Bayen fought echoed Aaron’s own style, leaving Aaron to wonder who the mysterious Safanarion Order member that raised him had been. Aaron had been trained by his grandfather, Reymius Alenzar’seth, former ruler of Shandara and head of the Safanarion Order. Though that was not the man Aaron remembered. Reymius had fled Safanar, taking refuge on Earth with Aaron’s mother. It was only when Reymius died that Safanar caught up with them and pulled Aaron, the last scion of the Alenzar’seth line, back to Safanar.
 

He and Bayen fought the Forsaken for a time, but there were limits that even energy enhancements couldn’t overcome. Despite the numbers of Forsaken that lay burning upon the ground, more always came, as if the ones they dispatched were a mere drop in the bucket. They were about to jump away again when at the last second Bayen knocked him aside. Aaron tumbled and scrambled to his feet.

“Zekara!” Bayen hissed.

Several large objects shimmered in the air behind them, almost rippling along—the only indication a cloaked flyer would give before firing its weapons on you. Aaron gasped and shuffled back, pulling Bayen with him. They raced along the ground, taking smaller leaps along the mass of Forsaken that continued to rage for Aaron. Plasma blasts from the Zekaran flyers nipped at their heels. They were dead if they stayed out in the open, but the safety of Rexel’s walls was so far away. A loud pop sounded through the air, and an airship streaked toward them with engines at full burst. Plasma blasts peppered in their direction from the airship, scoring a hit on the cloaked flyers.

Aaron extended tendrils of energy out from himself, weaving them together into a barrier. A plasma blast sizzled as its energy dispersed around the barrier.
 

“Get to the ship!” Aaron shouted.

“What are you going to do?” Bayen asked.

The snarling forms of the Forsaken were closing in on them.

“I’m going to give the Zekara something to shoot at and hopefully take a few of them out in the process,” Aaron said.

Bayen shook his head. “I can help you.”

“You already helped me. Get back to that ship, and tell the captain to return to the wall. I’ll meet you back there,” Aaron said.

Bayen frowned, pressing his lips together. “But—”

“The Dragons are coming. I sense them just beyond the flyers,” Aaron said.

“I can’t leave you like this,” Bayen said, his voice choking and his eyes betraying something other than smoldering anger. The Forsaken slammed themselves against the barrier, trying to bash their way through.

Aaron stepped closer to him and grasped his shoulder. “I’m going to release the barrier. When I do, make for that airship, and tell the captain to turn around; otherwise, they
will
die.”

With a final nod, Aaron released the barrier. Bayen waited for the last second and took off, leaping over the closing Forsaken. Aaron wielded the Falcons, allowing the pure notes from the bladesong to ride along the currents of air. This was his battle song, and it reached far and wide. The Forsaken fell to his blades, their black blood hissing from their bodies. Plasma blasts raked over the ground toward him, and Aaron dashed out of the way. The Forsaken scrambled to follow him, but Aaron outdistanced them in seconds. The glow of his swords streaked toward the flyers. Some had their cloaks down, exposing their golden hulls.

He felt the presence of several Dragons stealthily making their way through the tree line. They knew what the flyers could do and approached cautiously. The blasts from them could pierce even a Dragon’s hide.

We will fight with you, Ferasdiam marked.

The Dragon’s voice in his head spoke with fierce pride and strength. Aaron roared his battle cry, dodging plasma blasts. The Dragons launched into the air and pounced on the unsuspecting flyers. The flyers wobbled in the air for a moment as the Dragons tore through the ships’ hulls. Several of them crashed into the ground while the others streaked away, making a beeline for the city. The Dragons flew after them but were soon outdistanced by the much faster craft. While the Dragons were indeed strong and fast, they were not Eldarin, who could outrun even Hythariam ships. The Dragons broke off their pursuit and flew high into the sky, taking cover in the clouds.

Aaron took a few seconds to search for any Zekaran soldiers that survived the crash, but nothing emerged from the smoking wrecks. Aaron brought out the travel crystal and returned to the city. The east gates were in ruins. While many of the Forsaken had followed Aaron and Bayen away, the newly formed Forsaken had remained behind and were pushing into the city.
 

The Free Nations Army, having lost the east gates, was trying to stall the Forsaken advance. Each soldier that fell eventually rose to join the ranks of the cursed Forsaken. The blaring truth was in front of him, and Aaron brought up his comms device, signaling to the command center at the palace.

“The eastern gates have fallen. The Forsaken are in the city,” Aaron said.

“Understood,” Gavril replied.

“They’ve hit the streets. Can you send in reinforcements? We’ve got to turn this—” Aaron began.

“The city is lost, Aaron,” Prince Cyrus said.

“No! There has got to be something we can do.”

“There is nothing we can do but ensure the survival of as many people as we can,” Cyrus said.

Aaron’s eyes scanned the city line. Fire and smoke wafted up from almost every corner. He heard the screams being snuffed out by the snarls of the Forsaken.
 

“We’ll give them as much time as we can,” Aaron said.

The comms device flashed blue and red, the signal to fall back to the palace. Aaron knew there would be keystone accelerators that held portals open to Shandara, but how many people would make it to them?
 

Screams from the streets below grated on Aaron’s nerves, igniting the fires deep within him. His corded muscles rippled as he clenched his swords. He wanted to hurt the Zekara and make them pay for what they had done. Above all, he wanted Halcylon’s blood. That twisted tyrant had conceived of this horrific plan, whose impact on the Safanarions was only just beginning to become apparent. Rexel may have been lost, but Aaron swore he would make Halcylon pay for it. First, he needed to help get the Rexellians to safety, then he would go after Halcylon.