Oathkeeper (20 page)

Orange iron-deficient blood ran from their various wounds, wetness making their jeans cling to the skin. Kazan had never had a rash before, but he felt like he was getting one from the rub of denim on skin.

I'm turning to fight on a hundred count
, Arbokk sent.
Sorry. You guys keep running. Whatever I can do to slow them down I'll do. Got to stop.

Me, too
, Joose thought.

I'll die under the gaze of a beautiful female
, M'jynn sent along with an image of the lady watching them from the overhang.
I've never wanted anything more
.

Okay
, Kazan agreed.
Me as well. Survivors take our bones to Rae'en?

Four gold tokens lit up in unanimous consent.

*

Why the Aern had chosen the low road rather than the ridge path which was more defensible, Cadence Vindalius could not say, any more than she could explain why her premonition had been accurate about the point at which they would finally turn and fight, but not about how many knights would be chasing them, or about how many allies they would have fighting on their side. In the most recent version of events, she'd seen a man join in at the last possible opportunity. Breathing in deeply through her nose and out through her mouth, Cadence focused on the Long Flame, red and orange streaks in her black hair glowing as heat rushed in and became a part of her. Once the flame was hers and ready, the purple tones at the ends of her long hair took on an inner luminance, too.

“You might want to knock the first few knights off of their horses,” Sedric suggested. “Or try to shield the young Aern from the initial volley of arrows. Your Long Flame is one of your greatest strengths, but you are a Long Arm as well.”

Sedric's familiar robed figure stooped next to her in muted shades of gray. Her campfire, clearly visible through the bulk of his form, told Cadence he wasn't physically present, but—“What kind of Long Speaking do you call this?” Cadence asked.

“Myriam the Ever-present who developed and refined the ability called it ‘The Seventh Transmission of Self.'” Sedric scratched at his nose. “Who am I to disagree?”

“You here to make sure I come back to the school?” Cadence asked.

“No,” Sedric shook his head, gray particulates swirling within his shape in response to the motion. Peering around him at the smoke from her fire, she saw a branch split off from the main column, composing, at least partially, his form. “Kholster asked me to educate you. I did not promise I would do so in the school, though I would prefer it—oh.” He nodded toward the Aern on the road below as they stopped, turned, and charged. “We can talk later. Your pet Aern there seem to need you.”

*

Less than a mile away, a depressed-looking human sat astride his horse, traveling at a walk. Head bowed low under a wide-brimmed hat he'd purchased from the same merchant who'd sold him his stylish new garb and from whose cousin he'd purchased horses—a snowflake-dappled gypsy vanner for whom he'd paid a princely sum and an obstinate mud-brown pack horse for whom he'd paid considerably less. The horses, new clothes, gear, and a few extra items from the right sort of merchant had cost him a full two-thirds of the reward he'd received for his part in assisting the Aern, the Eldrennai, and, unbeknownst to both of them, the Zaur.

All total, it still wasn't enough to buy a new ship outright, but he knew a lady who knew a lady who could convince a certain shipwright to accept what he had as down payment on one of her ships. Cold crept in, mist rising from the forest off to the west. With The Parliament of Ages behind him, the trees in Castleguard—a mixture of conifers and hardwoods—seemed far less beautiful or varied in their shading. Here, the leaves were brown and sodden, their trees skeletal and bare rather than—

A wave of mental strength hit him in the chest so hard it stole his breath away.

“Ow?” It hadn't been aimed at him, but the strength of it was massive. He let out a long whistle, feeling the thrum of the power still out there ahead of him on the road.

“A wise man would turn back and take the ridge road, Alberta,” he whispered to his horse. “Are we wise men, do you think?”

Alberta neighed in response, shaking her glorious mane.

“I know you're not a man,” Captain Tyree told his horse, patting her shoulder. “I was only being clever.”

Alberta whinnied at that.

“Okay,” Tyree agreed. “Okay. You're the clever one. What do you think we should—”

Alberta burst into a gallop heading toward the sound of other horses, screams, and death.

*

Less than a mile farther down the road, a Castleguard knight on a lathered horse—its tongue lolling as it struggled for breath—burst smoking around a turn. Empty quivers hung from his back, though Tyree saw no sign of a bow. His eye was swollen, and his forehead dimpled around a nasty wound. Tyree wondered if the knight knew he was already dead.

“Aern,” the man shouted, his mail armor jangling as he rode, open-faced helm askew, “and a crystal twist! Turn back!”

“Now this, Alberta,” Randall Tyree said, smiling as he let go the reins, flicking out his wrists in just the right manner to cause the bracelets on either wrist to uncurl into daggers, “is one of those times when my dear old late Uncle Japesh would have told me to mind my own business and go find a tavern or a brothel.”

With a dagger in either eye, the knight didn't ride much farther.

“Then again,” Tyree told the horse, “Uncle Japesh got drunk and fell off a brothel's balcony, so in some matters it may be wisest not to take his advice.” With another flick of his wrists, the enchantments he'd paid an Eldrennai artificer to put on his two favorite weapons (and his most versatile lockpick) took effect, and the bracelets were back on his wrist as if they'd never been gone—without even bringing the blood along for the ride. “And that, Alberta, is where a full half of the money I spent went.”

*

When the first three riders caught fire, rocketing into their comrades, Kazan thought he had died and that Rae'en's father had decided to let her Overwatches have a little fun before he added their spirits back to the whole of the Aern. When Joose shouted, “Kholster's name! Did you all see that, too?” Kazan was too stunned to remember to turn his token gold in acknowledgment.

“Fight them, scarbacks,” yelled a voice from the ridge, “I can't kill all of them!”

A wave of arrows hit an invisible wall, splintering and twanging off in directions that were not toward Kazan's body. Blood spewed from the noses of two different horsemen who appeared to have caught the edge of the unseen barrier. Red streaks splotched like ink along the bottom of the field, before falling out of the air as the woman on the ridge cried out.

I think that took a lot out of her.
Arbokk sent an image of her dropping to one knee.

She's kholstering this engagement at the moment
, M'jynn thought loudly,
so let's do what the nice crystal twist said and fight the bad humans on horseback.

Kazan rolled out of a riderless horse's way only to have to jump clear of a second. Leg going out from under him as the injured muscle ripped free of some important ligaments, he felt the Arvash'ae come over him and did not fight it.

*

Killing one more horseman before he got to the battle proper, Tyree reined Alberta in when he saw three rampaging Aern with eyes of amber and jade.

“Amber and jade; be dismayed,” he quoted the old rhyme. “I guess those knights skipped over the whole ‘Talk 'em back' part of the lesson. Huh, Alberta?”

Several riders fled back along the path to Castleguard while the bulk of the rest lay dead, burning, or both. A few were still fighting on the ground with the Aern. A one-armed man ran screaming past Alberta, head engulfed in flames, the fat visibly sizzling off his jowls. Tyree put a knife in him half out of pity and half out of a desire to stop the man's high-pitched keening wail.

Waves of power turned his head to a female crystal twist with admirable curves Tyree might not have minded learning to navigate under other circumstances. Always a little sensitive to what type of Long Speaker he encountered (usually getting a mental image of fire for Long Flames, a shouting mouth for a Long Speaker, et cetera) Tyree shuddered at the mass of floating, shouting, and flaming eyes, mouths, and fists that filled his mind's eye when he considered her.

“It would probably be wisest to run from that one, Alberta,” Tyree whispered to his steed. “Let's go say hello.”

None of the Aern looked interested in chasing down the fleeing knights. Doing a quick run through of the surrounding area in his mind, Tyree tried to pinpoint exactly how far it was to the nearest Castleguard watch station and whether its knights were a mixed order or on a rotation. He couldn't recall, but he could identify these knights. Clad in chain and brigandine, the fallen wore a circle of wheat symbol on their belts and around their necks.

Why were the Order of the Harvest attacking Aern? Torgrimm's followers believed in the need for all mortal beings to work together toward the mutual goal of achieving their full potential. Aern used to fall under that umbrella . . .

“Kholster.” Tyree lowered his head in disgust at having taken so long to spot the obvious. “Yeah, I bet the Harvest Knights were all smiles and free soup until your guy killed their guy.”

Alberta whinnied nervously, backstepping with loud jittery clops. Growls. Tyree laughed even before he saw the Aern limping toward him with a broken spear jabbed under one arm to use for a crutch.

“You might want to back away from them until they calm down!” the crystal twist shouted.

“Don't worry about me.” Tyree looked the approaching Aern in the eyes, trying not to be disturbed by the blood trailing from his mouth. “I'm fine.” He held empty hands palms up and clearly visible before placing them behind his head. “Me and the Aern are great friends. I helped rescue their new beauty-in-command: Rae'en.” He thought
friend, friend, friend
at the four Aern as hard as he could. “By Kholster, out of Helg, from the Zaur. She lets me call her Sugar Bosom.”

The Aern drew closer, sniffing the air, teeth bared, before turning around and sinking his teeth into the exposed throat of a bearded knight with no arms.

Better him than me
, Tyree thought, sitting as still as he could while coaxing Alberta to continue backing up slowly.
Better him than me
.

*

Cadence Vindalius looked at the four Aern and the man, and bit back the urge to mention what she saw. Handsome and charming even without the touch of Long Speaking he had, the human moved from one Aern to the other, making friends and getting them chatting with him as if he were a part of their unit or, rather, an old human friend of the family.

It would have been warmer near the fire the one with the mace (Arbokk) had helped Tyree build, but she didn't want to be so close to the Aern, who gnawed casually on parts of the slain knights. How did this “Captain” Tyree manage to keep smiling while the Aern next to him ate corpses? With a shudder, she drew her cloak around herself more tightly, starting only briefly at the hazing image of Sedric as he coalesced next to her.

“I was meditating,” he groaned peevishly, “but your distress was enough to wake this old Long Speaker even from the deepest of meditations. And while it is true that a Bearer of the Seventh Eye can go for days without sleep, we must still meditate to refresh ourselves for an hour or so at minimum.”

Birds Cadence had never heard before called in the distance, drawing her gaze away from the group at the fire, even away from her teacher.

“How is Caius?” she asked.

“I checked on him,” Cedric said, waving his hands in exasperation, “just as I told you I would. It seems the rift created within the Castleguard sect of Torgrimm's worshippers by Kholster's ascendance has generated little obvious strife, but I have relocated him to the school just to be on the safe side.”

He'll kill you.
Cadence saw the old man's death, not soon but certain. Caius was a young man in the vision, full-grown but still a child in that way men are before they have families, with great leathery wings spread out behind him, red eyes peering coldly at an elderly Sedric. As Caius struck, his face changed, showing different variations of the same event. He wore a bone-steel mask in the shape of a skull, a golden mask with no face, even a thick red scarf carefully wrapped to conceal his face below the eyes. He struck out with twin long knives in one version, firing strange Dwarven pistols in another, but in all of them there was blood and anguish.

Seeing that made it easier to look away and stare back at the camp where those she looked upon were shifting too. Injuries came and went, but when she look at one happy figure at the fire, she knew they would be attacked again on the road and that one of them was going to die.

“One of them dies,” Cadence muttered, fiddling absently with the purple ends of her tricolored hair. “It's why I had trouble pinpointing the attack. There's more than one attack along the road. One of the knights that fled must have made it to an outpost.”

“Did you see if it can be avoided?” Sedric asked.

“The death? No, not by mortal means.” Cadence let her head rest against the bark of a tree. “Yours can't either.”

“Don't tell me about mine,” Sedric laughed. “I'm old and I want it to be a surprise.”

“It will be,” Cadence whispered.

“Good.” Sedric smiled, his voice gravelly as he spoke, nodding all the while as if agreeing with himself. “Can you save the rest of them?”

“All but the one.”

“Then save those you can.” Sedric's hazy form began to dissipate. “No one can ask more of you than that. Have you been pulled into any more Long Seeing sessions involving the young Vael and the attacking Zaur?”