Maylin's Gate (Book 3) Page 3

  "We've seen pockets of human resistance in the mountains," Pietro said.

  General Demos nodded. "Yet, something about the lack of soldiers leaves me feeling unsettled. If I were their young king, I would make a stand in that pass."

  Pietro's shoulders sagged.

  A thin smile creased General Andreas's face.

  "I agree with General Andreas," General Demos said. "We will leave a sizable force here in Ripool. We'll increase our odds of victory by seizing ports along the coast."

  Pietro turned pleading eyes on her, but she always sided with General Demos. Facing Ronan in Ripool with a smaller army at her back made her stomach churn. "Three days, General Pietro?"

  Pietro sat up straight and nodded. "Yes. Three at the most."

  Andreas's mouth fell open as if to speak.

  General Demos shot Andreas a cool glare.

  Andreas stifled the words and turned away from her.

  "Place troopers along every cliff in the pass," she said. "And, I want every draco rider in the air. There will be no surprises. Am I clear?"

  General Pietro nodded. "Of course my lady."

  "We'll go through the pass in three days," she said. "If the pass isn't clear by then, we'll split up as General Andreas suggested."

  "As you command my lady," General Demos said with an abruptness that left her startled.

  Seldom had Gregor Demos grown angry with her. She couldn't bring herself to look at General Demos and kept her gaze locked on the fire dancing in the hearth.

  General Demos stood and offered her a formal bow before turning his back on her and leaving the room.

  CHAPTER SIX

  Tara’s March

  The baerinese invasion force filed up the mountain road three abreast. Their line began in Ripool’s streets and ended a quarter mile from the last few boulders clogging the pass.

  Tara’s pets, over a thousand strong, marched at the front. Shredded pine trees and mounds of loose gravel further reduced an already narrow pass.

  She tightened her grip on the reigns and turned a wary gaze to the cliffs above. “You’re sure we’re not walking into an ambush?”

  “The scouts report little resistance,” General Demos said. “The Meranthian king is keeping his troops clear of the pass.”

  He’d told her three times already, but the general’s words brought her comfort. “Why wouldn’t the king attack us here?” She said.

  “The king has spread his forces thin mistress. Pockets of troops dot the many villages across the mountain range.” General Demos spoke like a man trying to convince himself.

  “We can’t allow Ronan to use soul magic on us,” she said. “I won’t end up in chains like Trace.”

  General Demos nodded. “The way is clear mistress. I've ordered draco over the pass." Demos pointed toward the cliffs. "I've positioned elite troopers throughout the foothills.”

  The sound of squeaking wheels and a low rumbling hiss came from behind her.

  She glanced behind her before ordering her mare about.

  A wagon lined with iron bars stopped on the shoulder. The troopers pulling the wagon dropped the yoke. The pair stood at attention before General Demos.

  General Demos’s gaze fell on the humans locked inside the wagon.

  Three women, their clothing in tatters, huddled together. Muted sobs came from one woman while the others spoke hushed words of comfort.

  General Demos waved the lead trooper forward.

  The trooper hustled ahead and stopped before General Demos. The soldier dropped to a knee wheezing for breath.

  General Demos glared at the man. “Why have you brought us these prisoners?”

  The trooper’s gaze dropped.

  “I gave clear orders to Sergeant Anthis,” General Demos said. “I meant for these women to stay behind.”

  The trooper glanced up and met the general’s hard stare. “General Demos, I’m sorry for my failure, but —”

  “I ordered these women brought to me,” she said.

  General Demos spun, eyes filled with rage. “Explain.”

  “I’d be careful with your choice of words, General,” she said. “You’d not want to anger me.”

  General Demos gazed on the cowering women.

  “Why did you leave these prisoners behind?” She said. “We need them to serve our army.”

  “Our forces are already ten times larger than the humans,” General Demos said. “We have speed, size, and strength the humans can’t hope to match, and you command a force over a thousand strong. Will sparing the lives of these three women make a difference?”

  “Have you turned soft General Demos?”

  “I’m not without mercy. We took these women from their children.” General Demos’s tongue flickered. “I find the act appalling, and I will no longer abide the slaughter of human women and children.”

  “You!” Their bargain had always allowed her free reign among the humans. “You have no right to meddle in human affairs!”

  “We’re not animals. I —”

  She thrust her finger toward the women cowering in the wagon. “But, they are! They cast me out!”

  General Demos slipped from the saddle and placed a hand on the trooper’s shoulder. “Rise trooper.”

  The trooper stood. Fear etched the creases of the soldier’s face.

  “Take these women back to the city. Make certain they are not mistreated,” General Demos said. “We’ll no longer capture human women or their children. Tell General Petras that I gave the order.”

  The trooper nodded. “Yes, General.”

  “Have draco riders return these women to their villages.”

  The trooper saluted and returned to the wagon. The troopers wheeled the wagon around toward Ripool and edged it down the slope.

  “You don’t have the authority to issue that order. I will overrule it,” she said without taking her eyes from the retreating wagon.

  General Demos turned to face her. In the morning light, the general’s face appeared haggard. “These women have done you no wrong, and they’re not needed to conquer Meranthia. I’ll follow you mistress, but I’ll not follow you over a cliff.”

  She clamped her mouth shut and stared at General Demos as she would a stranger.

  Near the last few boulders clogging the pass the air shimmered.

  She whirled on her mare, and her flesh crawled.

  A blue glow hung in the air blocking the pass from the ground to the cliff’s edge a hundred feet above.

  She turned her gaze upward and her heart lurched. A silver soul bright enough to blind her stood on the cliff glowering over her minions and the baerinese army.

  King Ronan Latimer towered over the pass nestled in a pocket of green, yellow, and blue souls. A dozen gray souls stood behind the king their soul threads flickering with activity.

  Her breath caught in her throat as she tried to speak. “He’s drawing their power Gregor.” Her words came out in a husky slur. “He knows.”

  In the road ahead, the shield brightened. Gray souls surrounding the king flickered.

  Blood drained from her face. How had he slipped by hundreds of scouts?

  Behind her, a rumbling hiss preceded a long piercing screech.

  She whirled, and time stopped.

  A war bird gripped General Demos’s collar and beat its wings faster lifting the general off the ground.

  General Demos pulled free a sheathed blade and swung at the bird’s ankles. Blue light sparked in a circle showering the ground with spirit.

  She gaped powerless to stop the war bird’s retreat.

  The bird climbed higher clutching General Demos. Troopers atop draco swarmed from the nearby mountains. They raised longbows and trained them on the Earth Mother’s creature.

  A volley of arrows struck the war bird’s shield. Blue light crisscrossed the shield's surface. The bird climbed higher and slipped over the shield wall.

  A moment later General Demos vanished. Draco’s spiraled near the shiel
d screeching in frustration.

  Her body went numb, and she turned her gaze toward the silver soul still blazing on the cliff above.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  World Breaker

  In the mountain pass below, the dead stood motionless. Their soulless eyes gleamed with a glassy sheen of nothingness. A thousand strong, their waxen skin showed the grim pallor reserved for the dead.

  Ronan's skin crawled. Soul threads appeared nowhere around the witch's creatures. Their presence among the living an unholy abomination. "May Elan save us all," he muttered under his breath.

  The spirit shield blocking the pass glowed with pale blue light. Streaks of thin white energy laced the fifty-foot curtain like a slab of living marble.

  Baerinese soldiers gawked while exchanging looks of fear and awe. The line of invaders stretched for miles down the mountain road.

  He couldn't let them pass, but he wouldn't engage in wholesale slaughter either. If he could thwart their advance and show his strength, he could force them back. They would leave Meranthia's shores.

  He found the militiamen’s gray souls surrounding him. All brave men. He pulled on the well of power living in each man’s core and fed the spirit curtain with raw power.

  Devery Tyrell stood over his shoulder and stared at the crackling shield. "I believe the shield's strong enough to hold whatever charge they could mount."

  Sweat beaded his brow, and he glared over his shoulder. "It's not strong enough. The witch can melt through shields. You've experienced her touch firsthand."

  Devery's jaw muscles clenched and the shield knight offered a stiff nod. "Yes, Your Majesty."

  The shield thickened turning a deeper shade of blue. Streaks of white light swirled and flowed like melted wax near the curtain's surface.

  The witch's creatures stirred in the pass. A low groan came from the abominations nearest the shield. They trudged upslope toward the curtain.

  "That's it." He spoke in a low whisper. "Just a little closer."

  A streak of red and black flashed overhead and crested the curtain.

  He craned his neck skyward and tracked the creature's progress.

  A war bird, Connal Deveaux, gripped the flailing body of a baerinese soldier.

  His stomach twisted. He recognized the soldier. He came face to face with the creature in Porthleven months earlier. The witch had called the man General Demos. He tracked Connal's flight path lower, and adrenaline washed over him.

  The witch, Tara, sat atop a brown mare. Strands of deep auburn hair peaked out beneath the hood of Tara's gray woolen cloak. The witch gazed skyward tracking the bird's flight. Beneath a veil of thin shadows, Tara's shock-filled eyes came into view.

  Anger welled in his chest. What was his father thinking? He flicked his wrist and strengthened his father's spirit shield.

  General Demos flailed beneath Connal's grip. Demos hacked at Connal's shield. A shower of spirit energy rained down on the soldiers below.

  With an open palm, he channeled a detention shield and locked down the baerinese general.

  Connal climbed higher.

  Reptilian birds appeared from hidden crevices. Dozens of the creatures swarmed his father. Their rage-filled shrieks echoed across the canyon.

  The soldiers atop the flying lizards readied longbows and fired on Connal.

  Merric Pride had taught him one useful trick during the old tyrant's miserable life. He had used the same trick with stellar results during his ambush. He channeled spirit and bent the shield's light around his father and General Demos.

  Connal Deveaux and General Demos vanished into nothing.

  He glanced at the witch and found her gaze locked on his. Tara's face contorted into a mask of horror.

  "Ronan, the shield!" Devery said.

  Like an open faucet, he channeled a constant flow of the militiamen's soul energy into the curtain.

  The shield's surface seethed like an ocean in the face of a storm. Cords of white energy crackled and leaped outward from its midnight blue core.

  A nauseating buzz came from the ground near the curtain. Two-dozen smoldering ash piles lay where the witch's creatures stood moments ago.

  His heart hammered and sweat rolled down his face. He snapped his head toward the energy wall.

  A loud humming noise came from its surface like the disrupted hive of a million enraged hornets.

  "You've got to stop. You're killing them!" Devery stood paralyzed near the militiamen.

  He whirled and found the Meranthian soldiers on their knees.

  Three men shook with violent tremors, their eyes rolled back showing only white. Nine more men lay on their side shaking and frothing at the mouth like rabid dogs.

  The energy curtain vibrated. White energy lurched outward and disintegrated a score of the witch's minions.

  Shouts erupted from the baerinese soldiers. The soldiers nearest the energy curtain turned and ran. A foghorn echoed through the valley and shouts of retreat sounded along the line. Roars came down the line as panic rolled through the baerinese lines like a storm front.

  He reached out and latched onto the soul threads feeding the curtain. He tried in vain to sever their flows.

  Sweat rolled down his back, and a lump of dread sat heavy in his stomach. He couldn't cut the power flows. Like a flood-swollen river, the weave moved beyond his ability to control.

  The energy curtain flared and bucked. Tremors rocked the stone beneath his feet.

  His stomach flip-flopped, and his legs wobbled. Blackness crept at the corners of his vision.

  Devery shouted commands, but he couldn't process their meaning. Shields. He needed shields around the men.

  A sickening crack split the air followed by an earthquake's rumbling force.

  He dipped into his own power reserve and channeled shields around those he could find. Devery and the militiamen. He collapsed, and the world undulated with confusing color and sound.

  The ground rocked and pitched his body sideways. Devery's shouts, lost in the roar of crashing rock, went unanswered.

  He wretched and hot vomit erupted through his mouth and nose. The putrid stench of bile filled his nostrils, and the world flashed black.

  Movement. He could no longer tell up from down. A war bird's shrill screech filled the air before darkness overcame him.

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  Arber’s Key

  Suspended in mid-air, Elan’s and Lora’s spheres buzzed. Green, yellow, and blue light danced across the Heart Room’s marble floor.

  The lights comforted Danielle, but an unsettling dread pinged at the back of her mind. She needed to know where to find the heartwood sapling. If Trace didn’t tell her, millions would die. How long until the plague spread to Meranthia? How long would her own immunity last?

  A burlap knapsack, plain by a poor man’s standards, sat in a misshapen wad atop a narrow table.

  She tugged at the drawstring. She’d sifted through the few items inside a dozen times, but found nothing she could use against Trace. The emperor had turned mute offering not the slightest shred of information. Maybe Kelwin was right. Had she overlooked an item significant to Trace among the collection of oddities?

  A low creaking came from the double iron doors behind her. A bald head peeked through the opening. Arber’s gaze settled on her.

  She flashed Arber a warm smile and stood.

  Arber’s gaze drifted to the floor. “Kelwin said you wanted to see me.”

  “Yes, come in.”

  Arber pushed the door open and entered.

  She crossed the room and took Arber’s callused hands into her own. She stood on her tiptoes and kissed the former guardian’s rough cheek. “Tank you for coming so quickly. I hope I didn’t pull you away from anything important.”

  Arber’s cheeks reddened. “If cleaning out a horse stall qualifies as important, then I guess you did.” Arber’s gaze settled on the marble floor at her feet. “But, I suppose the horses can wait.”

  Heat spread across h
er cheeks. “Arber.” She lifted Arber’s chin until she met her friend’s gaze. “I’ve forgiven you for what happened with Merric Pride. We all have. You can stop berating yourself for the past.”

  A weak smile spread across Arber’s face. “I have a hard time letting it all go. Especially here.” Arber’s gaze drifted to the spinning spheres. “This room brings back bad memories.”

  Her head buzzed. Of course the room made Arber feel uncomfortable. How could she be so insensitive? She glanced around the room. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think —”

  Arber waved her off. “Please, you don’t owe me your sympathy.”

  “Nonsense.” She invoked her sternest voice. “Besides, what’s done is done, and I’m hoping you can help me.”

  Arber raised a bushy eyebrow. “How so?”

  “Come sit.” She took Arber’s hand and drew him toward a polished cherry table empty except for Trace’s knapsack. She pulled back a chair and gestured toward it.

  She and Arber sat facing each other with the knapsack between them.

  “What’s this?” Arber said.

  She intertwined her fingers through the drawstring. “It belongs to Trace.”

  Arber’s eyes widened. “Oh.”

  “I’m hoping you might make sense of something inside.”

  “Me?”

  She nodded. “You’re the one person I know who’s spent time with Trace in Zen. And what with your visions, I thought maybe….”

  “That something in Trace’s bag might stir a memory?” Arber said finishing her thought.

  She nodded. “I’ve run out of ideas.”

  Arber’s gaze lifted from the knapsack and their eyes met. “I’m willing to help, but not if it means putting your life in more danger.”

  “What I need is information. Trace won’t talk, and I need a lever that will pry open those tight lips of his,” she said. “If I can find the right trigger among these items, then maybe he’d open up.”

  “Let’s see what’s in the bag,” Arber said.

  She pried open the bag and glanced toward Arber before reaching inside.

  Arber’s stone-faced expression revealed nothing.