A Trial of Souls Page 3

  From the heart of the fire, a dozen black cloaks emerged.

  “Vrykol,” said Nehrutu.

  But instead of attacking, the Vrykol formed a tight circle and began to sway back and forth rhythmically. Gewey felt a chill wash over him, but it was not a chill in the air. It was within the flow itself. He reached out and tried to upheave the earth beneath them, but nothing happened. He looked to Nehrutu and Aaliyah. They nodded with understanding and reached out together, but still to no effect.

  A horn blast rang out, bringing a third volley of arrows from the Angrääl archers. This time Gewey was helpless to stop them and could only watch in despair as the deadly shafts slammed into the Althetans. Wails of pain reached his ears. Consumed with blind fury, he gritted his teeth and prepared to run straight at the Vrykol. But, just before he was out of reach, Kaylia caught hold of his arm.

  “No!” she cried. “You cannot!”

  Gewey roared, nearly jerking her off the ground.

  “Come,” said Aaliyah. “We must pull back.”

  Gewey at first refused to move. His hatred was beyond measure. It took the combined efforts of all three companions before they were eventually able to convince him to withdraw.

  “We must hurry,” said Nehrutu.

  Yet another volley of arrows came over, covering the sky like a veil.

  Gewey spun around, all the while trying desperately to stop the oncoming death. “This isn’t over,” he cried out, his voice an unearthly deep growl. He watched helplessly as the arrows struck home and more men fell.

  The cavalry began its charge just as he and the others reached their lines. Gewey’s guard immediately surrounded them. Nehrutu and Aaliyah both drew their weapons - Nehrutu also picked up the shield from a fallen soldier and pulled Aaliyah close.

  At that moment King Lousis strode up, a grave expression on his face. His guard followed, struggling to keep pace. Gewey saw blood trickling from a wound on the king’s neck.

  “Are you hurt?” Gewey asked.

  “A mere scratch,” replied Lousis. “What happened?”

  “The Vrykol have somehow completely blocked my powers,” Gewey told him, scowling.

  A horn blew, signaling the Althetan bowmen to let loose their own arrows ahead of the charging horses.

  “We must move aside, your highness,” interrupted one of Lousis’ guards. “The infantry will attack soon.”

  Lousis grunted. “Come. He’s right, we must move.”

  Across the field, Gewey could see the Angrääl footmen and their remaining horsemen clashing with the Althetan cavalry. At the same time, the elves attacking the enemy flanks were relentlessly squeezing them back inch by inch. Arrows streaked through the air from both sides, one burying itself with a deep thunk into Nehrutu’s shield.

  Gewey looked at Kaylia. There was no fear in her eyes and none reaching him through their bond, only rage. It was then that he realized his anger was reflected in her.

  “We must hurry,” urged the guard.

  Gewey allowed himself to be led through the ranks until just beyond the range of enemy bows. The dead and dying he passed fueled his determination. By the time they neared the wagons his anger was like a white-hot ball in the center of his chest.

  “Don’t worry,” said Lousis, placing his hand on Gewey’s shoulder. “Thanks to your initial attack and the speed of the elves, we will still win the day.”

  “Perhaps,” said Gewey. “But my failure has cost lives.”

  “If not for you,” countered Nehrutu. “Many more would have perished this day. You all but destroyed their horses before the Vrykol were able to stop you.”

  This did little to ease Gewey’s mind. “We must send word that every effort should be made to engage the Vrykol. If their circle is broken, I can end this battle quickly.”

  Lousis ordered one of his guards to spread the word to the commanders. “There is nothing for you to do now but wait.”

  Gewey looked out on the battle and snarled. “We’ll see about that.” He stormed off to the wagon that was carrying his gear and quickly found the leather armor placed aside for him. Kaylia walked up just as he was putting it on.

  “You are allowing your wrath to dull your wits,” she said sternly. “We will win this battle without you putting yourself in danger.”

  “It is not me that will be in danger,” Gewey shot back. “I have no intention of dying today. But I cannot simply stand by while people are being killed.”

  “Then I will...” she began, but a fierce glance from Gewey stopped her short.

  “You will remain here,” he told her. As if with a mind of its own, the flow of the spirit swelled up within him and then spilled out. It entered Kaylia and she closed her eyes.

  ***

  “Do not try to influence me as you do others,” she said angrily. But when she opened her eyes, Gewey was gone. She reached out to him, but their connection was dull and weak. Cursing, she hurried back to their group.

  “Have you seen Gewey?” she asked.

  “He was with you, was he not?” replied King Lousis.

  Kaylia explained what had happened.

  Aaliyah nodded slowly. “His powers continue to grow. And that he is able to hide his mind from his bonded mate says that he is determined.”

  “I must find him,” said Kaylia, fear seeping into her voice.

  “No,” said Aaliyah sharply. “He may still be able to feel your bond clearly. And if he feels your fear, that could weaken him.” She took hold of Kaylia’s hand. “Come. Together we will lend him our strength.”

  She led Kaylia to a space behind the wagons where there was a soft patch of grass. Lousis had sent two soldiers to protect them, but Aaliyah instructed them to stand several feet away and remain quiet. She sat down, crossed her legs and gestured for Kaylia to do the same.

  “As you know, when Gewey saved my life in the desert it created a bond between us,” she said.

  “Yes,” said Kaylia. “He told me what happened.”

  “Then you know that this was partly the reason why I gave up my efforts to become his mate,” Aaliyah continued. “I could feel what he felt for you, and it made me realize that regardless of how strong I am, you will always be stronger. Your heart and your spirit give him greater power than ever I could.” She took Kaylia’s hands. “We will use this to help him. Though my connection to Gewey is different and far weaker, together we can enhance it.” She closed her eyes.

  Kaylia became aware of Aaliyah’s spirit surrounding her and pulled her close until both bonds became visible. Slowly, she allowed Aaliyah to make them as one. As they melded together she could feel Aaliyah guiding her strength, urging it to reach Gewey. Love…power…devotion. The words took form and sprang forth. In that moment, Kaylia understood completely what she must do.

  Pushing aside all fear and anxiety, she steeled her mind so that she could ensure Gewey’s survival.

  Chapter 2

  Gewey made his way through the formations of soldiers who were awaiting the order to advance. Arrow after arrow was continuing to thud into their upheld shields, and the cries of the wounded together with the clash of steel from across the battlefield sounded ever more loudly. He could feel the men’s desperation. Every second they remained where they were increased the chance that an arrow would find a piece of exposed flesh. The Althetan archers were returning the assault in kind, but in fewer numbers.

  His thoughts turned to Kaylia. The moment he’d released the flow of spirit through their bond, it was as if she’d been turned to stone. At first this had frightened him, but when he reached out to her, a realization dawned. She was unharmed. It was his will - his desire for her to stay out of harm’s way - that had caused this thing to happen. Some elusive part of him had instinctively known what needed to be done. Yes, the dark veil he had placed between them had created feelings of uncontrollable sadness, but he could not allow her to come after him. He must do this alone, and her love for him would undoubtedly drive her to follow if she c
ould locate where he was.

  The roar of battle grew louder as he finally neared the vanguard of the reserves. The instant he stepped beyond the front line of men, it was as if he had been struck in the chest by a blacksmith’s hammer. He staggered dizzily for a moment as a huge rush of passion and love suddenly swept away all his feelings of sadness. He knew at once that it was Kaylia. After quickly regaining his footing, strength flooded through his limbs. He looked out at the melee and smiled. He had yet to draw in the flow, but he was already feeling as strong as if he had.

  “I love you,” he whispered, unsheathing his sword. Power as he had never imagined swept over him, saturating every part of his being.

  By now, the Althetan cavalry and infantry were pushing back the Angrääl lines. The Vrykol had retreated out of sight, but Gewey could still feel their presence. He turned to face the reserve forces and raised his sword.

  “Forward!” His voice boomed and echoed, as though within a great cavern. “Let this be our enemy’s doom.”

  The response was instant. Every single soldier facing him began banging his sword against his shield and repeatedly crying out the name of Darshan. Gewey turned back to the fray. An instant later his legs burst into violent life.

  With Kaylia’s strength now combining with the flow of earth and air, he was able to cover half of the distance to the enemy lines while the Althetans following were still managing their first few steps. The men fighting and dying ahead – no matter whether they were friend or foe - appeared to Gewey as insects. The rage had returned, and the power he held increased its intensity.

  The first Angrääl soldier he reached was cut down as if made of parchment: Gewey’s sword barely pausing as it sliced through armor, bone, and flesh. Again and again his enemies fell to his blade. Most scarcely knew he was upon them before his cold steel carved them to pieces.

  He continued cutting a swath through the enemy lines, relentlessly pushing on toward where he knew the Vrykol were gathered. The carnage he left in his wake was causing terror among the Angrääl soldiers. Many began to flee the battle, only to be met by the advancing Althetan reserves.

  Swords pressed in on him from either side, but he easily avoided them and made each attacker pay with his life. By the time the Vrykol finally came into view, his fury was so great that not a single Angrääl soldier dared to approach him. Many began throwing down their weapons the moment Gewey’s eyes fell upon them. Those who could not run, frozen in his path by their sheer terror, were shown no mercy. Soon the number of men whose life he had ended that day was beyond counting.

  He glared at the circle of still swaying Vrykol standing only a few yards away. Letting out a mighty roar of fury, he bared his teeth like a feral beast.

  At that moment, Yanti stepped into his path. His face no longer bore any trace of arrogance or smugness. His lips were twisted into a vicious snarl, and his eyes were dark and dangerous. In his right hand he held his long sword, and in his left a small triangular dagger.

  “It would seem I underestimated how strong you have become,” Yanti said. His voice was even and tempered, but his anger bled through.

  “And yet you still stand in my way,” Gewey responded, inching forward. “You will die a fool.”

  Yanti let out a snake-like hiss and then charged. He was far faster than any opponent Gewey had ever faced before, and the tip of his blade cut deep into Gewey’s arm before he could twist and spin away.

  “We will see who dies,” said Yanti. “My master may have to live without his prize.”

  Gewey spat before moving in, swinging his sword in a low, tight arc. Yanti deftly avoided the blow and quickly countered with a short thrust. Gewey deflected the blade and brought up his hilt at Yanti’s jaw. Yanti turned his head and ducked. Pain shot through Gewey’s leg as the dagger cut across his thigh. Blood poured freely from both of his wounds.

  Yanti stepped back and laughed tauntingly. “I have always desired to see the blood of a god. Disappointing, really.” He smiled darkly. “Perhaps it tastes better than it looks.”

  Again Yanti’s blade sought flesh, first feinting right and then coming down hard at Gewey’s neck. Gewey was only just able to block the blow. Sparks flew, and the sound of steel on steel was ear piercing. Spinning, he brought the back of his fist crashing into Yanti’s temple, sending him stumbling back. Without hesitation, Gewey followed this up with his boot, kicking his opponent hard just under the heart. With a deep grunt, Yanti landed flat on his back. In an attempt to finish things, Gewey stabbed at his chest, but his sword found only earth as Yanti rolled away and sprang up. His face was contorted and flushed.

  Gewey felt the flow swell as he pressed home his attack. Again and again he struck at Yanti, each time his blade coming closer to its target. His lips turned upward into a confident smirk, relishing the furious look on Yanti’s face as he desperately dodged and parried all of his attacks.

  Finally, Gewey saw an opening. Stepping sideways, he brought his blade across the hand holding the dagger. Yanti winced as it fell from his grasp. Without pause, Gewey moved in. Each time their swords collided, the sparks flew higher and brighter, bursting into tiny balls of white flame.

  Yanti’s face began to betray his fatigue, which only made Gewey’s attacks more ferocious and determined. Yanti began to lunge desperately, trying to force Gewey back on his heels, but to no avail. Gewey cut twice in rapid succession, one to Yanti’s shoulder, and the other his chest.

  The sight of blood gushing from the deep wounds he had inflicted caused the rage in Gewey’s heart to explode. He raised his sword and brought it down in a powerful, sweeping stroke. Time slowed as the blade closed in. It was only then that Gewey saw the smile flashing across Yanti’s lips.

  Yanti stepped in and to the left. Gewey had over-extended, leaving himself wide open. Now he understood his opponent’s plan. He wanted him to think he had won. He wanted him to strike hard and carelessly. His head jerked back as the hilt of Yanti’s sword smashed into his jaw. Gewey stumbled, trying to bring his blade in front of him, but pain filled his gullet. He looked down. Yanti’s sword had run him through.

  Yanti pushed the blade in deeper. “And so ends Darshan,” he said, his voice calm and confident. Gewey tried to raise his sword, but it fell from his grasp as Yanti gave a vicious twist to the blade inside him. He then ripped the sword free and stepped back, his arm lifted high in readiness to take Gewey’s head.

  Gewey sagged to his knees glaring defiantly, chin raised. But just as the final strike was on the verge of delivery, an arrow shot through Yanti’s wrist. He cried out, dropping his sword.

  Spinning around, Yanti was able to see hundreds of elves closing in. They had broken the Angrääl lines; some of them had already begun engaging the Vrykol. Another arrow buried itself in Yanti’s chest, sending him staggering back. Gewey clutched at his stomach - blood was gushing out, creating a crimson pool at his knees. He struggled to his feet and reached down to pick up his sword, but his head was swimming and his vision blurring. He fell to one knee. Even as he dropped, he saw three more arrows strike Yanti. His enemy’s expression was now a strange mixture of pain, anger, and sheer bewilderment over how this had been allowed to happen to him.

  Yanti collapsed in a heap.

  Gewey looked up. The Vrykol had been overrun and were falling one by one, their heads rolling from their shoulders. Three elf warriors clad in blood stained leather armor ran up to him.

  “You are hurt, Darshan,” said the first elf, his youthful features made grim and macabre by a mixture of blood and dirt. “We will help you back to the healers.” He waved over six more of his kin and ordered them to guard their passage through the battlefield.

  Gewey was too weak to argue. The flow was slowly draining from him. “I must retrieve my sword,” he said, pain shooting through him with each word. The elves held him tight as he picked up the blade and wiped it clean on the leg of Yanti’s pants.

  Leaning heavily on the shoulders of his elf escort, Gewey
looked out over the field. The forces of Angrääl, unable to stop the elf advance, were now falling back and attempting to regroup a few hundred yards to the south. Literally thousands of bodies lay amongst the dark puddles of blood blackening the battlefield.

  They were only halfway across the field when Kaylia and Aaliyah appeared, racing toward him in a dead run. Gewey’s guard was trailing far behind.

  Gewey managed a weak smile as they approached.

  “Fool!” cried Kaylia. “Damn fool!” Pushing the elves aside, she lowered Gewey to the ground.

  Aaliyah knelt beside him and placed her hands over the wound to his stomach.

  “Only stop the bleeding,” ordered Gewey. “Save your strength for those in dire need. I have survived worse than this.”

  Aaliyah frowned. “As you wish.”

  Gewey gasped as he felt the bitter cold of her healing touch. The flow reached inside him and he could feel his wound beginning to mend. He pushed her away after only a minute. “That’s enough for now.”

  The elf fighters helped Gewey to his feet and then slowly walked him back to where Nehrutu and King Lousis waited. There, Kaylia dressed the wounds on his arm and leg. Already hundreds of the injured and dying had been brought back from the battlefield and were being laid out in rows directly in front of the wagons. More were pouring in every minute.

  Lousis was surrounded by ten guards, while Nehrutu was a few feet away speaking with the healers and preparing to tend the maimed and dying. When they caught sight of Gewey, both shot him a disapproving glance.

  “You’re a bloody fool,” said the king. “You know that, don’t you?”

  Nehrutu only nodded at Aaliyah, cheerlessly.

  “I must help Nehrutu,” said Aaliyah. Without waiting for a reply, she followed him and the healers as they set to work.

  Gewey was led to a wagon just behind the king and sat down. Kaylia settled beside him. The elves all bowed before speeding off to return to the fray.