THERE WERE TIMES when Tarfan yearned for the long legs of a man or elf, and this was one of them. There were battles ahead of him and behind him, and he simply couldn’t move fast enough. The guards were several strides ahead of him and Taya, with Bastien jogging between, keeping his shifty gypsy eyes on everyone. Up ahead, Guang Ci plowed through the ranks, leaving Tarfan to wonder where in the Abyss the supposed knight had gone to.
Tarfan heard thunder in that moment, sounding loud and low enough to be in the sparse cloud that lingered over the morning’s battlefield. He saw the lightning afterward, only it wasn’t lightning. It was a great rolling ball of fire! And it was a half a heartbeat away from hitting Taya square and burning her to cinders. Tarfan cried out to his niece, reaching out for her as she stood suddenly stunned in the path of certain annihilation, like a startled doe. He dove, and tackled her, prepared to take the brunt of the fire himself, praying that she would be spared.
Thunder sounded again—the thunder of impact—and a tremendous heat rushed over the fallen dwarves, slamming into the hard ground behind them. Tarfan smelled scorched flesh, wondering for just a second if it was his own. When he realized both he and Taya were alive, he shot upright to have a look around, finding a dead horse in front of him and behind him, the smoldering body of a man.
“Tristus!” Taya wailed, bolting for him as he struggled upright, his white-gold armor smudged black all along the breastplate.
Tarfan turned to glare at the mage responsible, leaping aside just as the Fanese man rushed by on a white horse, his blond braid trailing him like a serpent’s tail. He was going after the knight.
Tristus saw him coming and hurried to his feet, knocking Taya aside to protect her. He’d lost his spear, but found his sword, and avoided having his head sheared clean off by lifting it to deflect the rider’s shorter blade.
“Go help the others!” Tristus shouted back at them. “I’ll deal with this one!”
Tarfan wanted to argue, but he knew what Tristus wouldn’t say. The dwarves were simply too short to be of much help against a man on horseback. “Come on,” he urged Taya, dragging her by the arm until she came on her own.
XIADAO LU SHOULD have known better than to trust that coward Ma Shou to ride with him. While he was likely standing safely behind the men, casting flame spells, Xiadao Lu had two enchanted blades to deal with. He suspected they weren’t simply enchanted, but actually forged in magic. He knew that Xu Liang carried
Pearl Moon
and could only assume he was seeing it for the second time as the pale blue light traced its sleek edges. The pale barbarian’s blade must have been one of the other Celestial Swords, since it glowed with a similar power. If so, Xu Liang had been more successful than Lord Han Quan expected.
No matter. Xu Liang would never return to Sheng Fan alive, let alone to the Imperial City. Whatever Swords he had discovered would be taken when this battle was won and brought back to Lord Han. Xiadao Lu and Ma Shou would only have to head back for the coast and be at the rendezvous to meet Zhen Yu within the allotted time.
Xiadao Lu, with the luck of a dragon and a geomancer’s enchantment, tasted victory. He knew how easily Xu Liang would go down if struck and this puny, pale specimen in league with him would pose little trouble once isolated. He swiped away Xu Liang’s next attack and swung to his other side to knock back the other’s blade, waiting for the moment when their timing would be just off, and someone’s neck or chest would be exposed. If Xu Liang went down first, he would have to die, else there would still be his wind attacks to be concerned with. The pale one, so far as Xiadao Lu could tell, was no sorcerer. He moved like a warrior and with a confidence that spoke of winning against terrible odds. It would be easiest to swat Xu Liang away with a lethal blow and move onto the entertainment of facing a better challenge in his pale, devil-eared companion.
An arrow flitted past Xiadao Lu’s ear, having come from the thinning mist further ahead. Xiadao Lu ignored it and kept fighting, though he thought about breaking out of their mounted dance long enough to charge at the archer—or archers—responsible. However, the mystic and the barbarian kept him too busy. A second arrow grazed his neck. He growled, striking harder at his opponents. The third struck his chest and fell away as the enchantment on his armor forbade harm to the wearer. It was effective against only one source at a time, unfortunately. Otherwise it would have been no trouble to cut through any number of barbarians Xu Liang wanted to send at him.
“You will fall!” Xiadao Lu promised the Imperial Mystic, just before a fourth arrow grazed his horse and reeled the animal into panic, dumping him from the saddle. The incident proved more convenient than his attackers intended, as Xiadao Lu was then able to rise to his feet and charge past the other two horses, planting himself as soon as he caught sight of the bowman. There were two enchantments cast upon his armor, the second a reserve spell cast by the geomancer, that could only be used once. He was certain he had come to the ideal moment to use it. He lifted his right foot, spoke a quick activation phrase, and stomped down on the cold, hard earth. His boot instantly became cast in a faint green glimmer. The light quickly drew toward the ground, starting an unnatural tremor. A wave of energy rushed forth, directly at the archer, and sent him flying.
The sound of hoof beats postponed any gloating. Xiadao Lu turned to see the pale barbarian coming. He readied his weapon and dared him on. A glint came to the white devil’s eyes and he smiled, lured Xiadao Lu’s weapon up, and then cut down.
“Fool!” Xiadao Lu laughed, following through with his own swing, feeling the shaft strike lower than he intended when he inexplicably lost his balance and fell onto his side, his body suddenly racked with pain. He lay on the ground and felt his life draining rapidly out of him, blood soaking his chest. Somehow the devil’s blade had penetrated his enchantment…and his armor. “Im-possible...!” he coughed as he tasted warm bitterness at the back of his throat.
He lay on the ground, unable to form another word, or soon even another breath.
XIADAO LU’S FINAL word went almost unheard as Xu Liang rushed to Alere. The elf slowed his mare and half climbed, half fell out of her saddle before she’d even come to a full stop. The crack of the warrior’s weapon across his back was enough to make Xu Liang believe the elf’s spine had been shattered, but he seemed to have full movement, even if it was uncoordinated at the moment. And in the distance, there was Gai Ping, victim of what was obviously a geomancer’s spell. Xu Liang knew the sorcerer with Xiadao Lu was a pyromancer and wondered if he’d grossly underestimated the larger of the two rogues, if he too had studied the mystic arts. He wondered also how Alere had managed to harm the very man who’d previously survived at least two wind attacks that should have killed if not severely injured him.
“His armor,” Alere said through his teeth, struggling to return to the battle he may not have realized was finished, even as Xu Liang helped him to stand. “The spell...is in his armor.
Aerkiren
...”
The elf collapsed into Xu Liang’s arms, collapsing Xu Liang as well. Xu Liang lowered to his knees, supporting his ally with what little strength
Pearl Moon
had left lingering in him. The loss of consciousness finally forced Alere to drop his sword and he lay still and silent, his back stained red across the shoulders.
“Fu Ran!” Xu Liang called into the clearing mist. He lowered his voice when the large man came. “Fu Ran, tell me how Gai Ping is.”
“He lives,” Fu Ran answered. “What...”
Xu Liang didn’t let him finish. “Take Alere from me. I must assist the others. This is not their fight.”
“I’ll go,” Fu ran offered, but as soon as he crouched down, Xu Liang carefully shoved the elf at him and returned to Blue Crane. “Stay with them,” he instructed the larger man, who nodded resignedly.
AS SOON AS the barbarian knocked him out of his saddle, Ma Shou cast a quick flame spell into the air, signaling the handful of bowmen he’d left behind as support to begin firing. The arrows flew out of the nearby mist, and the tide of a losing battle turned. Almost at once, two of Xu Liang’s bodyguards went down, and it was shortly after that when the half-sized woman cried out.
Ma Shou had almost been enjoying batting away the overzealous attacks of the armored barbarian with his twin blades, until that tiny cry lit a fire in his opponent’s eyes. Three wild, powerful swings drove Ma Shou back and ultimately threw him to the ground. He was spared only by his hurried blocking and finally, a wall of fire that took the last of his energy from him. Still, he thought the crazed barbarian might have rushed through the fire and tried to do away with him anyway, but he was distracted by the melee nearby, and charged into it like a madman.
When an arm flew into the dissipating flame wall free of its body, Ma Shou decided the fight had gotten ugly enough. He found his horse and quickly rode off into the thicker mists, back toward the mountains. There were devils in the mountains, but they burned easily. He would wait for Xiadao Lu and any other survivors.
XU LIANG WAS horrified at the sight he came upon. No one was left standing.