Chains of Mist (38 page)

Arex didn’t turn. “Are you?” he replied.

Drogni didn’t answer. He thought back to the last time he had prepared to do battle with the Traika, four nights ago. He had felt some fear then, to be sure, but mostly just a gnawing worry that had been quickly dispelled by adrenaline. He had been confident in his own abilities. Then, there had only been a
chance
of enemy sorcery. This time, it was a certainty. “Our
to’laka
will help to hide our presence for a time,” Arex had told them, “but that protection will be incomplete. And once the enemy senses us, even that will be gone. We will be on our own.”

That last phrase, spoken with finality, had sent a chill down Drogni’s spine, and remembering it made his blood run cold.
‘On our own.’
Drogni remembered the last time he had been on his own—it hadn’t gone well. He swore to himself that this time would be different, but that nagging voice in the back of his head had asked,
will it?

“Warrior of
Tel’aria
,” whispered Arex. “Are you ready? We cannot delay—they will find us. The time for attack is now.”

Drogni turned his head and met the
Dar’katal
’s gaze. In Arex’s eyes there was no fear, and Drogni allowed the Kastria warleader’s confidence to bolster his own. In a single smooth stroke, he drew
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
from his back. The glyphs on the Mari’eth blade glinted in the starlight. He looked back at the Traika village, a few hundred yards distant. “To battle,” he said.

The
Dar’katal
raised his own sword. There was no rousing speech, no motivational words to kindle the fire of fury within his warriors. There was no need; bonfires blazed in their hearts, and every man here knew what was at stake. Victory…or annihilation. “To battle,” he simply replied.

And one hundred and seventy-six Kastria swarmed from the trees.

* * * *

“My own
to’laka
cannot pierce the Traika barriers and see into the enemy village,” said Arex as they walked, “But they have confirmed that a great number of Traika have entered Belayas territory…which has for some reason been left nearly undefended. Perhaps it is a feint and perhaps
we
are the real target. To my knowledge, the Traika and the Belayas are not at war and have not been for nearly seven years. But that seems needlessly complex. To me, the only explanation is that the darkness of
Kil’la’ril
has so consumed the Traika that they no longer care who they fight. The Belayas are small and vulnerable…easy targets, unfortunately. We are still taking a risk by attacking the Traika in their own territory—but this is our best chance for victory.”

“What is your attack strategy?” asked Makree.

“We need to take the Traika
to’laka
out of the battle,” said Arex. “If we can do that, then I believe that we can win; if we cannot, then we will surely lose.”

“Agreed,” said Drogni. “So once we get in, we focus all of our fire on them—”

“No.” The
Dar’katal
shook his head. “That will not work. I wish it were otherwise, but such a strategy can only end in defeat.”

“And why exactly is that?” Drogni felt for a second as though he were talking with the Vizier—a definitive refusal of his own plan with no explanation.

“Hmmm…perhaps I misspoke. Such a strategy will
probably
end in defeat. I said we need to remove their
to’laka
from the battle, not that we need to kill them.”

At first, Drogni couldn’t see a difference between the two, but the answer came to him quickly. “A distraction?”

“Precisely. If I had more warriors, I would use your strategy, but even though the Traika have sent many of their warriors against the Belayas our numbers will likely be even at best. If we were to concentrate our attack on the
to’laka
, we might kill a few, but we would not get them all, and in the meantime we would be vulnerable to attack from the Traika warriors. If we can distract the
to’laka
for long enough, I am confident that we can turn the tide of battle in our favor, at which point we can overwhelm the
to’laka
with our numbers.”

“So what’s your plan?” Drogni had always been uneasy about plans involving hypotheticals, but he had learned that they were impossible to avoid. “That’s gonna have to be one big distraction.”

“Indeed.” The
Dar’katal
paused, and when he continued his voice was apologetic. “Over the past days, I have devoted a great deal of thought to how we would defeat the Traika, so please do not think that I have reached this conclusion lightly.”

“What is it?”

“The distraction, warrior of
Tel’aria
, is you.”

Drogni was not surprised; a part of him had already known what Arex was going to say. He did not reply, merely taking a deep breath and running his hand along the hilt of
Ss’aijas K’sejjas.

“More precisely,” continued Arex hastily, mistaking Drogni’s silence for anger, “the distraction is your sword. My own
to’laka
have been fascinated by it since you have arrived—a few even considered stealing it, but I forbade it. The magic with which it is infused is completely foreign to us, a manifestation of power of a type that we have never encountered. The Traika
to’laka
will also covet this blade; it may be that they will even covet it at the expense of the battle going on around them.”

Drogni admitted that the
Dar’katal
’s
reasoning was pretty good. Still… “‘May’?”

Arex shrugged. “Obviously, I cannot be sure. It may be that they will ignore you and unleash all of their power to influence the battle, in which case we will lose. That is the rational course of action—after the battle is won and you have been slain, they can then examine the sword at their leisure. But my scouts have seen the ruins of the Seramor and Edala villages. The villages were torched, their every inhabitant killed. And now the same is about to happen to the Belayas, a tribe that is at peace with the Traika. I see this, and it tells me one thing: these Traika are past the point of rationality, of reason. This is our best hope for success, warrior of
Tel’aria
. It may be our only one.”

Drogni walked in silence. He agreed with Arex’s assessment of the Traika; they were beyond rational thought. However, he disliked the idea of fighting all of the shamans by himself, counting on a magic blade he knew next to nothing about to save him. “I’ll be your distraction,” he replied, “But on one condition. You send a squad of warriors to attack the shamans while they’re focusing on me. They take the shamans out from behind, and then we all get back to the battle. One against many…I don’t like those odds.”

Arex looked pained. “I understand your hesitation, warrior of
Tel’aria
. And believe me, were I in your situation I would feel the same. However, I must refuse, and this is why. We need the Traika
to’laka
to completely forget the larger battle. Nothing must remind them that, with a thought, they could turn the tide of the fighting. If I sent a
tar’keta
to do as you request, they might succeed in killing one or two…but I fear that mere spears will not harm the
to’laka
. More likely, all such an attack would accomplish would be to remind them of the larger battle. And I do not think that we can take that chance, warrior of
Tel’aria
. That is why it must be you, and you alone, who fights them.”

Drogni heard the
Dar’katal
’s words with a sinking feeling in his chest. He knew that Arex was right. Their best chance of victory was for him to take on the full might of the Traika shamans…alone.

For a moment, the thought nearly overwhelmed him. How could he possibly succeed against such odds? But then he grasped the hilt of
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
, and felt fresh strength run through him. With it came determination, and he banished his fears and his doubts.
If I have to take them alone, then I will. This is not my world, or my war, or my enemy, but I am still Drogni Ortega, Supreme Allied Fleet Commander.

This time, I will not lose.

* * * *

For a moment, the Traika were caught unawares. One moment for the Kastria to attack unchallenged, and they used it well. Drogni fired off half a dozen shots and swept
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
through the neck of a Traika warrior, while elsewhere dozens of Traika were cut down unawares by sword and spear and arrow.

All too quickly, the moment passed.

As Drogni leapt over the corpse of what he suspected was a Belayas warrior, he felt a sudden rush of cold air sweep towards him and bend away at the last moment. To his left, a pair of Kastria froze mid-attack, their skin turning blue and icicles forming about their faces and chests. A second blast of sorcery hit Drogni and was repulsed by the Mari’eth blade, and the frozen Kastria shattered, dissolving into a million fragments of ice and flesh. Ducking under a thrown spear, Drogni whirled to face the source of the magical attacks,
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
held protectively in front of him.

Before him stood thirteen men and women, garbed in what appeared to be robes of Human skin, their bodies a grotesque mass of piercings and tattoos. Their eyes were focused, not on Drogni, but on the Mari’eth sword he held. The foremost of the shamans, an old woman with lightning flickering in her deep green eyes, stretched out a hand towards the blade, chanting words of sorcery, and the weapon leapt forward as if of its own accord, nearly pulling free of Drogni’s grasp. Drogni swiftly holstered his par-gun and grasped the sword’s hilt with both hands.
The only way you’re getting this is off my corpse, you stelnak!
For a few moments, the pressure on the blade continued, then it vanished as the shaman slowly lowered her hand. Her gaze swiveled towards Drogni, and she blinked slowly—once, then again. Though every fiber of his mind was screaming at him to turn away, Drogni forced himself to return that demonic gaze without blinking. Ignoring the chaos raging around him, he focused on these thirteen Traika who had the power to turn and control the tide of this battle.

Thirteen Traika who, with their attention firmly centered on Drogni, were allowing the battle to swirl around them
and not influencing it at all.

Just as Arex had predicted they would.

Normally, Drogni was avidly opposed to plans that relied on the enemy making a stupid mistake, and he had only grudgingly agreed because he could think of no better strategy. But now, staring into the eyes of the Traika shamans, he knew that Arex had been right. There was no humanity in those eyes, no trace of reason, no spark of soul.

Only greed.

Greed for power.

It was the same look that he had seen in the eyes of Rokan Sellas, seven days ago. These shamans were further proof that his evil had spread, and would continue to spread, if he were not stopped.
But I will stop him. Daniel Lester, Tina Galdro, Palis Denar, Gregory Daalis, Sara Westan…I will stop him.

A spear smashed into Drogni’s side, but his fiber armor absorbed the blow. Despite the battle swirling around him, the air seemed very calm—as if nothing existed except him and the Traika shamans.

No…not quite nothing. Through the quiet of the night, Drogni thought that he could hear Rokan Sellas’s inhuman cackle.

And with that, a barrier within him cracked. He raised
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
high, and in the faint moonlight the blade appeared to flicker, as though it were made not of metal but of lightning.
I’m coming for you, you stelnak,
he thought, focusing his mind on the demonic visage of Rokan Sellas.
I’m coming for you.

It begins tonight.

With a roar, Drogni brought his sword whistling down.

* * * *

Before the shamans had a chance to react, Drogni was upon them,
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
slashing and cutting like a talon of living fire. Three shamans fell before his flickering blade, one of them the woman who had tried to take the sword from him. They died without a sound, mouths and eyes still wide with shock. A giant bird with pitch-black feathers and cruel orange eyes swooped at him, jagged talons clutching at his face. Drogni slew the creature with one slash of his blade, sending a spray of hot blood fountaining through the air.

As he fought, Drogni felt his blood begin to fire with rage, heard in his mind the soft, tantalizing voice that promised power if only he would unleash his anger. But this time was not the same as on Hilthak, not the same as four nights ago; this time, Drogni was expecting it, and he forced away those dark thoughts.
You will not take me again
, he thought. With every fiber of his being, he fought against that feeling.

Drogni tightened his grip on
Ss’aijas K’sejjas
and felt a sudden rush of strength from the Mari’eth blade. He felt rejuvenated, the protective power of the sword reinforcing his mental defenses. As long as he held fast to the sword, the darkness could not take him. K’aali Ta’sai might be dead, and her clan with her, but their collective willpower remained in their blade, rising up to help him fight the darkness.
With them by my side. I will defeat Rokan Sellas. I will end this.