The Dread: The Fallen Kings Cycle: Book Two (60 page)

“Kiara, are you all right?” She could hear Felix’s voice, but it sounded far away. For a moment, Kiara swayed, drained almost to the point of losing consciousness. She heeded Brother Felix’s warning and gathered the strands of magic around her, from the mages in the circle, the Isencroft mages on the field, and the distant places of power. Magic rushed toward her with her incoming breath, easing the pain of her headache and giving her the strength to stand. Grimly, Kiara turned just as another bolt of crimson lightning burned toward her, ready this time for the onslaught.
There are still at least ten of them, and only one of me. This is going to be a contest to the death
.

Cam and the generals led their soldiers into battle with a fearsome shout and the din of drums and pipers. The Isencroft army swept toward the invaders in a thunder of hoofbeats and the pounding footsteps of armored men. Though Cam possessed no magic, he was certain that anyone with a beating heart could feel the power that crackled in the air just above them.

“Look there!” Cam’s head snapped up at the cry that rose from his men. The horizon had taken on a greenish glow, setting the battlefield in an eerie foxfire light.

“Best we be about our business, and leave the mages to theirs,” Cam muttered.

The din of battle rang out over the field as torches rose and the thunder of catapults rivaled the steady beat of the drummers. A large, fiery lump of something heavy landed only yards away from Cam, crushing two foot soldiers beneath it and lighting four others afire. Cam’s horse shied, but he reined in the frightened beast, intent on
cutting a swath through the invading line to clear a path for the foot soldiers behind him.

Cam blocked and parried, using his size and strength to batter through the defenses of the enemy host that swarmed toward them. As he fought his way through the tide of soldiers, he watched for a glimpse of Alvior’s standard or the green crest of Brunnfen.

“By the Whore! What in the name of the Crone is that?” One of the foot soldiers pointed in horror toward an open spot amid the fighting. Cam caught his breath. The ground was littered with the bodies of the dead and dying, both men and horses. But where the soldier pointed, the bodies were sliding together. Broken bodies of Isencroft and Temnottan soldiers and the carcasses of downed horses, drawn together by an invisible bond, gradually took the shape of a giant man.

The Temnottans surged forward, heedless of the horror, and Cam wondered if a trick of their mages had robbed the men of normal fear. The Isencroft soldiers met the charge, but Cam could see across part of the battlefield, where more of the monstrous creatures rose out of the assembled corpses of the dead.

“How in the name of the Crone do we fight that?” One of Cam’s captains reined in his horse within shouting distance.

“I don’t have the slightest idea,” Cam admitted. “Hard to kill something that’s already dead.”

“You’d better think of something fast.”

Cam looked up to see the corpse-giant begin to move. It had no actual hands; instead, two long chains of bodies hung from what might be regarded as its shoulders, and as the monster lumbered forward, it swung its shoulders
from side to side, knocking men out of its way with the force of its powerful sweeps, or stepping on those who fell in their mad scramble to get out of its way.

“Close ranks!” Cam shouted above the fray, grateful that this new horror had at least silenced the pipers.
Nothing drives a man into a killing frenzy as quickly as a dozen damn pipers
, he thought.

“Strike in a tide, like the sea,” he shouted. “Topple it.”

Cam could see the terror in the eyes of the men who surged forward, and he wondered if they saw the same fear in his face. While he hoped that the sheer momentum and weight of the running troops and galloping horsemen would take the corpse-beast off its feet, he had no idea how to vanquish it once they had it on the ground.

Rage drove him forward as he watched the corpse-beast use the bodies of their fallen comrades against them, wielding the dead as bludgeons. Its long “arms” hit with the force of a catapult strike, crushing soldiers beneath its weight or sweeping a line of men and horses out of its way. The survivors of the first wave reached the “feet” of the beast and began to push against it to knock it over, but it swept them away as casually as a child might flick a gnat, sending men flying through the air.

Goddess help me, I have no idea how to fight a thing like this
, Cam thought. The green glow in the sky grew brighter, replacing the dying light of the sunset with its own sickly glare.
It will take a river of blood to fight our way out of this
.

Kiara tipped the burning glass, barely averting the crimson fire that blasted toward her. Morane and Benhem were chanting new wardings, while Felix and Sister
Eunice sent more of their own magic toward her. If the Temnottan mages had merely sent lightning, the wardings would have been sufficient to keep it beyond the circle. Instead, they sent their defensive blast along the same tendrils of power Kiara had used, following the trail of her own magic back to her.

Kiara could feel herself growing weak from the onslaught. Her head was pounding too hard for her to think clearly. Taking a deep breath, Kiara grounded her energy and held up the burning glass once more, marshalling her power to go on the offensive.

She reached out for energy from Brother Felix and the mages in the circle and from the Isencroft mages, taking all she dared without weakening them. Kiara returned her focus to the parchment map at her feet, working her way across it, concentrating on each place in its turn. As she turned her concentration to the palace at Aberponte, a bright blast of crimson fire surged through the channel of power she had opened toward the Temnottan mages. Before she could move to block it, the fire hit her, immobilizing her and sending a wave of excruciating pain through her body.

Sudden power welled up in Kiara, rising from the ground beneath her feet. It rose so quickly that she gasped as it drove out the pain of the crimson fire, and she felt the new energy like a fever, burning inside her. The power rose from nowhere and everywhere; it flowed upward from the ground, through the map, up her body, and into the lens. In her mind, Kiara could see a blinding light of coruscating colors, and for an instant, the radiance of the new power threatened to consume her with its intensity. Kiara felt the channels of magic burn raw with the sheer power that coursed through her.

White light blasted from the lens, visible, Kiara was sure, even for those without magic. It streaked across the sky in a dozen directions at once. But what amazed Kiara most was that, for an instant, as it coursed through her body, the light seemed to have a primal sentience of its own. It was angry over the strike that injured her. And in a blind, primitive rage, the power struck back at her attackers with wild force.

As quickly as it came, the light went dark, and Kiara collapsed to the ground, completely spent. She was barely conscious as Brother Felix hurriedly dismissed the wardings. Cerise and Rhistiart ran to her side. Felix and Morane joined them a moment later. Morane and Felix hung back as Cerise attended Kiara, and Rhistiart scrambled to do the healer’s bidding. Finally, Cerise sat back on her heels and motioned for the others to come closer.

“What in the name of Chenne was that?” Kiara managed, her whole body still tingling uncomfortably.

Brother Felix exchanged a nervous glance with Morane. “I believe you managed to channel the Flow,” Morane said uncomfortably. “What were you thinking right before the power surged?”

Cerise pressed a wineskin of warm wine to Kiara’s mouth, and she took a sip. “I was working my way across the map, drawing power from the sacred places. I had gotten as far as Aberponte when the Temnottans attacked,” Kiara said.

Brother Felix nodded. “The Flow runs beneath Aberponte. It might be possible that you accidentally tapped into that power to protect yourself. The Temnottan blast could have easily killed you.”

Kiara swallowed hard, grateful for another sip of the
wine. “There was something else. The power… was aware. Not completely sentient, but aware in a primitive way, as if it was striking out on instinct. I had the strangest feeling that the Temnottan attack made it angry, and that it was protecting me.”

Brother Felix met her eyes. “There is something else besides the Flow in Aberponte, something in a box in the necropolis,” he said quietly.

Kiara gasped, remembering the
nenkah
and the part of Cwynn’s consciousness that had taken refuge there. “How is that possible?”

“I don’t know. But if it’s true, if he has an innate ability to wield the Flow, and if he was aware enough for his consciousness to flee to you when he was in danger, then it might be possible that your power grasped at everything within reach when you were focused on Aberponte and the attack came. Your power might have woken him as you pulled the Flow to you, and that consciousness would have reacted in very simple terms. Before, he chose to flee. This time, he chose to fight.”

The long chain of dead bodies swung across the field, sweeping Cam and his soldiers out of its way. Cam flew backward, landing hard on his back. Tossing him through the air was no easy feat, yet the corpse-giant had managed it effortlessly. Cam groaned and decided there were no broken bones. As he struggled to his feet, he saw that others had not been so lucky. Several of his men lay with a leg or an arm badly twisted beneath them, broken by the force of their fall.

“Ready for another charge!” Cam shouted to the soldiers to regain their feet.

Without warning, the sky above them turned a dazzling white, as if the sun itself had drawn near. Yet this light bore no heat, though it nearly blinded Cam. Reflexively, he threw his arms over his face and dared another glance through slitted eyes. The brilliant light struck the corpse-giant square in the center, so that the monster began to tremble from top to bottom. Mouthless, it could make no cry, but the whole infernal conglomeration shuddered as if with a sudden, violent fit. Cam’s eyes burned from the glare, but he could not look away. As Cam stared in amazement, the bonds that held the corpses together broke, and the monster collapsed into a heap of motionless bodies.

A cheer went up from Cam’s men and Cam breathed a sigh of relief. Yet as he turned to help one of the injured soldiers to his feet, he spotted a green banner fluttering in the wind not far to the right.

“Any man who can fight, follow me!” Twenty men rallied, battle-bloodied but still combat ready.

“What was that light? Where did it come from?” The soldier looked around, frightened and bewildered.

“If it’s what I think it is, it’s on our side,” Cam replied, with a quick glance toward where he knew Kiara and the mages were hidden on the hillside. “Let’s make it expensive for those invading bastards.”

Anger burned fresh through Cam’s veins as he charged forward, intent on reaching Alvior’s banner. Isencroft forces had seized the offensive, taking advantage of the shock from the brilliant white light. Across the field, Cam could see Isencroft’s soldiers fighting with renewed energy, heartened by the unexpected show of power. Cam forced down his concern for Kiara’s safety, focusing on one goal: Alvior.

They fought their way through a line of Temnottan soldiers who found themselves badly outnumbered and cut off from their regiment. The Temnottans fell to their knees, arms raised in surrender. Cam glanced down the line, looking for anyone of rank. He found an injured and terrified young lieutenant and grabbed him by the arm.

“Where is Alvior of Brunnfen?”

“I don’t know.”

Cam brought the tip of his sword up beneath the young soldier’s chin. “That bastard doesn’t deserve your loyalty. There’s no need for you to die on his account. After all, I don’t see him fighting to save you. So I’ll ask only one more time: Where is Alvior?”

“He’s heading back to the coast,” the lieutenant managed, taking a deep breath. “We were supposed to cover his escape.”

Cam removed his sword from his captive’s throat and cursed. “Damn his soul to the Crone!” Cam looked around and saw that, along with abandoning his banner, Alvior had also left behind the shield that bore his crest and had torn the colors from his armor. “Bloody coward! He didn’t have the stomach to finish the war he started.”

Still cursing, Cam rallied his men. “You there,” he said, gesturing with his sword to five of the soldiers who had come with him. “Disarm the prisoners, tie them up, and walk them back to our lines. The rest of you, come with me. Archers, make ready. We’ve got a traitor to hunt.”

Clouds of smoke hung over the battlefield from the burning missiles. The clouds overhead had grown more threatening, and in the distance, thunder rumbled. A cold rain began to fall, darkening Cam’s mood further. He
grumbled an increasingly creative litany of curses as he made his way over the battle-scarred ground.

Without his colors, it would be more difficult to spot Alvior. “Keep your eyes open,” Cam shouted to his men. “He’s a hands-breadth taller than I am, but not as broad. I’d expect him to have armor befitting his fancied role as king, and you might see a bit of green cloth where he’s torn off his tunic. Spread out the line. We win a victory for the queen when we destroy the pretender.”

They doubled their pace. The fiercest battle had moved off to their left, as had the bulk of the troops from both sides. Cam had no illusions that Alvior would put himself into harm’s way. No, Cam thought, it would be like Alvior to skirt the thick of battle, intent on saving his own skin. One of his soldiers came running toward him, breathless.