The Scorched Earth (The Chaos Born) (30 page)

The horse! Grab the Crown, get the horse, and flee!

The other riders were closing in on her now, too. The foot soldiers were coming up behind the Inquisitors, who stood poised
and ready for battle. And then the Crawling Twins arrived, bringing Chaos with them.

In the dim illumination of the soldiers’ torches, the creatures would look like little more than gangly, misshapen shadows crawling low to the ground. But though their eyes couldn’t grasp the true nature of the scuttling horrors that confronted them, the Twins let loose with a long, baying howl that was clearly not of the mortal world.

Somewhere between a roar and a scream, their cries rose to an ear-shattering pitch that made everyone drop to their knees and cover their ears. There was some malevolent magic in the howl; it left Cassandra’s head spinning and her senses disoriented. Even her mystical second sight was blurred by the terrible sound.

It took only a second to recover, but by then the Twins were charging forward, still crawling on all fours but moving with alarming speed. Instinctively, Cassandra threw herself forward, covering the bag containing the Crown as if her frail mortal body could somehow protect it.

She braced for the agony of claws and teeth ripping her flesh apart, but instead she felt a strange pulse of energy from the Crown. At the same instant, the Twins leapt over her prone form and threw themselves at the still-reeling Inquisitors.

Rexol recognized the power of Chaos in the unholy scream, even from inside the Crown. Though lacking any physical form, he somehow still felt a wave of pain and terror. But though the Minions were strong, so was Rexol.

He’d been praying for Cassandra to free the Crown from its sack and place it on her head. He was convinced if she tried to unleash the full fury of the Talisman, he could escape his prison and destroy the Crawling Twins. But when she failed to do so, he was forced to improvise.

The Crown’s power was focused on the mental rather than the physical. Calling on it, Rexol reached out and brushed against the dark, fetid minds of the red and blue beasts as they charged their helpless victims. Trapped inside the Talisman, he couldn’t stop their deadly assault; their wills were too strong. Instead, he manipulated their instincts and emotions, heightening their savage bloodlust while subtly pushing their fury away from Cassandra and redirecting it to the other enemies before them.

Cassandra didn’t have time to wonder why the Twins had ignored her and the Talisman to go after the Inquisitors. She needed to get away from the battle before the creatures finished off the others and turned on her.

Though her Sight was still fuzzy, she was aware of everything happening around her. Several of the soldiers had fled into the night, driven away by the horrific scream, but most—inspired by zealotry or coin—were standing by the Inquisitors. Two of the riders had vanished, but the other two were driving their reluctant horses into the fray. The Inquisitors were flipping, spinning and whirling like living tops, their staves whistling through the air with blinding speed as they met the Twins’ charge.

The monsters didn’t bother unleashing more Chaos magic at their foes; instead, they tore them apart with brute strength and raw speed. The red one lashed out a foreclaw, hooking it deep into the belly of Mirgul as he tried to leap over the crouching demon. The muscles of its gangly arm flexed and with a flick of its malformed wrist, the beast ripped out his innards, sending bits of gore and viscera spewing across the battlefield.

Mirgul’s face went white with shock and he fell to his knees, his staff slipping from his grasp as he fumbled at the entrails spilling from his belly. Ignoring him, the beast twisted to the side, its back leg jutting out at an impossible angle to grab the nearest
soldier by the throat in its curved toes. His eyes bulged as the beast contracted its claw, crushing his windpipe.

One of the horsemen tried to run the blue Twin down as it scurried along. But instead of being trampled beneath the mount’s hooves, the creature twisted its torso and leaned back so that it caught the horse’s underbelly in its clawed hands. The creature then stood up, lifting both horse and rider high above its head.

Four soldiers took the opening and rushed in, hacking and slashing at the monster’s legs, chest, and back with their swords. A dozen blows rained down, but instead of slicing the creature to bits, only a handful even managed to draw blood.

The Twin growled and slammed the upraised horse and rider to the ground, crushing two of the attackers beneath the animal’s bulk. It then whirled around and seized the other two soldiers as they tried to run and slammed their heads together with enough force to crush their helmets and cave in their skulls.

The second rider had pivoted his mount away from the violence, realizing flight was a better option. But as he set his spurs to his horse’s side, the blue Twin leapt forward, flying twenty feet through the air before landing on the horse’s back.

The impact brought mount, rider, and the Twin down in a heap, and the Minion tore into them both with claws and the sharp fangs of its piglike snout. The man managed a single scream, and the horse thrashed violently for several seconds before lying still, blood pouring from ragged holes in their throats.

There’s nothing you can do to save them! You have to get out of here now!

Cassandra forced herself to ignore the carnage as the other two Inquisitors fell on the red Twin, trying to drive it away from Mirgul. Their leader had collapsed onto his side, his body convulsing while a red froth bubbled up from his lips.

The animal she wanted to grab—the horse from the rider she’d
dislodged at the start of the battle—was already gone, racing off in terror. The horse that had been thrown to the ground still lay on its side, whinnying and kicking frantically but miraculously uninjured. The rider was unconscious, his body tangled up in the saddle and harness so that his weight kept the horse from getting to its feet.

Cassandra scooped up the sack at her feet and raced toward the panicked beast, knowing it was her only chance of survival. Nearby, the blue Twin was taking deep chunks out of a still-living soldier’s cheek with its tusks while using a long, sinewy tongue to lap up the geyser of blood.

As she reached the horse’s side, she felt another pulse from the Crown and the thrashing animal suddenly became calm and docile.

The red Twin had already broken the neck of one of Mirgul’s companions, and had seized the last surviving Inquisitor by the shoulders with its hands. Rolling onto its side, it pulled the Inquisitor to the ground, then used its rear claws to grab the flailing man’s ankles. Then it arched its back and ripped him in half, separating upper and lower torso with a wet pop.

Cassandra pulled a knife from the unconscious soldier’s boot and sliced the leather straps of the saddle and bridle. The instant it was cut loose, the horse scrambled to its feet. But instead of racing off, it waited calmly as if it somehow knew Cassandra would keep it safe.

The Crown
, she realized.

She paused for only a second to see if the men pinned beneath the horse were still alive, but both had been crushed to death when the beast had landed on them.

The battle was effectively over—only a handful of soldiers were still alive, and they were all trying to escape. But the Crawling Twins had other ideas. Reveling in the brutal massacre, they
were toying with those that remained: picking the soldiers off one by one as they tried to run, mutilating and maiming them out of sheer malice.

Go now! Once the soldiers are dead, they’ll come after you!

Cassandra slung the pack over her shoulder, grabbed a fistful of the horse’s mane, and swung herself up onto its bare back. She dug her heels into its side, and the beast took off.

Channeling her own power through the animal she rode, Cassandra was able to push the pace, racing over the gently rolling terrain and leaving the gruesome slaughter far behind them.

They won’t catch me now
, she realized after a few minutes with no signs of pursuit.
But they won’t give up the hunt, either
.

Keegan grimly raised the Sword above his head as the Chaos hordes rushed toward him, pouring through the breach in the Legacy. Time seemed to stop: the charging enemies becoming statues; the dark storm clouds above and the waves crashing against the sandy shore behind him frozen in place
.

A young woman lay unconscious at his feet, but his attention was focused on the exquisite weapon clutched in his hand. The black handle tingled in his grasp; the silver blade shimmered and pulsed with power
.

Armed with the Sword, he had the strength to stand alone against any mortal army. But the creatures bearing down on him weren’t mortal, and they were legion. This was his desperate, doomed final stand against overwhelming odds. He could stain the beach with the blood of a thousand foes, but in the end he would fall. Death was inevitable
.

And then the moment of stasis ended with a crack of thunder, and the horde fell upon him
.

Keegan woke with a sudden start, his heart pounding and his breath coming in short, quick gasps. The terror of the dream clouded his mind, and he struggled to make sense of the darkness and bodies pressed close around him for several seconds before he realized where he was.

We’re on our way to the Conclave
.

They’d covered a lot of ground in only three days despite having to tow Norr in addition to the supply sleds. They left early
each morning and marched well past dark, though sunset came quite early with winter looming in the east.

At night the sleds were arranged in a circle around the campsite, and several thick blankets were strung up between them to serve as makeshift walls to keep the wind out. Then each individual would wrap themselves in layers of furs and bed down for the night, all of them sharing the same space inside the ring. With nearly thirty men and women in their group it made for cramped quarters, but the heat from all the bodies huddled so close together did wonders to ward off the chill.

Jerrod lay close on one side, Norr on the other. He knew Scythe would be pressed up close against the big man, too. Despite Norr being the new clan chief, they were still Outlanders; they still stuck together. Even Vaaler still slept close to them; Keegan could hear him snoring just across from Jerrod.

Fortunately, none of them seemed to realize Keegan had woken up. Closing his eyes, he tried to slow his still-racing heart.

Despite never having seen it before, he recognized the Sword from his dream.

Not a dream. A vision
.

Though he couldn’t remember any of the details of the young woman lying at his feet, every detail of the perfectly forged blade was still absolutely clear. The power he’d felt coursing through him as he clutched the hilt left little doubt that the weapon was one of the three Talismans given to Daemron. Along with the Ring and the Crown, it had transformed him into an Immortal and given him the power to challenge the Gods themselves.

But it didn’t give me the strength to stop the Slayer’s army
.

Jerrod would want to know about the dream, but Keegan wasn’t sure he wanted to tell him. How would Jerrod react if Keegan told him he saw a vision of his own failure?

He’ll probably just brush it aside
.

It seemed as if nothing could shake the monk’s belief. He’d be more likely to see the dream as something positive, like the Sword’s calling to Keegan, just as the Ring had called to him in the Danaan forest.

When I answered that call, I woke a dragon and left Ferlhame in ruins
.

The fanatical monk might not feel any regret over the Danaan blood he had spilled, but Keegan wasn’t eager to bring similar destruction down on Norr’s people.

This isn’t like my vision of the Ring, anyway
, he rationalized.

That dream had been so intense, it had burned an indelible image into his mind; even after waking he could still feel the Talisman’s presence nearby. He didn’t feel the same connection to the Sword, though he did feel something.

It was possible the Sword worked differently than the Ring. Or maybe it was simply too far away for him to sense it clearly.

So why did you dream about this now? Are we getting closer to it?

The more he thought about it, the more he felt the visions were more like the dreams he’d had in his youth. A prophecy. A warning. A glimpse into one of many possible futures, far in the distance.

A future I want to avoid
.

Jerrod wasn’t the only one he could talk to about it, of course. Vaaler might be able to help him interpret or better understand the vision. But he’d barely spoken to Vaaler since they’d left the main Stone Spirit camp three days ago. Even if he did tell Vaaler about the dream, the Danaan would probably just see it as more proof of how arrogant and selfish Keegan was becoming.

In the wake of their second argument, Vaaler had taken to spending most of his free time with Shalana. The former chief was almost as much an outsider as Keegan and his friends; none of the other members of the clan seemed to talk with her beyond what
was necessary. Keegan half expected to see her sleeping next to Vaaler one night, but so far she’d stayed with her own people when bedding down.

Probably wants to keep as far away from Scythe as possible
.

The thought brought his final option to mind, but there wasn’t much point in telling Scythe or Norr. Norr already had enough on his mind, dealing with the pressures of being chief and speculating on the as-yet-unknown reasons behind the Conclave.

As for Scythe, Keegan admitted, he simply didn’t want to tell her. She’d embraced the idea that he was a wizard; she’d been more than happy to have him use magic to help Norr. But he knew she was still uncomfortable around Jerrod and all his talk of Keegan’s destiny as a savior. Telling her about the dream might unsettle her.

But what if the dream affects her, too? What if she was the woman on the beach?