The Hidden Relic (The Evermen Saga, Book Two) (49 page)

T
HE
Hazarans wheeled, galloping in a circle around the field, gathering numbers and momentum before turning and rushing forward in a mighty column. The fastest riders outdistanced the others to form a wedge like the point of a spear, and at the very tip rode Jehral, flanked by Shani and Bartolo. The elementalist in her red robe and the bladesinger in green stood out against the uniform yellow-on-black of the Hazarans, and the sound of the hooves on the earth formed a roar that provided a thunderous counterpoint to the jagged lightning that danced in the clouds above.

The gates stayed shut when they pulled up in front, halting their wild momentum, and Bartolo looked up fearfully, but when no orbs rained down, and no enemy came to meet them, he immediately knew something was wrong.

The Hazarans kept coming, forming a great mass of riders that milled in front of the gates, with Jehral, Shani and Bartolo the foremost of all. Ladders were lifted, ponderously moving through the air, incredibly long to reach the top of the Wall. The riders kept coming, but with no enemy to fight they were no longer able to use the speed of their wild charge. The horses stamped and the men astride them halted in confusion.

"We need to get out of here," Bartolo said.

"The prince has ordered that we stay here to guard those who carry the ladders," Jehral said. "We cannot leave."

A chill went through Bartolo's spine as the gates started to open. "Form your men up. Do it now."

"Lord of Fire," Jehral breathed as the gates drew wide.

The enemy commander must have stripped the Wall bare of defenders; there was no other way to account for the force that now challenged the Hazarans.

Sixty imperial avengers led them. Behind the avengers was a column of legionnaires — the elite imperial guard, with Alturan-made enchanted armour and swords. At least four thousand revenant swordsmen and axemen stood side by side with twice as many revenant pikemen. Bartolo could see at least three columns of templar warriors in white, and then more men in black — legionnaires and Black Army regulars as far as the eye could see. Bartolo had never seen so many men formed up in disciplined ranks. He knew a superior force when he saw it.

"Sound the retreat," Bartolo said harshly. "Do it!"

Bartolo heard the sound of trumpets, but it was the enemy's call to attack. The sixty avengers led the charge.

"I cannot retreat," Jehral said.

"Scratch your honour!" Bartolo said. He turned to Shani. "Stand by me. I'll carve a way out."

Shani smiled sadly. "You know that's impossible."

"Then I'll take as many of them with me as I can!"

Bartolo drew his zenblade and called forth its power. His armoursilk blazed like the sun as he pointed his weapon at the avengers leading the charge.

Jehral lifted his scimitar above his head. "Charge!" he cried.

The Hazarans cried out as one, spurring their horses into action.

Just outside the gates of Seranthia, the two forces met in one final cataclysmic crash of blood and death.

59

E
VRIN
Evenstar sighed as he regarded his handiwork. He'd done what he could, built what wards and traps he was able to, but he was too weak, his injuries were too great and now he could do no more.

He lay on his back, his breath coming hoarsely as he looked at the still, reflective surface of the pool. The stone was hard behind his back, but if he moved the pain would overwhelm him. Better to stay like this.

He glanced at the blood-stained bandage on his right leg and chuckled. The cloth had been so crudely wrapped around the gaping wound that he could still see down to the bone. The skin around was mottled with colours of blue and black, puffy and inflamed. The bones in his other leg rubbed against each other whenever he moved. It took all of Evrin's effort to suppress the pain and stay conscious.

The source of Evrin's humour wasn't his injuries; it was the fact that here he was with all the essence in the world in front of him, and yet he lacked the strength to do any more with it. There was a time when he could have healed himself without a second thought. Those powers were forever lost to him now.

"Evrin Evenstar. Killed by gangrene," he muttered. "What an epitaph. Could at least have been a sword."

Evrin had done what he could. Now he could only wait.

Two days ago, passing time in the chamber with only himself for company, Evrin had run out of food. An hour ago he ran out of water. The pool was tantalising, but it wasn't filled with water. Unlike the Primate's foul elixir, this oily black liquid was tasteless, but quenching Evrin's thirst was impossible. The
raj ichor
wouldn't kill him, but drinking the essence would give him no benefit besides making him quite ill.

Evrin looked around the vaulted chamber, wanting to fix his eyes anywhere but on the reflective surface of the pool. It was hard not to, however, for there was only a crescent-shaped gallery of stepped stone; everywhere else was taken up by the walled pool.

At one end of the crescent a hole could be seen where the spiral stairway led down to the base of the statue. Evrin lay in wait, propped up against the stone tiers at the opposite end, where he would see any who made it this far.

The pool was perhaps fifty paces across, lined with a stone wall where it met the crescent, its opposite walls formed by the shell of the statue. It had been filled to the depth of a man's knees.

In the very centre of the pool a stepped island of stone emerged from the liquid. On this platform, the relic of the Evermen dominated the room, graceful and beautiful, ethereal and otherworldly.

It looked like an oval mirror, twice the height of a man and unbelievably thin, hovering in the air without apparent support, with no part of it touching the stepped island in the pool. The mirror initially appeared reflective, but on examination it was not; its surface shimmered silver and was difficult to focus on.

On the mirror were three seals: one on the rim below, a second on the left, and a third on the right. The seals were made of a glossy, metallic fabric, akin to the material that the pages of the Lexicons were made of, and each seal was covered with runes.

The pool was simply the power source for the magic. Creating the relic had required breakthroughs of knowledge even for the Evermen, yet gathering such a large amount of essence hadn't required skill, simply dedication and ruthlessness. Evrin glared at the essence now. Every drop was obtained by blood. The gods had betrayed their worshippers.

Long ago, when Evrin was last here, he had put the three seals in place. He didn't have the power to destroy the portal, but he could turn his brothers' magic against them. All of the energy provided by the pool of essence was now being drained by the seals. The pool now powered the seals that kept the portal closed.

Evrin cast his mind back to the events that had brought him here. It had seemed so simple, back when he had charged Killian with the task of destroying the Primate's refinery and set himself the task of destroying the knowledge hidden at the Pinnacle.

But he had failed at his task, and whether the Primate discovered the location of this place or not, Evrin knew he would die here.

For he hadn't been able to build the traps with a mechanism to allow his passage back out. Evrin's wards would prevent anyone from entering, but they would also prevent him from leaving.

Guarding this place was the whole reason for Evrin's existence. He might have liked to share this burden with Killian, but perhaps the lad was better off not knowing about the portal, just as the rest of them were better off in their ignorance.

The devout of Merralya prayed for a day when the Evermen would return, and take them to a land of golden skies, far from the pain of this world they lived in.

Evrin knew the truth. The return of the Evermen was the last thing they should pray for.

Evrin would stand guard at the portal for as long as he was able.

When thirst overcame him, Evrin would join his maker.

60

B
ARTOLO
fought two avengers at once, while at the corner of his eye he could see Shani battling a third from atop her horse. He vaguely remembered leaping from his horse when he'd seen blood gushing from its neck after a legionnaire's sword blow.

He ducked under the whistling blur of a flail and then thrust at the red slit in the foremost avenger's face, his bladesinger's chant coming full and strong, the sizzling zenblade penetrating the defences of the avenger's mask. As the avenger fell Bartolo was barely fast enough to catch the sword blow of yet another. As Bartolo's song faltered for an instant a legionnaire's sword bit through the armoursilk in his side. Bartolo gasped at the pain of it, turning on his heel and taking the warrior's throat. Two spiked balls of metal smashed into Bartolo's legs, knocking him from his feet.

He rolled and leapt back to his feet, his sword arcing through the air to take an avenger's head clean off at the shoulders. Bartolo could see Shani, still astride her horse, throwing ball after ball of flame at avengers and legionnaires alike. The smell of burning hair and cooking flesh came rancid and strong. The cries of men, clashes of weapons, and whinnies of horses formed a cacophony. Bartolo could taste blood on his tongue; whether his own or someone else's, he wasn't sure.

Bartolo scanned the battle after beheading a revenant and a roar came to his lips as his gaze once again found Shani. She screamed as two pikemen came forward and thrust forward with their weapons, withdrawing the dripping points of their pikes and plunging them a second time into her horse's chest. Shani screamed and fell, tangled in her stirrups.

"Shani!" Bartolo screamed.

Avengers and snarling legionnaires were everywhere. There were too many of them between Bartolo and Shani, but he had to try. He ran forward and with two successive blows took down a yellow-eyed templar in white and a round-faced Tingaran legionnaire. He leaped up, springing from the legionnaire's back and sailing over a group of the enemy. Where were the rest of the Hazarans? Was it just him and Shani against this horde?

A legionnaire butted his forehead against Bartolo's unprotected face, breaking the bladesinger's nose and sending waves of pain through his head. Stars sparkled at the edge of his vision but he ignored them, crashing his shoulder into the Tingaran and eviscerating him with the zenblade.

Bartolo finally reached where Shani had been half-buried beneath her horse. "My legs," Shani gasped. "I don't think I can get up."

"Nonsense," Bartolo said, gasping the word between his bladesinger's chant as he cut down two more of the enemy.

He crouched down again and with a mighty heave lifted the dead horse so that Shani could roll away. One of her feet was twisted at a terrible angle, the ankle swollen as Shani gasped with pain.

"Rest as long as you need to," Bartolo said. "I'm not leaving this spot."

"Look out!" Shani cried, as she launched a fireball past Bartolo's shoulder. It scattered harmlessly on the rune-covered chest of an imperial avenger, but gave Bartolo time to face off against his enemy.

He blanched when he realised he was facing three avengers. No, there were four. Two moved to his right while the others moved to his left. He would never be able to take them all.

Then Jehral came out of nowhere, his horse charging into the avengers on Bartolo's left side, knocking them back. One of them stumbled, and Jehral's scimitar rang as it struck the avenger's neck, but the avenger's magic-enhanced body was too strong, and the rider wheeled his horse to strike again.

A second fireball flew past, striking one of the avengers directly in the creature's face. Shani launched them in a volley, a rapid succession of discharges that leapt from her fingers one after the other, and the metal on the avenger's face began to melt. It screamed then, a terrible, nightmare sound.

Bartolo ducked under the flail of the last avenger, and then blocked the black sword with his zenblade, shattering it into two pieces.

Jehral was soon fighting from his horse by Bartolo's side as Shani hovered on one leg, an expression of intense pain on her face as she attempted to hold the enemy back with ball after ball of flame.

Then Jehral's horse was cut down from under him by a revenant. The desert warrior fell heavily to the ground, then leapt back up, just in time to block an axe blow from the tall warrior in grey with half his face rotted away.

Jehral, Shani, and Bartolo fought side by side. The warrior from the desert saved the Petryan's life, and the bladesinger then saved the desert warrior. Clustered around the bodies of the horses, the corpses of their enemy piled up around them.

But it was three against a horde, and they all knew it was hopeless.

Even as Bartolo fought legionnaires, avengers, templars and revenants, his mind took note of the carnage around him. Fallen Hazarans fought beside their dead horses, their honour forcing them to stay against all odds. Bartolo realised he stood directly between the great gates to the city of Seranthia. How close they had come.

Bartolo missed blocking a revenant's sword and felt fire in his arm as the blade tore into his fading armoursilk. Beside him he heard Shani's scream, a sound he never wanted to hear from the woman he loved. Turning, he saw her, high in the air in an avenger's grip. "No," he cried weakly. Tears ran down his cheeks as he saw the avenger's black sword rising.

Bartolo prepared to leap forward. He knew he wouldn't be quick enough, but he would destroy the creature that ended Shani's life.

Suddenly Bartolo heard a rumbling sound from all directions and felt the ground heaving beneath his feet. Were the walls falling down? What else could make such a sound?

Clarions sounded behind the enemy's lines. The avenger dropped Shani; she fell heavily to the earth, but she was alive.

"They're regrouping," Jehral gasped. "I don't know why."

As the enemy drew back into the gate and once more formed up ranks, the rumbling grew louder, and Bartolo turned around and looked at the hills surrounding the city.