By the Sword (26 page)

Naeshi still could not believe that the empire’s most powerful warrior had fallen prey to the wiles of an enemy female knight. General Edandir’s daughter would die that day because of misplaced belief.

What a fool. Ittonifer himself was going to make her a commander, and she refused.

It was just as well. Malinor did not need a woman in its army. Females were made for a different purpose. And General Edandir deserved to lose his child. He had refused to give Chrissa back.

Images of the delicate, pale damsel crossed his mind. Naeshi would go searching for her once every man from Sanctus was slain. There were only so many places to hide in a military camp. He would burn the entire thing down if he had to. He would find her.

And make her pay a high price for leaving me.

Several magicians had taken Aterun’s place in subduing the beasts. They stood around the large metal pens that held the animals.

The ground shook and everyone’s attention shifted to the hill afar off. Sanctus’ general emerged over the hill. He was riding a sleek firedrake. It was pitiful in comparison to the beasts that Malinor would soon set free.

I would have killed him last night if it weren’t for that pansy archer.

Naeshi’s moment had come. He was about to lead the army of the Malinorian Empire into the most important battle in its history.
The battle that Malinor would win.
He had stolen the glory from Jalarn.
At last.

The army of Sanctus was very close. The banging from their drums could be heard now. Jalarn studied his men. He had whipped them into finer shape than anyone else could have. Even the young lads that he had to break in days before stood in rigid determination, ready to fight. They would not fall easily.

Jalarn was proud of his decision to have lightweight armor designed for all of the men. Ittonifer had approved of his idea. The soldiers would move much faster than before, and they would not tire as quickly. With the beasts and magic spells in addition to Jalarn’s skilled army, the Sanctus warriors did not stand a chance this time.

Then again, it is not my army anymore.
Thanks to a warlock that is going to be dead very soon.

Jalarn’s throat was bruised where the magical grip had nearly strangled him to death. Despite the fact that he was alive, Jalarn bristled at the thought of having to bear the humiliation of being back among the commanders. Ittonifer most likely just wanted to teach him a lesson.
It was one he would never forget.

Jalarn’s men eyed him strangely when he approached them without his scarlet cape, but none dared to ask why he was not wearing it. It pleased Jalarn that they still feared and respected him. In reality, he was still their general. He would work his way back into Ittonifer’s favor soon. He would never, ever become so enthralled in something other than the prince.

He caught sight of Naeshi sitting atop the Pegasus mare. Ittonifer couldn’t have chosen a more incompetent fool to lead the army. Though undeniably strong and skilled with the sword, the man had a pea brain.

Jalarn remembered the day many years ago that he had first become a Malinorian soldier. Still just a young boy then, he had been hopeless and afraid. He had been so weak and pathetic. Ittonifer had seen to it that Jalarn and his mother starved, because of her lowly birth status. He had never approved of his younger brother’s marriage to a peasant. After Ittonifer’s brother had died, Jalarn and his mother were forced out of the castle. Jalarn’s parents had cared deeply for one another – a rare occurrence in Malinor. On
their
own, Jalarn and his mother had lived a pathetic, destitute life until she finally died from starvation. Jalarn would have died, too, had Ittonifer not noticed his strength the day that he had won the fatal fight against the other boys. When Ittonifer caught wind of Jalarn’s mother’s death, he brought Jalarn to the barracks for training.

As Jalarn’s skill deepened, Ittonifer had granted him the entire west wing of the castle. Jalarn had worked himself nearly to death on more than one occasion to get there. The years passed on until every last ounce of empathy had been driven from his soul. He had become exactly like Ittonifer. Jalarn had hated everyone and everything all the way up until
a few
nights ago when Talya had spared his life. He had been so confused then as to why she would do such an unnatural thing. His confusion had turned into an obsession.

As the strange sword maiden from Sanctus occupied his mind, something had been stirred inside of him. Something that was probably similar to what his father had felt for his mother. There was not a moment that Jalarn hadn’t thought of Talya. Thankfully, in the end, he had come to his senses. Where would he have gone if he had turned his back on Malinor and the prince?

I would have been
a nobody
in the world’s eyes, but maybe I would have been everything in Talya’s eyes.

Jalarn shook his head. It was disturbing that, even now, with a raging battle nearly in his grasp, all he could think about was
her
. She really had infiltrated his mind, working her way into a heart that he had been barely aware of. He had to forget about her and move on while there was still a chance to regain Ittonifer’s favor.

He shook his head.

General Jalarn of Malinor had fallen for a girl – for an enemy. He had been the prodigy general of a mighty empire, servant of a nation that did not allow any room for compassion, let alone love. He had acted like a sentimental adolescent, nearly losing everything.

Never again.

The enemy was close now.
Very close.
He could hear them marching.
The army that was led by Talya’s father.

Jalarn unsheathed his sword, his pulse racing. This was what he was born to do. Fight. Kill. Rule.

Despite that, Jalarn knew that Talya’s pleading face was going to haunt him for the rest of his life.

*****

Ittonifer’s lips curled into a satisfied grin as the sword maiden cried out to her God. He rarely grinned, but he really did love a good torture.

Talya’s pain had only just begun and nothing was going to save her. God’s Son did not even exist. She would see that now, as she died, indignant and alone. General Edandir would lose another loved one to the empire.

A traitor deserves nothing less.

“Forgive them!” she cried.

Ittonifer frowned. What was she talking about?

The bright beam of magic that surged violently into Talya’s flesh was suddenly driven back onto Aterun. The warlock began to
tremble
as his own spell worked its way through his frail body.

Talya dropped to the floor in a heap.

Ittonifer backed away as he quickly recited the spell again.

“
Acca
tabrusca
beruna
.”

Nothing happened.

“Aterun!” shouted Ittonifer.

The magician was supposed to be an anointed one of the prince, but he had allowed that girl’s God to overpower him.

“You incompetent fool!
I
will not be bested by Him!”

Ittonifer spat at Talya and stalked over to Aterun.

“
Karaphal
!” Ittonifer shouted.

The lightning-like surges ceased.

Aterun fell onto his backside, panting and groaning.

Ittonifer unsheathed his broad sword and drove its blade through the magician’s heart. He walked over to Talya’s cell and unlocked it. It was time to put an end to this girl and all of the madness that surrounded her.

Talya rolled onto her back. Her eyes widened as he came closer to her. Instead of cowering, she sat up and got onto her knees, looking right into his eyes. After everything that had happened, there was not a glint of fear in her gaze. What a warrior she could have made for Malinor.
For the prince.

The world was about to be rid of
another delusional rebel
.

Ittonifer lifted his sword just above Talya’s head, his black stare boring into her eyes. She closed them as a tear slipped down her cheek. She wished that she had been able to reach Jalarn, to make things right with Tanel and her father. It was too late for all of that now. In moments, she would be in Heaven. With Jesus and her mother. And Hanten. She bowed her head.

“Lord, into Your Hands I commit my—”

A piercing clang resounded just above her head.

Talya opened her eyes and looked up.

Jalarn stood at her side. His sword was blocking Ittonifer’s blade mere inches away from her face.

Talya rolled away from beneath the clash of metal just as Ittonifer
’s sword
broke free from Jalarn’s blocking move and slammed down
onto the ground – right where her head had been
.

“Run, Talya!” shouted Jalarn.

*****

General Edandir was grateful that he had chosen a dragon as his steed for the battle. He needed its powerful body and sharp fangs for the best chance of making it to the castle quickly. He had to get Talya out of there.

From the top of the hill, he could already see the monstrous beasts that Ittonifer had drawn from the deep. They were still in their cages, but it was only a matter of moments before they would unleash their demoniac-driven fury on his men. He was more grateful than ever to have the powerfully built giants fighting on his side.

Edandir urged his firedrake down the hill. His mounted swordsmen followed. Once he reached the bottom, he signaled to his archers to be ready. They were standing at the top of the rise now. Their bowstrings were stretched taught, ready to shoot.

The general raised his sword. Thousands of arrows whistled through the air and rained down on Malinor’s knights.

A chorus of snarls and shrieks filled the air
as hundreds of them fell
. The monsters had been set free. General Edandir charged ahead with his army roaring behind him. His firedrake bounded fearlessly toward the mass of armed men.

Edandir drew his sword as he and his dragon collided into the wall of enemy horsemen. He slew three of them within seconds as his dragon breathed fire on several more. The general sliced and stabbed his way through the thick of the battle as his dragon shot out
more streams
of fire and lashed with his tail.

The castle still seemed like it was miles away.

Pori and Timlin fought next to him atop their strong
war horses
. Endil roared his notable battle cry nearby, clubbing down enemy knights with his mallet in one hand and stabbing them with his broad sword in the other.

Flaming balls raced in the air above them. Piercing cries echoed all around them. The archers had been hit. Tanel flashed through Edandir’s mind.

God, protect
Your
servants as they fight the enemy for You.

A terrifying snarl resounded through the air as a winged, fire-breathing dragon, larger than any animal that Edandir had ever seen, flew over him. It was flying toward the archers.

*****

Tanel was barely able to leap off of his mare in time as an oncoming flaming boulder collided with the animal. He got up and the sickly smell of burning flesh permeated his nostrils.

“No!” he cried.

His noble
war horse
had been slain, but there was no time to mourn her. Another fireball slammed into the ground near him and split into hundreds of fiery chunks that shot everywhere. Several slammed into his back and legs.

Tanel dropped and rolled, putting out the flames. He dashed away as another rock came screaming for him, ignoring the raw burning sensation all over his back. There were so many and they were coming at them too fast.

The remaining archers scattered. Tanel caught sight of Wenyn. The other archer’s arm had been burned. Wenyn sat on the grass, holding his limb.

Tanel raced over to him. A fireball soared just over their heads. He bent down beside Wenyn and sliced a section from his cape. He wrapped it around Wenyn’s badly burned arm.

“Wenyn, get up. You’ll die here if you don’t keep moving.”

Wenyn faced Tanel and just stared.

“The surgeon will prepare an ointment for you later that will do just the trick. You’ll be fine, but you have to get up now. Your wound will go numb soon.”

“My horse is dead. So many men are dead.”

“I know. We have to keep moving or we will be dead, too. It’s time to get up!”

Wenyn stood.

“Come, let us gather the archers together and finish off those catapult operators once and for all,” said Tanel.

A slight grin spread over Wenyn’s face and he nodded. The shock was wearing off.

The two bowmen made their way past the fallen. They rounded up as many archers as they could. To Tanel’s relief, Atalsa was one of the few that had survived the rain of fire. They managed to gather roughly twenty of them back together.