Echoes (28 page)

“How can she even take on human form? I’ve never heard of anything like that with a dragon.”

“Because Cifera is not ‘a dragon,’ she
is
‘dragon.’ She is one of the first, a child of Tolah. When Cifera and Auriel were in the garden, they lived among us in their human form, almost exclusively. She has been gone a very long time, now. I imagine she wanted to keep her identity a secret from those who would seek to do her harm, and there are many who would, some to gain power, others for revenge. She has sown a crop of hate and deception behind her, and there are many with long memories who would see her repaid for her scheming.”

If I were free, Dearra, it could make all the difference, but we don’t know for sure if the spell will work, even with Jacob speaking the words. We also have no guarantees that you all won’t be killed in the attempt.

I don’t know what to do, Brin. Aesri is so set on this.

To hell with the fairies! To hell with me, too, for that matter. You need to be the one to decide. Either all will go well and you will have saved us, or it won’t. On the plus side, if it goes wrong, there won’t be anyone left to complain.

Thanks, Brin. You have a way of putting things that manages to suck all the happy right out of the world.

I do what I can,
he said with a chuckle.

“Whatever you decide, Dearra, you had better decide it quickly. There are going to be some hard choices that must be made. My brothers and sisters will do all that they can to aid you, but do not wait too long.”

“Dearra!” The king had mounted and was waiting for her. The tent, and anything they couldn’t carry, would be abandoned. There was no time to spare to pack anything that couldn’t be eaten or used as a weapon.

Dearra could see that the camp was emptying quickly. People were even running, in some cases. Though they wouldn’t last long like that, it would help to spread them out a little and to burn away some of the terror that had been washing over them.

It was still night, but the dawn wasn’t far off. Dearra wondered how many would still be alive this time tomorrow. She placed her foot into the stirrup and pulled herself into the saddle. Towsanah laid her ears back for the mount, a remnant of the fear that had been beaten into her, and then tossed her head back, ready to get going.

Darius dropped back once more to assist the stragglers. They were tired, but he knew the Breken would be too. For all their bravado, the Breken were as human as anyone.

After seeing the old woman back on her feet, and offering a few words of encouragement, he trotted still further back so he could get a better look. He wished he hadn’t. The Breken were quickly closing the gap between them. They weren’t running, thank Cyrus, but they were moving faster than the Mirin Tor.

He ran back and found Daniel removing the pack from a man’s shoulders. He threw the pack to the ground and replaced it with a girl of about seven who was weeping. The body of a woman was laying in the dirt. Darius could only assume it was the child’s mother. She had obviously used the last of her strength to bear her child this far, and now her struggles were at an end. Daniel stroked the little girl’s head and clapped the man on the shoulder, letting him know he should carry on. The man boosted the child a little higher on his back and set out once more.

“They’re closing the distance, Daniel. How much further do we have to go?”

“We’re almost there, Darius. Do you see that hill there?” Daniel asked, pointing to a spot about a mile ahead. “Just over that rise, the ground dips and then snakes through a narrow gap we call Goat Pass. That’s where we need to get to.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Darius said, looking back over his shoulder.

“Any word from Brin?”

“No. They’re probably to the pass already. I can’t hear him from this distance, though, so I can’t say for sure.”

“That’s a shame. If your range were further, we could really coordinate with the king.”

“It’s not all bad,” Darius reassured him. “Brin can still hear me, and I’ve made sure he knows about the Breken.”

Daniel could see that the people up ahead were moving more quickly, as though someone at the front were urging them on with one last burst of energy. Once they got the women and children into the mountains, they could set up battle lines.

Almost as if he could read Daniel’s thoughts, Darius asked, “Have you thought about getting men up on either side of those ridges with bows? That would be a good place to try and stop them from sneaking around our flank.”

“As a matter of fact, I was considering Zuzu’s archers. They’ll be high enough up that only other archers would be a threat, and we could put some fairies with them as added support.”

“That’s a good plan, but Dearra isn’t going to want Phillip out there. She’ll try to make sure he’s safe in the tunnels.”

“Safe is a subjective word. None of us are truly safe. Besides, I’ve come up with the perfect way to handle that.”

“Let me guess,” Darius said. “You’re not going to tell her.”

“You’ve got it! First try, too. Nice.”

“That could get you into trouble later, you know.”

“If there is a later, I’ll deal with it then,” Daniel said seriously. “For now, I’ll take whatever advantage I can get, and those children are good. I’m not going to let something like age or fear of one feisty Lord of Maj deter me from using all of my resources.”

There wasn’t anything that Darius could say to that, so he simply shrugged in response.

***

They stretched out in rows ten deep in front of the entrance to the pass. Dearra and the king rode up and down the line shouting words of reassurance and guidance.

The Breken were likewise spread out in rows. They pounded on their shields and roared approval every time one of their commanders spoke.

Dearra was too far away to hear what was being said, but Brin assured her it wasn’t worth repeating.

Dearra felt the sun on her shoulders. A thin trickle of perspiration ran from her head, down her neck, and between her shoulder blades. She shifted in the saddle, and the bead of sweat was absorbed by her shirt, which was almost soaked through at this point. She glanced up and was struck by the beauty of the cloudless skies. If this were the last day she was ever going to see, at least it was a beautiful one. She had had her fill of ugliness of late.

Dearra looked behind her. She could just make out the archers stationed on the cliffs. The billowing cloaks gave witness to the Etrafarians who were in place as well.

Brin? Where are Phillip and Carly? Are they safe
? Dearra hadn’t seen her best friend or her brother, but there really hadn’t been time to look for them. Once they made it to the mountains, the king had immediately set her to work organizing the fighters into groups.

Don’t worry, Dearra. They’re together.
What he told her was true; they were together. Brin saw no reason to tell her that meant they were amongst those who had been stationed up above to better protect the pass. He reasoned that she had enough on her mind without him adding to her worry.

The king turned his horse to face his people. He waited for them to settle and turn their attention to him.

Dearra assumed that the king would give some sort of rousing speech to motivate the people, but they all looked pretty prepared to her already. There was a light in their eyes. She was used to that light. She had seen it all of her life. The people of Maj wore it like they wore their boots. It was as much a part of them as their names. On Mirin Tor, the people she had come to know had been more likely to carry the expression of grazing cattle, but not so, anymore. The losses they had experienced, the burdens they had carried, had hardened them, turning them from sheep to wolves. They didn’t have the skill of the Maj, but their intensity shone just as brightly.

Dearra waited expectantly for the king to speak, and when he did, she thought he couldn’t have spoken better. There was no long, drawn out call to arms. Instead, he spoke briefly, and from the heart.

“For our friends! For our families! For Mirin Tor!”

He tore his sword free from its sheath, held it aloft, turned his horse, and rode toward the enemy.

The war cry that erupted from the Mirin Tor was deafening, and their feet pounded across the dry ground.

Dearra caught a glimpse of Darius as he joined the screaming throng, and then he was lost from view.

Towsonah reared. It was all Dearra could do to remain on the horse’s back, before the mare lunged into the fray.

The Breken and the Mirin Tor raced toward one another. They were like two waves on a collision course, and when they met, the clash of metal was fierce.

Brin shouted warnings to Dearra and Darius over and over again. It seemed that the two of them were popular targets, and they frequently found themselves outnumbered, but as always, the fairies were never far away. A perfectly timed gust of wind or the ground suddenly dropping several inches beneath an enemy’s feet were enough to keep things going in their favor.

The king fought, but his people formed a protective shield around him, never letting more than one opponent at a time come against him. If someone fell, another quickly took her place.

The melee was intense. Sometimes the Breken would push forward, forcing the Mirin Tor backwards. Sometimes the tide would turn, and the Breken would be pushed far back from the pass. Whenever an enterprising group of Breken tried to drift around the main fight, they found their path barred by a flurry of arrows that struck home far more often than they missed. A few Breken archers were brought in to combat the hazard from above, but fairy fire and ice quickly ended their assault.

The flash of white was there only for a moment, and Dearra knew it was Cifera.

Brin hadn’t said a word, but what was there to say?

Dearra didn’t have time to ponder the dragon further before Lord Tempestas was suddenly before her. She brought her blade up and staggered as the blow came down. She hadn’t realized how far she had come. The Breken Lords were all to the rear of the battle, choosing not to risk their necks any more than necessary. As the lines had broken down, Dearra hadn’t paid attention to where she was. One fight seemed to lead into the next, and she moved from opponent to opponent without plan or set course.

She looked for someone around her who might able to offer aid, but she didn’t see anyone who wasn’t mired in their own combat.

“Lost your fairy escort, I see,” Tempestas taunted her.

She had noticed, but she wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of thinking it mattered to her one whit.

She tried to ease herself back in the direction of the Mirin Tor forces, but Tempestas would have none of it, and he shepherded her back where he wanted her with a few crushing blows.

Take your time, Dearra. Don’t let him rush you. The big brute has been sitting on his seat of stone for too long. You can take him.

Brin’s words calmed her, and she circled him as her blade whistled through the air. He matched her movements, but not nearly as fluidly. He may not be graceful, but he was quick. Dearra was setting the tempo to their dance, but Tempestas was leading it. Every time she tried to take the advantage, his sword was there to block her, and he would have her backing up a step or two before she was able to circle again.

Dearra saw an opening, and she struck quickly. Tempestas was able to knock her sword away, but not before she had opened a wound that stretched from his collarbone to his shoulder. She was disappointed that it wasn’t deeper, but it was bleeding quite a lot and would definitely slow him down.

Don’t get cocky, Dearra. He has something up his sleeve. He’s far too sure of himself. I can’t quite see what…Bah! It’s gone. Every time I almost have it, he shifts his thinking to something else. He knows I can hear him.

It’s okay, Brin. He seems to be tiring. If I just bide my time, I’ll be able to end this.

I’m not so sure. Be careful,
Brin warned.

Dearra thought Tempestas was fighting with the same, clunky style Falco had used. Darius had a lot more finesse, so she knew it wasn’t indicative of all the Breken. It was probably the natural result of having had others do your killing for you. Fighting was like any other skill—it grew rusty with disuse. She also recalled that Falco had been stronger. Either that, or Dearra was stronger than she had been in Parsaia. She was finding it easier to bear Tempestas’s blows than the ones Falco had unleashed upon her.

Tempestas managed to sneak in, and his blade sliced her exposed forearm.

Keep your mind on the fight! Enough with the internal monologue on Breken fighting styles!

It’s only a scratch, Brin.

It’s only a scratch, Brin,
he repeated back in a snarky tone.
Keep your wits, or next time you may lose the whole arm.

Yes, Brin,
she thought. She refocused on the enemy before her and let loose a flurry of blinding strikes that had Tempestas backing up to escape her wrath.

She danced lightly around him, spinning faster and faster.

Then there was a flash of white. There was a freezing chill, and she felt her foot slip on a patch of ice that had no business being on the dry, summer ground. She went down hard. Her head smacked against the ice and she saw stars.

The sound of Tempestas’s laughter rang in her ears. She looked up in time to see him lunging for the kill. The laughter was cut mercifully short by another sound, that Breken growl she had come to know and love.

Darius slammed into Tempestas. His arms were like bands of steel. He crashed his blade into the Breken Lord’s and gave not one inch as they fought. Dearra tried to stand, but she was still woozy from the crack to her head. A ribbon of blood had begun to snake its way down her face, obscuring her vision in one eye.

It’s not bad, Fuzzy. It’s just a small cut. Try to stand, but do so slowly,
Brin said, trying to encourage her.

Dearra placed her hands out to the side to brace herself, and found that the ice that had been her undoing had rapidly begun to melt in the summer sun.

Tempestas was holding up well, even with the wound Dearra had inflicted, and Darius was struggling. She knew she wasn’t able to join in the fight yet—though her mind had begun to clear, her thoughts were still a bit muddled.

“Stay right where you are, little girl,” Tempestas sneered. “I will get to you next, and then the sword will be mine.”

“This?” Dearra said, holding Brin up for him to see. “It’s all you people think about, possessing the sword. If you want it so badly, then take it. Here…catch!” Dearra tossed the sword in a high arc in Tempestas’s direction. His eyes shone with his avarice, and in his moment of greed, he dropped his own sword and opened his hands wide in an attempt to grab at the hilt of the treasure he’d coveted so.

Darius never paused. He drove his sword into Tempestas’s chest plate.

Brin slipped between the Breken’s hands and buried himself in the hard ground. The golden jewel at his hilt flashed in the summer sun.

Darius grasped Tempestas by the hair and put his face close to that of the dying Breken lord. “You have failed. Take this thought with you to Hell: you were beaten by a woman who is ten-fold the warrior you ever were.” Darius ripped the sword free, let the Breken fall face first into the dirt, and wiped his blade on the dead man’s back.

He rushed to Dearra and embraced her before checking the wound on her head.