Once We Were Kings (Young Adult Fantasy) (The Sojourner Saga) (35 page)

Half hearted shouts and fists flew into the air.

Mooregaard rode to the front lines.  "Who is with his Royal Highness?"

At that, soldiers roared and rattled their weapons.  Corigan nodded with appreciation to Mooregaard, then replaced his helmet and pointed his sword forward. 

To the Valley of the Accursed.

He led the battle cry as he charged forth.

CHAPTER SEVENTY-NINE

Like a black widow spider, the Dowager Empress stepped forward, twin swords in her hands.  Cold and impassive, her eyes bore straight into those of Lady Volfoncé.

But Empress Xieh-Suh knew her as Lucretia.  Lucretia, the almond-eyed Sojourner traitor who allegedly killed off the last of those infernal barbarians, once a threat to her reign because of their ridiculous faith and philosophy of peace.  Without blood it was impossible to rule a nation the size of Tian Kuo. 

Xieh-Suh scoffed.  To think, Corigan actually believed they could avoid bloodshed by playing the lives of his people by means of that childish game Leit?

The fool.

By her charm and deceptive beauty, Xieh-Suh had caused the downfall of countless men and rulers from her days as a slave girl, to a royal concubine, and finally as the wife of the Emperor—a weak man, like Corigan.

Lucretia (the form of whom Volfoncé now took) bowed deeply as the Empress approached. "Daughter of Heaven."

"You have done well, Lucretia."  Xieh-Suh touched her shoulder and then lifted her chin.  "When I have crushed the Torian army, and their child-king, you shall be duly rewarded."

"Just as they were taken by surprise when we sent your troops to raid Valdshire Tor under the Sojourner banner, so shall they fall under our assault here in the valley.  Death shall fall upon them suddenly."

"As it had the Sojourner's Assembly?"

"All dead, O Great Empress." 

"I envy your..." She paused to find the word, "Skill."

Lucretia grinned crookedly and shaded her eyes from the glare of the sun. Across the alluvial planes straight into the blackness of the Western woods, she saw the shaded area among the trees where Mooregaard prepared his portion of their offering to Malakandor. 

Empress Xieh-Suh—none the wiser—had entrusted Volfoncé-as-Lucretia with the fate of Tian Kuo's military forces.  A double portion for the great Malakandor.

With both nations stripped of their armies, nothing could stop her and Mooregaard from taking the thrones from the weak-willed Corigan, and the treacherous but ultimately powerless Xieh-Suh.

Ironic. 

Despite all the mistrust that festered between the King and Empress, they had both entrusted their lives and kingdoms to the very two that would tear it from them.

"Do you stand with me, Lucretia?"

"You know what I am capable of." 

Through dark lips almost black as poison, Xieh-Suh smiled.  Indeed, the Empress had witnessed her shape-shifting abilities, her uncanny speed and precision in killing.  Yet she had never seen Lucretia's most deadly abilities.

But she would.

Soon.

CHAPTER EIGHTY

Even as Render flew through the air, the two armies flooded the valley like spilled ink; the red of Tianese troops and the black of the Torians.

"We're too late!"  Branson said.  "They're like two colonies of ants fighting!  Once they've started, nothing can stop them."

Render ignored his words, so determined was he to get to the wizened oak before it truly was too late.  Greifer pressed a warm paw against his heart.

// COURAGE //

As they alighted on the ground by the dead tree, from both sides the sound of countless hooves stormed through the valley like a thunderstorm.  To the east and to the west, thousands upon thousands of horses, foot soldiers and large engines of war surged forward.

  Beneath his feet, the sand shifted over what must be bones.  Bones of the centuries-old Sojourners.  If he gave it any more thought, he might lose his nerve.  The very thought of...No, he must not think on it.

"What are you going to do?" Branson said, trying to find somewhere between Render and the tree.  Ahndien clung to his arm drawing shorter and shorter breaths as she stared out at the onslaught. Greifer, now transformed into a black panther, paced around the three of them, her tail slashing the air.

Render's heart pounded almost in rhythm with the hooves charging from both sides of the wizened oak.  Tawny clouds of dust flew up around the approaching armies.  Render touched the stone tablet in his vest pocket.  All he knew was to speak into the valley.  But was this the moment of which Valhandra spoke?

"Render?" Ahndien whispered with palpable anxiety.  If he didn't act soon, they would be trampled in the battle, if not first killed by the first arrows shot from either side.

Speak to the valley

He shut his eyes, pictured himself in the only position in which he could be seen or heard:  High above the armies.  When he opened his eyes, Render found himself about twenty-five feet from the ground.  A dark cloud had spread over the valley and the thundering hooves died in midst of the clouds.

Flashes of lightning crackled within the pewter clouds which had gathered above.  His hands glowed.  Bluish-white energy pulsed from his fingertips.  Through his clothes, the same azure illumination thrummed visibly.

Then he opened his mouth to speak.  "TORIANS! TIANESE!" The unnatural profundity and volume of his own voice startled him.  And, by the looks of it, caught the attention of the two armies as well.  They both stopped in place, every eye gazing up at him.

An aura surrounded him as he floated above the battle ground, just a few dozen yards from the wizened oak.  And from his dear friends.

Ahndien gazed up at the sky turned dark.  In awe, she beheld Render—dear Render, whose very soul was now knit into the fabric of her own—hovering god-like above the valley.  Surely he is the Great Deliverer of which the prophecies foretold.  And at that moment, she briefly forgot that he was her friend, and saw him as royalty above all worldly authorities.

Perhaps there was hope, after all.

Perhaps the people of the two nations would see the truth and cease their striving.

Perhaps Valhandra had taken the bitter cup from her.

Another flash of lightning and for that instant, the darkened sky turned as bright as the morning, though the clouds had swallowed up the sun utterly.

"HEAR NOW THE WORDS OF VALHANDRA."

A rolling thunder peal erupted into a loud crack, filling the entire valley below with a brilliant white glow.  Though Render was fully aware of what came from his mouth, the words he spoke seemed not his own.  He felt like a musical instrument in the hands of a master musician.  A powerful conduit of thought and feeling.

"THUS SAITH THE ALMIGHTY ONE: WAR NOT AGAINST ONE ANOTHER.  FOR THIS IS THE WILL OF MALAKANDOR, THAT YE DESTROY ONE ANOTHER.  PUT DOWN YOUR WEAPONS AND JOIN HANDS AGAINST THE DARK RULER OF THIS WORLD."

As the thunder ebbed into the distant hills, a dead silence filled the valley.  Render felt a presence so powerful coming over him like a mantle.  Valhandra had spoken through him.  Surely they would drop their swords and arrows and take heed.

Instead, he heard a familiar voice cry out, "Ignore this trickery and attack!"

Before Render could return to rescue his friends, a thousand soldiers, horses and weapons rushed into the center of the valley. 

Towards the wizened tree.

CHAPTER EIGHTY-ONE

Without thought for anything else, Render dove back down to his friends.  Greifer bore her fangs, her ears flattened back.  Ahndien kept a trembling Branson behind her, but trained her eyes on Render as his feet touched the ground.

// STAY CLOSE, RENDER //

// WE HAVE TO LEAVE! //

// NO, THAT'S NOT WHAT VALHANDRA SAID! //

Ahndien was right.  But far as Render knew, he was to stand and prophesy to the valley.

From whence cometh thy help. 

He had failed!

Now, with the roar of two armies closing their grip on the valley of dry bones, what else could he do to bring them out of their lust for blood and into unity?  He stood a better chance of holding back the flow of Leviathan Falls.

"Blast them, Render!" Branson shouted.  "Use your lightning!"

But that would do nothing to accomplish his calling.  And could he possibly stop them all?  "Closer, everyone!  We're going to fly out of here before—"

A sickening sound severed his words.

An approaching whistle. 

From both sides.

"Get down!"  Render dove at Ahndien and Branson, knocking them to the sand, where pale shin bones clattered about.  From the corner of his eye—but more from the screaming over his head—he perceived thousands of arrows flying over them from both the Torian and Tianese archers.  Some collided, spun and tumbled in the dust around them.

He looked up, but Ahndien pushed him down.  Kneeling, she lifted her hands and wove a ring of fire about them.  It blazed so bright Render had to turn away.   The arrows that hit the fiery ring fell to the ground in small piles of ash and molten ore, still glowing red.

It seemed to go on forever, but eventually the first wave of Torian foot soldiers passed them by and proceeded to launch their assault on the oncoming Tianese troops.

Swords clashed on the eastern side of the valley.  Horses galloped, pounding the ground and causing it to quake.  Ahndien let out an exhausted breath and lowered her hands.  Seizing the opportunity, Render rose to his feet and peered to the melee.  But the rhythmic beating of war drums and horns drew his attention back to the approaching Torians. 

The next wave—a solid wall of Torian warriors—marched over at a relentless pace, spears, swords and arrows at the ready.  Perhaps he could make an appeal to King Corigan, as a citizen of Valdshire Tor.  But he abandoned the thought, when he caught a glimpse of the black-armored knight, riding on an ebony-colored warhorse.

Lord Mooregaard.

Even at this impossible distance, their eyes met.

"Behold!" Mooregaard cried out to the Torians.  "It is Render, standing with a Tianese spy!  He has betrayed us all by warning them of our attack!"

"That's a lie!"

But his voice could not be heard over the angry soldiers' shouts, who now doubled their pace as Mooregaard rode forth, his sword glinting in the sun which broke through the charcoal clouds.

"Traitor!"

Before Render could move, a flash of black flew past him.  It went out so quickly, he could barely distinguish the head, the powerful legs and the tail.  Greifer let out a snarl as she rushed into the open plane at Mooregaard.

"Greifer, wait!"

Lifting up one hand, Mooregaard commanded the troops to hold their position.  All the while, over on the other side of the wizened tree, Tianese and Torians fought to the death. 

Mooregaard raised his sword to strike the panther, but was not prepared for how swiftly she fell upon him.  He let out a grunt as she knocked him off of his horse.

Then, grabbing his right wrist in her powerful jaws, she shook it so violently that he could do nothing but strain and groan and drop his sword.  He began shouting oaths and thrashing about in pain, but the great panther only bore down more until he ceased struggling.

Render intuited her words to Mooregaard.

// COMMAND your MEN TO TURN AROUND, OR BE RELIEVED OF your ARM! //

Chest rising and falling, his teeth clenched, Mooregaard lifted his other hand from the ground.  With her massive paw, Greifer pinned it to the ground and throwing a puff of dust to rise up around an upturned skull in the sand.

Then, without a hint of a warning, he swung himself around—arm still caught in the panther's jaw—and rolled over such that he freed his other arm.

Before Greifer ever noticed, Render saw it. 

He shouted out.