Orphan's Blade (10 page)

“Thank Helena.” The king swung his blade around them, staving off more undead as they crept in. “Whether ’tis woman, child, or man. You must fight.”

Nathaniel shook his head to clear the haze of shock and raised his sword.

Soul Song

Villagers ran south through the cobblestone streets, carrying infants, travel bags, small dogs, and valuables. Fear drew their faces long and pale. Some had tears running down their cheeks. Others openly sobbed, calling out to Helena and Horred to save them.

Valoria eddied around them in shock and denial. Had they already lost?

“Follow me up Chandler’s Lane. We’ll break through at Bluebird Square.” Brax shouted to a brigade of soldiers.

Valoria ducked behind an old man with cages of birds heaped over his back and allowed the brigade to pass as they headed north. She fought her way through the chaos like a fish swimming upstream and followed the soldiers. Grunts and shouts echoed off the crumbling buildings as she drew closer. Below the clamor of swords was a chorus of long and low moans chilling the marrow of her bones.

The undead.

They were in the city.

A raging fire lit the streets up ahead. A line of soldiers kept the dead from pouring into the city, but the soldiers fell back with each step even as more joined them. They wouldn’t last forever.

“You, over there! Get back to the city.” One of the soldiers had stopped running and pointed to her.

Valoria ducked into an alley hoping the soldier had more pressing matters then chasing a runaway girl. A stairway led to the upper stories of an old tenement building. She climbed the steps, hoping to gain a view of the battle because she couldn’t help anyone by charging in the front line with her harp. The minstrel’s duty lay behind all the glory, which was why they were always overlooked when the battle was won. To this day, those narrow-minded warriors believed they’d defeated the wyverns by themselves.

She wasn’t in it for glory or to prove a point. If the undead overtook Ebonvale, it wouldn’t be too long before they spilled into the countryside, and then crawled through the bluewoods to the House of Song. No, Echo was right. She had to end the plague here before it spread.

Unfortunately, thick-headed Brax had sent most of the minstrels home.

Valoria hardened her heart. She could do this alone. She had to.

Torn sheets fluttered in the wind, hanging on nails from the railings. In the darkness, the sheets looked like ghosts, but nothing was more frightful than the creatures below. Valoria tore the sheets over her head and ducked into a doorway.

Fresh apples lay in a basket on a table in the center. An overcoat hung on a chair by the door. Dirty teacups sat in a bucket.

Someone lived here in the ruins of the northern city. Valoria didn’t have time to investigate. She barreled through the back room to a small balcony on the other side. The battle raged below her. Soldiers cut down the undead like farmers scything their crops. More and more came through the hole that had been the back gate. The mass pushed forward with sheer numbers of writhing limbs and scraggly haired heads. So many dead. So many more to come.

Valoria swung her harp in front of her. Her voice cracked as she began a song to ward off enemies. The first three verses had no effect. Her fingers shook as they plucked the strings, failing her. Below, the undead pushed in a relentless tide. The soldiers had retreated from two houses down to the one before hers. If she couldn’t think of something, undead would climb that back stairway.

A group of soldiers had broken from the front line. Undead eddied around them, closing off their escape. One by one, the soldiers fell as the circle grew smaller and smaller. In the front stood a warrior with a slight body, a quick, sinewy strength and two breasts in her chest plate.

The queen.

Beside her, a broad shouldered man slashed over and over to keep the line.

No. Valoria ran to the edge of the balcony. Whether she wanted to marry him or not, Brax could not die. He was the sole heir to the throne.

A single soldier broke from the line and threw himself at the horde toward the ring of soldiers left behind. He moved slowly, whacking three undead with each stroke, but he favored one side, making each circle lopsided and opening himself to attack.

King Thoridian.

If she didn’t act quickly, everyone that mattered in Ebonvale would be dead. Ebonvale would suffer the same fate as it had so many hundreds of years ago with Helena and Horred. Her world’s very existence hung by threads.

She had to use everything in her power to save them, even if it meant taking the risks Echo had taught not to take. Valoria strummed a dissonant chord, breaking a fingernail. She closed her eyes and moaned, channeling the dark energy emanating from the horde.

Pain traveled from her limbs to her head. Overwhelming emptiness ached in her chest.

She pictured the time when mother had asked her to stay inside and work on their embroidery. The cottage had been dark and cold, and her mother had been sullen that morning. She’d run outside into the sunshine to play with father. The next day, mother had fallen ill, and after that, she’d never had another chance to choose her mother again.

Valoria remembered the day her father had asked her to travel to Ebonvale to marry Brax. She’d thrown her vase across the room—the one he’d given her on her twelfth birthday, the one her mother had painted before her death. It had shattered to pieces on the floor. Gone forever, like her mother’s touch, her mother’s voice.

Or the time when she’d found a baby deer injured by a hunter’s trap in the forest. She’d sat with the animal’s head in her lap and sung a healing chant. Its gaze turned from fearful to blank as the life leaked away. She couldn’t save it.

Such vast emptiness surrounded her. She hung over a great abyss of darkness. It ate away at her soul, devouring any hope or life. But, she couldn’t stay at the precipice forever. Her world needed her. She was not dead, only feeding off those who were. Valoria touched the surface of the void and came back with a dark power she could not control.

The sound that rose up from her throat was something she’d never heard before: sorrowful, painful, resigned, remote. It grew louder and resonated from within her, riding on currents of power as they wracked her body.

Through the darkness, a face emerged. Black, blotched skin stretched taut over edgy bones. Cheekbones too high to be human framed endless eyes of black.

The necromancer.

“Valoria.” He beckoned with a lifeless voice. “You belong with me.”

“No.” Valoria opened her eyes. The dead had stopped their attack, moaning in unison the same chant she’d summoned from the dark depths of her soul. King Thoridian had made it to the ring of soldiers. He stumbled, falling on his knees as the queen and Brax took each arm.

The soldiers cut through the dead around them, and one by one they silenced their moans until the song of death lessened and ceased all together.

Valoria fell to her knees. Hot, sticky blood covered her fingers, and her harp strings dripped with red.

* * * *

Nathaniel climbed over the bodies of undead. Some of them were almost bare skeletons held together with threads of thin flesh, while others could have been normal men and women in slumber. Thank Helena and Horred. The gods had saved them. But, Nathaniel was too distracted to pay them much heed. King Thoridian had fallen to his knees just as the undead gave up and sang to the gods in the sky. The old man shouldn’t have been on the front line, and if the king hadn’t volunteered to stand watch, the queen could have held him back.

Nathaniel should have looked after him. He’d been distracted by preserving the gate. The last he’d seen of him, the king had saved his life.

He reached the circle where the queen and Brax stood. King Thoridian knelt on the ground, his head hanging low.

“Someone get a medic right away!” Nathaniel called around him. “That’s an order!”

“It’s too late.” Brax spoke in a daze, his eyes bleary as he approached him. Black blood splattered his armor. “He’s been bitten.”

The queen collapsed in front of the king and held his head in both hands. “My dear, my one true love.”

“No.” Nathaniel couldn’t believe it. He was the one who should have been bitten. The king had saved him. But he hadn’t saved himself.

“It cannot be.”

Brax clapped Nathaniel on the shoulder. “’Tis my fault. We’d broken apart from the group and the undead were overwhelming us. My father threw himself into the horde. He kept them at bay. He saved us.”

Nathaniel moved to go to him, but Brax held him back. “Let them have their moment.”

Brax was right. Nathaniel had had his time with the king on the battlements. At the time, he’d had no idea it would be his last conversation. At least it was a good one. “What about you?”

“I’ll stay and make sure he journeys to the temple in the sky and not to the necromancer’s horde.” Although Brax’s face was stiff, his eyes were red. Nathaniel was no stranger to loss. But, he hadn’t been forced to deliver the fatal blow to any of his own family.

He squeezed Brax’s shoulder and stood with him in silence as the king and queen said their piece.

“I cannot let them take you away.” The queen’s voice broke on her words.

Bronford Thoridian faced his end with no fear. “Fate has caught up with me, my dear. We both know this was my destiny.”

The queen shook her head. “I shouldn’t have let you out of my sight.”

“You kept me safe for too many years.” He drew the sign of the sword across his chest. “I look forward to sharing the sky with Helena and Horred.”

She smoothed the hair on his head. “You saved us all, just like they did.”

A small smile crept into his face. “’Tis the best way to leave.”

“I do not regret one heartbeat of the time we shared.”

“Nor do I.”

Brax moved toward the queen and gently pulled her up.

She fought against him. “I will not leave him.”

The king smiled. “Go, and remember me the way I am now. Allow me the same honor I paid to your father.”

Nathaniel didn’t know much about what had happened to King Artemus Rubystone at that fateful battle of Sill, but Bronford Thoridian’s comment must have struck a noble chord in her heart. The queen kissed his forehead, then turned away.

Nathaniel took her arm and led her through the solders piling the undead in wagons, giving Brax his last moment with his father. The queen squeezed his arm. Tears ran down her cheeks and pain contorted her face. Every step seemed like it took all her courage. “I was with you when you lost your world, so it only seems fit you are with me when I lose mine.”

“You haven’t lost everything.” Nathaniel placed his hand on hers. “You still have Brax and me.”

“Aye.” She nodded, biting her upper lip. Her entire body shook. Nathaniel had never seen her so close to falling apart.

The queen stumbled and fell forward onto her hands and knees. “I cannot go on.”

He crouched beside her. “You must. This kingdom needs you just as much as I did when I was a little boy.”

She glanced at him as if seeing him for the first time. “And such an adorable little boy you were. I remember wanting to take you home as my own the first time I saw you in the ash.”

“And here I am, needing you still.”

Around them, soldiers began to clap and shout. Nathaniel stood, scanning the area. At first, he thought they cheered their victory, but all heads glanced at a single balcony above them. Valoria stood on the railing with the wind in her long, auburn hair, holding her harp.

Shock and worry hit him hard in the gut. What if one of the undead had attacked her? He pulled on the nearest soldier’s arm. “What is the princess doing here?”

“Saving us.” The soldier raised his arm to her in salute.

Nathaniel had had an inkling of her power back on the battlefield, but he hadn’t heard any kind of minstrel song. “What do you mean?”

“You saw the undead stop. You heard them moan.”

It was as if someone had collected all of their puppet strings and hung them up. “They gave up, crying out to Helena and Horred in the sacred temple.”

The soldier laughed, then grew solemn. “No, they did not sing to the gods. They sang to her.”

Bound

Valoria awoke to blindingly bright sunlight. Her entire body ached and her head felt like a bruised plum. She shielded her eyes. “Lyric’s lyre. What’s happened?”

“There you are.” Cadence pressed a wet cloth to her forehead. “Just get some rest.”

Images flooded her mind. Undead swarming, bloody fingers, and a black hole sucking her heart away. “Am I dead?”

“You most certainly are not.” Cadence gave her a stern look. “Soldiers carried you in this morning. They said you passed out after you saved the entire kingdom from ruin at the hands of the undead.”

“I did?”

Cadence pursed her lips. “I’d think you’d remember that.”

“I remember more than I care to.” The horrible, black-holed eyes of the necromancer stared back at her, and she gripped the sheets with the palms of her hands as her whole body turned icy cold and goose bumps pricked her skin. Sure, she’d saved the kingdom, but she’d also let him in.

“There, there. It’s all over now.” Cadence took her hand.

“’Tis not over.” A part of her had been eaten away by that horrible thing that wasn’t even a man. Even now, she felt him inside her mind, squirming like a black worm to find the center of who she was. She blocked the images and tried to focus on the bright sunlight pouring in. It felt a world away.

“How many dead?”

Cadence patted her hand. “You mustn’t worry about that now, my lady.”

Valoria batted Cadence’s hand away. She bolted up into a sitting position. “How many?”

Cadence glanced down. “There are still many missing.”

“Do not treat me like a child.”

Cadence wiped at her eyes. “Maybe a hundred, mostly soldiers.”

Valoria thought back to the battle before she’d tapped into the black energy. Soldiers had been stranded, and someone had gone to save them. “The king?”