Son of Corse (The Raven Chronicles Book 2) (16 page)

              Shaking off the ominous feeling that settled like a rock in her stomach, Arwenna kept pace with Y’Dürkie.  She doubted it’d be hard for them to find Bohrs.  He was probably hunting her, as well.

Chapter Twenty-Three

S
he felt dirty.  Sweat made the ash and soot from the smoldering trees stick to her skin.  Her ebony hair had long since worked its way free of the confines of the braid, adhering to her face. The battle had raged well into the early morning.  Even now, as dawn began to creep over the horizon, Arwenna wasn’t certain Bohrs and Senyan would have the Delvers retreat.

              Leaning against a tree, she felt her lungs try to reject the smoky air. How many had died from fire and smoke instead of the sword?

              “Ve do not dvell on numbers, Arvenna,” Y’Dürkie spoke softly as she offered a canteen.  “Ve honor them, mourn them, and fight on in their memory.”

              Drinking deeply, Arwenna nodded. “I know, I know. That doesn’t make it easier to accept, though.”

              She scanned the small clearing, looking for any movement. Bodies lay scattered among trampled wildflowers. A few stems still stretched upwards towards the morning sun.  A touch of life amongst all the death.

              “Have you seen anyone?  I haven’t caught glimpse of Joss or Barek for over an hour.”  She tried to keep her voice even. 

              “Barek will look out for him, do not vorry.  I am more concerned about Mialee.  She has not been herself for a long time. I fear she thinks she vill only find redemption in death.” Y’Dürkie sighed, “It is not a good, to know a friend welcomes death more than life.”

              Armor glistened in the early morning rays, calling Arwenna’s attention to movement across the clearing. She tapped her sister’s arm, pointing to the area where she’d seen the reflected light.

              Rage boiled in Arwenna’s blood. She knew that armor. A feral growl tore from her throat as she felt her magic build. “Bohrs!” she screamed, charging from the copse of trees. 

              She saw him turn his head as she created a ball of green magic within her hands.  It pulsated with every ounce of hatred she had for her foster brother. Arwenna drew her arm back, preparing to hurl it towards Bohrs.

              Another figure stepped out of the forest, getting between her and her target. “You will not harm her, or anyone else, ever again,
Father!
” The scorn in Anthones’ voice took Arwenna by surprise. She lowered her hand, allowing the projectile to dissipate. As much as she wanted to hurt Bohrs’, she wouldn’t make another pay with their life just to get them out of her way.

              Bohrs’ laughter rang across the glade. Raising his sword, he met Anthones’ challenge.  Arwenna felt Y’Dürkie’s hand on her arm, holding her back. “Ve vatch, sister. This is vhat Anthones must do.”

              “You’re no match for me. Get out of my way, boy, or learn a hard lesson.” Bohrs sneered, his voice heavy with contempt.

             
Arwenna watched as Anthones straightened, readying his weapon. “You are no man. You are no father. You’re not even human. The earth beneath your feet crumbles to dust, repelled by your kind of filth. You will die today, monster, by my sword or another’s. This I promise you.” The words rang across the field, Anthones own determination echoing in each words of his vow. Then, fury raging across his face, he charged.

              Arwenna realized quickly that Bohrs would kill his son.  Each blow was cold, calculated, and vicious enough to wound Anthones severely. Her heart dropped with each strike. She knew how strong Bohrs was, how difficult it would be to beat him. Tears flowed unchecked down her cheeks by the time Anthones finally dropped to the ground. “I know not if he followed you or another, Father,” she prayed silently to Hauk, “but let his soul find peace.”

              “Yiyiyiyiyi!” Y’Dürkie’s battle cry rang out, tearing Arwenna away from her sorrow.  The auburn haired warrior charged Bohrs, her sword a gleaming blade of green fire.  Arwenna chased after her, gathering her magic up once again.

              She stopped about twenty feet away, her heart dropping to the soles of her feet as she watched Bohrs meet Y’Dürkie’s charge. His body dropped low at the last moment, forcing her momentum to hurtle her over him. Arwenna’s concentration broke as she saw her friend crash into the ground behind him.

              She lay there, unmoving.

              “Is that the best you’ve got, sister?” Bohrs taunted. “Where’s that tamed half orc of yours? He’d at least give me a minute of amusement before I sliced him open.”

              Arwenna threw a ball of concentrated magic at him, filling it with some of the darkest energy she could tap. The sphere exploded with a fiery burst, causing spots to form in her vision. Blinking, she stepped back when she saw Bohrs was still standing.

              He chuckled, sending a shiver down her spine. She stepped back again as he moved towards her. Her foot caught on the boot of a fallen soldier. Her arms splayed out behind her in a vain attempt to catch herself as Bohrs continued to advance.

              “Didn’t Y’Dürkie tell you? After all, she saw where I was reborn. She saw the dead clerics of Hauk and Lexi. I was brought back by their hot blood being poured down my throat. Your magic won’t touch me.”

              Arwenna looked up at him in horror, her feet frantically trying to find some footing to get away from there. He was immune to her magic? Fear gripped her. Without that, how could she fight him, survive him?

              Bohrs stood over her, a look of triumph on his face. He reached down to seize his trophy.

* * * * *

              Klayde knew he was dying. He’d fought all night, giving comfort when a comrade near him fell.  The last foul creature he faced had gutted him. Left him to die surrounded by those who had already passed.

              He turned towards the warming rays of the morning sun. Timbral be praised, he’d at least be able to see the sun rise one more time. He opened his eyes, looking towards the horizon. 

              Only what he saw turned his stomach. Not far away, the Daughter lay on the ground. She moved frantically as the man in armor advanced on her. Klayde had never seen so much terror and fear on a single face.

              The tip of a crossbow caught his attention. It was loaded, ready to fire; its owner had been cut down before the bolt could be let loose.
Timbral give me strength
, he prayed fervently. Renewed energy surged through his arms as he pulled the weapon up onto the corpse in front of him. He squeezed the trigger, his life leaving him as the bolt flew towards its target.

* * * * *

              Arwenna aimed her foot at Bohrs’ groin as he reached for her. It connected, and she rolled away as he howled in pain. She stood, her eyes wide in surprise. Bohrs writhed on the ground, screaming. A crossbow bolt lay in the grass near what remained of his lower leg.

              Y’Dürkie rose from behind him, grasping his hair and yanking him to an upright position. For the first time in Arwenna’s memory, Bohrs looked afraid.

              Holding the blazing sword in front of him, Y’Dürkie spoke calmly. Tiren’s voice overlapped hers. “Her magic may not touch you, but this vill!” She drove the sword through his gaping mouth.

              Emerald green flames leapt from his mouth as Tiren enacted her vengeance. Arwenna stood there, stunned, unable to tear her eyes away from the sight.

              The body turned to ash, pieces flying away on a slight breeze. Tiren’s spirit now stood between her and Y’Dürkie. “It’s time, my daughters. Take my hands and we will destroy Corse.”

              Arwenna joined hands with Tiren and Y’Dürkie, the three forming a circle above Bohr’s sword and the onyx imprisoning Corse. The wind began to swirl around them. Her ebony hair moved furiously in the tempest, entangling with the ends of Y’Dürkie’s auburn locks. As wild as the tempest was, her body held fast. Tiren’s voice sounded in Arwenna’s mind. “When I tell you to, you must leave me in the center with Corse. Do not hesitate. Whatever you see, whatever you hear, you must maintain the link.”

              An oily black form began to coalesce in the center. Rising from the gem, it growled in pain and fear. Arwenna felt Tiren let go, only to have Y’Dürkie grab at her. She welcomed the strong grip of her sister.

              Tiren stood in the center, her face inches from the smoky form of Corse. His fair hair and light blue eyes startled Arwenna. He appeared very much as he must have when he and Tiren first met.

              “I warned you, Corse, that one day I would be reunited with my children. The ones you would have denied me and your brother because of your jealousy. And you know what this means.” Tiren spoke softly, her voice tinged with sorrow.

              “All I wanted was for you to love me, Tiren. Was that so hard?”

              Tiren nodded, “You made it hard, Corse, when you thought deception was better than honesty. When you chose to use coercion to try and bribe me. When you failed to see it wasn’t a contest, and I wasn’t a prize to be won.”

              Ever so slowly, Arwenna saw the edges of Corse’s body begin to erode and dissolve. Tiren waved her hand over his face as the last of his form dissipated.

* * * * *

              Senyan hunted Barek. They’d been playing a cat and mouse game all night, and he was tired of it.  He’d make the offer one more time. If Barek refused, well, his blood would be on Arwenna’s hands.

              He’d kept near Bohrs, knowing he’d be hunting Arwenna.  And wherever she was, you’d find Barek. The barbarian was nothing if not predictable. He didn’t understand what those two saw in the wench. But both men were under her thrall.

              “Senyan! It doesn’t have to end this way!” Barek bellowed.

              Glancing over the clearing, he found his quarry. Bohrs had Arwenna under control. He just needed to distract Barek long enough to give Bohrs the chance to get out of here with his prize.

              “You’re so right, Barek. Put down your sword, come join us. Your rewards will be greater than anything she can offer.”  Senyan kept his tone light, conversational.

              Barek shook his head. “I can’t, Senyan. And you know better than to ask. I’m not going to betray her, in this life or the next.”

              “You’d die for her? How heroic,” Senyan drawled. “Or should I say, how idiotic.”

              Barek charged.

              Senyan was tired of this game. Before Barek got close to him, Senyan used magic to levitate him. He kept the flailing figure suspended as he caused a small patch of wooden spikes to erupt from the ground. Not many. Just enough to fatally impale Barek’s massive body.

              Slowly, he moved his onetime companion over the spikes.  “I won’t offer this again, Barek. You were a good mercenary, once. Do you really think it’s worth dying for some bitch who married someone else?”

              A calm acceptance covered Barek’s face. “If my death helps her, so be it.”

              Senyan sighed. He released his hold on Barek and watched the man fall to his fate.

* * * * *

              A scream echoed in Arwenna’s ears as she and Y’Dürkie broke the circle around Tiren. Her head swiveled to the sound. She watched in horror as Barek’s
corpse
slid slowly down the stakes.

              “Do you see now, Arwenna? Do you see what kind of death follows you?” She spun towards Senyan’s voice. He pointed towards the spikes. “He died because of you! Every single person who died today was because of
you
. All because you couldn’t accept the life you were given. All because you thought you were better than the rest of us.” His face twisted in a grimace. “You started this war, Arwenna. You were the one who tore me apart, bound me to Corse.”

              She saw it now, what she needed to do. Barek’s death would not be in vain. “You’re right, Lu’Thare. I did help them tear you apart, give you a new name. But I can fix that now.”

              She closed her eyes and began to rebuild him with her magic.

              She started with his lungs. His painful gasps told her it was working. Corse was dead; Senyan’s main source of power was gone. There wasn’t anything he could do to stop her. Slowly, she reconstructed the organs they’d ripped out of him so many years ago. He’d be whole again, not just a shell.

              When it was done, she opened her eyes. He knelt on the ground, shaking. His muscles, so long dependent on magic to work, were weak and unable to support him.

              “You’re whole again, Lu’Thare. I’ve given back what I took…” her voice trailed off when she looked past the prone figure on the ground.

              Joss stood behind Senyan, his skin awash with black lines.

              “No!” Arwenna screamed, running towards Joss as he fell to his knees.

              Arms encircled her before she could reach him, lifting her up off the ground. “Stop, Arvenna! You cannot take this home to your daughter!”

              She fought against Y’Dürkie’s grasp, tears streaming down her face. Joss looked up at her. Wisps of black smoke rose from his skin as his body tried to burn off the curse he’d pulled from Senyan. “Did it work?” he asked, his voice strained.