The Silent Tempest (Book 2) (39 page)

“I can fight, Tyrion,” she replied, rebelliously.

“Not this fight, you can’t. If you
survive the early attacks, dismiss your shield and make yourself invisible.
You’re the only one with a chance of escaping.”

“I can hide someone else with me,” she
told him.

“Take Kate then.”

“No,” said Kate. “I die with you.”

He dipped his head in reluctant
agreement. “I’m not sure what will happen,” he said truthfully, “but I will
make sure the wind finishes you before they reach you, even if I’m gone.” He
closed his eyes, focusing on the voice of the wind.

Before he even finished the words a krytek
appeared within the circle and several others popped into being just outside
it. Brigid leapt toward her new opponent with glee, ripping through its
spellwoven protections before it could even get its bearings. The battle had
begun.

More krytek appeared farther back as the
Mordan vanguard began their assault. Strange spellweavings appeared in their
hands, long tube-like constructions. Their purpose wasn’t immediately
apparent, until one of them leveled it at the circle of defenders. Channeling
aythar along it, a deadly beam of focused power slammed into Anthony, piercing
his enchanted shield and destroying his left leg. Screaming, the boy fell.

The winds were already roaring, but there
wasn’t time. The other krytek were aiming their new weapons, and Tyrion’s
children knew they were doomed. The She’Har had taken no chances, choosing to
strike hard and fast, with overwhelming force and numbers.

Dozens more krytek appeared inside the
front yard, and hundreds more beyond it in the field around Albamarl. The
Prathion had emerged from hiding.

Faster,
thought Tyrion, but the thought didn’t help. The more he
verbalized his needs internally, the harder it was to reach the place he needed
to be. The wind was there, but it seemed too far away.
Let me do this,
he
begged.
Let me kill them all. That’s all I want.

Before the Mordan could unleash their next
attack the Prathion soldiers cut them down. Their appearance hadn’t been in
support, they had lain in ambush. The remaining Mordan began teleporting at
random, flickering in and out as they sought to avoid their murderous brothers.

Strange shapes flew overhead as the Gaelyn
Grove’s krytek joined the battle, followed shortly thereafter by the Centyr.
Spellbeasts and strange monstrosities rushed to destroy the Prathion krytek.

“Some of them are here to help us!”
shouted Emma. “Tighten the circle. Abby help Anthony while they’re
distracted.”

More of the Mordan appeared within the
circle, but no matter their size or shape, Brigid destroyed them. She moved
like an evil wind, her arm blades sweeping out to divide anything that tried to
oppose her. No defense could withstand her power, and when the circle was
empty, she turned her will to disrupting those who fought with the Prathions
beyond it.

At range, her attacks were useless against
the She’Har shields. Even Emma’s precise strikes were unable to penetrate
their spellwoven defenses. Instead, Tyrion’s children used their power to
confuse and distract their enemies, knocking them off balance at critical
moments or removing the earth from beneath them when they threatened the
Prathions.

It was all pointless, though. The
Prathions were not enough to stand against the combined might of the other
three groves. Anyone with eyes could see what the inevitable conclusion would
be.

The sky overhead was still and clear, but
in the distance it had grown dark. A strange howling could be heard, rising in
pitch and volume with each minute that passed. A massive storm was brewing,
and Kate could feel a change in Tyrion where he sat behind her. Glancing down,
she saw that his arms had become translucent. He was fading away…

The Mordan were desperate to press home
their attack before the storm could grow worse, but no matter how many
teleported into the circle Brigid cut them down before they could act. With
the help of the Gaelyn and Centyr reinforcements they had regained control of
the field, and the remainder of the initial strike force brought their new
spellwoven weapons to bear once more.

Emma saw them preparing to attack once
more, and she knew they couldn’t survive the krytek’s ranged weapons. Anthony
was proof enough of that. On instinct alone she called to the earth, and the
ground around them rose, gigantic slabs of bedrock erupting from the soil to
protect them.

The Mordan beams tore through the heavy
stone as though it were tissue, but the rock had robbed them of some of their
power. Where the beams came through and struck one of the teens it was
deflected. Their enchanted shields held. More stone rose, reinforcing what
had already been reduced to rubble, but Emma knew it was only a matter of
time. The Mordan were preparing to attack again, and more of them were free to
help with each passing moment.

They were doomed.

A second barrage ripped through their
stone defenses, but now they could see that something had changed. The Gaelyn
and Centyr krytek were turning to face a new foe coming from their rear, in the
direction of the nearby forest.

The Illeniel krytek had entered the
battle.

They came in the same motley variety of
shapes and sizes—from humanoids to strange quadrupedal forms, and even
insectoid designs. Their numbers were smaller than those of the Prathions, or
any of the other groves, but their movements were different.

They advanced with deliberation, seemingly
oblivious to the offensive power of their enemies. Where the Gaelyn She’Har
directed fire against them, they simply moved, deftly dodging every attack.
They moved with speed, but they were no faster than the other krytek, rather,
they dodged before any blow could land.

Outnumbered as they were, they took no
casualties at first, and once they were fully engaged, they began to slaughter
the krytek of the other groves.

It was a strange battle. The krytek of
both sides were immune to fear. They were not made to feel it. Unlike human
or even She’Har warriors, they would fight until dead or ordered to cease. The
Gaelyn and Centyr began organizing their tactics, combining attacks to prevent
the Illeniels from dodging. It took three or four to accomplish it, but
occasionally they managed to kill one of the Illeniels, but it was not enough
to slow their advance.

The Illeniel force made a line for the
humans and their faltering defense. Along the way they decimated the group of
Mordan responsible for the assault on the humans, and once they had reached
their destination, they spread out prepared to defend Tyrion and his children.

A hush fell over the battlefield as the
krytek of the three attacking groves paused. Byovar stepped out from among the
Illeniel krytek, and using magic to boost his voice, he addressed the enemy
arrayed against them.

“Withdraw! Your goal is impossible now.
Further fighting will only endanger the elders of all our groves,” he shouted.
It was a statement of fact.

Abby felt a soft touch, and then she heard
Lyralliantha’s voice in her mind.
You must stop him. We can make peace
with them, but only if he doesn’t destroy the groves.

How?
asked the girl.

Touch him. You must speak to
him, mind to mind. Draw him back from whatever dark place his spirit has gone,
before it is too late.

***

The world returned slowly, and Tyrion
found himself once more in the world of flesh and blood. A voice was speaking
to him in an alien tongue, ideas that meant things. They were silent, but his
brain was automatically converting them into sounds. Sounds that held meaning—words.

What an odd thing,
he thought.

You can hear me, Father?

The voice in his mind brought
recognition.
That’s Abby.

Release your anger, calm the
storm,
she said, repeating the same words over
and over.
Can you hear me?

The wind was already slowing. It
irritated him that she couldn’t see that herself.
Of course, I can hear
you. Stop shouting at me,
he answered.

Some minutes later he felt sure enough to
release Kate from his grasp and try to stand. Cracked and jumbled stone
surrounded them, but beyond that, his magesight showed him a multitude of
krytek. Byovar and Lyralliantha stood just outside the defensive stone
enclosure, and with them was Thillmarius. The krytek, excepting those
belonging to the Illeniel Grove, were withdrawing.

He sent his thoughts to Lyralliantha,
What’s
happening?

The beginnings of peace,
she returned.

It didn’t feel very much like
peace.
Pressing outward with his will, he pushed
aside several massive stones until he they could emerge without difficulty.
Thillmarius stood waiting for him, a curious expression on his face.

“Forgive me, Tyrion, we should have been
more ready,” said the lore-warden

“More ready? How long did you have your
krytek positioned around my home?”

“Several weeks now,” admitted the
golden-haired She’Har. “We suspected they might try to make a pre-emptive
strike, but we didn’t anticipate how much force they would bring to bear.”

Tyrion directed his gaze to Byovar, “And
the Illeniels, did you know this would happen?”

Byovar shook his head, “No. We had only a
brief warning, minutes before they came. We rushed to aid you as soon as we
knew of the attack.”

“I see,” he said noncommittally.
Addressing Lyralliantha he asked, “What happens now?”

“The elders will meet again. They have
seen our resolve. We will seek an accord to formalize what the Illeniel and
Prathion Groves have already decided,” she answered immediately.

“Which is?”

“That humankind is sentient, deserving of
our protection and respect. That there will be no more encroachment or taking
of the remaining wild humans. We would have your people recognized as a part
of the Illeniel Grove.”

Brigid was watching him, violent energy
coursing through her aura. She was ready to continue the fight. Friend or foe,
it hardly mattered to her. There was a question in her eyes that needed no
words. She wanted to kill the three She’Har standing in front of him and
consequences be damned.

And she could do it, too,
he thought proudly.
She could kill them and possibly some of
the krytek still guarding us.
His other children, Layla, and Kate were
watching him as well, fresh hope on their faces. Seeing them, he knew his
duty, as much as he disliked it.

“If your people seek peace, make your
accord, but it won’t be final until we have added our agreement to the final
terms,” he told the three She’Har. “Tell the elders they have two days.”

Thillmarius’s eyes nearly bugged from his
head, “Two days?! You can’t make demands Tyrion. We barely held them as it
was. It will take the elders months to create an accord.”

“Two days,” he repeated. “After that I
will destroy everything for as far as my will can reach.”

“Don’t be ridiculous you can’t…”

He held up his hand, “I can’t kill you
all, I know that, but I can accomplish far more than you realize. The
mountains will rise, the winds will tear, and when I am done, at least half of
this world will be free of your kind.”

“Threats are unwise, Tyrion,” said
Thillmarius. “You can’t win, and if you force them to war, they will eliminate
humanity entirely.”

“I don’t care if I can win any longer,” he
replied. “The question is how much are they willing to lose? Two days—no
more.”

“But…,” Thillmarius began to protest once
more.

Byovar put out his hand, “Be calm, friend
Thillmarius. The Illeniel are prepared, we have made ready for this. It will
be as he says.”

The Prathion’s eyes went wide for a second
and then returned to normal. He glanced from Byovar to Lyralliantha who nodded
once, and then he relaxed. “Very well,” he said at last.

Why does he defer to them so
quickly?
wondered Tyrion.

Byovar and Thillmarius left soon after
that, and the remaining Prathion krytek vanished, though whether they were
truly gone or just invisible was an open question. Lyralliantha and the Illeniel
krytek remained.

Tyrion and his children began cleaning up
the aftermath of the battle.

The chickens were gone, whether dead or
alive it was impossible to say. They didn’t find any avian remains. The lone
pig had been the recipient of a poorly aimed blast of aythar. His body was spread
across the interior of his shattered pen. They found two sheep, dead, and the
rest were missing.

It appeared their days of animal husbandry
were over, at least for the next few weeks.

The main house was undamaged. Its
enchanted stones had resisted the few attacks that had struck it. The
dormitory had sustained minor damage, and Ryan resolved that it should have the
same treatment as Tyrion’s home when they repaired it. It would be a lot of
magical labor, but it was worth it if it meant they wouldn’t have to worry
about repairs in the future.

Assuming they had a future.

Tyrion pointed at one of the Illeniel
krytek, a large quadrupedal insectoid with a pair of pincer like arms
projecting above the main body. Its appearance was hideous, but it looked to
be ideally built for clearing some of the rubble of one of the storehouses that
had collapsed. “You, move those stones and stack them over there, so we can
sort out what’s left in there.”

The creature stared blankly at him but
didn’t move.

He walked closer, repeating his orders in
Erollith, “I said I want you to help move those stones.”

“We were not made to assist in your
labors,” replied the krytek, dispelling any illusion he might have had that it
was unintelligent.

Tyrion’s temper was already dangerously
short. Bringing his arm across in a sudden slashing motion, he activated his
weapon enchantment at the same time. The krytek was unprotected and unready
for such an attack, but the creature stepped back and to one side before his
slash could land. The timing was uncanny.

It made no move to create a defensive
spellweave or otherwise defend itself. Tyrion was left glaring at it and
feeling somewhat foolish. “If you’re going to stand around here, I expect you
to help us clean up this mess,” he reiterated. Brigid was advancing on the
krytek from the rear now, having noticed his angry tone and failed attack.

Lyralliantha appeared and intervened
before things could go any farther. “Stop!” she commanded.

Tyrion and Brigid both graced her with
withering glares.

“Were you truly planning to attack one of
the krytek now guarding your home?” she asked incredulously.

“I’ve had a very trying day, and this
obstinate, overgrown bug refuses to help us cleanup,” he growled at her.

“They are not made for such labors,” she
replied.

“
Your
people nearly destroyed
everything I’ve built here. The least they could do is help us straighten up
their mess.”

“
My
people saved you,” she replied
coolly. “The battle today was the doing of the Mordan, Gaelyn, and Centyr.”

Irritated he shot back, “She’Har are
She’Har, whatever grove they’re from.”

“No,” she replied, growing visibly
annoyed, “they are not. We are all She’Har, but they are
not
my people,
they are not my race.” Lyralliantha turned to the krytek, “Help him with
whatever he asks.” The krytek nodded, and she began walking away, toward the
Illeniel Grove.

“Where are you going?” he demanded.

“Home,” she answered. “I need peace, and
it is obvious I won’t find it here.”

Angry, he watched her walk for a moment
before speaking to the krytek, “You heard her, start lifting.”

Later he told Kate about the exchange, but
rather than being supportive, she graced him with a look of disappointment.
“You really can be a jerk sometimes.”

“We almost died today,” he reminded her
sourly.

“That’s not the point. You’re treating
the people who help you as badly as the people who hurt you,” she explained.

“They’re the same people.”

“The five groves are separate races,” she
replied. “They’re related, but to them they’re as different from one another
as sheep and goats. You insulted Lyra.”

That was a fact he had never heard about
the She’Har. “Did
she
tell you that?”

Kate nodded, “She showed me, visions from
the elders’ memories of their first world.”

Stubborn, he responded, “She hasn’t taken
the loshti yet, she couldn’t have that knowledge.”

“They showed her during their councils,
but speaking of that, have you considered the fact that you’ve driven her away
when she has less than a week left before she is to take the loshti?” Her
emerald eyes bored into him accusingly. “The last thing she wants right now is
to be fighting with you during the last days she has before she leaves for a
year.”

He had no good response to that, and he
had learned that his pride usually caused more problems than it solved. With
difficulty he nodded at her, “I’ll apologize to her—later. I’m too angry to
think straight right now.”

She started to put her hand on his arm,
but he tensed.

“Later, Kate,” he told. “I’m not good
company at the moment.”

With an understanding look, she turned
back toward the house. “I need to sort out what we’re going to eat anyway.”

As soon as she had gone beyond earshot he
glanced at Brigid, who still hovered nearby. “Did you see what that thing
did?” The krytek in question was some yards distant now, moving the rubble as
requested. Tyrion pitched his voice low for his daughter’s ears alone.