Embers of an Age Read online

  Arrin knew every time his voice rang out, it made it harder to lose the Ruhr in the blackened forest, but he had no choice. It ground upon his sense of survival. The only comfort he drew from the pursuit was that the normally fearless creatures of the Dead Lands seemed to want no part of the Ruhr. What few beasts Arrin had seen in their flight had run for the shadows to be out of the way. Though Arrin lagged behind, Kirah was close enough to the boy to defend him should anything find its courage.

  Arrin steered them south and east, in hopes of slipping through the woods and into Ah Uto Ree at its border near Y’Vel, but the thickness of the forest forced them to flee further south than he intended. Through the shadows, Arrin spied the glimmer of the River Vel snaking through the foliage a short distance before them. He called to Cael and Kirah to slow. She stopped immediately. The boy did so with reluctance, his eyes wide as he turned to look at Arrin.

  Arrin joined them and passed Jerul to Cael, knowing with the aid of the O’hra he could carry the burly man, and told them to hold a moment. Arrin slashed a length of green vine from a nearby tree and stepped back to Cael, pulling Jerul from his arms and setting the Yvir on the ground. “Spin about,” he ordered and Cael responded without question. Arrin wrapped the vine around Cael’s waist, and then lifted Jerul up behind him, the pair back-to-back. Kirah held the warrior in place, Arrin’s injured limb still too weak to do both. As fast as he could, the heavy stomps of Ruhr thumping through the trees, he secured Jerul to Cael and pushed the boy toward the bubbling water.

  “Swim across and run straight south for a hundred count. Hide and wait for me there. If you hear me scream, break cover and run for Y’Vel with all haste.” Cael hesitated and Kirah stayed at his side. “Go!” Arrin screamed as loud as he could, sending the boy scampering into the water.

  Cael gasped as the scalding water enveloped him. He splashed a moment as he tried to adjust to the awkwardness of Jerul strapped to his back, and the agony of the searing fluid, and then went on, the O’hra giving him the strength. Kirah dove in behind him and swam beside, helping Cael across.

  Arrin waited just an instant longer to make sure the Ruhr still came, and then slid into the water. It felt like a thousand pincers clinging to his flesh as he sunk into the river, but he willed the pain away. He drew a deep breath and dropped all but his eyes and the top of his head below the surface. Once he spied the two Ruhr bursting through the trees and gauged the distance of the one closest, he dropped completely under and drew his sword. The weight of the murky water slowed him even with the O’hra. He hoped he’d be strong enough to do what he must. Agony tore at him as he waited.

  The Ruhr came straight at the river without slowing. Kirah and Cael were nearly at the other side. The boy’s frantic splashing was like a beacon. The two creatures dove into the water heedless of its boil. The first sunk into the depths too far for Arrin to reach, but the second had entered just beside him. Arrin drove his sword upward, using the momentum of the creature’s dive to strengthen his arm. He thrust his blade at the Ruhr.

  The weight of the Ruhr sent waves rippling through the river, crashing into Arrin as he lashed out. He fought against it but his blade shifted at the last instant. A muffled grating sound drifted to his ears as his sword sunk into the chest of the stone creature, just below its neck.

  It spun with surprising speed against the pull of the water, and a stony fist crashed into Arrin’s cheek. The force pushed him upward and he broke the surface with a pained gasp. His left eye strained to focus, his face numb from the blow. The Ruhr too heavy to stop its downward motion in time to reach him, Arrin ignored his injuries and swam for the far shore, thrashing about awkwardly with only one arm. He’d left his sword in the creature, but there was nothing he could do about it. He couldn’t leave Cael and Kirah alone with the other Ruhr that had reached the other side of the River.

  Glad the two had listened and run on, Arrin raced on as the first Ruhr pulled itself onto the shore. Arrin crawled out a moment later, shouting to distract it. The second splashed in the water just a few yards back. As Arrin was about to run to find the boy, he heard Cael scream. His voice cut the air with its sharpened peal. Arrin spun to the woods to see the boy racing back toward him, Jerul still strapped to his back. Kirah ran right behind. Worry etched her feline features, her ears flat against her head, her whiskers pulled back. Cael saw the Ruhr at the shore and turned east, his ordinarily black face gray and sickly.

  “Run,” he shrieked as he darted into the trees.

  “Hull! Behind us,” Kirah added as she veered off after the boy.

  Arrin heard the snap of branches and the felt the earth shake beneath his feet. The massive form of a Hull burst from the trees a short distance away. It dripped with the glistening green ooze of pure magic. The stone-carved features of its face, looming well over two horse-lengths atop its shoulders, turned its black stare toward Arrin. He was on Kirah’s heels an instant later. His sword still in the Ruhr and Jerul’s blades left back at the ambush site, the only weapon he had was his fist. There’d be no defeating either of their enemies with that.

  He caught up to Cael easily and realized the Ruhr would do the same, even if the Hull could not. With Jerul strapped to the boy’s back he was slowed too much, but there was too little time to stop and pull him free.

  “Damn it!” Arrin growled, his eyes looking to Kirah. “I need to pull them away long enough for you to release Jerul. Find a safe spot and do it fast.”

  Before she could agree, they burst into a clearing. Arrin felt the waft of magic prickle his skin. Only a few yards away stood one of the magical fonts so prevalent in the Dead Lands, the source of the horrific creatures that plagued the dark forest. The earth around it was scarred and pitted, the dirt turned crystalline under the flow of the pure magic that spilled from the rent in the earth. The font rose up only slightly from the ground, its sides black and charred. The air was full of the scent of fire and molten metal. Tendrils of green mist floated above the emerald gush of the font.

  From its depths rose yet another Hull. The shadows of it mouth grinned malevolent as its massive fingers sunk into the earth and pulled itself free, crystal shards crunching in its grasp.

  Arrin snatched the sword from Kirah’s hand and pushed her and Cael south, doing his best to shield them from both directions. The Hull climbed from the font, gushes of greenish goo spilling loose in its wake. The ground trembled as the other Hull closed on them, the two Ruhr bursting into the clearing. Their expressionless faces seemed to mock Arrin as he shifted to meet their advance.

  He pressed his collar for more of its energy and dove at the Ruhr as soon as they cleared the tree line. His borrowed sword held in close, Arrin dropped low and came up beneath the closest Ruhr, the one with his sword embedded in its chest. He drove upward and shoved Kirah’s blade through the face of the creature. Sparks flew and blurred Arrin’s vision as the sword sunk home inside its skull. He barely managed to free the blade before a kick from the other Ruhr slammed into his wounded arm.

  Arrin cried out and rolled away. Bone ground against bone inside his upper arm. Lightning bolts of agony roared to life at every movement as he watched the Ruhr close, the Hull loose of the font and stomping toward him. Arrin got to his feet and spun away so he could face both of the creatures. The second Hull was closing judging by its booming footsteps, and Arrin knew his time had come. He only hoped he could hold the creatures long enough for Kirah and Cael to get away.

  The Ruhr leapt at him and Arrin sidestepped it with a grunt, his teeth clenched against the pain that assailed him. The branches snapped at his back and the ground rumbled at the arrival of the Hull. There was no place left to run. He turned to face the charging Ruhr, determined to slay it before the Hull struck him down from behind. Arrin raised his sword and dropped into a crouch.

  A blur of silver and green launched itself from the trees and collided with the Ruhr, a shadowed figure forming before his wavering vision. There was a flash of movement and Arrin
heard the crackle of shifting ice as the creature’s arm stopped in mid-swing. The figure followed through with an overhand slash with a darkened blade, the sword cleaving the Ruhr’s arm from its shoulder. It spun to strike back but the figure drove its other sword into its face. The Ruhr dropped, crystalline frost enveloping its head.

  Arrin stood rooted in place as the figure sheathed one of its swords and stepped to him. A pale hand reached out and grasped his tunic.

  “Move!” the figure shouted. The voice was distinctly feminine despite its aggressive tone.

  He was yanked forward and sent tumbling into the trees. As he flew, he spied the massive fist of the Hull crash into the ground where he’d just been. Arrin felt its impact as he landed.

  Arrin stared at the woman warrior as she faced down the Hull. He had only an instant to recognize she was covered in O’hra before she slipped between the legs of the giant Hull and drove her black blade up into its groin. It sunk to the hilt. The creature stiffened and tumbled forward, the earth jumping beneath Arrin as it crashed into the ground face first. The warrior wasted no time, spinning about and scrambling over its back. At its head, she thrust her swords into the back of its skull multiple times before looking to the second Hull.

  She leapt from the fallen creature’s back and flew through the air toward the closing monstrosity. It raised its arms to stop her but was too slow. She sailed between its stony fingers and shoved the point of her blue sword into the shadows of its eye. It reared back and stumbled as she used the leverage of her blade to direct her momentum and spin around to land on its shoulders. She snarled and Arrin saw the tip of her blackened blade burst from the face of the Hull. It collapsed without another sound.

  Arrin struggled to his feet as the woman retrieved her swords from the stony corpse. “Thank you,” he told her, before turning to follow after Cael and Kirah.

  “Your friends are fine,” she said, stopping Arrin with her words.

  As if they’d heard her and rushed to prove her true, Jerul stormed into the clearing, his face carved with lines of fury. His gaze settled on the scene before him and relief swept the anger from his features. His wounds were already healing. Kirah and Cael arrived behind him, both mirroring the Yvir’s surprise and relief. The boy still held the golden rod in his hands. He darted to Arrin’s side and set the relic against the flesh of his wounded arm. Its magic went to work almost instantly, warmth and relief flooding his veins.

  Kirah ran to Arrin and embraced him. He grunted at her enthusiasm, and handed her sword over. “I’d thought you lost,” she told him.

  “As did I.”

  “We stumbled into another Hull, and she killed it before it could reach us,” Cael said.

  He looked to the warrior woman. “Thank you again, for that.”

  The woman nodded. Steel gray eyes peered from her scarred face. She sheathed her swords and pointed to the north. “We need to hurry. There is little time.”

  “Time?” he asked as he went and retrieved his own sword from the body of the Ruhr.

  “There are an army of these creatures roaming the forest.”

  Despite the pleasant surges of magic that flowed over him, Arrin’s shoulders slumped.

  “An army?” Cael asked as he stuffed the relic into its pouch. He looked to the dead Ruhr and shook his head. Defeat marred his features.

  “I was traveling north for home and came across hundreds of the larger creatures massed in a clearing. Hundreds more of their kind crawled from the earth as I watched.” She gestured to the font. “I managed to slip past them but there were more of them filling the woods; thousands, easily.”

  “Thousands of the Hull?” Kirah’s ears sank against her skull. The woman nodded in answer.

  “Thank you for the information…” Arrin paused for a name.

  “Braelyn,” she answered. “There are many of the smaller stone creatures lurking about, as well. The mass of them seem to be traveling in a southeasterly direction, but they appear to be leaving many behind to guard their flanks.”

  Jerul’s eyes went wide as he scanned the trees in the direction she mentioned. “They march on Y’Vel.” He reached for his swords, growling as he realized he no longer had them. “We must go to my people.” Jerul started off.

  “Wait,” Arrin told him, moving to block his path. Jerul shifted to step past, but Arrin set his hand on the warrior’s chest. “The Hull are slow and we can likely beat them to your land, if that is where they are headed, but we must not rush off like fools. We have but two swords between us.”

  Jerul drew in a deep breath. He stared at Arrin a moment and let loose a tired sigh. “What would you have us do?” His feet shifted in the dirt.

  Kirah came alongside him and laid a hand on the Yvir’s pale shoulder.

  Arrin glanced at the ground, which seemed to vibrate beneath his feet. He looked off into the trees a moment before turning back to Jerul. “There are far too many to fight, even for your kind. We must gather your people and push east into Ah Uto Ree. The Sha’ree promised to provide us with O’hra. The Yvir can be our army to drive these creatures from your land.”

  Jerul nodded without hesitation. “My people would be honored.”

  The tremors in the earth grew steadily as they talked, drawing their eyes to the north.

  “The Hull grow closer.” Arrin turned to Braelyn. “You said you traveled north for home?” He pointed toward the approaching army of stone, saying nothing of his confusion at Braelyn’s words. There was no time to challenge her sense of direction. “What would you do now?”

  She shrugged. “My choices, it would appear, are becoming limited.”

  “Will you come with us?”

  “It seems, perhaps, that is my destiny here in this strange land.” She sighed. “I crossed paths with another traveler, and he, too, was building an army to challenge a force of beasts he said was armed with these things you call O’hra.” She gestured to the ones she wore. “He asked for my help in exchange for his assistance in returning me to my homeland. Would you honor that pact, as well?”

  “What did this traveler look like?” Arrin asked hurriedly, ignoring her question.

  “He appeared strange. His flesh was pale green, with great pink eyes. He—”

  “Did he offer his name? Was it Uthul?”

  She nodded. “That was the name he gave. Of the Sha’ree, he said.”

  Arrin closed his eyes a moment and raised them to Kirah with a quiet exhalation. She smiled. “He lives. There is yet hope.” He turned back to Braelyn, doing his best to ignore the trembling earth beneath his feet. “We would most certainly honor his bargain with you, to the best of our ability. It is to his homeland that we travel to enlist the aid of his people.”

  “Will they help us free my uncle?” Cael asked. “And Zalee?”

  Arrin nodded. “I suspect Uthul would unearth all of Ahreele in search of his daughter.” He went over and set a comforting hand on Cael’s arm. “We will rescue Domor. The Ruhr would not have taken him had they intended to kill him.” The rumble in the earth grew more insistent, setting their boots to dance. “However, we must go.” He looked to Jerul. “Lead the way.”

  Jerul ran off without a word. The others followed. Arrin could hear the thunderous travel of the Hull at their back and wondered at their chances in the journey ahead. If Uthul was still alive, if he’d survived the crush of empowered Grol, then there was still a chance they might win out. But Uthul had known nothing about the Hull and Ruhr, or at the very least, had said nothing of their role in the battles to come. It was clearly no longer just the Grol that threatened Ahreele. Whatever had stirred the wolfen beasts from their hole had also drawn the great stone races into the conflict. He knew nothing of what they stood to gain, and it frightened him.

  As he ran toward Y’Vel, he worried for those left behind; for Domor and Zalee, and for Malya and her family at Pathrale. The enemies grew thicker by the hour and seemed determined to overrun Ahreele. Would what the Sha’ree offered
be enough to win out?

  That was the thought that nagged at him as the droning thump of the Hull army sounded at their backs.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Domor’s eyes fluttered open. The pain set in immediately. He gasped and went to raise his hands to his head and found they were bound behind his back. Panic took hold, and he reached for the power of the O’hra, but he could not feel its energy. He twisted in an attempt to look behind him, but he could see nothing in the darkness. His skull throbbed with the movement as he dropped back to the floor, a warm breeze fluttering against his cheeks. He blinked away the flickering dots that blurred his vision and tried to pierce the gloom that settled around him.

  The flash of a torch burned the darkness away and forced his eyes closed again to protect against its sudden radiance. After a moment, he eased his eyelids open and peered through the cracks. The dark gray of a hewn stone wall filled his sight. He lay on his side, his head aimed into the corner. The fetid breeze that warmed his cheeks was his own breath reflected back at him by the wall. Domor rolled away from it and looked for the light. He spied a torch set in a bronze sconce high on the wall above.

  He let his eyes adjust a moment to the sputtering light and looked about once he could see clearly. He lay in a small room, no more than a horse-length in either direction. The stone roof loomed over his head. Ignoring the throb of his skull, he pulled his knees beneath him and sat up. He saw Zalee laying just a few feet away, behind him.

  Her large eyes were closed, her cheeks swollen and black. Her lipless mouth hung open and dark blood was crusted in a line down her chin. She was naked, all of her clothes stripped from her to reveal the beating she’d taken at the hands of the Ruhr. Domor’s first instinct was to look away, guilt weighing down on him, but the strange lack of sexuality to Zalee’s form held his eyes.