The Eighth Warden Bk. 03 Ch. 33-34

"You didn't give me enough time. I had to gather everyone, then make sure they memorized the descriptions you gave me so we didn't take one of your friends by mistake." He leaned back against the wall, coughing and rubbing at the red spot on his jaw where he'd been hit. "But you're right. It took me too much effort to get here on top of everything else. Maybe some of us should have stayed behind and let the strongest come without us. We held them back. Some of them could have gotten here in a single hop."

The younger Traveler stood over the Seeker's bound form. "Who are you?" he demanded. "What's your name?"

The Seeker just sneered at him.

"We'll have time to get it out of him later," Rohav said. "There's a more pressing matter right now."

The Traveler nodded. "What about you?"

"I can't manage any more teleporting today. I'll stay here and watch the traitor."

"Then I'll be going," the younger man said.

He looked out the window at the melee below, then disappeared, reappearing in the midst of the battle. He wrapped his arms around one of the archers, and they both disappeared. The Traveler reappeared alone, bracing himself as if landing from a jump. A moment later, a body came falling from a great height, slamming into the corner of a building and then bouncing off. The Traveler grabbed another man and disappeared again.

A dozen other Zidari joined him, and soon more bodies were falling as the Travelers winked in and out. Others returned wet, having left their opponents in the middle of some distant body of water.

A young woman Leena had never met misjudged her return, falling at least ten feet to the ground below. She screamed in pain as she landed wrong and collapsed, then disappeared. She'd either be nearby, hiding until she could be healed, or, if she could, she might have returned home. Leena would try Seeking the girl after the battle. For now, she was supposed to save her strength in case she was needed to send messages back to Sanvar. Unfortunately, she didn't know how to fight like the others. She wasn't yet skilled enough to teleport someone else along with her.

The Travelers made heavy inroads on the archers and the men with the snake knives, but, one by one, they began disappearing from the fight as they ran out of strength or were injured.

And then, in the center of the melee, an elderly woman with pure white hair appeared. Despite her age and her long Zidari dress, she ducked effortlessly under the swing of a sword, then tapped her assailant, sending him elsewhere in the blink of an eye. Unlike the other Travelers, she didn't teleport along with him. Instead, she touched two more men who hadn't seen her yet, sending them away, too.

Satyana, Leena realized. The most powerful Traveler in living memory, a legend amongst the clan. Leena had never met her before, but there was no one else it could be.

The old woman danced gracefully through the battle, narrowly avoiding her enemies' weapons—and sometimes seeming to teleport right through them. Where she touched, her targets disappeared, and unlike the other Travelers, she went after the armed mercenaries rather than the men with the knives. More bodies came plummeting down from above, landing far enough away to not risk hitting any allies, but close enough that the attackers could see their screaming companions slamming into the ground and dying.

After sending eleven men to their deaths, Satyana stumbled, dropping to one knee. Was it an accident? Or had she used too much magic? Whatever the reason, one of the mercenaries charged her, raising his spear in a two-handed grip to strike. The old woman made a rude gesture and disappeared just before he reached her. She didn't return to the battle.

The mercenary stopped and stared at where she'd been, too surprised at her disappearance to notice Corec coming up behind him, raising his glowing blade.

#

Corec struck down one of the mercenaries, then charged another, shoving him back and forcing him to trip over the bodies of two more sprawled behind him. Reversing his grip, Corec stabbed down, piercing through the padded armor the man was wearing, then stepped back to look for a new opponent.

His arms and shoulders ached—the fight had raged longer than any he'd seen before, and only his armor and spells had kept him alive, along with the occasional flashes of light from Treya that seemed to reinvigorate him somehow. He'd tried to take the brunt of the enemy's attacks, knowing he was better protected than Sarette, but now Treya and Ellerie had joined them, and together, the four were managing to hold the intersection.

The last of the Travelers had disappeared from the battle, but they'd been more effective than Corec had hoped based on what Leena had told him. There were no archers left that he could see, and Leena's countrymen had taken many of the other attackers as well, lessening the pressure.

There hadn't been any sign of the wizard, at least on Corec's end of the fight. Perhaps he was still out there, waiting, or perhaps Ellerie or Shavala had managed to find him.

The men with the knives posed little danger one on one, but they fought to the death, almost suicidal in their attacks. What could have possessed untrained villagers and farmers to join this sort of battle?

The mercenaries, far more capable than the knife men, hadn't surrendered, but most of the ones who still lived had begun to flee back into the barrens, frightened away when they realized magic was being used against them. Between Ellerie's spells, Corec's and Sarette's weapons, and the Travelers, the armsmen had gotten a glimpse of something they weren't prepared to face.

Not all had been scared off, though. A mountain of a man in full plate rushed at Corec. The mercenary was big enough to grip a longsword in one hand, and he carried a metal-plated heater shield in the other. Worse, he must have come from the rear ranks—he didn't seem tired at all, and he swung his blade fast enough that Corec was forced back, parrying rather than attacking. Corec's shield and armor spells had run out long ago. His armor itself would hold against a strike from a sword, but against an opponent so strong, he'd have to take care to prevent a hit to his helmet or a gap in his armor, or simply being pushed to the ground where it would be harder to defend himself.

Then a strange buzzing noise, like hundreds of bees, came out of nowhere. The green glow of the enchantment on Corec's sword resurfaced, growing brighter until it overwhelmed the blue glow of his sword-strengthening spell. The mercenary struck again, but when Corec blocked the blow, his sword sheared through his opponent's, cutting the blade in two. The buzzing grew louder, and he reversed his swing, striking diagonally down at the man's side. The weapon cut clean through the mercenary's vambrace, severing his arm, then bit into his cuirass and his ribs. The buzzing noise faded as the man died, the green glow disappearing under the blue once more.

The last of the mercenaries turned and fled. Corec didn't give chase. To his left, Ellerie whipped the tip of her rapier across a knife man's face, then stabbed him through the heart. There were no other enemies left standing nearby. Treya and Sarette were still trying to catch their breath, watching the fleeing men with looks of relief. There was a smudge of dried blood on Sarette's cheek, and more blood splatted across Treya's tunic, but both women appeared to be standing without a problem.

Glancing to the other end of the block, Corec found that Boktar and Razai still fought. Josip had joined them, apparently recovered from his injuries, though the weapons he was using weren't his. And was that Bobo leaning against a nearby wall, his eyes closed? What was he doing there?

Corec jogged in that direction, the others following him. There was still a fight to finish.

#

"Act normal," Rusol hissed as he, Jasper, and Rodulf reached the entrance to the dining hall. "If you look nervous, they'll know something's wrong."

The two frightened wizards were forced to obey any orders he gave them, thanks to the modified warden bond, but an order could only go so far. Neither of the men were actors. Rodulf pasted a rictus of a smile across his face, while Jasper attempted to project confidence, though his eyes still darted back and forth as if wondering when he would be attacked.

It would have to do. Kolvi and Magnus would have been better choices for companions, but Leonis was unlikely to tolerate an elder witch, and Magnus would have refused to sit down with priests of Pallisur. Besides, those two had another role to play this evening. Rusol glanced up at the musicians' balcony overlooking the dining hall. Kolvi nodded to him, then disappeared again behind the curtain. Magnus would be with her, the two of them prepared to strike when Rusol gave the order.

Leonis and his men hadn't arrived yet, but the hall was busy with servants setting the table. Rusol had come early on purpose.

"Avoid the peppered beans," he said, "and pay close attention to see if any of Leonis's men do so as well. If they do, kill them first, as soon as the poison starts taking hold in the others. Then, focus on those who are least affected. The poison will likely hit them at different times so we'll have to work quickly once they figure out what's going on. Remember, they're priests, so they might be able to heal themselves if we're not fast enough."

"I don't like this," Jasper muttered. "Killing them in cold blood."

"I told you what Leonis is trying to do. Do you really want to swear obedience to Pallisur and his teachings to get your spells back?"

"That's impossible," the old man said. "He can't really do that, can he?"

"I don't know, so let's make sure we don't have to find out."

Rusol eyed the room, looking for anything out of place. Except for Samir, he'd never killed anyone before, and tonight he would have to kill nine men. Was he up to the task? Leonis and his men were battle-hardened warrior priests with centuries of experience fighting elder witches. True, it was unlikely they'd faced many witches as strong as Kolvi or Rusol, but there were nine of them. Had Rusol overestimated his own capabilities? Would the poison really be enough to give them an edge?

The word warden suggested some sort of guardianship or protection, but the dreams Rusol had received when he was chosen hadn't indicated how to go about that. After his brother's death, protecting his family had been an obvious choice, and he couldn't afford to wait for the threat to come to him. The other wardens had struck first. He had to hunt them down before they could strike again.

But killing Leonis went beyond protecting Rusol's own family, or even the nation of Larso. The Church of Pallisur was a blight, and anything that gave the Church or the god himself more power had to be prevented. Leonis may have been a madman, but if there was any chance his scheme might actually work, it had to be stopped.

Was this what it meant to be a warden? Rikard had always been the golden child of the family, beloved by commoners and nobles alike. Rusol had preferred to stay in the background, uncomfortable around other people. Rather than helping to administer his family's own kingdom, he'd spent most of his time learning to master magics that were illegal there. He hadn't had a choice, of course—he'd been born with demon blood, and the elder magic had affected him far more than it had his brother—but it meant he'd never held much of a position of importance in either the family or the kingdom. Not until Rikard's death, and even then, there had only been grudging acceptance of Rusol as the new heir.

Now, though, he felt a sense of significance, momentousness. He would finally do something that mattered. The people of Larso had no idea of the threat they faced, but Rusol was going to save them from it.

It was almost enough to help him forget his terror at the knowledge that failure would end in his death. Almost, but not quite.

How could Leonis actually go through with his plan? He was a warden, too. Shouldn't he know how wrong it was? His insanity must have pushed him over the edge. There was no other explanation that made sense.

The sound of stomping boots came from the corridor, and Leonis and his eight priests filed into the room. They all wore full armor and had their weapons at their sides. Some had shields strapped to their backs.

Rusol swallowed. He had his own sword belted at his waist—he was in Fort Northtower after all—but he'd left his armor back in his suite. Heavy armor wasn't appropriate for a formal supper. Leonis's men apparently didn't follow the same custom.

Then they fanned out across the room into a half-circle, making it obvious they hadn't come for supper. The last few servants, sensing trouble, slipped out through the kitchen entrance.

Rusol felt a sudden spike of fear in his gut. "What's the meaning of this?" he asked, trying to keep his voice from wavering. Just because they were armed and armored didn't mean they'd discovered he was trying to kill them. It was still possible the priests were chasing after some other threat, real or imagined.

"Did you really think you could use demonic magic under my nose and I wouldn't learn of it?" Leonis asked, his voice full of quiet menace. "It was bad enough when I thought you were an elder witch, but a demonborn? You are no kin of mine." He clenched his fist and Rusol fell to his knees, feeling like a puppet with its strings cut.

He tried to stand, but he couldn't move his limbs; he could barely breathe. His mind raced. He'd known, in theory, that some priests had power over demonborn, but he'd never experienced it for himself—never realized how overwhelming it was. He needed time to think.

"You ... would ..." He had to pause, gasping for air. "You would blame me ... for an ... accident of birth?" The Church wavered back and forth on its stance regarding demonborn. It was unlikely that Leonis's thoughts on the matter were so indecisive, but if Rusol could delay for just a bit longer, it would give his bondmates time to react.

"Demonborn are no accident," the other warden said. "The only question is what to do with you. The Order of Pallisur in Larso has lost its way. I doubt I can trust them for anything, and I'm too close to my goal to deal with a war right now. We'll have to make it look like an accident."

Why wasn't anyone doing anything? True, if Jasper or Rodulf started casting a spell while surrounded by armed men, they'd be cut down before they could finish, but why hadn't Kolvi or Magnus taken action? They were still hidden, undiscovered. They could take Leonis by surprise.

Could they be waiting for a signal? Surely they could see Rusol couldn't move. Why weren't they helping?

Without them, there was only one option.

Rusol embraced the divine blessings the shadow creature had granted him.

Leonis's spell might prevent Rusol from using demonic or elder magic, but it didn't block divine magic. With a moment's thought, he banished the other warden's spell, freeing himself, then switched to elder magic and thrust his hands forward, sending a wall of towering flame toward the priests directly ahead of him.

The quick change in fortune startled them, giving him time to jump to his feet. The inferno reached his enemies, but they'd taken precautions. The fire washed over them without harm—all except one, who burst alight, squealing in agony as he burned to death.

Leonis rushed forward, his warhammer in a double-handed grip. Rusol targeted him with a direct bolt of lightning to the chest. The priest's protection spells held but he was still knocked off his feet from the impact. Rusol hit him again while he was down, then tried to figure out how to adapt the old plan to the new situation.

The original idea had been for Rusol, Jasper, and Rodulf to sit at the far end of the table so Rusol and Kolvi could catch Leonis and his men in between them. Surrounded as they were, that wasn't an option, which meant Rusol and the two wizards were in danger from friendly fire. He quickly cast three more divine spells, shielding himself and his allies from fire, lightning, and even physical attacks, though he knew that last one would be of limited effectiveness.

The priest to Leonis's right shook off his surprise, then waded through the fire to bash Rusol to the ground with his shield. Rusol's protective aura held, though, and the pain wasn't as great as he'd expected. The priest raised his sword to strike, but a beam of light suddenly took him in the face, melting away his features.

There was a sharp cry from Rodulf, and then the wizard fell silent.

"Now!" Rusol shouted, and Kolvi joined the battle, streaks of lightning bursting from the balcony. She focused her attack on the priests nearest to her, not realizing Rusol and the wizards were protected from her magic, so Rusol spun around to check on the others.

Rodulf had been knocked to the ground and wasn't moving, but his physical protection spell still held. Jasper, though, was hit by a glowing white sword before he could complete his first spell. The first strike shattered the protective aura and the second bit deeply into his torso. His eyes went blank as he fell.

Rusol launched streamers of lightning toward the priests who'd taken out his wizards, following up with more bursts of flame, hoping Kolvi was keeping the others away from his back. It was a matter of speed and endurance now. Would the protection spells give out before the priests could reach them?

Kolvi extended her lightning storm to cover the entire room, apparently realizing the wild bursts of elder magic weren't harming Rusol or his bondmates. Or maybe she just didn't care. The priest who'd hit Rodulf was knocked to the ground by a bolt. The protective aura faded away from the one who'd attacked Jasper just as Rusol hit him again, the lightning frying his body and leaving a smoking corpse.

Magnus shouted a word of warning and Rusol whirled back the other way to find Leonis climbing to his feet. Rusol threw balls of flame which exploded when they hit him, but the man's shielding spells remained strong.

Above them, Magnus stepped to the edge of the balcony and drew his war bow to its full strength, putting his whole body into it. He aimed at one of the priests and loosed an arrow that glowed with the brilliant white light of divine magic. The projectile hit its target, blasting through the man's divine protection spell and steel breastplate.

Rusol crouched down and slapped the floor in front of him, transforming the stone into something viscous, almost as if it had melted but without the heat. The stone changed in a wave rolling out from Rusol's position, trapping Leonis and two of his men before becoming solid once more. One of the priests had tripped and was swallowed completely, no longer a threat, but Leonis and the other were merely sealed up to their waists. Leonis pounded frantically at the stone with his glowing warhammer, chipping away at it.

"Stop, demon!" the man shouted. "I command you!" His words echoed around the room, growing louder with each iteration, but they had no effect. Rusol's demonborn nature was still protected by his own divine magic.

Magnus released a second gleaming arrow, which took the other half-buried priest in the back of the neck, killing him instantly.

Rusol blasted Leonis with a lightning bolt, then another, trying to break down his protective spells. Just as one wore off, the priest replaced it with another. Kolvi joined the attack, but Rusol felt himself weakening. Even bound in place, the other man seemed easily capable of protecting himself from their spells.

Rusol's vision went red with demon rage, and he drew the mirror-like sword his mother had gifted him. Leonis had left the face guard up on his helmet, and the longsword had a longer reach than the priest's warhammer. Rusol had never fought with a weapon before, though, and his first stab was tentative. Leonis blocked the thrust, knocking the blade from his hands.