The Edge of Shadow, page 9
part #5 of The Kin of Kings Series
Basen got the sword and started to stand, but there was another flash of movement so he fell down onto his stomach to avoid the blade. Another enemy got his foot on Basen’s new sword.
Basen let go and rolled away before the inevitable boot could stomp on his arm. He backed away from the two enemies and glanced around the enormous room. Alabell wasn’t here, and neither were Neeko or Effie. Basen rushed the back of a man focused on two injured women hobbling away from him, leaping as he got close and kicking his enemy in the spine. The man lost his sword as he fell forward. Basen grabbed it and spun to face his two attackers.
They advanced without hesitation. Basen blocked the first blow and blew bastial energy into the face of the next attacker, causing him to scream out and recoil. Basen deflected the first man’s following swipe and ran his sword through his chest. The other had recovered, but he wasn’t quick enough to stop Basen’s onslaught of pokes and slashes. One got through to his leg.
Basen turned and swung his blade as he felt someone coming up on him. His blade sunk into the man’s arm, the force of it buckling one of his knees and sending him down on his side.
The other enemies seemed to notice Basen then, calling to each other for support as they all started to circle him. The injured quickly made their way out the window and doorway, now completely ignored.
There were at least twenty men, all waiting for someone to attack Basen first. This was a grave error. He aimed his wand and fired, then again. His first took out two of them at once and the second took out one more. Some charged while others cowered. Basen gathered more energy and blasted the first man in the face, then danced around the two others swinging wildly at him.
Their feet got tangled, causing both to trip. Basen stabbed one man on his way down, and then the other who’d already hit the floor. The Tenred bastard he’d just burned tried to rush him with his arm up to protect his eyes, so Basen went one way and then the other to get around and stab him in the leg.
All others seemed more hesitant to approach by then. They looked behind them as if waiting for something. Then Basen noticed two men fetching bows from the ground.
It was his turn to run. He bolted for the window. Someone got in his way. Basen batted the enemy’s sword out of his hand and rammed his shoulder against him to send him flying. With the window clear, Basen jumped through, but his own stolen sword had fallen and become lost without him realizing until it was too late.
He ran as they came through one by one to chase him. Alabell and the others must’ve escaped already, but which way did they go? Basen had no way of knowing. His best choice was to turn back to rejoin the rest of the Academy’s army.
Terren had ordered everyone to retreat to get all their enemies on one side. They were probably in the southeastern corner of the campus by now. Basen veered in that direction.
He ran for quite a while without anyone blocking his path, eventually thinking he would make it. But the closer he got to the battle, the more enemies started popping up in front of him. He changed course to avoid them all, but soon there was no route to take him straight there. Eventually they caught sight of him coming from behind.
He’d created a wide gap between the enemies behind him by then, but he’d also exhausted himself as he’d covered probably a couple of miles since this had begun. He held up his wand and tried to look less fatigued.
Most of these men looked far less confident than Cassius, reluctant to approach and wearing expressions of worry. Basen recognized one of them, a stonemason from the castle. He didn’t know the man’s name, but they’d spoken on a few occasions over the years.
“Why do this?” Basen asked to buy himself time.
Their approach slowed. The stonemason stopped and shuffled to get himself behind his comrades, presumably ashamed by his betrayal.
“Crea made a deal with Ulric,” answered the lead man.
“When?” Basen asked. He already knew the answer. It had to have been a while ago. She knew her loyalists would be questioned with psyche, so she’d told them nothing until it was time to strike. Today. But he needed more time to figure out how to get through to his army.
There were about a dozen easing toward Basen, trying to avoid getting out in front so they wouldn’t become his first target. That didn’t include all the enemies approaching from behind.
The clamor of battle sounded so far away. Terren’s voice was almost completely lost against the roar of other shouts. From what Basen could make out, the headmaster seemed to be ordering them to shift once more.
No one answered Basen’s question. Enemies were beginning to catch up from behind. He would have to run again soon, but he still needed to catch his breath and figure out how to get around these men.
“Take me to Crea,” Basen demanded.
Two of the men snickered. One told him, “Put down your weapon and we will.”
He shot at the snickering men first, putting a permanent end to their laughter. The rest charged, but they underestimated how quickly he could gather energy for another fireball. He shot another group of two, but there were still many more.
He would have to wrench the sword out of the first enemy’s hands quickly enough to defend himself from all the others. He shot one more time, taking down the first and second fastest of these men, noticing the stonemason still staying behind.
The next assailant came in contact as Basen was backing away. Basen stepped in just as the man raised his sword, turned his back as he grabbed the man by his arm, and flipped him over his hip. The sword came loose. Basen spun around to ready himself for the next…four of them. God’s mercy. And the sword he’d taken was iron and rusted.
An arrow embedded itself in the neck of one man. Another arrow pierced an arm and sprawled the enemy as he lost his sword, which slid to a stop at Basen’s feet. He started to pick it up but had to stop and roll backward to avoid more attackers.
As he created some distance to buy time to plan his defense, two more arrows found homes in the bodies of his enemies. Basen finally had a moment to glance in the direction they’d come from. Cleve and Peter stood atop neighboring buildings, both men firing with speed.
It was good to see that Peter had chosen the right side in this separation between Tenred and the Academy. The betrayers must’ve excluded him from the battle plan knowing he would’ve warned the Academy leadership.
The enemies began to take notice and started using the many classrooms around them for cover. They yelled to each other to shoot the Academy archers, but it seemed that Tenred betrayers with bows were rare. Cleve and Peter continued to shoot down any black uniforms, giving Basen the opportunity to get over to the mage classroom Cleve stood upon and climbed up.
Basen joined in the shooting, using his wand to hurl fireballs down onto the corners of buildings where enemies scurried for protection. The splash of fire caused these unseen men to scream. It would’ve given Basen great satisfaction if he wasn’t in such a hurry to get back to the rest of the Academy’s army.
Cleve rained arrows down onto the backs of betrayers closing in around the allies until he had no arrows left.
“I’m out!” he told Peter.
“Same.”
But Basen continued to shoot balls of flaming destruction, killing all that he could.
An arrow flew by between him and Cleve, making Basen realize how dangerous this was now. He and Cleve lay flat.
Cleve yelled, “Peter, get—!”
But Peter screamed before Cleve could finish. Basen rose up to see Peter with an arrow in his stomach, collapsing to his knees.
More arrows flew overhead as Basen and Cleve crawled to the edge of the roof and jumped down. Basen followed Cleve as he leapt up to grab the lower awning of Peter’s building, got himself onto it, then climbed up to the roof.
Peter lay on his side as he groaned. “What are you doing here?” he complained. “Get somewhere safe. I’m done.”
“We have to get to everyone else,” Basen agreed.
Arrows soared over them, too high to hit them so long as they stayed down, but Basen had to risk a look to see where his enemies were. The battle had shifted past the southern wall, many of Basen’s allies climbing up and then jumping off with enemies following.
“It looks like Terren is having everyone retreat to the south,” he said. “Ulric’s troops have come around to join Crea’s.”
“You mean Abith’s,” Cleve corrected. He sat up for his own glimpse.
“Watch out!” Basen called as he noticed a couple enemy archers climbing up onto a classroom not too far from theirs.
“We have to get down onto the other side.” Cleve grabbed Peter by the arm and dragged him.
Peter helped with his feet as he screamed in agony. Basen covered them by shooting a fireball at the archers, causing them to duck and drop the arrows they’d nocked. He helped Cleve get Peter down to the awning, and then to the ground. Peter fell with a grunt.
“We have to go,” Cleve urged, trying to pull Peter up again.
“Leave me,” he groaned. “Find some way to live so you can kill them all later. This battle is lost.”
“Cleve.” Basen pointed at a horde of Ulric’s soldiers in blue who’d spotted them and were approaching quickly.
Cleve cursed. Peter forced himself up. With surprising strength, he ripped Basen’s sword out of his hand and then stuck the hilt of his own into Basen’s palm.
“Use mine,” Peter gritted out. “Ten times better than that shoddy blade.” He took a fighter’s stance, his face showing great pain. “I’m fighting until my last breath. Go!”
“Peter—” Cleve began.
“Go!” Peter yelled. “Don’t let my death be meaningless. Get to Terren. Win this war.”
“Thank you,” Basen said and started to turn. But Cleve, the brave fool, took a spot beside Peter.
“I’m dead anyway, Cleve!” Peter spat out, his face red. “Don’t be an idiot. Go!”
Basen pulled Cleve away. They ran around a building, then another, heading south away from the horde. The wall was close by then. The battle had shifted to the east, sounds of it growing from outside the wall.
Basen and Cleve ran through the broken gate and found themselves parallel with the rest of their allies backing away from enemies pouring over the wall like ants.
“Terren’s retreating into the forest,” Basen realized.
Cleve turned to Basen with a dire look. “It was by accident that Peter and I found you. We climbed up to the building to shoot, and before we saw you, we noticed Effie and Steffen with others going north. They were being chased. I’m not sure what became of them, but someone needs to go in case they need help.”
“Where north?”
“Veering west toward the third-year student homes. Alabell and Neeko were with them. I’ll stay with my uncle.”
“I hope we see each other again,” Basen said as he turned and sprinted.
“Be safe!” Cleve called after him.
CHAPTER TEN
Sanya began to gather energy again at a furious rate as soon as Basen was called away by some Krepp. They would execute her—it was the only reason they hadn’t come to tell her the decision of the jury yet. She had to escape, and she wasn’t sure if Basen would do anything to help.
It was difficult to tell the time with only a sprinkle of daylight gliding in through a far window. But it didn’t seem as if more than an hour had gone by before she heard screams. Some seemed to be people calling to each other, while others yelped out of fear. None were close, but the increasing number of screams made up for that as they came from nearly every direction.
Eventually it sounded as if an entire army was running around the storage building. The walls were too thick for Sanya to pick up anything with psyche except that there were hundreds if not thousands of them. Whatever was happening, it might be her best chance to escape.
She had almost gathered enough energy to make a portal; she could feel it. But the air at the base of the two bars had felt like this for the last few hours, unchanged. As she had never made a portal to anywhere but the spiritual world, she had no idea how much more energy it would take.
She’d already tried to break the bars with a portal to the spiritual world, and as she’d told Basen, the portal wasn’t strong enough. She’d tried to make one that would envelop part of the bar, but it would not hold steady as the metal started to pass through it. Perhaps with an akorell stone, she could make one her size and force part of her prison inside, but right now she had nothing but the clothes on her body.
The army marched past her, and the screams seemed to move ahead of them. Sweat down her temples made her hair stick to her face, her breathing ragged. She leaned forward and grabbed hold of the bars as she looked down and made energy beneath her.
She tried and tried, then tried some more, but all she accomplished was burning her shins. She fell forward when she lacked the strength to keep herself up, her shoulders ramming into the bars. She cursed and sank backward to sit on the cold ground.
She lay there until she’d regained her breath, then rose up again. This time the feeling was different. The door was there, waiting for her to open it. She forced energy together once again and finally felt the beginning of a portal. It was like falling into a familiar dream, as she lost sense of where she was to focus on where she was going.
She found herself encased by stone walls, the dim glow of the ceiling above. Back in the Fjallejon Mountains, she’d spent much time here preparing herself to make a portal to the spiritual world after she’d finally found the spot. She’d needed the boost of energy from the akorell metal, which she used to open a portal to the red steppes of the spiritual world and toss in the weapon of death. Now she was back—no, she was still imprisoned. Focus!
Her mind was split between her location and her destination, reality and memory. She regained sight of the cage and the dark sphere hovering between the base of two bars. The mental strain felt like trying to keep three enraged rams from colliding into each other. There was no way to fully control this beast, its edges bending inward in hopes of collapsing on itself as she pushed with all her strength to keep it whole. The bar rattled as she forced the portal wider, one edge brushing against solid metal.
But just like with the small entrances to the spiritual world she’d made here, the metal was too sturdy to be broken. Sanya sucked in a deep breath and pushed with all of her strength to double the size of the portal. It went from half to the full size of her fist, finally growing to reach past the bar. It bit off a chunk of the base.
The rest of the bar crashed down on top of the portal, breaking the portal apart. Sanya gasped as she fell to her knees. She neither heard nor sensed anyone nearby. She begged for her stamina to return as she crawled toward the opening in her cell. It would be a tight fit, but she would get through even if she lost a damn nipple in the process.
*****
After a short time and a bruised chest, Sanya made it out of the storage building. No one was around her. She could easily run to the north wall, make her way over…but then what? The only route available would be through the Fjallejon Pathway and into Tenred unless she risked going around the Academy once she was past the wall.
Where were all the wall guards? Where was anyone?
She could risk going east. If she made it to Lake Kayvol, she should be able to hide in the copse of trees on the eastern side and drink from the lake until she decided what to do.
No, she’d promised to do everything she could to make up for her mistakes. Something was happening to the Academy, and she might be needed.
She had to get somewhere high before she could figure out anything. She did make the short trip to the north wall after all but only for a glimpse of the rest of the campus.
A large army of Tenred troops marched south. Something flying through the air caught her attention—a boulder! It looked to have been flung from within the Academy. It smashed down somewhere on the southern wall, shattering part of it to pieces. She faintly heard screams of horror as she scanned for the catapult.
There, in the wide path between the housing for staff and the psychic classrooms. It was the Academy’s own war weapon being used against them.
A betrayal. Tenred! The very troops who came here to help fight against the Takarys have now joined Ulric against the Academy.
It was time for her to fight.
The wounds she’d come here with had healed, but she was weakened from exhaustion and the stress of her whole ordeal. She needed a weapon. She would go back to the storage building—a scream stopped her from descending the ramp of the wall. She shielded her eyes from the morning sun to make out the Tenred army separating to chase after students trying to get away.
Sanya’s mind would be her weapon. She rushed down the ramp and toward the army. A voice nagged her to run the opposite way, to escape and forget about those who would’ve executed her. She ignored it as she made her way down the wide southern path, traveling between the dining hall and the storage building, and then between Warrior’s Field and the farms. A group of Krepps encircled a single man toward the center of the enormous field of grass. Sanya stopped for a moment, unsure what to do, before deciding to listen to her curiosity and turn toward them.
Three of them attacked the man, who turned out to be Abith. “I’m not responsible for this!” he yelled. “You’re attacking the wrong man, and you’re keeping me from helping everyone else!”
“You lie!” one Krepp responded, then spat in Abith’s face.
Another Krepp dived on top of Abith, but he rolled backward and flung the creature off. He deflected and dodged blades, refusing to attack back as he continued to yell at them.
“It’s Cassius Lane who you must kill! Stop!”
