A Hollow Mountain (The Brightest Shadow Book 2), page 48
~ ~ ~
Though Slaten could barely prevent the chaos of the battle from overwhelming him, he could control none of it. He heard a fight just behind him, but didn't have time to turn and look. To his right, several Bloodskin warriors fell back, and he could have assisted them. To his left, several soldiers struggled against one another and he could have ended their fight in a heartbeat.
Yet he was only one man and could do so little.
Hesitating would mean the deaths of others, so he pushed himself toward the struggle directly in front of him. His only thought was his commitment to defend those who might make a difference. For whatever reason, Tani had plunged into the new wave of mansthein instead of joining him, so he was the only one who could help.
Several errants had fallen in the counter-attack, and several more lay against the fortress wall. One of them had lost her helm, blood pouring down the side of her face. She was just a girl, not someone who should be fighting on a battlefield like this.
Slaten arrived behind the soldiers attacking her and cut them down in two quick strokes, but that meant nothing. They had all been pushed there by the Catai, who now advanced on them. Though he instinctively checked for other warriors, Slaten realized that there was no one there. Only a few crowds of soldiers and the two of them.
When the Catai tried to brush him aside with a massive horizontal sweep, Slaten went low and deflected it over his head. That should have been his moment to reverse his grip and use the hammer stroke, but instead his body automatically slashed. His sword cut a red line across the Catai's muscular side, hardly a crippling wound.
Now the Catai rounded on him, taking him seriously for the first time: there would be no more easy blows. As the Catai charged at him, Slaten gave ground, redirecting the force of the strikes to either side. Once, his body would have screamed at him with each deflection, but now it continued to move smoothly. His opponent's sein remained overpowering, but his body could keep up with his mind.
He made an effort to strike back with a thrust, but the Catai smashed it directly down. Slaten only barely pulled his sword back and leaned away from the next lashing horizontal blow. Such broad movements should have left his opponent open, but the Catai swung his maul so swiftly...
Powerful sein rampaged toward them. Slaten's eyes shifted, but his opponent's didn't. He realized that the Catai was tougher than him and maybe even faster, but he rushed forward without thought, trusting that he could overwhelm those who stood before him.
Two battling warriors plunged from the roof of the fortress, interrupting their fight. Slaten hadn't known exactly what it was, he'd simply moved to the side to prepare. He was momentarily taken aback, though he continued moving, when he saw Melal trading blows with a reddish Catai wider than he was tall. Both had lost their weapons, they simply slammed fists into one another. It seemed that Melal was getting the worst of it, yet he endured.
The sudden disruption made the Catai hesitate, staring at the new fight and trying to figure out what to do. Slaten had no such hesitation. He had been moving even before the other fighters arrived, and now he cut into his opponent's arm.
With a roar of pain, the Catai struck back. Slaten ducked the clumsy one-handed swipe, but the Catai's shoulder slammed into him the next moment. He flew back, struck the fortress wall, and dropped.
To his feet. Though his chest ached, Slaten realized with surprise that his focus hadn't wavered. He might not be able to keep taking blows like that, but he didn't need to. His opponent was down to one arm now, rushing at him with another of those broad horizontal swings.
Slaten deflected the maul, and though it nearly pushed through his block, he used that momentum to spin his sword. Grasping the blade with both hands, Slaten focused his sein into a dull sphere and brought the pommel against the side of his opponent's head as hard as he could.
The Catai fell like a great tree, roots failing as it thundered to the frozen ground.
For a moment Slaten hesitated, his fingers still locked tightly around the sharp edges of his blade. Yet the Catai had actually fallen. There was no visible injury on the side of his head, but his eyes stared at nothing.
"You... saved us." The girl was silent, but the boy at her side watched him with wide eyes. "We owe you a great debt."
"Pay it by making me proud that I saved you." His response sounded weak to his ears, yet he saw them smile as if encouraged. It was only a moment, but he felt that his new purpose had some weight.
Yet there was no time to celebrate, because that Catai had not even been the largest threat. While he fought, the wider Catai seemed to have battered Melal down to his knees. Worse than that, the mansthein on one end of the battlements had regrouped and now prepared to loose arrows down on vulnerable targets.
Slaten raised a hand and released a burst of sein, sending one of the archers tumbling over the other side of the battlements. Several Bloodskins and errants rushed from the side, engaging them, so he turned his attention to the large Catai standing over Melal, raising his weapon.
His burst of sein dissipated off the Catai's back. The man didn't even turn.
Just before the blow could land, Patule leapt from the battlements, digging two long knives into the Catai's neck. It should have been enough, yet the Catai only grunted and reached up to grab the Bloodkin's head. Patule struggled, trying to tear his knives out, but the Catai slammed him to the ground with a crunch.
Again, being able to track the flow of the battle became only a curse. Melal had dragged himself free, but Patule lay prone, possibly dead. Several errants had formed a desperate defense against the wall of the fortress, pressed by mansthein warriors. Further away, Bloodskin warriors retreated from the mansthein reinforcements, several of them falling.
At best, he could help one of them with his fading strength. Slaten only gripped his sword tighter.
~ ~ ~
Every time Celivia deflected another of Tani's strikes, her resolve weakened. The other woman's attacks were heavier with sein than before, but that was nothing compared to the weight of hatred in each one. Celivia sought the razor focus she had achieved in her fight with Slaten and failed to grasp it.
She had used her hair in combat only three times in her life. The first two had felt satisfying, and once it had even won her the fight. This time, though it left one of Tani's hands lacerated and unusable, it only filled her with revulsion. This hadn't been what she wanted.
If she cast down her weapons, would Tani strike to kill? Or would she finally listen? Celivia truly did not know, so when Tani next lunged out with her blade, Celivia only deflected it again.
They could have continued to fight for some time. Tani's sein had deepened since they last met, but Celivia had improved as well. Though she was better suited to a fight at close quarters, Celivia's heaviness prevented her from overpowering the other woman. How it would have ended remained uncertain.
But that didn't matter, because at that moment Ghalia leapt onto the ledge.
Tani whirled immediately, stabbing for Ghalia's stomach. The blade might have turned aside, but Celivia didn't give it a chance: her whip lashed out and this time snagged the sickle of Tani's weapon, jerking it from her hands. Then Ghalia's enormous arms closed around her, one around Tani's neck and the other around her waist.
"This the one?" Ghalia grunted as Tani thrashed and kicked back at her tree trunk legs, but the smaller woman had no leverage to use her sein effectively, not against a Catai in that position. "You make life a lot harder, Celi."
"Don't hurt her." Celivia took a deep breath, sparing a glance to the rest of the battle before looking back to Tani.
"Seems like she wanted to hurt you."
Even now, Tani glared at Celivia, who had to look away. "She has her reasons. This isn't the time to talk, Tani, so we'll need to-"
The war cry reached them a split second before the attack. Raiders erupted from the trees, escalating from silence in the time it took them to emerge. Several hacked at Ghalia, who grunted and released Tani. One swung at Celivia, but she reacted on instinct, driving one duusha horn knife into his eye and another into his neck.
As she let down the corpse, she realized that it was a human raider, but not dressed like those with Melal. More of them attacked below, hitting the flank of Jeraeli's reinforcements and turning the tide of battle. Victory was now in doubt, and Tani had escaped, yet Celivia found herself staring below.
It couldn't be...
~ ~ ~
The rush of the attack had driven Tani off the edge of the ridge against her will. She had needed to escape the monstrous Catai, one of Celivia's real allies, and then the raiders had forced her away. They had attacked in a howling rush, charging so wildly that she feared that they would kill her if she remained in their way.
So she stood below the ridge, with only a throwing knife in her uninjured hand. All around her, the new raiders rushed into the battle, driving the mansthein back. She should have joined them and taken advantage of the confusion, but she couldn't, instead searching the ridge.
Instead of Celivia, she found a familiar Coran woman, now draped in cloths of varying colors.
"Come on, kid!" Veron grinned at her, waving an arm for her to follow. "We'll get you out of this yet!"
Tani ignored her, still watching the ridge. Finally she saw a whisper of silver and began to run automatically. Celivia stood there, that Catai beside her, a monstrous perversion of a woman. It didn't matter. A new Deathspawn appeared, this one short and filled with sein that made Tani feel as though her arm was breaking. She'd cut through them all.
"Tani!" Someone's arms closed around her, binding her before she could run. She tried to strike before realizing it was Slaten, but he knew her too well, holding her back.
Above, Celivia gave them a disgustingly sorrowful glance and then she began to retreat. Tani let out another yell, struggling to follow, but she had exhausted herself and couldn't escape Slaten's grip.
She wanted to hate him too, but she knew that he was right. With one arm injured and most of her weapons lost, she couldn't win against Celivia, much less all the other mansthein. Even if she had somehow overwhelmed them, they would no doubt simply retreat again. Her moment had passed and she had failed to grasp it.
Tani sank down to her knees, still staring at the empty ridge.
~ ~ ~
He had seen only a glimpse of Celivia, surrounded by allies. In that moment, Slaten had been sure that she had seen him, yet she had turned away. Given how Tani had raged, he understood. His heart ached at the hatred he had felt from her, yet he could do nothing.
Now they retreated rapidly, borne on the strength of Veron's raiders. Though the mansthein had taken a serious blow and lost many warriors, Melal's group had also been bloodied. Melal might have urged them to fight on, but he was barely conscious, half-dragged by several loyal Bloodskins. Their only hope was to retreat far enough to recover, then escape before the mansthein could retaliate.
Though he should have helped with the retreat, Slaten focused solely on Tani. First he stayed close to prevent her from throwing her life away, then he awkwardly hoped that he could do something to help her. But when she looked at him and he saw her bitter tears, he realized that his abilities were again useless.
Someone, perhaps one of the remaining errants, had led the group into a narrow valley between two hills. There, those who had survived nursed their wounds or aided those who could not.
The errants assisted one another well, even those who were numb or injured. One of the younger errants appeared to have gone into seinshock, but they were treating him with soothing words and a heated cloth over his face. Whether or not it would be effective, they clearly cared for their own.
On the other hand, many of the Bloodskins he saw would die. Those with lesser injuries would soon heal, but those who could not follow the retreat were as good as dead. Someone had taken Patule with them, but his neck was deeply purple and it seemed he was bleeding internally.
"Slaten, what do I do?" Laeri appeared beside him, hands fluttering on her staff, eyes staring over the injuries. "There are so many... there are... they teach us how to choose those we can save... but that would be so cruel! I can't choose who lives and who dies!"
He had no strength left for her, but somehow Slaten put a hand on her shoulder. "Calm down and think, Laeri. What do you want?"
"I want to save everyone!" After her outburst, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes. "But... I can't. I don't want to choose who not to save, but I will. Just... please help me start, Slaten. Tell me who's most important."
"That..." He stared at her, not wanting to make that choice. Yet he realized that his sword was still stained with blood from all the choices he had previously made and found that he could. "Start with Patule. He's the most powerful warrior who you can save."
Laeri nodded with surprising vehemence and knelt down beside the Bloodskin. After placing her hands on his temples for a time, she nodded to herself. "Yes, he'll live. He... he was never a very nice person, but he deserves to live. All I need to do is repair the worst of the internal bleeding and his body will do the rest."
"Good. That's good. Once he's better, ask the errants if they have anyone who needs a healer. Help as many as you can before we retreat."
Slaten took a step back and then a moment just to breathe. Having Laeri apply herself to the injured would save many and make it easier for them to retreat, so perhaps he could begin worrying about retreating effectively. If they led the mansthein armies to Torgaadi and brought violence to that town...
"You're still alive!" Veron appeared beside him, grinning madly. Though Slaten found his face matching hers, he was too hollow to feel the expression.
"Hello, Veron. Are these your raiders?"
"You could say that. I was with the Earthbreakers for a time, and helped with their truly idiotic vendetta against the Earthcrushers. Earthsmashers? Earthsquishers? Whatever... the dreams just got worse... and I couldn't let you kids die on your own, could I? So I got some of them to follow me, and it seems I arrived just in time."
"Thank you."
"Don't be such a wet blanket, Slaten." Veron leaned on his shoulder, then pulled back slightly. "My, you're not so scrawny anymore. If I didn't know better, I'd say that you stole some of the raiders' arts. Something like that?"
"You could say that." This time he did smile. Veron promptly punched him in the ribs.
"You'd better have fucked some Bloodskin girl instead of just sitting around and acting noble."
Usually he was at a loss against Veron's relentless impropriety, yet this time Slaten realized that something immediately came to mind. "If you come back with the group, you'll hear us."
"Ha!" Veron actually did seem a bit surprised, pulling back. She looked down and then frowned, reaching toward the weapon he'd forgotten hung at his belt. "Since when do you use one of these?"
"This... is Tani's weapon. I thought..." Slaten fell silent and looked toward where she sat at the edge of the field. Someone had bandaged her hand, yet as she stared at nothing, she tore at the wraps. They were mostly shredded, so coated with new blood that they fell in crimson fragments all around her.
"Yeah... maybe don't give a weapon to her just yet." Veron said it lightly, but there was no more room for jests. Slaten remained silent, expecting her to leave him now that she couldn't tease him, but she waited wordlessly at his side.
Just when he thought the tension would become too much, Melal appeared beside them. He grinned, not the bright smile of the Hero but the broad grin from long ago. His expression was made more absurd by the fact that he had only bloody holes in place of several of his teeth. Slaten felt certain that at some point in the future, those teeth would somehow return.
"Slaten, Veron, come help me convince these errants. We could turn this into a victory, they just need to see reason."
"How could this be a victory?" Slaten asked. Not that it mattered.
Melal only raised a finger for him to be silent, and when he left, Slaten followed. They walked over several injured bodies to a cluster of three errants. All had removed their helms and spoke to one another with grim expressions.
"You're only alive thanks to her." Melal pointed at Veron as he approached. "All I'm asking is that you make sure this wasn't in vain. Our goal was to draw the Deathspawn away from the mine. This was a good start, even if we couldn't beat them all. We just need to finish it."
Once, that might have been enough to sway them. But Melal was bruised and less than glorious, and the errants looked too weary for heroics. An older man turned to them and spoke in a heavy voice. "This has already gone too far. Even if the Deathspawn controlled it, the outpost was part of the treaty with Wahleen."
"Don't be absurd! They shed Portantese blood on Portantese soil! Who cares about any specific treaty? If we strike at the border now, we'll completely draw away all their forces."
"That's impossible. They control the border." All the other errants joined him, piling on objections. Slaten looked between them, wondering if he wanted to make a difference. At the least, he could search for clarity. In a pause, Slaten asked the question Melal was ignoring.
"Why did you say that Wahleen controls the border?"
The lead errant turned to him quickly, relieved at a question he found reasonable. "It is a matter of rank. Portant's greatest Steelmasters wait in the south at Sangaad and in the north, placed to defend our forests and the end of the Santiid river. Here in the center, the balance is uneven."
"What does that mean?" Melal demanded.
"We lack Ironlords on the border, while they have normal numbers. Worse, at our local position, we have only two Steeljudges, whereas they are known to have at least five. Any conflict at the border is impossible for us, and we should be grateful they do not press their advantage."
"Nonsense! This border is just a line on a map, right?"
"It is more than that. The armies themselves form the line, and they have dug trenches, erected fortificat-"
"And you're saying there's absolutely nothing that could be done to throw them back?"
