Heart of Black Ice

CHAPTER 10

Creeping through the trees, Verna and her companions searched for a small mountain village, hoping to find it before the enemy raiders did. The fresh-faced novice Amber accompanied her, as well as the morazeth Lyesse and five of Zimmer’s D’Haran soldiers.

Lord Oron stalked beside the prelate, hard-faced and unhappy with his circumstances. “I was once a respected member of the wizards’ duma, as well as the head of the skinners’ guild. Now I am wandering through a trackless forest hoping to find a few hovels.”

Ahead, they heard bleating sheep, and the trees opened up to reveal an expansive meadow. A terrified flock was being driven down the grassy slope by thirty armored soldiers.

Verna shot a glance at the powerful wizard from Ildakar. “And I was once the prelate of the Sisters of the Light. Now it appears we will both be shepherds.”

Lyesse was already sprinting forward. “That is enough meat to feed many enemy soldiers. We cannot let them have the animals. Come, let’s stop them.”

As Verna watched the aloof soldiers herding the sheep along, her voice came out in a low, husky growl. “At least we will make them pay for what they did to that poor shepherd’s family.”

Only an hour earlier, they had smelled smoke and come upon a burning cottage in a high meadow, where they found the bodies of a woman and her daughter, both with their throats cut. The cottage had been stripped of supplies, all the food eaten. Farther out in the grazing fields, they found a tent that held the shepherd and his teenage son, both also dead, along with their dog. The tent had been set on fire, and the corpses were half burned. Now the ancient raiders were driving the whole flock back to the main army.

“It is only thirty soldiers,” said Lyesse, pausing to watch from the edge of the trees. “Our swords will make quick work of them. I’d kill them all myself, but then Thorn might not believe my score.” Her lips quirked in a smile as she looked at the other D’Haran soldiers. “I will let my comrades have a turn as well.”

“The prelate and I also have a respectable amount of magic,” Oron pointed out. “We’ll take care of a few ourselves.”

Out in the open meadow, the soldiers banged their swords on their flame-embossed shields to keep the sheep moving across the sloped grasses. They had no idea they were being watched.

The D’Haran soldiers drew their weapons and crouched, hiding in the forest camouflage. A breeze stirred the branches, rustled the leaves. Lyesse gripped her short sword and looked over her shoulder at her companions. She raised her heavy dark eyebrows. “What are we waiting for?”

Oron raised his hand and called upon his gift. “I’m not waiting.” The sky darkened over the meadow, and a sharp wind began to blow harder. The marauders looked up, grumbling at the sudden afternoon thunderstorm. A single black cloud unleashed a downpour that fell only over the meadow, drenching them. The bleating sheep kept moving.

With a smile, Oron twisted his fingers, and a thin lightning bolt speared down into the middle of the enemy soldiers, killing two and scattering the others. In terror, the sheep bolted in all directions.

Prelate Verna and the others needed no further encouragement. Smiling, Amber used her own gift to summon a whirling whip of air that lashed out and caught one of the enemy soldiers, knocking him over. He yelped in surprise.

The D’Haran soldiers charged out of the forest, with the lean morazeth bounding ahead of them. In the pelting rain and howling winds, the ancient soldiers didn’t realize how few were attacking them.

Thunder boomed from Oron’s black cloud. Another bolt of lightning shattered one of the enemy warriors into chunks of charred flesh. Fleet as a jaguar, Lyesse leaped in among the startled soldiers. Swinging her short sword, she decapitated one of the men, then gutted a second with her backstroke. “Two!” she cried, and fell upon more victims.

Yelling, Verna ran after them. Amber followed her. “I’m at your side, Prelate.”

Though Verna felt old and weary from the long journey, she was tough. She had trained many young wizards in the Palace of the Prophets, had even been able to enforce her will on Richard Rahl. She was a scholar, a leader, and powerfully gifted.

And she had been to war before.

Verna called up a pocket of air above the milling, frightened sheep, then collapsed it, pressing her palms together. The snap of compressed air made an explosion of sound, a harmless boom that sent the panicked sheep bolting into the trees.

She looked at Oron. “The raiders will never catch those sheep now.”

The wizard gave a small nod. “Effective, Prelate, though I would rather kill the enemies, not just startle them.” He raised both hands, twisted his wrists, and changed the magic he had released. The pouring rain froze into a wave of long, sharp ice projectiles that were like pointed arrowheads pelting the drenched soldiers. Then the D’Haran soldiers fell upon them.

Utros’s raiding party had expected little resistance when they harassed undefended villages and an isolated shepherd’s family. Surprised, they were easy targets, and all of them were quickly and methodically dispatched.

True to her word, Lyesse accounted for six of the enemy soldiers herself. Three D’Haran soldiers had been injured in the fray, and they all sat together under now clear skies and bound each other’s wounds. Verna and Oron used their gift to heal the worst of their cuts.

Before sunset, they made camp outside the damaged cottage. Two of the men retrieved the bodies of the shepherd and his son from their burned tent and brought them back so the entire family could lie at rest next to one another. Verna and her companions took the time to give the poor victims a proper burial, which seemed fitting.

“The Keeper took them too soon,” she said. “But at least they will all be a family in the underworld.”

In a hard voice Oron said, “The Keeper didn’t take the rest of the ancient army soon enough. I’d like to send them all to the underworld.”

It seemed fitting to leave the bodies of the ancient warriors to rot on the hillside.

As night fell and the party built a fire outside to brighten the darkness, Lyesse trudged back across the meadow with one of the sheep over her shoulders, killed and gutted.

“The rest of the flock is scattered,” she said. “This one will be enough for us, and Utros will get none of them.” She dropped the carcass near the fire, then used her dagger to cut chunks of the richest meat for them to roast. “It has been a good day.”

“A good enough one,” Verna said. Though they had killed thirty of the enemy, she knew there were countless more soldiers, and that thought weighed on her. Was this merely an exercise?

But when she looked at Amber’s satisfied smile, she decided to let the novice enjoy the victory. Verna promised herself that the war was not, in fact, insurmountable. There would be many defeats and setbacks before all was said and done, but they had won this day, at least.…