Siege of Stone

CHAPTER 79

Along with the clash of blades, the thudding of hooves, and the shouts of pain and fury, the Ildakaran strike team fought their way deeper into General Utros’s camp. Nathan hurled more wizard’s fire ahead of them, clearing the way so he and Elsa could keep moving toward their destination. The blazing ball engulfed fifty enemies, but within seconds more ancient soldiers filled the gap, closing in.

“We will not make it much farther,” Nathan said, breathing hard as he and Elsa rode deeper into the camp. “This may be the best we can do. Is it good enough?” Somewhere, she needed to draw her large anchor rune in order for the transference magic to work.

As a half-petrified soldier ran toward the sorceress, Nathan swept out with a rumble of air, throwing the man aside. Under his breath, he said, “I really should have had Nicci show me how to stop a human heart. I never wanted that type of power because it seemed unfair against an enemy.” His long white hair hung in sweaty clumps, dusty and spattered with blood from the warriors he had already killed. “I forgot that in war, everything is fair.”

After Elsa pulled her horse to a halt in a clear area with churned-up mud, she slid out of the saddle. “This place will have to do. I had hoped to set the anchor deeper into the camp so the circle would engulf more of the army.” Her voice was ragged, filled with heartache.

Many of their guardians had already fallen in their push to get this far, but the two morazeth and Rendell were still with them, along with about a dozen others. They didn’t look as if they expected to survive.

“I hope this is worth the price. Oh, Nathan, I hope it’s worth it.” Elsa held her red paint and moved about frenetically, spilling bright lines, creating an intricate design across the cleared space. Her frightened horse galloped off, but she didn’t seem to care.

The morazeth, Thorn and Lyesse, battled furiously to give Elsa room to work, as did many surviving Ildakaran fighters. The toughened silk robes offered some protection against the wild enemy blows. Together, the defenders kept fighting, keeping Nathan and Elsa safe. She just needed time to finish.

As the older sorceress continued drawing her powerful rune on the ground, Nathan sent out a furious shock wave that spread in concentric circles, knocking the enemy soldiers back and keeping them away from Elsa. She moved with swift steps along the perimeter, drawing her lines, while the remaining Ildakarans used all their energy to keep the attackers away.

Nathan dismounted to protect Elsa, and within moments he had lost his horse as well. Elsa was gambling everything on this attempt, and Nathan could tell that her thoughts had narrowed down to the singular pinpoint of her task. He had to give her the chance.

But their success depended on the other five teams as well. Without the boundary runes in place, the transference magic would fail. Nathan looked up with a thrill of excitement to see a bright fireball shoot straight into the sky from the farthest of the two southern teams. “Another one, Elsa! Four of them finished!”

His distraction lasted only a moment before a burly warrior riding a half-stone horse thundered toward him, charging into the circle where Elsa was marking her rune. Nathan pulled up a wall of dirt like a rope from beneath the ground. The dirt slammed into the horse and sent the beast sprawling. The warrior tumbled out of the saddle, and Nathan leaped upon him with his ornate sword. He plunged the blade down, breaking through the soldier’s hard skin into his chest. He turned with the sword in one hand and wizard’s fire in the other. He threw another flaming ball to knock back twenty more enemy soldiers, but he felt his gift waning. He didn’t have much strength left.

He watched the signal flame flicker out in the sky. Against all odds, four of the boundary runes were drawn and preserved. He turned to scan the burned hills. “Still one more.”

He saw flurries of the ancient soldiers closing in where the last group needed to mark their design. Gray clouds and then lashing snow and ice came down in a pillar, harsh weather blasting the enemies away. The gifted leader of the last strike force was using magic to complete his task, while the other four successful groups were now fighting to survive as they retreated to safety.

Elsa worked, breathing hard and sweating as she finished her large design. On foot, the two morazeth battled like wild animals, and Rendell fought clumsily but vehemently with his iron-tipped club.

Elsa had a fierceness Nathan had never seen before. As more enemy soldiers broke through and tried to attack, closing in around them, Nathan remained close to her, fighting to keep her safe, and he saw that she was crying as she drew her lines.

When she activated the transference rune and drew all the heat from the Killraven River and the sandstone bluffs, the effect would kill countless enemy soldiers. Nathan tried to reassure her. “They are enemies, and sometimes enemies deserve to die.”

“But not friends,” she said. “Not dear friends.”

Nathan didn’t know what she meant. When several more soldiers charged forward, spears extended, he unleashed another hammer of air. A spear point caught in his enhanced silk covering, but couldn’t pierce the fabric. Nathan struck hard with his sword.

A hundred yards away, he saw General Utros himself wearing a mask of beaten gold across half his face and thick leather armor that bore the flame symbol of Iron Fang. His two painted sorceresses stalked along with him, pushing forward to face Nathan and Elsa.

“Dear spirits, I don’t know how long we can last against two sorceresses and all these soldiers. Please hurry, Elsa!”

Then he saw a flaming arrow climb into the air from where the fifth strike force had been marking their rune. The bright light soared high, then arced down, sputtering out and leaving a trail of smoke. It wasn’t magical fire, but he knew what it meant. “The last signal! The final boundary rune is done, but they did not use a fireball.” He knew that no gifted person would simply send an arrow. “That means…”

Elsa squared her shoulders. “That means whoever made the boundary rune is now dead, but the pattern is finished.” She braced herself. “We are ready. I have just one more connecting line here.” She held up her sack of red paint. “And then I can activate the transference. It will be glorious, Nathan. I hope it saves Ildakar.” Her tears flowed more freely now. “I am so glad to have known you. You are such a dear, dear friend.”

His heart felt a chill. “What do you mean? Prepare your rune, so we can escape and celebrate together.”

“This is the anchor rune, the center of the spell,” she said. “It needs to be activated here. It will draw the transference magic from the five boundary runes, pull it all together, and connect the lines. Anything enclosed will be in the target zone.” She drew a deep breath. “And I have to be at the center.”

Nathan recoiled. “No, I won’t let you. Come!” He extended his hand to grab her, but Elsa surprised him. She called up a surge of air. He hadn’t even known she could be so strong in that type of magic. Billowing waves of wind yanked him off his feet, bore him up into the sky like a piece of chaff. The two morazeth, Rendell, and all the rest of the escort fighters flew up with him.

“Stop!” Nathan cried. “Come with me.”

He flailed, putting up a shield to block her magic, but Elsa flung him on a rushing river of air with the speed of a quarrel shot out of a crossbow. He lurched out, tried to find something to hold on to, but he was a projectile, catapulted over the enemy soldiers, along with the rest of his party.

All by herself in the large cleared circle where she had drawn her rune, Elsa squeezed the last droplets of red that connected the remaining line in her pattern. Hundreds of ancient soldiers pushed closer, now that the defenders were gone. They would engulf Elsa, who looked so small and all alone.

She completed her spell-form and triggered the transference magic.

The heat arrived all at once, and the plain blazed with the heat of the sun.

Spouts of water gushed through drainage holes in the bluff, streaming down upon the Norukai on the ramps and ladders. Bannon had run out of barrels and crates to throw, but other volunteer fighters continued pelting the invaders with rocks, bricks, large pieces of pottery.

The snarling Norukai tried to dodge the barrage. Many died, falling down the cliff into the masses of raiders, but their numbers seemed inexhaustible. Bannon felt a familiar fire burning through his veins. Unable to control his rage, he leaned out of the overhang, waving Sturdy as he shouted, “We will cut you to pieces.”

Lila gave a confident nod. “When they come, you and I will keep score. I might soon consider you an equal, instead of an apprentice.” Even with her terrifying smile, he found her beautiful and alluring. “If you do well enough, boy, I might reward you again.”

He let out a brief laugh. “I thought you said I was rewarding you.”

“Do they have to be separate things?”

From the top of the cliff above, gifted nobles hurled conventional fire, rolling flames that struck the misty rocks. Some burned the hideous raiders, but the Norukai kept climbing even when their skin was smoking.

Though caught up in the battle, Bannon saw the giant painted rune on the cliffside begin to glow, throbbing and pulsing. The scarred raiders cried out, startled. The Ildakaran defenders halted their barrage and retreated into the tunnels, suddenly fearful.

“It’s the transference magic!” Bannon said.

Lila swept an arm across his chest and knocked him back into the shelter of the overhang. The giant rune brightened, and Bannon felt the breath rush out of his lungs. The drizzle in the air turned into tiny frozen diamonds, like grains of sand. With a sound like a thousand bones breaking at once, the sheets of water on the cliff froze into a glass of ice. The flow thundering out of the sluices solidified as all the heat was sucked out of the cliff stone.

With a shattering roar, the Killraven River itself froze solid, heaving up in sudden slabs. Like deadly cold fists, the river ice crushed the Norukai ships, splintering the hulls as if they were no more than toys.

With angry curses, the raiders began to fall, slipping from where their handholds had turned to ice. Some Norukai warriors had frozen solid, covered by sheets of ice, but others broke away from the cliff and toppled to splatter on the rock-hard river. The platforms and ladders shattered in seconds.

Astonished, the Ildakaran defenders poked their heads out from their tunnels and cheered. Bannon’s breath steamed out of his mouth and nose, and he laughed in triumph, turning with delight toward Lila.

But even the sudden storm of cold did not deter the Norukai raiders for more than a few moments. Many had tumbled from the bluff and lay dead or broken on the river ice, but some still clung to the frozen cliffs, used their daggers to chip away at the ice, and began to haul themselves up again.

There were fifty serpent ships, and countless more Norukai, who hadn’t even begun to fight.

Bannon leaned over to look down the glazed wall. Long icicles hung like fangs, but the hideous raiders showed no fear. By the hundreds, they swarmed up, and Bannon prepared to fight for his life.