“I must reinforce the wards.” Nordamen stepped quickly toward the doorway, flipping his straight blond hair back as he glanced over his shoulder toward his son, who’d been intent on their conversation.
Bardamen jumped to follow, his muscular form and jet-black hair a stark contrast to his father, though their facial features bore a striking similarity. He turned back before slipping out the door. “I’ll be ready to block the moonlight upon your signal, Graely.”
Graely considered the talented pair as they exited. Stone Clan could ill afford to lose either of its shamans in this perilous battle.
The room emptied quickly. Jireo was nowhere to been seen, probably already at his post with the other archers atop the wall near the gate. He was gifted with the bow and arrow, but Graely hated allowing a boy with but seventeen years to join in such a battle. Barely two moons had passed since Jireo had recovered from a near fatal injury in the last fight against Vindrake’s men.
A hand clapped him on his shoulder, and he turned to face Laethan’s grave eyes. “We’ll be preparing the healing house for the wounded. Take heart, Graely. At least Alora and Kaevin are out of Vindrake’s reach.”
He gave a grim nod. Thankfully, his son and Alora were secure in the other realm. Though the pair would’ve been invaluable in this battle, they were too vulnerable as long as they remained soulmates. Dreading the inevitable death toll on his people, he breathed a prayer. With one last glance around the council room, empty of all but dancing shadows, he stepped into the cool night air.
*****
As top victor in the Water Clan training rings, Daegreth rode near the front of the warrior company. His iron belt chafed his waist, its weight shifting with the horse’s cadence. All the riders had been fitted in iron to protect against the possibility of attack by Laegenshire’s new bearer, Alora. Of course, killing Alora was their main objective, but Vindrake predicted she’d be hidden in another realm. Daegreth had gleaned this tidbit of information through close attention to council meetings while acting as Vindrake’s personal guard, even as he pretended boredom.
Adrenaline coursed through his veins as he contemplated the upcoming battle. He had no fear of the pain to come. No, he welcomed the death that would free him of the malevolent blanket smothering his consciousness. He hoped he could find someone strong enough to kill him before he took the lives of too many Stone Clansmen. He hated Vindrake with a vengeance and hated the constraint of his bloodbond even more.
Death was his only opportunity to escape Vindrake’s dark power. Perhaps his bond would not prevent him from making loud oaths and bold shouts at the Laegenshire defenders. If he attracted enough attention, an arrow might even kill him before his sword met flesh of any kind. But God help any warrior who came within reach of his blade, for he was honed and trained to slaughter, an effective knife wielded by Vindrake’s own hand.
They rode the horses in compact formation, with the shaman, Malphas, cloaking any sound that might escape to alert their enemies. Laegenshire had a strong natural defense from their southern Water Clan neighbors, a forest too dense to penetrate on horseback. The road led to the west wall of the shire, a barrier of precise
ly cut interlocking stone, three arm-spans high, funneling all traffic to the thick wooden gate. Until the gate was breached, Malphas would shield the entire group of warriors from attack by arrow, stone, or fire. Yet the size of his protection was limited, causing the warriors to remain clumped together. Laegenshire would have permanent wards in place, covering everything inside the stone walls.
The moan of distant horns interrupted his reverie.
“We’ve been discovered!” shouted Craeven, the weapons master. “Drop the cloaking, Malphas—we will not catch them unaware. Now we must hurry before they can increase their preparedness. Ramgate to the forefront!”
Shouts rang out, passing the word through the ranks. The wagons carrying the huge iron-capped log and burly ramsmen rumbled to the front of the company. No idle conversation passed between warriors as they followed the well-trodden road sandwiched between the tall evergreen trees and thorny thickets.
Daegreth’s horse’s flanks were heaving now, sweat soaking through his pants. Breaking through a clearing, he had his first glimpse of the impressive white stone walls of Laegenshire glistening in the moonlight. Approaching the gate, the group fanned out. One horseman strayed too far away from the main company, and a cry of pain pierced the night.
“Glare it!” Craeven’s upper lip curled as he regarded the warrior who lay on the ground with an arrow protruding from his chest. “Stay together! Stay inside the shielding.”
Thung!
The heavy log thudded against the massive gate.
Thung!
Daegreth moved toward the front, anxious to be one of the first through the gate once the ram had accomplished its goal.
Thung!
“You…” Craeven gestured at him with his sword. “To the rear with the rest of the honor guard. I want my best warriors under the shield as long as possible.”
Thung!
Daegreth urged his horse to the back, compelled to obey the order, while grinding his teeth in frustration. With a screech, the wooden gate splintered under the repeated onslaught. His heart beat a frantic rhythm inside his chest. Please God, don’t let me kill anyone before I die.
Thung!
As the gate shrieked its final surrender, the moon disappeared and the landscape plunged into darkness.
*****
Jireo fought to control his trembling hands while fingering the arrow nocked in his bow. Waiting was the hardest part. Once the battle began, his nerves would settle and his actions would be instinctive. He reached over his shoulder, checking his supply of arrows again. His adjacent companions seemed equally tense, shifting their feet and flexing their arms, their eyes trained on the wooden gate.
Thung!