Sandy hair fell over the man’s face. This could only be the one Lil had come to meet, Hadriax el Fex. He hadn’t meant to ambush her, but was a prisoner himself, and undoubtedly the one who had warned her of the trap.
His two guards spoke to one another in a guttural, rolling language incomprehensible to Karigan.
Must be the imperial tongue, she thought.
One of the guards raised his sword and pricked el Fex in the arm, and burst out laughing. El Fex did nothing, his head hanging wretchedly. The guards exchanged several words, followed by more laughter.
Karigan approached closer, drawn as much by curiosity as anything. She wasn’t intimate with the politics of the day as a scholar might be, nor had she heard of Hadriax el Fex until her previous travels. And she had no stake in the outcome of this battle. The past was the past, wasn’t it?
Still, she knew Hadriax el Fex wouldn’t have been held a prisoner if he hadn’t intended to betray Mornhavon and provide the League with valuable information.
Should she intervene? Would doing so alter the course of history, for better or worse? Maybe there was a reason el Fex was not remembered. Maybe it was because he died this night before he could pass on intelligence to the League.
One of the guards stabbed el Fex’s thigh. He jerked and gasped, and his guards taunted him.
Suddenly he whipped his boot from his stirrup and kicked out sideways at the guard on his left. The guard’s horse swerved away. The other guard swung his sword at him, but he threw his leg over his horse’s neck and slid to the ground. The wounded leg buckled, and he fell to his knee.
The first guard, having gained control of his horse, came up behind el Fex and shouted orders at him. El Fex clambered to his feet with difficulty.
“Nast dritch ech, Galadheon!” the guard shouted.
Startled to hear her name, Karigan stood stock still, with eyes wide. Could they suddenly see her?
El Fex ran, but did not get far before he was run down by the mounted guards. One guard dismounted and raised his sword for a killing blow.
Without a second thought, Karigan drew her saber and stabbed it through the midsection of the guard. No blood spurted, the guard did not crumple, he didn’t even flinch. Even her sword had no effect in this time. In desperation, she picked up a rock—it worked, although she couldn’t analyze why until later—and pelted it into the face of the guard. He cried out and staggered back, dropping his sword to clutch at his bleeding face.
The second guard looked furtively about, seeking the source of the rock.
“Whuist das?” he asked. Then in a heavy accent, commanded, “Show yourself, mage.”
Maybe, Karigan thought, her own sword didn’t work because it hadn’t yet been made. She scrunched her face at the logic, but wondered if, just maybe . . .
She grabbed the first guard’s sword and swept it up in a defensive position. How must this look to the guards and el Fex? A quick glance revealed they were surprised, but not astonished. Maybe it was more common during this era to find invisible sword wielders.
Swiftly she stabbed the first guard. This time he bled. This time he crumpled.
The other guard watched the drifting blade, backing his horse away. She lunged, and he wheeled his horse around just in time to meet an arrow. He tumbled from his horse and did not move.
Lil and another Rider approached. “You lead the others to the summit,” she told him, “and I’ll take care of this one.” She pointed her bloodied greatsword at el Fex. “I’m going to sound the retreat.” Her companion nodded and reined his horse back toward the main body of the fray.
Lil raised the horn to her lips and the call to retreat blared out, resounding in an echo as it bounced off Watch Hill. Karigan carefully set down the sword. Hadriax el Fex followed its motion with his eyes.
“Dreshna,” he said. “Thank you.”
“You’re welcome,” Karigan replied, though she knew he could not hear her.
She watched as the First Rider assisted Hadriax el Fex onto her horse before her, and kicked her steed toward Watch Hill.
SHADOWS OF KENDROA MOR
Andri’s grip on Lil’s hand slackened even as the life flowed out of him. His face was a ghastly hue beneath the cracking green paint.
“I—I am sorry I failed ye, Captain,” he gasped.
Lil squeezed his hand. “You did well, Andri. Very well. Don’t think otherwise, hey?”
She could only watch as life faded from him.
“Remember me,” he pleaded with a whisper.
“I will.”
By then he was gone. Lil gently closed his eyes. “Rest well,” she whispered to him.
Before he was lifted away to the pyre, she unclasped his brooch from his plaid sash and placed it in her belt pouch with all the others she had removed from the dead. She nodded to Ludriane to ignite the fire.
If they hadn’t had to ride up the mor, Andri might have survived with proper care, but the retreat was necessary. Had she left him behind, the empire’s craven jackals would have hacked him to pieces. She carried away all wounded and dead whenever possible, to prevent such desecration.
Andri was the last of the mortally wounded to pass on to the Birdman’s care. Some had to be helped along, humanely, with a sharp blade. They would now have a blazing pyre atop the mor for the dead, allowing their souls to lift easier to the heavens in the smoke, and the bright fire consuming them would bring light amid the blackness of the empire’s deeds. It was a good night for light.
Despite the deaths, the mission had been a success. Hadriax el Fex sat nearby, all alone, his wrists still bound behind his back by a tendril of wild magic. She knew it must cause him intense pain, but only a great mage could undo it, which meant he’d have to endure it until they reached the king’s army. He looked to have been tortured, with open wounds bleeding, but he’d live. Eventually Merigo would dress the wounds, as soon as she finished with the more seriously injured. El Fex did not complain, nor did he ask for help. He bore his pain in silence.