Page 102 of Swords of Soul and Shadow
Niels picked himself up and nailed Loffler square in the chest with a powerful kick. Loffler thrust out with his hand, lightning zinging out, but Niels dodged it.
He didn’t see the sword.
It arced as Loffler fell backward into the Gate. The sword caught on Niels’ wrist. Blood spurted from where it cut deeply into the flesh. Niels screamed, but it was drowned by the entire room shaking.
Fely scrambled over and picked up the sword as a giant crack began at the corner of the room. “The crystals! He’s setting off the crystals!”
Hallie still had no idea what it meant, but she lunged for both Niels and Fely. “We need to leave! What do I do without the Passage brick?”
She tried to stop the bleeding in Niels’ wrist, but the cut was too deep. She could see the bone.
Fely stopped her, strapping the sword to Hallie’s pack, hooking in the little loop on the side. “Take your power and thrust it into the ground. All of it. Keep hold of one tendril and use the Yalven words of power to create it. The Gate’s power should help you.”
“What? What words of power?”
“Just do it!”
The Gate roared. The crack in the wall opened further and further. They were going to fall into the chasm if Hallie didn’t create the Passage immediately. She let go of Niels’ arm and pressed her hands into the blood-soaked ground.
Filip’s body slid into the chasm, tumbling head over feet into oblivion.
“Now!” Fely screamed.
Hallie stopped thinking, only poured every single bit of heat she possessed into the stone below. Fely and a bleeding Niels held onto her arms.
“Vreali amarel hilaoKyvena!” Hallie yelled, but nothing happened. She’d chosen the words because they were Yalven forPassage open now.
Fely began sliding into the chasm, pulling Hallie with her. Niels tried to hold them, but the blood loss was only making him weaker.
No, no, no, no. She would not die today. She needed to see Kase. She needed to hold him one last time. She lost holdof her power tendril, pushing it into her hands and screamed, “KYVENA VREALI TORO!”
Golden light erupted.
Chapter 20
SOMETHING HONORABLE
32 Years Ago
NOT ONLY WAS IT IRRESPONSIBLE to celebrate on the front in such a manner, it was also costly. Celebrations meant libations and one too many drunken fools cutting themselves on their sword while stumbling back to their tent. With Harlan’s failed meeting with both the Stradat Lord Kapitan and Carleton during his leave six months ago, he’d been forced to continue patching up soldiers where no one believed the war would escalate.
Harlan didn’t know if it would be this year, the next, or within the next five years, but it would happen. The Cerl king grew restless behind his borders and hungry for more Zuprium if the reports were to be believed—for weapons most likely.
Either the Lord Kapitan was blind to the Cerl king’s ambitions, or he didn’t care.
Both bothered Harlan.
“Come on, H, just relax,” Ezekiel said, clapping him on the shoulder and handing him an ale. Light from Firstmoon warred with the campfires across the dull side of the wooden tankard. Foam sloshed over the edge and dampened the cuff of Harlan’s wool uniform. He bit back a frustrated sigh. At least that stain wouldn’t be blood.
“We’ve won a single battle, with limited casualties, yes, but we’ve not won the war,” Harlan said quietly, taking a sip—lukewarm and coarse like barley topped with burnt honey. It was the best the military had to offer on the edge of the mountains. Better than the moonshine some resorted to.
Ezekiel frowned but sat beside him on the log outside Harlan’s tent. “Don’t borrow tomorrow’s sorrow.” He stretched his long legs out in front of him, taking another sip of his own mug. The fire crackled softly, soothingly, too, if Harlan hadn’t been on edge. “Not terrible considering.”
Someone nearby struck up a reedy tune. The fiddle was a rare commodity in a place such as this and more rarely used. It wove between the bouts of jagged laughter and drunken congratulations, filling in the gaps with a jovial noise and unpracticed flare.
A battle limited to five deaths was quite a feat, commendable even, except the men shouldn’t have died at all. In Harlan’s opinion, if the Lord Kapitan took these border skirmishes seriously, he would realize the only way to stop them was to go on the offensive.
But even Harlan had to admit that a rogue band of trained soldiers was no good against a host of Jaydians. They needed an army; a focused, diligent unit trained and hardened for war. They needed to strike where it would hurt the worst, where it would discourage any retaliation.
