The Weight of Blood (The Half-Orcs, #1)(53)

“For Neldar,” he cried, thrusting at Aurelia’s chest. Felewen was there first. All it took was three cuts. The first took the man’s sword from his hand. The second took his arm from his body. The third took his life. A final bolt of lightning shot down the street, killing the wounded soldier who had fled.

Felewen wiped the blood from her blade and sheathed it. She used the same cloth to clean the blood from her face.

“Come,” she said. “We must go north where we are needed most.”

The two ran through the town, listening for sounds of battle. The worst seemed to be about the middle of Celed and steadily working its way south. They encountered a few soldiers as they hurried there. All died before they had the chance to swing their blades.

“At last!” Felewen cried, staring out from a side alley. They were behind a group of ten soldiers battling a pair of elven warriors who stood back to back. “Make haste, they need us!”

Felewen charged, desperate to arrive before her brethren were overwhelmed. Aurelia stepped into the street and summoned her magic. Frost surrounded her hands, and a thin sheet of ice spread beneath the human soldiers. Many of them stumbled, unable to balance the sword and shield in their hands and the heavy chainmail on their bodies. Felewen slid on one leg, her sword out and ready. She passed right between two men, slicing out heels and tendons as she flew by. The elf reached the end of the ice, turned, and went sliding back.

The two she had cut were on the ground, unable to stand after such precise hits. As she reached them, she stabbed one of their legs to halt her momentum, yanked her sword free, and then rolled around to stab the other in the throat. Another roll back, and she delivered the first soldier the same fate.

The elves they saved wasted no time recovering. They both pressed forward, unafraid of fighting on the ice. Their light armor made balancing an easy task while their human counterparts were doing all they could to swing and stand at the same time. Two men fell to each of their blades, bringing the total down to four.

As Felewen lay upon the ice, a soldier stabbed down at her. She spun on her rear, her sword out in an arc. After knocking him off his feet, Felewen snapped her legs high above her, spinning her body off the ground. She landed on her stomach, her sword skewering the guard’s innards. She pulled herself to her feet with the hilt of her sword, twisted the blade, and then finished him.

The remaining soldiers turned to flee, but there was one slight problem. An enormous ball of fire erupted at their feet, engulfing all three in flame. Two died from the horrible burns. A third slumped and whimpered in pain. Aurelia walked over to him and knelt on one knee. She placed a hand on his head and looked over his wounds while he glared up at her.

“Your wounds are beyond saving,” she said softly. “I’m sorry.”

She ended his pain with a small lance of ice through his forehead.

“Thank you for your aid,” one of the elves said. “We must fall back to the forest. If they chase us there, it will be suicide.”

“We will not have to fall back so far,” Felewen disagreed. “They have scattered about our town. Their numbers mean nothing now. Besides,” she grinned, “we have Aurelia Thyne.”

Both bowed politely.

“Never could we have used a mage’s power more than now,” one said. Aurelia blushed and waved him off.

“Please we must…”

A cold chill spread through her body, like water from an underground stream meeting a creek. She whirled and stared down the street. Walking without escort was a lone man shrouded in black robes. The cowl of his cloak hid much of his face.

“Come, brother,” one of the elves said. “It is the one who protected them from our arrows.”

The other nodded, took up his sword, and charged. His brother was not far behind. Felewen joined them, for she too had watched as the black shield had knocked aside their arrows and then shattered their bows.

Aurelia did not move. Her eyes were frozen on this strange man. Power rolled off him. He was strong, and even more so, he was terrifying. She had no doubt of this man’s identity; he was the nameless necromancer, one of the few who could best Scoutmaster Dieredon in combat.

“Stop, you cannot defeat him,” she shouted. None listened. “Felewen, please!”

Felewen glanced back to her, and that small pause saved her life.

The man in black had made no threatening move as the other two charged. They were almost upon him when he cast aside his hood to reveal his ever-changing face, his deep red eyes, and his horrible smile. His hands lunged forward, the floodgates opened, and all his power came rushing forth. A wall of black magic rolled like a tidal wave conjured from his fingertips. The elven brothers tumbled through and vanished. Felewen leapt back when she saw the attack coming. She rolled behind a house and tucked her head.

The wave continued down the street, straight for Aurelia.

“I do not fear you,” she hissed through clenched teeth. A wall of water swirled about her, flowing from the otherwise dry dirt street. She sent it forward, just as tall and high as Velixar’s. The two met in a thunderous roar, intermixing in a maelstrom of darkness, water, and air. Then they both dissolved, their magic spent.

Aurelia held back tears. Velixar’s magic had peeled the flesh from the elves’ bodies. Blood leaked through muscle and tendon, and their innards spilled from their abdomens. She hoped they died instantly, but she knew better. They had suffered tremendously.