The Continent (The Continent #1)(89)
A gust of wind rushes up over the slope, sending my hair whipping against my face. The air is chill; a shiver runs down my spine. As I watch the enemy advance, I wonder at the circumstances: how is it that men can become so full of hatred that only violence will satisfy? The Topi will have their revenge upon the Aven’ei for sins long past, and the Aven’ei now must fight. In the face of all this, it seems that war truly is inevitable, if but a single person wishes it to be so, and can rally others to his cause.
The pounding footfalls of the Topi grow louder, and Noro’s jaw tightens. “Soon,” he says.
Within thirty minutes, there is a commotion amongst the ranks, and the archers move in unison to ready their bows. Commands are spoken along the line, followed by a long moment of tension, then a shout—and the arrows are loosed. It’s a thing of beauty, nearly, to see perhaps a thousand arrows arcing across the sky as though slowed by some invisible force. But deadly they are, and though the Topi throw up shields, many men fall as they approach the slope. Hundreds cry out in pain and fury—the noise rises up like a fearsome roar. Another volley is sent, and another, and another.
The Topi move steadily up the hillside, though their progress is slowed by the muck created in the week’s rain. The warriors fill the valley now as far as the eye can see, from one edge to another. It is the most impressive, most terrifying thing I have ever seen. Fear unlike anything I’ve felt before rises up like bile within me. How has it come to this? How can a person of the Spire find herself here, in the path of war, on the precipice of disaster? Will my death be bloody? Will it be quick? I fight to suppress panic.
A series of shouts erupts behind me, and the archers begin to change places with the hand-to-hand combatants.
“It will be minutes only, now,” Noro says in a tight voice. “We must go, miyake. We shall take to the trees with the itzatsune; Keiji, you will come as well. I won’t have either of you out in the open.”
Takashi and Yuki, each skilled with a sword, will stay behind. I look into Yuki’s eyes, wet and glistening with tears. She embraces me, trembling. “Be safe,” she says to me. “Don’t say goodbye. One never knows what may come to pass.”
This from Yuki, who once warned me not to hope. I kiss her cheek and pull away. “Be safe,” I echo. “I shall—”
A confused commotion sounds as hundreds of Topi storm over the top of the hillside, not fifteen feet from where we are standing. Noro curses and grabs me by the wrist. “We go now.”
Yuki turns to see the onslaught, but a Topi hammer collides with the side of her head, producing a sickening crunch. She whirls, her eyes open but empty, and falls face first into the mud.
“Yuki!” I move against the force of Noro’s strength, my mind reeling, registering in bits and pieces the tiny details of what has just happened: the sound of the impact, the spatter of blood when the hammer struck its target, her eyes—her eyes. Grief bubbles up as I struggle to reach her, to touch her, to take my sweet friend where her body cannot be violated.
Takashi wastes no time; he cries out as he drives his sword through the belly of the man come to retrieve the hammer. The scream is terrible, fierce, inhuman.
Noro’s hands are around my waist, dragging me toward the woods. “Vaela, stop! You can’t help her! Keiji—the trees. NOW!”
As I am pulled away, I see Takashi, red-faced, arc his sword upward in a single deft stroke, sending the head of a female warrior sailing into the maelstrom of battle, her face horribly alive for one long second afterward. The mass of Topi push forward; Yuki is trampled underfoot.
The trees enfold me. Something like shock paints the world in swirling madness, and I am numb.
Concealed amongst the trees, Noro, Keiji, and I move deeper into the wood. My head feels thick, my heartbeat weak but fast, my legs like strange bending sticks that somehow continue to propel me forward.
We stop in a spot crowded thick with giant firs. “Vaela,” Noro says, snapping his fingers in my face, then lifting my chin until my eyes rise to meet his own. “Vaela. Come back. Come back to me.” My skin is cold; his hands are like searing coals.
I feel I do not have the energy to open my mouth, though I see him, and I hear him speaking. I rub at the annoying itch on my face, look down at my fingers to see them slick with blood. Yuki’s blood? I don’t know. Maybe. I wipe my hands on my trousers.
“Vaela.” Noro pulls me down to my knees, his hands firm on my shoulders. “I’m here. I’m here, miyake.”
I glance over at Keiji. There are tears in his eyes; I wonder abstractedly why I have none of my own.
“Say something,” Noro says, shaking me slightly. “Say something to me, Vaela.”
I nod, and continue nodding. There are words somewhere inside me. I feel them, like drifting seeds of a cottonwood tree, moving slowly, bumping into one another. Something clicks. “We are all going to die,” I say, as though I have only just realized that the annihilation of the Aven’ei means the actual annihilation of the Aven’ei.
Noro clenches his jaw. “Not you. Not you, Vaela. I want you and Keiji to make for the sea—you remember what I told you about the boats, Vaela? A mile at sea is unlike any other. You take a boat, you head for Ivanel. Live out your days there if you must. But live. Please, miyake, will you do this for me?”
Keiji shakes his head, tears still streaming down his cheeks, and points to the tree line, beyond which the great battle rages. He makes a fist and taps it to his heart.