The Blood Forest (Tree of Ages #3)(67)

Trusting in Ealasaid and the others, he leaned forward in the saddle and urged his horse into a full blown run, down the road toward Greenswallow.



“Again!” Ealasaid shouted.

Another wave of magic surrounded the Riders, who had not been slowed for long. Though impacted by the magic, injuries were not sustained as the Riders would fade from sight, avoiding peril, only to reappear in pursuit of Kai.

Ealasaid cried out, “We must stop them another way! Forward!”

Anna, Sativola, and Maarav, now on their horses, were the first to ride forward, prepared to intercept the Riders. The magic users were not far behind, some riding, some running at full speed.

Running as fast as she could, Ealasaid watched as those on horseback met the Riders, soon backed up by those on foot. Though their enemies numbered only six, the magic users began to fall beneath gleaming blades. Those still standing fought on. She knew they trusted Grelka’s proclamation that the Riders must be stopped at all costs, even if it meant many would die.

Her lungs burning from exertion, Ealasaid reached the fight, then froze. She watched as Anna parried an attack from one of the dark Riders, then Sativola jumped in, sparing Anna injury. Ealasaid lifted her arms, but wasn’t sure what to do. Some of the magic users could create fire, which could be aimed, but her lightning tended to be more erratic. Sure, she could hit one of the Riders, but there was nothing to prevent her from hitting one of her friends.

She screamed as a Rider slashed a short sword at Ouve, and her lightning came down almost unbidden, distracting Ouve’s attacker. Seeming to sense an opportunity, Maarav darted in and slashed his blade deep into the attacker’s leg, toppling the Rider to the ground.

Ealasaid gasped with momentary elation, before the Rider rolled to its feet and cut down the first magic user, a young woman, who got in its path. Ealasaid screamed, but it was too late. The woman fell in a bloody heap, her face in the dirt.

Ealasaid struck the offending Rider again with her lightning, but it was no use. The Riders seemed invincible. Grelka must have misjudged the situation. They would have to fall back to the safety of the burgh, lest they all lose their lives.

She was prepared to give the order, then her eyes nearly popped out of her skull at what she saw.

Black clad forms raced forward from the tree line, weapons raised high. She recognized Maarav’s former mentor, Slàine, as she launched herself through the air and swiped her blade across the hooded neck of one of the riders. To Ealasaid’s surprise, the rider toppled from its horse. It fell to the ground and was swarmed with black clad forms, like wolves piling on top of their prey. Weapons flashed, then the assassins fell away. Beneath them was an empty black cloak.

Hope renewed, Ealasaid flung lightning at another rider, distracting it for the split second it took for the assassins to attack. Seeming to catch on, the other magic users renewed their attacks, bathing the riders in flame and ice. One by one, they were taken down, by magic and blades alike, leaving behind empty cloaks. Their horses galloped away to disappear into the forest, as impervious to their wounds as the Riders.

Ealasaid rushed forward as Anna repeatedly stabbed the remaining form, even after it had turned into nothing more than a cloak.

“Where did they go?” one of the new members of An Solas asked, glancing around frantically.

“They are nothing more than ghosts,” Slàine hissed, lowering her black cowl from her face as she stalked forward. “Overwhelm them with physical attacks and they cannot sustain themselves.”

“We couldn’t harm them with our magic,” Ealasaid panted.

Slàine nodded. “They are magic. The best way to send them away is cold iron,” she hesitated at the expression on Ealasaid’s flushed, blood-flecked face, “but you at least proved a noble distraction,” she added. She turned her attention away from Ealasaid and seemed to be counting her assassins. Several had fallen in the short, chaotic fight.

Ealasaid searched around the empty cloaks, assessing the casualties. A certain gray-haired lump caught her eye. She rushed forward toward Grelka, who clutched at her knit shawl, blood slowly blossoming across her chest.

Reaching her, Ealasaid dropped to her knees, placing a shaky hand gently on her shoulder. Grelka’s face was ghostly pale, her eyes mere slits.

“I thought you said things were as they should be,” Ealasaid cried, feeling like her heart was being torn in two. “I thought we would be victorious.”

Grelka led out a gasping laugh that ended with her sputtering up blood. “We are,” she hissed. “Kai will make it in time. His success is all that truly matters.”

“But-” she hesitated, glancing at the fallen around her. Too many corpses littered the battlefield, some even younger than she. “Was it worth so many lives?”

Grelka patted Ealasaid’s hand weakly. “This had to happen . . . for us to stand a chance,” she gasped. “In my dreams I saw two paths. One, where we would fight for our lives, but live free from hiding, and another, where we would cower and live as slaves.” She smiled softly. “I’ve never backed down from a proper fight, and now it is your turn. Lead An Solas into a new age.” Her eyes slowly fluttered shut.

Though she’d known Grelka a short time, her loss felt great, along with the others of An Solas that had fallen. Tears streamed down her face and plopped onto her bloody hands, still gripping Grelka’s lifeless form. She could not bear to observe the other casualties. She’d seen that Anna was still alive, but many others had died. She struggled as arms wrapped around her from behind, lifting her to standing. She sensed her new captor was only trying to help, but she didn’t want it. She didn’t want to think. She clenched her eyes shut, unable to bear the sight of the maimed dead.