Shadow's master

defenders? Where was Captain Drathan? Where was Brian? I wanted him to be my savior. But he's gone, just like Caim.

The Thunder Lord drew a sword from a scabbard by his side. The blade was black as midnight. Etched designs ran up its sides like tongues of fire. Josey drew Brian's dagger and held it close to her breast as she imagined her head tumbling to the ground. Would it hurt much?

A Word resonated from the warlord's mouth. Josey felt Lightning thrash like he was trying to run in four different directions. Then she was falling. A sharp pain impaled her hip as she struck the ground. She had landed on a shield half-submerged in the mud. Its metal boss was wedged under her side. Josey found it hard to take a deep breath as agony like she'd never felt rippled through her pelvis. Lightning had bolted off, and she'd lost Brian's dagger. With one hand clutching her stomach, she looked up.

The Thunder Lord had cut a swathe through her soldiers. The iron-bound hooves of his warhorse pawed at the ground as if it wanted to crush her into the earth. His black sword rose up, blocking out the hazy sunlight. This was it. Her final moment. Josey tried to swallow, but her throat would not work. She braced herself to receive the blow, but then a flood of scintillating light burst before her eyes. She blinked through the radiance to see a man on a white horse plunge between her and the warlord. Josey almost choked on a joyful sob as Hirsch pushed the Thunder Lord back with beams of blazing light flung from his hands.

The adept's sudden appearance reminded Josey of what he had given her before the battle. She reached into her jacket pocket, but couldn't find it. Frantic, she tore off her cloak and the jacket and searched it again. Her fingers found a hard edge in a different pocket. Josey ripped the fabric open, and the box fell out. She opened it with trembling fingers. Her signet ring was nestled inside on a bed of white muslin. The carbuncle jewel shone like a miniature sun, too bright to look at directly. Hirsch had required a gemstone to fashion his magic, and the signet was the largest one she had. Josey reached for the ring, expecting it to be hot, but the smooth metal was cool to the touch.

Josey stood up on wobbly legs as Hirsch's hands flashed again. Maybe I won't have to use it if Master Hirsch can-

The earth shook, and a harsh wind crashed over her. Through squinting eyelids Josey saw Hirsch slumped over, holding up his right arm. It took her a moment to realize his hand was gone, severed below the elbow, with a river of blood streaming from the raw stump. The adept swayed in his saddle. The Thunder Lord's sword smoked as it rose again. Josey bit her tongue and threw.

The glowing signet sailed like a leaf. Josey's chest was clenched too tight to breathe. Hirsch pitched forward as the black sword started to fall. Then the ring struck the Thunder Lord in his armored shoulder. An instant later, Josey was lifted off the ground and thrown back. Her hip shrieked at the rough treatment, and various hard surfaces battered her head, neck, and elbows as the world spun over and over. Tremendous heat surged over her and filled her nose with a choking, acrid stench.

She came to rest, partly curled up, on the ground. Josey opened her eyes to the lead-gray sky. She couldn't feel any part of her body for several long heartbeats. When sensation resumed, it was filled with jagged pains. It seemed to take hours for her hands to find her stomach, but she felt better when she touched the bump under her clothes. All her worries fell away, leaving her calm in the midst of the battlefield. She attempted to sit up and regretted it as everything hurt. Then she looked around.

All her men were down. Sorrow stabbed her heart until she saw them, friend and foe alike, getting up with blood running from their noses and ears. Yet there was no sign of Master Hirsch or the Thunder Lord. Josey had managed to rise to her knees when she saw part of a torso and a pair of legs clad in mutilated remnants of crimson armor, half buried in the mud. There was nothing left of his head and upper body. Josey looked away as fresh nausea ripped through her stomach. It's over. My people are saved.

Then she saw Hirsch's torn brown jacket and she crawled over to him, ignoring the fierce pains in her knees and hip. The adept had lost his hat. His eyes were closed. Half his beard and mustache had been singed away. Josey peeled back his jacket and almost cried. Ripping off his shirt, she shouted for help and then wrapped it around the stump of his right arm, but Hirsch reached up with his remaining hand to stay her.

“He's dead?” His voice was wan and labored.

Josey nodded as a tear ran down the side of her nose. “Your trick worked. Blew him straight to hell.”

“Not a…” Hirsch coughed, and his entire body quaked. The grimace of agony on his face made Josey want to wail. “Not a trick. Good, clean magic.”

She laughed through the tears. “Don't talk. We'll find a physician and you'll be back to your old self again in no time at all.”

“Don't lie to me, lass.” The next cough almost lifted him off the ground. When it left him, he sighed. “Done a lot of things I regret. I earned the name Red-Hand…a thousand times over. Death is the least I deserve.”

“Don't say that.” She couldn't swallow. “You saved me. You saved us all.”

He looked at her with a crooked smile. “I'm glad I came to your palace that day. Maybe that makes up for some of the other. Maybe.”

A rush of emotions ripped through Josey as she watched his chest rise and fall. Rise and fall. Rise and…

She willed herself not to cry. She wanted to be home, back in Othir, with her sorrows behind, but the fighting continued. Her soldiers made a human barricade around her, but how long could that last? A patch of blue on the ground caught her eye. Josey reached over Hirsch and pulled a sheet of fabric from the dirt. It was her imperial standard, the golden griffon on a cerulean field, attached to a broken pole. Josey stood up, trying not to groan as her hip protested, and raised the banner. With her other hand she drew her stiletto and brandished it to the sky. Then she shouted at the top of her lungs.

“Nimea!”

She screamed it again, pouring out all of her sorrow and frustration. Some of her troops glanced over their shoulders, and then they surged forward as if buoyed by her cries. A tall man pushed through their lines, and Josey pointed her knife at him until she recognized his face. Brian looked like a gift from heaven, despite the covering of dirt and blood. He lifted his visor, and Josey smiled, more relieved than she had any right to be. Then he took up her rallying cry and rejoined the fight.

Josey couldn't see much beyond the circle of her defenders, but later she would hear accounts that the invaders had lost the will to fight after their commander fell by her hand. Or possibly his sorcery held some sway over them that evaporated with his demise. Her army, bolstered by the light cavalry and Keegan's fighters, pushed the Uthenorians back to the stream. Small groups of invaders peeled off and tried to ford the channel to safety, many of them drowning. Others tried to scale the hills, and most of them were cut down by crossbow fire. Before long these defections triggered a full rout.

And so the second battle for the Valley of Seven Arrows ended.

As the sun touched the tops of the western hills, Josey and Brian stood among the dead and dying and looked out over the incredible carnage. Flocks of ravens and other carrion birds covered the valley floor, taking their due as soldiers and camp followers separated the living from the dead. To the north, her cavalry was pursuing the surviving invaders. She couldn't believe it was over.

“Majesty.”

Josey turned to see a soldier holding Lightning's reins. It was her bodyguard with the missing ear, his head now wrapped in a crude dressing.

“I found him wandering a ways back. He's yours, isn't he?”

She nodded, unable to stop the tears this time. “Yes, he is. Thank you…”

“Prett, Your Majesty. Sergeant Nikodemus Prett.”

“Thank you, Sergeant Prett.”

Josey hugged the stallion's neck, wanting to burrow into his soft mane. She looked around for something to use to mount up, and Brian went to one knee beside her. Settling into the saddle, Josey turned Lightning south and let him carry her back toward the camp. Brian walked by her side.

They exchanged no words, only an occasional glance. The sky threatened rain.

CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX