“Berec, Larren, take a contingent down to get the Tamaea, immediately!”
Aeren turned toward Lord Khalaek as his men broke into swift action, bellowing orders as they went. “That man-that human-saved the Tamaea’s life,” he said.
Khalaek looked at him in disdain, then glanced around at all of those closest, who’d heard what Aeren had said, who’d witnessed what Colin had done. He stiffened at some of the looks he got. “He’ll be treated… well.”
Khalaek practically growled it, but Aeren nodded.
Eraeth suddenly appeared at Aeren’s side. “The occumaen,” he said, but didn’t finish.
“What?” Aeren and Khalaek snapped at the same time.
Eraeth grew suddenly formal, face blank, body rigid. “It’s headed directly toward the battle.”
Both Aeren and Khalaek spun, saw the occumaen churning over the ridge. From this side, there was no eye, no glimpse into another stretch of plains, no second sun and spring grass. From this side, it appeared to be nothing more than a ripple of heat waves.
“Sound the horns!” Khalaek roared. “Sound them for retreat!” Then he kicked his horse into motion, the rest of the House Duvoraen Phalanx charging after him. They hadn’t been gone two breaths when the sound of a horn pierced the air, joined a moment later by two others, all pealing out the long note for retreat.
“Come on,” Aeren said, motioning to Eraeth.
They followed Khalaek’s men to the crest of the rise and stared down into the flat beyond, where the Legion and the Alvritshai armies still fought. Khalaek continued to sound the retreat, even as he and his men raced across the flat. Dust rose behind them as they banked wide around the occumaen.
On the field, the mass of men surged back and forth, oblivious to the distortion. As Aeren watched, the sounds of Khalaek’s horns finally caught the attention of those at the back of the Alvritshai army. He saw the ripples in the army spread as word was passed, new horns joining Khalaek’s, and Alvritshai began to break away from the rear, men and horses fleeing. Khalaek altered course, swinging his group wide and circling the army to the left. But still the conflict raged in the middle, swords flashing in the afternoon sunlight, blood flying, men falling.
The occumaen drifted closer, its distortion obscuring part of the army to the north. Aeren saw the first men in the Legion break away as they spotted the danger, practically stumbling over each other in their haste to retreat. The horns grew more frantic, the smooth notes blatty and warbled.
Eraeth edged forward, his hands tight on the reins of his mount. “They aren’t going to see it in time.”
Aeren pressed his lips together, but said nothing.
Then, when it seemed that the occumaen would plow through the edge of the two locked armies, three short blasts sounded, the single horn piercing through the cacophony of all the rest.
The Alvritshai army abruptly turned and broke away from the lead group of Legion. Aeren saw the Tamaell’s flags pulling back from the center, saw the Legion spilling into the gap, a few men chasing after the retreating Alvritshai.
But not the King. His banners remained behind. Banners flashed back and forth among all of King Stephan’s groups. Aeren couldn’t read the signals, but when the men began pulling back, he knew they’d also called a retreat. The men charging after the Alvritshai either hadn’t seen the orders, or were blatantly disobeying them.
It cost them their lives.
The occumaen plowed into the edges of both armies, its arms catching those who’d stayed to fight a little too long and those who’d been unable to retreat fast enough. Banners on both sides were caught in the occumaen’s winds, thrashing as dust churned upward. Closest to the occumaen, bodies of horses and men were lifted from the ground where they’d fallen earlier, and Aeren would have sworn the winds were tinged a black-red from the blood already spilled on the battlefield.
It sliced cleanly through the two armies, and when it passed, it left behind a scar of churned earth, as it had in the Alvritshai encampment. When Aeren saw the Tamaell’s banners still raised, he released the breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in a harsh sigh. The two armies, separated by the scarred earth, milled about for a long moment, long enough that Aeren thought they might engage each other again. He felt the old, bitter anger building inside him. The occumaen drifted out past the flat, to the edge of the Escarpment that could barely be seen in the distance, and then beyond. It hovered in thin air, still drifting, and then wavered as it began to dissipate.
Both sides of the battle turned from the field. Aeren relaxed back into his saddle and watched as the Alvritshai moved wearily up the slope toward them, the Tamaell’s escort edging to the front ranks. The Legion withdrew to the north, where Aeren could make out their own encampment, untouched by the occumaen.
As the Tamaell’s escort approached, Aeren stepped forward, Eraeth at his side. The Tamaell sat in the saddle, back rigid, his armor coated with dust and blood, his face smeared with sweat and grit. He carried himself stiffly, yet with a deadly grace, the exhaustion from the day’s battle apparent only around the edges of his eyes and in the angry creases in his brow. All the men around him appeared the same-except Lord Khalaek-although their fatigue was easier to see in their slumped shoulders and hunched backs.
Fedorem saw Aeren’s approach and slowed. The army began to slow as well, until an order was passed back. The Phalanx-the Tamaell’s and the rest of the Houses of the Evant-began spilling around them toward the camp. Groans escaped most men as they saw the destruction the occumaen had caused, some of shock, others of worry.
Khalaek must have already informed Fedorem, for he didn’t react to the state of their camp at all. Instead, he scanned Aeren’s group and called, “Where is the Tamaea? Where is Moiran?”
“She is-” Aeren began.
“Here, my Tamaell.”
Aeren’s escort parted, and the Tamaea stepped through, her clothes stained with mud and grass, her hair in disarray. A smudge of dirt marked her forehead, as if she’d wiped at it with her arm.
She halted a step away from the Tamaell’s horse, and for a moment it appeared that Fedorem would not react. He sat, staring at her, his face unreadable, although Aeren thought he trembled.
Then he swung down from his mount and drew Moiran to him in a hard embrace. He murmured something to her, his face pressed into her hair, and tears shone in Moiran’s eyes as she hesitated and then held Fedorem in return, clutching his battered and bloody armor to her, uncaring.
Aeren and the rest of the escort that surrounded them shuffled and looked elsewhere. Such displays were not generally shown in public, especially not among those in the Evant.
They clung to each other a moment longer, until the Tamaell pushed Moiran back. The Tamaea regained her composure immediately and said, her voice rough, “It was the human, Colin, who saved me from the occumaen. I would not have survived otherwise.”
Surprise flashed across Fedorem’s face, replaced with a solemn expression as he searched among the Alvritshai faces. Not finding Colin, his gaze settled on Aeren. “Where is he? I wish to thank him personally.”
“He is with Lotaern and the acolytes, recovering. The Order has already begun tending to the wounded, at the Tamaea’s request.”
“I see. Then I will attend him later.” His stance shifted, and he stepped away from Moiran toward Aeren. “Lord Khalaek informs me you’ve come with a message from my son.”
“I have.”
“What is it?”
Aeren looked toward Khalaek and narrowed his gaze. He couldn’t tell the Tamaell about the sukrael, not with Khalaek standing there.
“Out with it!” Fedorem barked, startling everyone.
Aeren straightened where he sat and met the Tamaell’s angry, brooding gaze. “The Tamaell Presumptive has met and spoken with the dwarren Gathering, as you requested, and they’ve refused to deal with the Tamaell Presumptive.”
Khalaek snorted in derision, as if he’d expected no less.
But Aeren wasn’t finished.
“Instead, they wish to speak to you directly, Tamaell. They’re coming here, to the Escarpment. And they’re bringing their army with them.”
