Triumph at Serpent's Head

By Connie A. Walker

Book 3 of Wolkarean Inscription

Katrine of Banur has escaped from Elnid-Kyeh's dungeon. Now she must prepare for war.

"Katrine was seconds from passing out. Muscles quivering, she lowered the tip of her sword in the traditional symbol of surrender. Perspiration soaked her uniform, gluing it to her skin. Pinpricks of light danced around dark splotches in front of her eyes. Asher scowled at her and lowered his blade as well. Sinking to the ground, Katrine pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and let her head loll forward. 'Not good enough,' Asher said, 'not nearly good enough.'"

As Katrine prepares to meet Elnid-Kyeh for their final battle, she must come to terms with the fact that he is a three hundred year old sorcerer who is much stronger and more experienced than she is.

She can only pray that he is not smarter.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Connie A. Walker
• Release date: Aug 23, 2012
• ISBN: 9781476324166

Connie A. Walker

Connie A. Walker’s interest in fantasy developed before she started grade school. Her sister, June, who was five years older, practiced her reading skills by reading to Connie. June introduced her to The Wizard of Oz, Peter Pan, The Arabian Nights, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, and hundreds of fairy tales. Connie fell asleep every night with visions of elves and ogres, sorcerers and enchanted lands, flitting through her mind.When her sister started junior high school, the reading sessions dwindled to a few times a week. Suddenly Connie had difficulty sleeping. She began having nightmares. She dreaded going to bed.One night, when Connie was very tired and having difficulty falling asleep, she pretended that June was reading her favorite story to her. She drifted off to sleep and had pleasant dreams. After that, when she went to bed, she reviewed other tales she had heard, often embellishing the action and adding characters.Within a short while, she was making up stories of her own. That was when she decided to become a writer.When Connie was seven years old, she won an annual writing contest sponsored by her elementary school. Students in first, second and third grades were eligible to enter. She was the first first-grader ever to win. Her story, “Stop, Look, and Listen,” was about a dog who acted as a crossing guard.Throughout elementary and high school, Connie made her homework assignments enjoyable by being creative. When doing research papers, she presented the facts within a fictional frame story or a play. Essays were often written as satires, ending with unexpected twists. Connie considered everything she wrote as a prelude to a career as an author.While getting her Bachelor of Arts degree in theatre at Brigham Young University, she had four original plays produced: a one act comedy and a two act drama (both of which were contest winners), plus two musicals. Later, she had two other one act comedies produced. After graduation, she worked as a technical writer, a graphic artist, and a public relations specialist. In the evenings, she wrote short stories, plays, poetry, and outlined ideas for fantasy novels. She filled a filing cabinet with unpublished manuscripts. A single mother of two, Connie often found her writing time shunted aside by such things as chicken pox, science projects, strep throat, baseball games, stomach flu, and school activities—all those things associated with parenting.In the meantime, she had to make a living.As her children entered the teenage years, financial demands increased, and Connie felt the need to develop a career that provided a predictable and adequate income. She attended the University of Utah and earned a Bachelor of Science degree in psychology and a Master’s degree in social work. She has been employed as a foster care caseworker, a psychotherapist, and a clinical programs manager.Now retired, she has finally found enough uninterrupted time to pursue her goal of becoming a professional writer. Her children’s book, Timmy and the K’nick K’nocker Ring, is a fantasy about a young boy who is transported to a world where his special talents are considered magic. It took first place in a local writer’s contest, Children’s Literature category, and was the grand prize winner as well.The Spire of Kylet, a young adult fantasy, is the first book in The Wolkarean Inscription Trilogy. Katrine is a fifteen year old girl who thinks she has her life all planned out. But, after performing an act of heroisn, she is adopted into a tribe of wizards and receives their powers. Suddenly, she is thrust on a path toward a new destiny whether she likes it or not.Connie is currently working on a second Wolkarean trilogy.

Book preview

Book Three of The Wolkarean Inscription

by

Connie A. Walker

Smashwords Edition

Copyright 2012 Connie A. Walker

Discover other titles by at http://www.ConnieAWalker.com

Timmy and the K’nick K’nocker Ring

THE WOLKAREAN INSCRIPTION

The Spire of Kylet

The Eyes of Landor

Triumph at Serpent’s Head

These books are also available in print editions from the author's official webpage.

This book is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events in this book are fictitious. Any resemblance to persons living or dead is strictly coincidental.

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work

of this author.

Cover art by C. Walker

Cover design by Bud Spencer, SUMO graphics

Map by David R Christensen

This book is dedicated to my children, Bill and Jennifer.

PROLOGUE

High in his tower at Serpent’s Head, Elnid-Kyeh slammed a book shut. It is not in this one! he shouted.

He pointed a finger at the attractive youth standing near the door. Go to the library and get the book Portents, Omens, and Auguries by the seeress Nesme. If it is not there, it is probably in my bedchamber.

"Yes, Master." As Anton scurried down the stairs, Elnid-Kyeh felt his irritation replaced by pleasure. He enjoyed hearing Anton call him Master. He was the brother of Katrine of Banur, the Warrior of Four Bloods, and if Elnid-Kyeh could not subjugate her, then her brother would do – at least for now.

"Nothing in here," the Shokai priest, Catlinzer, said. He had been going through religious texts. He had another half a dozen stacked on the table to review.

"Now that I think about it, Elnid-Kyeh said, I am sure the answer is somewhere in Nesme’s writings. I should have started with her."

Elnid-Kyeh crossed the room and gazed out the eastern window.

For decades he had been watching the stars, waiting for the exact alignment that would insure him a successful campaign to recover his father’s throne. Then two years ago, just as his patron star was about to cross into the Flying Chariot constellation, it had been knocked off course by a comet, thereby opening the way for his plans to be thwarted by a single individual.

Now, a new star had appeared out of nowhere! Other than the sun and the moon, it was the brightest object in the sky. These rare celestial bodies were called visitors. They flared brightly for a few months – perhaps even a year or two – then disappeared.

When Anton returned, he carried a large leather-bound tome.

Trailing behind him was a scruffy old man, his greasy gray hair and soiled clothing in worse condition than usual. He bowed crookedly. Master, he said.

"Hollenth, Elnid-Kyeh said, you arrived just in time. We were discussing the new star."

"Do you know what it means?" the old man asked.

"Not yet. I hope the answers are in here." Elnid-Kyeh returned to his chair and opened the volume that Anton had handed him. He turned the ancient, brittle pages with care.

Nesme had thoughtfully made a list of her prophecies, each one numbered, titled, and dated. Elnid-Kyeh ran his finger down them until he found the notation he sought. He read silently for a moment.

"According to Nesme, he said, a visiting star in the Battling Warriors Constellation means it is time for opponents to face each other and settle their arguments by force of arms."

"You don’t think it means that we should go to war right now, do you? asked Catlinzer. He folded his arms across his chest, and his red robe fell back at the cuffs, exposing his bony wrists. The Most High doesn’t have enough ships to transport his army yet."

"I realize that, Elnid-Kyeh said. He drummed his fingers lightly on the opened page. The timing is unfortunate. My own troops are not strong enough to defeat the Warlord alone, not even with the large mercenary company that joined us last week. Still, we cannot afford to ignore such an important sign in the heavens.

"Perhaps something less than full-scale war would be enough,"

suggested Hollenth, scratching his head. What do you suggest? Elnid-Kyeh asked.

"The star says to face your opponent, Hollenth answered, scratching an armpit this time, but that could be done in several different ways. Waging a premature war is not the only choice. How about a surprise attack on one of the centers of commerce, like Branston or Cajetta or Botul? Branston fell easily enough two years ago. Why not again?"

"Hmmm, Elnid-Kyeh murmured. That gives me an idea."

He got to his feet and stretched. He had not slept well the past few nights, not since the visiting star had appeared. When he caught his reflection in the mirror on the wall, he combed his silver hair back with his fingers.

"Why not something more dramatic? he suggested. Why not attack the seat of power? Pardish has almost no defenses. The walls surrounding the city are for decoration not security. If we could assassinate the Regent and bring down the Recorders School, when the Warlord rushed to their aid, we might be able to kill him as well, leaving that ignorant, untrained child, Katrine of Banur, their only remaining leader."

"Not a bad idea, Catlinzer said. Even if we only put a scare into the populace, it should make the invasion easier next spring."

Elnid-Kyeh’s eyes darted over his shoulder to a small mahogany chest sitting on a high shelf behind his worktable.

Inside was the spire he had forced Katrine to surrender during her captivity. The weapon radiated magic, but its power was tied to her and no one else dared touch it. When she was first brought to Serpent’s Head, he had ordered dozens of his servants to take the spire from her. The weapon had killed them all. Finally, he had mixed a potion of obedience and had two guards pour it down her throat. After that, he compelled her to put the enchanted weapon into the chest. It was a brief, imperfect victory.

Over the passing months, the box and its contents had become a constant, irritating reminder that Katrine had not only resisted his efforts to break her spirit, but had also destroyed the wards he had placed around her cell and escaped.

Catlinzer had repeatedly encouraged the use of torture on Katrine, but Elnid-Kyeh had wanted to subjugate her though the power of his personality and the strength of his will, not through simple agony and terror.

Perhaps she would have been more submissive if he had tortured the twenty-eight young Wolkareans, whom the Most High’s abductors had collected for him. He could easily have integrated more pain into the experiments he conducted to learn the extent of their powers. He could have forced her to watch them suffer.

But he had not wanted to damage the children prematurely. Draining the life force from a weakened subject was worthless, and he had hoped to absorb the strengths of the Wolkareans when he began feeding from them.

He thought they were unique enough that he might have to adapt his spells in order to drain them completely, so he had started with the youngest, the least useful. He intended to take them in order of age, culminating with Katrine herself.

The first six had not lasted long, only a few months.

When Katrine escaped, she somehow managed to break the draining connections he had in place with a dozen of the children, knocking him and Catlinzer senseless. The backlash had been so powerful it had rendered Anton unconscious too.

When Elnid-Kyeh had regained his senses, he discovered that she had taken all of the living children with her and left death and destruction in their place. He slapped the windowsill in sudden fury. Can that damnable girl steal my Wolkareans, collapse my dungeon, and kill my soldiers without fear of reprisal? Curse her to the Seventh Hell!

"Have you formulated a plan?" Catlinzer asked.

"I have four companies of infantry plus two of cavalry conducting war games in the foothills north of Pardish. They are a good mix of Shokai soldiers and Kareandeen mercenaries, and have been working well together. I will make contact with the two generals in command. Whichever has done the best in the simulations can lead the attack on the city."

"Bold, said Catlinzer. For such a venture you will need the support of Rulianthabah’s priests, perhaps even a Hierarch. I will communicate with the Most High and make the arrangements."

* * *

Anton glanced over at Hollenth.

The old man gave him a quick, reassuring wink.

Anton ducked his head to conceal his delight. He was anxious to get this war started before Katrine grew any stronger. As much as he hated her, he was not stupid enough to underestimate her. Sometimes he feared Elnid-Kyeh was.

Chapter One

Katrine of Banur was seconds away from passing out.

Muscles quivering, she lowered the tip of her sword in the traditional symbol of surrender. Perspiration soaked her uniform, gluing it to her skin. Pinprick bursts of light danced around dark splotches in front of her eyes.

Asher scowled at her and lowered his blade as well.

Sinking to the ground, Katrine pulled her knees up to her chest, wrapped her arms around them, and let her head loll forward. Every evening when they stopped to set up camp, Asher made her exercise and practice weapons.

They had been on the road for nearly a month, and each day took them farther south and deeper into summer’s heat.

Not good enough, Asher said, not nearly good enough. Wordlessly, Katrine lifted her head in acknowledgement.

A bit of wind drifted out of the north. She spread the neckline of her shirt so the breeze could reach her chest. Maybe a storm was on its way. It would be nice if some rain cooled everything down.

A small gust caught Asher’s wavy black hair and tumbled it across his forehead, making him look like a tousled little boy instead of an intimidating Landorian Captain. Automatically, he brushed the strand off his face with his hand.

She’s not doing too badly, Captain, said Stephin, Asher’s Arm Master. Considering how long she was imprisoned in the dark without adequate food and water, she’s doing remarkably well.

She’s got to do better, Asher retorted. Her strokes have lost their crispness. An average fighter with just a bit more speed than hers would carve her up in minutes.

They sauntered away with the casual ease of friends. For two men who were so much alike, they were very different. Both were in their twenties, tall, and strong, but Asher’s muscles rippled beneath his uniform with the definition of a prize bull, while Stephin’s had the sleekness of a plains cat. Their personalities were like that too. Asher’s approach to a problem was to charge forward in a direct attack. Stephin was more likely to use cunning or charm. Stephin was handsome. Asher’s features were harsh, almost cruel, until he smiled, then he was more than just handsome. He was glorious.

Everything about Asher made Katrine’s heart pound like a blacksmith’s hammer.

Here, a young voice said, pulling her attention away from Asher’s retreating form. Six-year-old Patrik sat down next to her and handed her a goblet. Drink this, he told her.

When she hesitated, he reached up and patted her cheek. His voice dropped to a whisper. It’s from my father.

What is it? she asked.

Patrik shrugged. Something to help you feel better.

Even if it was plain water, Katrine thought, she needed it. She was thirsty. She took a sip. Not water. Not wine. She took another swallow. Not juice. Not tea. A potion, then, a nice tasting one. Something concocted by Patrik’s mysterious sorcerer father. It was refreshing.

Thank you, she said, and please thank your father for me. Patrik leaned against Katrine, and she slipped an arm around him. Asher and Stephin’s voices came back within range.

If she had spent the past month in an infirmary, Stephin said, eating well and sleeping when tired, most of her strength would have returned by now. But the long journey home on horseback in this blasted heat is taxing her internal resources.

Regardless, she has got to—

A sudden commotion erupted in camp.

Katrine turned to look, knowing what to expect.

The Six, the youngest of the Wolkarean children who had been held at Serpent’s Head, were always served an early supper so they could be bathed and put to bed in time for the adults to get a little rest before their evening meal. Usually someone – or several someones – supervised them, but for some reason they had been left unattended for a moment.

They were throwing their food at each other.

Melli, a curly-headed, blond, five-year-old, rubbed a handful of stew into Demak’s hair. Demak, who looked enough like her to be her twin, retaliated by throwing a cup of water in her face. They screeched, and began pinching and hitting and biting.

Katrine closed her eyes for a moment. The Wolkareans were her responsibility. She needed to get to her feet and deal with them.

I’ll go, Patrik said. You’re tired.

Katrine started to protest, but Patrik jumped up and was gone.

Melli, Demak, he said, his voice taking on the authoritative tone of an irritated adult, you are being very naughty. You stop that right now.

They looked over at Patrik. All of a sudden they began to cry.

Cenda and Dal, the eldest of the Wolkarean children, rushed up with their arms full of towels and bars of soap. They took The Six off to be bathed. Patrik went with them.

With that crisis resolved, Katrine turned her attention back to Asher and Stephin. The potion from Patrik’s father was working. Katrine could feel her energy increasing.

What’s the urgency, Captain? Stephin asked.

She must be able to defend herself when Elnid-Kyeh’s men locate us, Asher answered. Frankly, I’m surprised they haven’t caught up with us already.

They can’t, Asher, Katrine said. They don’t know where to look. What? He took a few long strides toward her.

While we were at Serpent’s Head waiting for the wagons, she said, I cast a spell to prevent Elnid-Kyeh and his men from seeing us, and another spell to confuse anyone he sent searching for our trail.

Why the hell didn’t you tell me? Asher demanded, glaring at her with dark eyes that glinted like obsidian in the dwindling sunlight.

I meant to, she answered. I was on my way to tell you when something interrupted. I don’t remember what. I bound the magic to the ebb and flow of the ocean at the base of the cliffs and then put the whole thing out of my mind.

Asher’s frown slowly disappeared as the corners of his lips curved upward in a small grin. His tone of voice softened with amusement. How long will a spell like that last?

Before Katrine could answer, there was a muffled chuckle to her left. Only a sorcerer would know for sure, she heard Master Recorder Neyac say, but I would guess the spells will last as long as the ocean keeps moving. That’s a very long time. Did you include all of us in your incantations, Katrine?

Of course. She didn’t bother to look over at him, but she could imagine him stroking his short gray beard.

Perfect, Neyac said. Elnid-Kyeh must be quite puzzled. For all he knows, you could have disappeared in a puff of smoke. He chuckled louder this time.

Neyac’s laugh was infectious. Asher and Stephin joined in.

Katrine pushed herself upright. All right, Asher, I’m ready to go on. Supper’s almost ready, he told her. "Let’s call it a day. Now that I know

Elnid-Kyeh isn’t hot on our trail, we can take these workouts a little slower."

* * *

Katrine jerked in her sleep.

Her heart pounded erratically. Her breath came in gasps.

She was trapped inside a nightmare. Desperately, she tried to battle her way to reality, to conquer the panic.

She bolted upright in her bedroll.

Grabbing a wrinkled handkerchief, she blotted perspiration from her face. Her fine blond hair clung to her neck in wet clumps. She hastily brushed it and tied it in a short tail at the back of her head before reaching for her shirt.

She shoved aside the gauzy material used to keep bugs out of the tents on these hot summer nights and scooted through the opening.

Along the horizon, the sky had begun to lighten. In the southeast was a new star, only a few days old, shining in dazzling white brightness. Katrine had never seen a star just appear like that before.

Considering her nightmare, she feared it was a bad omen.

She padded barefoot across the parched ground.

The air wasn’t much cooler than it had been at mid-afternoon yesterday, but an early morning breeze trickled down from the hills. Katrine paused and turned into it, letting it brush across her face.

When she reached Asher’s tent, she called softly with both her voice and her mind. Asher. Wake up.

A second later, he stumbled out to join her.

He had pulled on his uniform, but hadn’t bothered to button his shirt. The breeze ruffled back the sides.

Katrine wasn’t so tired that she failed to notice his muscular chest and abdomen. She shut her eyes against a burst of sensuous appreciation.

What’s wrong? he asked.

The images from her dream returned. Katrine shivered despite the heat and looked up at him.

There is going to be an attack on Pardish, she said. I don’t know when, but I think soon.

Are you sure?

Yes, she answered sadly.

Patrik’s voice came from behind her.

I’m sure too. He stepped next to Katrine and took her hand.

Although Katrine knew Asher trusted her, she knew he had a bit more faith in Patrik. The child’s Wolkarean powers were stronger and more accurate than hers, despite his young age.

Asher crouched down so he was on Patrik’s level. Have you been in touch with Niall yet?

Niall, as the best trained of the Wolkareans, served as special aide to the Warlord. Niall and Patrik were from the same village and had done mind- magic together many times.

Yes sir, Patrik answered. He has already warned Warlord Leeds. Leeds said to tell you Landor is short-handed and he needs you back as quickly as possible.

How long do we have?

A week, Patrik said, maybe a day less, maybe a day more. There are too many things that might change to be sure yet.

All right, Asher said as he stood. Katrine, get the Wolkareans up. Recruit someone to distribute cold rations. We’re moving out. We should make Littleford by dinnertime.

Yes sir. When Katrine started off, she saw Asher stick his head into the tent next to his.

Stephin. Up. We’re breaking camp.

Yes sir, a muffled voice answered from within.

By the time everyone was awake, dressed and fed, and the supplies packed and loaded, the sun had cleared the horizon.

By the time they entered Littleford that evening, Asher had announced his decision to leave all non-Warriors – not counting Healers and Recorders – there in the Landorian Compound.

Katrine had expected it. The rescued Wolkareans, the Neophyte runners, and Rilk, who had been at Serpent’s Head with Katrine and the kidnapped children, would be a liability in battle.

Actually, she was so out of shape, she might be a hindrance too, but as the Warrior of Four Bloods she didn’t have a choice, not a real one. If she told Asher she was in no condition to fight, he would say he understood and leave her behind, but he might lose respect for her. She couldn’t risk that. His good opinion was too important.

When dismissing the troops for dinner, Asher told the Warriors they had the night to rest, but at first light, they were moving out.

Before going to the officers’ dining hall, Katrine decided she needed at least half an hour to soak in the women’s baths. Although the sores, insect bites, and skin afflictions she had acquired in Elnid-Kyeh’s dungeon had healed, seven months was a long time to go without a bath. In her cell, she’d only had an occasional wash when she was able to collect a little extra water through a crack in the wall. She’d torn off several inches from the bottom of her shirt to use as a washcloth. Now that she had returned to civilization, she greedily treasured the feeling of being clean.

With weary gratitude, she stepped into the tub. She folded a towel to cushion her neck and then slid down into luxurious coolness, banishing the summer heat.

For a girl of only seventeen years, she felt extremely old, as if she had already lived several lifetimes.

She had left home at fifteen, thinking she was going to study at Pardish, become a Recorder, and pursue a well-ordered, scholarly life. Instead, she ended up at Landor, trying to learn how to be the Warrior of Four Bloods.

Through her father, who was a Nistarian, Katrine had inherited the land lore, an understanding of plants and animals that lived in or on the ground. Katrine’s mother was a Boradid. Through her, Katrine had received the water lore, a connection with rivers, lakes, oceans, and the creatures that thrived within a watery environment. When Katrine had been adopted into the Crennese tribe of Glainites, she had been given the fire lore, the mystical powers of sorcery and spirituality. In addition, she had been born a Wolkarean, bestowed at birth with the air lore, which included an aversion to all things evil and an affinity for peace, harmony, and justice.

Everyone knew the story of Manderig, the great sorcerer who had brought the first colonists to Kareand in order to escape a terrible war that covered the entire continent of Shokareen. He had created the four lores as a way of sharing his powers with his followers.

The prophecies said the Warrior of Four Bloods would be born at a time of crisis, when the land and its people were in grave danger. So far, the gravest dangers Katrine had endured were because she carried that title. Shokai, renegades, and assorted other people wanted to kill her.

Only two weeks after starting her classes at the Landorian Training Compound, she’d almost lost her life to three Third Level Neophytes. They thought she was a fraud and planned to prove it. Rilk – who had saved her life and all the captive Wolkareans at Serpent’s Head – had been one of the perpetrators.

Katrine pushed away the memories.

She grabbed the jar of scented soap that her sister had sent her and rubbed

some on top of her head. She was surprised once more at how short her hair was. It had become so matted during her captivity that Master Healer Rulla had cut it to shoulder-length. The decreased weight felt odd on Katrine’s neck.

She was dozing when the bathhouse door squeaked and woke her.

Jana, one of Asher’s married officers, entered. She stripped the uniform from her short, slender body, revealing the thickening around her waist. She climbed into the tub that was next to Katrine.

Asher asked me to tell you that he would love to have supper with you, but he isn’t going to wait much longer. He’ll meet you in the dining hall.

What happened when you told him your news? Katrine asked.

Jana shrugged and began soaping a well-shaped, deceptively strong arm.

He yelled louder and longer than Eltin did. But of course Eltin stopped yelling when he realized that my being with child meant he was going to become a father.

Is Asher leaving you here?

Yes, damn it, Jana growled. "I knew he would. Expectant women aren’t

allowed to accompany the troops into battle. He put me in charge of the Wolkareans and Neophytes that he’s leaving behind. He told me it wasn’t fair to saddle the Compound Commander with them when someone like me was so handy. He said managing The Six would be great practice for my impending motherhood."

Katrine giggled. The man has a perverse sense of humor.

I don’t think it’s very funny, Jana said. The frown on her pixy-like face was fierce. If he hadn’t assured me that Patrik and Rilk would help me, I might have resigned on the spot.

I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have laughed, Katrine said somberly, even though

she didn’t feel the least bit repentant. Asher often affects me that way. How better could he punish you for not reporting your condition in a timely manner than by assigning you to supervise The Six? They’ll test all your maternal instincts.

Maybe I’ll see the humor in it someday, Jana said. She dunked her head

under the water for a moment. When she re-emerged, she rubbed soap into her short-cropped brown hair and began scrubbing. Right now, I’m nervous. The Six are unpredictable, and I don’t know if I can handle them.

Katrine climbed out of the tub and toweled herself dry. Don’t hesitate to ask for help. Besides Patrik and Rilk, you have Cenda and Dal, who will gladly accept part of the burden. The eldest Wolkareans were never subjected to the soul-draining spell that Elnid-Kyeh used on The Six. The other dozen children who were exposed to it weren’t affected in the same way.

Sliding down, Jana rinsed off. She grabbed a towel from a stack beside the tub and wrapped it arotmd her hair. Elnid-Kyeh must be the incarnation of evil to have tormented the little ones like that.

Chapter Two

The Warriors took seven days to make what should have been a five-day ride from Littleford to Pardish.

Anything that could go wrong had, everything from horses losing shoes to provisions spoiling over night. Elnid-Kyeh might not have known where they were, Katrine thought while she mended the cinch on her saddle, which should not have broken, but he had apparently made some good guesses when setting the hexes. Or maybe he had booby-trapped all the major roadways between Serpent’s Head and Pardish just to be sure.

When Asher signaled the Warriors to a stop on a knoll overlooking the city, Katrine reined her horse in beside his.

Below them, Pardish flowed across a series of low hills. Its southern boundary extended all the way to the Western Meriad River. In the center of town on the highest rise stood the Recorders School and Regency, side by side, in stately elegance.

A stone wall, covered in relief carvings, encircled the city. Its decorative gates had been battered down.

Flames licked the sides of buildings. Piles of scorched rubble stood like gravestones where structures had already fallen. Banners and flags, which usually gave the city a festive air, were nothing more than shredded bits of muted colors. Billows of black smoke coiled upward to blend with gathering storm clouds, turning afternoon into twilight.

Katrine blinked tears from her eyes and murmured to Asher, We’re too late.

Not for the finish, Asher said. He pointed at the Regency, where waves of movement showed continued fighting. He reached for Katrine’s hand and kissed it lightly. Take care of yourself down there.

You too, she said with a wan smile. I love you, she projected silently into his mind.

I love you too, he thought back at her.

Twisting in the saddle, Katrine glanced over her shoulder for a look at the troops Asher commanded. In addition to the two-dozen Warriors he had taken to Serpent’s Head to help with her rescue, he had appropriated over a hundred more from the Landorian Compound at Littleford.

He had also sent a runner to Commandant Adrian at Botul, requesting additional reinforcements. If Elnid-Kyeh hadn’t placed delaying magic on the river, perhaps they had already arrived.

Asher raised his arm high and then sliced the air with his hand. Warriors responded with battle cries as they charged down the hill, through the gates, and into the city.

As always, Stephin rode at Asher’s left in order to watch his back and protect his blind side. Asher had assigned Eltin, husband of Jana who had been left at Littleford because of her pregnancy, to do the same for Katrine.

When the Warriors reached the first major crossroads, Asher signaled a third of his troops to the right and another third to the left. He led the final third down the middle on a direct route to the Regency. Katrine and Eltin were among those who followed him.

They had passed a dozen intersections before they met their first action. Shokai soldiers burst out of buildings on both sides of the street, flanking the Warriors and breaking their column into several small battlefields.

In the distance lightning flashed and thunder rumbled.

Swinging her sword and blocking with her shield, Katrine slashed and stabbed, defended and attacked, acted and reacted with moves she had learned before her confinement at Serpent’s Head. The patterns had been stored in her bones and sinews rather than her consciousness. The purpose of Asher’s nightly training sessions had been to reconnect her with these skills, which were now fully aroused by her desire for survival.

Shokai faces and weapons came and went, leaving Katrine with only brief impressions: a man with a big nose, one with a single eye, a female soldier with spiky hair.

Suddenly, Katrine felt a burst of magic shoot past her. The wicks in all the street lamps burst into flames at exactly the same moment. Overhead four huge wizard globes appeared in the sky, reflecting off the underbellies of the clouds, casting the city in an eerie yellowish glow.

Up ahead, Katrine glimpsed a twinkle of crimson against a blue uniform. A Shokai officer fingered an amulet that dangled on his chest. Its blood red crystal pulsated like a heartbeat as he shouted orders and danced his horse around in a circle. His eyes swept past Katrine. His gaze flickered, returned, and focused on her collar studs. He shouted at his soldiers and five of them spun around and charged her.

Before Katrine could react, Eltin did. His swift hands blurred as he pulled arrows from his quiver, fitted them to the string, drew back, and released. Soldiers dropped in rapid succession.

Katrine jumped her horse, Thunder Cloud, over two bodies and headed for the officer, who kicked his horse so he could meet her.

Their swords clanged as they rode past each other. Their mounts spun around, and the steel rang out again as they met once more. On the third pass Thunder Cloud whipped his head around and nipped the other horse on the rear. It shied, and for only a second the rider was distracted, trying to calm his mount and retain his balance in the saddle.

Katrine made a quick slash. In a single stroke she slit the man’s throat and cut through the leather thong that held the winking amulet.

When the pendant hit the ground, Katrine whispered to Thunder Cloud.

With his iron-shod hooves, he ground the crystal into dust.

A forked bolt of lightning flashed once, twice, three times.

Katrine turned her head and blinked away afterimages. High and to the right, she caught sight of something purple between two buildings. She stood in the stirrups and stared.

In a dream a few nights ago, she had seen a purple-robed Hierarch of Rulianthabah-Sabbaton, the demon religion, standing on the roof of a large multistoried building. He held a wand topped with a red crystal and wove it through the air, directing the actions of the Shokai priests and soldiers who fought in the streets below. That was why she had cut the amulet from the officer’s neck and why she’d had Thunder Cloud destroy it. She wanted to make sure the Hierarch couldn’t use it in some way after the officer’s death.

All of a sudden, Thunder Cloud screamed and reared.

Something hot and wet spilled down Katrine’s left calf. A moment later, she felt the fiery sting of the wound.

Instinctively, she swung her sword in a downward stroke.

It struck something hard yet yielding. She twisted the blade with a jerk, and the Shokai soldier who had sliced her leg open stared at her with surprise, his mouth rounded in a silent oh as he fell.

Fighting against pain-induced nausea and fear-induced chills, Katrine jerked around, looking for Eltin. She spotted him standing back to back with another Warrior. They had both been unhorsed and faced half a dozen men each.

With a snap of her reins, Katrine sent Thunder Cloud into the thick of the fight, scattering soldiers every which way.

Then, as if by a miracle, a Unit of Warriors rode down an alley, saw them, and rushed to their aid. The Shokai fled and the Warriors gave chase, sweeping the battle down the street, taking Eltin with them.

Grateful for the respite, Katrine wiped her blade on her shirttail before sheathing it. She dug a rag out of her saddlebags. It was a cloth she had used to wipe down Thunder Cloud a century or two ago. Although it was stiff with horse sweat, she wrapped it tightly around the gash in her calf and tied the ends into a knot. She placed her hand on the wound and said a simple healing spell to stop the bleeding, and followed it with one to decrease the pain.

Then she tried to remember exactly where she had seen the splash of purple.

There!

It was definitely the Hierarch. He was gesturing wildly at the sky, as if he were calling down the storm. Katrine couldn’t distinguish his features, but he had the hazy, double-imaged outline that identified him as a Shokai shapeshifter.

Katrine peered up and down the street. The area was deserted.

Should she go find Eltin, she wondered, or should she do something about the Hierarch first?

That was easy. Eltin could take care of himself, and she didn’t need a bodyguard. Her job as the Warrior of Four Bloods was to make sure Shokai did not overrun Kareand. She might as well start with this Hierarch.

When she turned off the main thoroughfare, about halfway up the street, there was a crude barricade. It was built of furniture and crates tossed haphazardly across the road, probably when the Shokai realized troops were coming up behind them.

Riding back a short ways, Katrine thought she would just jump Thunder Cloud over the obstacle. It wasn’t more than six feet high and Thunder Cloud could easily clear that. Then she got a mental picture of a dozen soldiers crouched in back of the blockade, waiting. She couldn’t handle that many by herself.

She backtracked and continued on to the next street. Another makeshift barrier blocked her passage.

She was about to start cursing, when a flash of lightning gave her a better look at the Hierarch. He stood in a railed rooftop gallery at the peak of a tall building. His robe flapped around him in the wind, just as it had in her dream, and his white hair looked like dull gold in the wizard light.

Now she wished she had gone to find Eltin.

Although he was short and wiry, he was extremely strong and was without a doubt the finest archer in Kareand. If he could take out the Hierarch, the Shokai troops might dissolve into confusion, giving the Landorians a chance to overpower them.

It was too late to go looking for Eltin now.

The bow had been Katrine’s first weapon, one she had mastered while watching over her father’s herdbeasts. Did she have the strength to make the shot herself?

No. The distance between her and the Hierarch was too great. An experimental shot, however, would tell her how much closer she had to get.

She strung her bow and pulled an arrow from her quiver.

Before she could draw back the string, she heard noises behind her. She flipped her head around.

Two men pelted toward her on foot. A Shokai soldier was in the lead with a Landorian Warrior giving chase. The Warrior tackled the soldier, and they slid across the cobblestones.

Thunder Cloud scrambled sideways to get out of their way.

The men hammered each other with bare fists. When the Shokai landed a blow that sent the Warrior sprawling, Katrine spun Thunder Cloud around and kicked the soldier in the head. Even though she used her uninjured leg, the blow jarred her, sending a bolt of pain all the way up to her hip.

The Landorian Warrior, a round-faced man with graying brown hair, pulled out a knife, crawled over, and plunged it into the Shokai’s heart.

Thank you, the man said as he shakily climbed to his feet. When he noticed her collar studs, he saluted. Ma’am.

You’re welcome, Katrine told him. Now, I need you to keep me clear. Yes ma’am. He scuttled down the street and snatched up his sword and

then returned to stand guard.

Katrine pulled back the bowstring and let the shaft fly.

As she had expected, the arc wasn’t high enough for the arrow to reach the rooftop. It struck the building and splintered.

She stretched her arm down. Up, she said to the Warrior.

He grasped her arm and swung up behind her.

Guiding Thunder Cloud to the nearest building, Katrine told the man, Give me a boost.

He shook his head. You’re hurt, ma’am. The Healers are just a few streets behind us. Let me –

It’s not that bad, Katrine snapped impatiently. Now, give me a boost, damn it.

Reluctantly, the Warrior held her hand as she stepped onto his shoulder, and then steadied her leg with his arm as she reached for the balustrade of a balcony. She grabbed hold, heaved herself up and over, and stood unsteadily with her hands on the rail.

She whistled softly, and Thunder Cloud looked at her. Let him ride, you hear. No funny stuff. Then to the Warrior she said, You’d better not let anything happen to him.

Yes ma’am.

Limping through the balcony door, Katrine sought the stairs. She went cautiously, listening for sounds of occupation. She didn’t hear any. Wizard light shone through the windows, but the interior of the structure was dim, especially the stairwell, which zigzagged back and forth between floors in the middle of the building.

With her bow in one hand, Katrine clutched an arrow in the other. She had gone up two flights when she sensed danger. She crouched down and hugged the wall as she took the last few steps.

A sword swished through the air above her head.

She lunged forward and somersaulted onto the landing. Pain shot through her calf, but she ignored it and rolled to her feet behind the assailant. The soldier spun around. Katrine jabbed him in the chest with the arrow. When she pulled it out again, he tumbled backward and rolled down the stairs, spurting blood that looked almost black in the wizard light.

Katrine swept her thoughts in a circle and found no one else. She continued to climb. At the end of the hall on the highest floor, a ladder gave access to the roof. Katrine hooked the bow over her shoulder and heaved herself upward, using her arms to support her weight as she hopped from one rung to the next.

At the top, she popped open a small hatch and climbed out.

Her heart began pounding irregularly. She struggled to force air into her lungs. She trembled. Her knees threatened to buckle. Perspiration made her hands clammy.

With open sky above and no walls around her, Katrine had an episode of vertigo followed by debilitating fear.

After everything she had endured during the past two years, how could she possibly still be afraid of heights?

And how the fraggin’ hell was she supposed to nock an arrow with her hands shaking so badly she could barely hold onto her bow?

Tears of frustration burned her eyes, and she cringed with mortification at her cowardice.

Katrine, Asher’s voice sounded in her head, what’s wrong? Are you hurt?

Not seriously, she thought back at him. I’m just scared. I spotted the

Hierarch I told you about and came up here onto the roof to get a shot at him. I didn’t think I would still be afraid of heights. But I’m petrified. I don’t know if I can even climb back down.

Take some deep breaths, Asher told her in a calming mental tone, relax, and get centered. Breathe slow and deep. Ignore where you are. Focus only on what you have to do. Use your lores to anchor yourself. Use me too. I promise I won’t let you fall.

As always, she followed his orders with complete faith.

She inhaled and exhaled, inhaled and exhaled.

Gradually the panic faded.

I’m centered. I’m anchored.

Good, Asher said. Take the shot.

Chapter Three

Katrine leaned on a chimney for balance, nocked an arrow, sighted down the shaft, adjusted for the wind, and released.

The Hierarch had his arm raised high above his head. The shank caught him below the right armpit and buried itself in his side all the way up to the fletching. Slowly he toppled over the railing, hit the roof, slid to the rim, and then dropped off.

Before he struck the ground, he vanished.

Good shot, Asher said. Now backtrack.

Where are you? Katrine asked, inching toward the trapdoor.

Still trying to reach the Regency. Why are you alone? Where the hell is Eltin?

We got separated, and then I spotted the Hierarch. It made sense to try to take him out.

Even though the sound was in her head, Katrine heard Asher’s exasperated sigh. Find some of our Warriors and make your way to the Regency.

Yes sir. Meet you there.

It was harder for Katrine to ease down the ladder than it had been to hop up. Before, she had used her arms to help lift her weight. Now, she didn’t seem to have much control. Each jarring bump was like getting knifed all over again. When she reached the floor, she hugged the ladder for support and took a couple of minutes to rest.

She tottered down the hallway to the stairs. She gazed at them with dismay. There were so many. She slid down on her bottom like a toddler to give her wounded leg a rest.

The Shokai she had killed was sprawled at an angle across three steps. His head dangled off the lowest and his feet were propped in the air from the highest. There was no room for her to scoot by. She sat still for several seconds, trying to work up the nerve to touch the body. The first time she took hold of his ankles, she had to turn away to keep from vomiting.

This is stupid, she told herself. I’ve killed other men. I’ve touched other corpses.

She took stock of her surroundings, from the creaky stairwell to the dull light coming in through the tiny windows above the landings.

But never in a dark building, all alone, she thought with a shiver. I have three options. I can sit here until one of us rots. I can sit here until someone comes and finds me. I can develop some pluck and move the body.

She grabbed the man’s feet and swung them to the side. She pulled herself into a standing position and hobbled down the steps. When she came even with the head, tingles ran up and down her spine as she irrationally pictured the corpse sinking its teeth into her as she passed.

When she was just one floor above ground level, she limped over to one of the windows. She looked out at the roadblock she’d circumvented by climbing up onto the balcony. As she had sensed earlier, a dozen Shokai were crouched behind it. A few slain Landorians sprawled across the top, and some others were up the street, conferring.

Katrine nocked an arrow and killed the nearest Shokai soldier. She was able to get three more before their comrades noticed her. Two of them jumped up and dashed toward the building she was in. Fear gave Katrine a boost, and she managed to launch two more shafts with unbelievable speed. She took out both men before they reached the door. The remaining soldiers ran the other way. Katrine caught one in the back. The others sprinted around a corner and were gone.

Katrine yelled at the Warriors and gave them the All’s clear hand signal. They began pulling the barricade apart. She shambled the rest of the way down the stairs.

As soon as she exited the building, she gave a whistle for Thunder Cloud, and a moment later he pranced up to her, riderless. The round-faced Warrior who had helped her onto the balcony rode beside him on a Landorian horse.

He let me ride until we found a stray mount and then he dumped me off. He has a mind of his own, Katrine said. Awkwardly she pulled herself

into the saddle. I’m Katrine. Thank you for the lift earlier. My pleasure, ma’am, he said. I’m Orin.

Before she could say pleased - to - meet - you , or even nod an acknowledgement, a cat without a tail sprang from a doorway and raced down the street. Close behind loped an oddly shaped dog with shorter front legs than hind. Both animals blurred around the edges. Katrine whipped two arrows from her quiver. Clenching one between her teeth, she aimed and released the other. When the shaft struck the cat, it flipped over, and the dog skidded into it. Katrine loosed the second arrow.

Orin gasped, horrified, as if he couldn’t believe she would kill someone’s pets.

Shapeshifters, was all Katrine said.

The dog twitched, and Orin swung off his horse and drew his knife. You’re sure? he asked.

Trust me, Katrine told him with a quick flick of her fingers at her collar studs, which represented the four elements and identified her as the Warrior of Four Bloods.

Orin stepped forward and delivered the killing blow to the dog.

Up ahead, a group of Warriors battled in close quarters with a number of unnatural creatures, all of which snapped and roared and flashed claws or talons or tusks. While the beasts kept the Warriors occupied, archers up on a nearby roof were picking the men off one by one.

A freakish hawk, tan with a green crest, swooped down and barely missed a Warrior, who ducked in the nick of time to avoid being blinded. The bird soared upward and then hung suspended for a moment. It dove again. Katrine reached for an arrow, but before she could pull it from the quiver, a shaft struck the bird through the breast and it plummeted from the sky.

By backtracking the arrow’s angle, Katrine spotted Eltin on someone else’s horse. He drew his bow and took out an archer. Before the man fell from the roof, Katrine noticed that he wore the green and brown jerkin of a mercenary. All the archers did. As she nocked an arrow, she wondered briefly why there were no Shokai among them. Maybe because they had all transformed into monsters, she guessed.

She nocked an arrow and released the string. Another archer fell.

As she made her next shot, she guided Thunder Cloud with her knees until she reached Eltin. His straw-like blond hair was clotted with blood, where he had obviously taken a head wound. It looked awful, but it couldn’t be too serious, Katrine thought, or Eltin wouldn’t still be fighting.

She used her Crennese lore to assess the damage. He probably had a whopping headache, but no lasting damage. She said a quick spell to seal the gash so it would stop oozing. She considered blocking the pain for him, but from what she knew of Eltin, he would likely think she was babying him.

Damned nice of you to show up, Eltin said. When his arrow struck its target, he glanced over at her. You all right?

Yes, she said, releasing another shot, but you don’t look so good. I’m alive, he said. The other guy isn’t.

After the Warriors finished clearing out this nest of mercenaries and shapechangers, Katrine joined the Warriors in their press toward the center of the city.

What happened to your leg? Eltin asked.

Same thing as happened to your head, I imagine.

You kill him?

Yes.

Good.

Fires smoldered in homes and shops. Billows of smoke poured into the streets, making the Warriors cough and sneeze. With a rumble and a crash, a two-storied house tumbled to the ground.

Through tearing eyes, Katrine watched for archers in windows, soldiers in shadows.

A rolling drumbeat of thunder ended in a crashing boom. The heavens seemed to rip open.

Instantly Katrine was soaked to the skin. A chill shook her, and the pain in her leg flared up and doubled. She closed her eyes and said a healing spell to numb the ache. She recited another to ward off infection.

The downpour lasted just long enough to put out the fires, clear the air of smoke, and drop the summer temperature from hot to cold.

Then the rain calmed down to a slow drizzle.

Katrine spotted the Regency through a gap in the trees that lined one of Pardish’s many parks. She couldn’t see any fighting. She lightly touched Asher’s mind. He was uninjured. She nudged Thunder Cloud into a trot, ignoring jabs of pain as her leg bounced with each step.

Even the drizzle didn’t last long.

Clouds along the horizon broke apart, and a beam of sunlight burst through and lit a pathway across the sky.

Only then did Katrine realize the battle had raged all night and dawn had broken.

As she and Eltin rode toward the center of town, they passed no one living except Landorian Warriors. Here was where the bulk of the fighting had been. In places the bodies were two and three deep.

From up ahead, Katrine heard Asher ordering a building-by-building search, adding that each team should include at least one Wolkarean in case Shokai tried to escape by shifting shape.

She heard Niall shouting out Wolkarean names and telling them which teams to join.

Stiller, where is Warlord Leeds? Asher called.

"I lost sight of him, sir, when the Shokai set fire to the Recorder’s

School."

Asher stood with his fists on his hips, his damp uniform emphasizing his muscles. A soppy curl of dark hair dangled between his eyes, and he ran his fingers through it and shoved it from his forehead. His brooding eyes darted from side to side.

Stephin, Asher said, check the Recorder’s School. I’ll check the Regency. He stepped carefully among the bodies, working his way up to the building’s gilded double doors. The dead were scattered on the steps like broken toys that had been tossed aside by a careless child.

Katrine slid from Thunder Cloud’s back and limped along behind Asher. He still hadn’t noticed her.

Suddenly, he dropped to his knees.

Warlord Leeds lay at the center of the carnage, bleeding from a dozen wounds, turning a puddle of rainwater red with his blood.

Frantically Katrine searched with both her mind and her vision for the Healers that Orin had said were following behind the fighting. She couldn’t sense them anywhere.

She rested her hand on Asher’s shoulder to let him know she was there and continued her search.

Asher felt for a pulse in the Warlord’s neck.

Leeds’s eyes flickered open. Good fight? he asked in a breathy whisper. Good enough, Asher answered. The city is ours. The Warriors are looking for stragglers. With tears glistening in his eyes, Asher glanced up at

Katrine. Find me a damned fraggin’ Healer. Now! I’m trying, she said.

Asher reached up and clasped her hand, resting his cheek against it. His fingers were sticky with Leeds’s blood.

Extending her consciousness, Katrine searched in an ever enlarging spiral, trying to locate Rulla or Ona, both of whom were Master Healers, or even one of Ona’s three apprentices. But she had never touched any of their minds before, and with the mental cacophony caused by the wounded and dying, as well as clusters of Warriors who still fought, she couldn’t identify them.

It’s no use, Asher, Leeds murmured. A Healer can’t help me. He smiled grimly. Trust me, I know.

When Asher answered, the venom in his voice shocked Katrine. I refuse to go home and tell my mother she’s a widow. Then he composed himself, pulled out his handkerchief, and wiped moisture from the pale brow. Please, Father, just hang on a while longer.

Even though Leeds’s voice was weak, it still carried a note of command. When I became Warlord, he said, pausing between every few words to catch his breath, you made me a promise, Captain. He coughed and shuddered. You promised never to call me that except at home.

Asher lifted his father’s head onto his lap. I guess you’ll just have to flog me.

For a moment, Leeds’s eyes winked open again. There was the slightest upward lift to his lips. I’m damned tired of flogging you, Asher. This time I’ll pass.

Sweeping the city with her awareness again, Katrine touched a familiar mind, a Wolkarean from Glaine’s Stand who had nearly finished her Healer’s training. Last summer, she had helped Katrine save the life of Jana, Eltin’s wife, from an arrow wound.

Mira? Katrine asked with a tentative mental touch.

Katrine?

Warlord Leeds is down and seriously injured. I need you to stabilize him while I look for a Master Healer. Will you trust me to bring you here?

Of course, but I only have the most rudimentary medicine pouch with me.

It’ll have to do.

After reviewing the only translocation spell she knew, Katrine gathered power. She used Mira’s mind as a beacon so she could cast the incantation over her.

Mira appeared at Katrine’s side. She was Katrine’s age. Like all Glainites, she had bronze-colored skin and straight black hair. Her brown Neophyte uniform was splattered with dark splotches.

Holy Signs, Mira whispered. There are so many wounds. I don’t know where to start.

Start anywhere, Katrine said. Just keep him alive while I find help.

Chapter Four

Again Katrine swept the city with her consciousness. She was still unable to identify the minds of the Healers. She scanned the infirmary at Landor, but even there, the emotional chaos was so loud she couldn’t isolate a single, separate mental tone.

She was considering what to do