“He will destroy Serak,” Rilia barked. “But he will do it on the battlefield. He is stronger and faster than a normal man, with the cunning of his distinguished lineage. No mage is going to stop him.”
Light didn’t notice the rising tension. His eyes were drawn beyond the marching soldiers to the figure approaching the opposite side. He frowned and pointed in that direction, but as he began to speak, Lachonus grunted in irritation.
“If you want more food, go and eat.”
“Do we need to worry about him?” Light asked.
“Who?” Rilia demanded.
The others rotated, and spotted the approaching figure. Wearing a cloak of midnight, the man seemed to glide down the hill, a wicked scythe in his hands. Beneath the cowl, only a pair of dark coals glowed for eyes, and his fingers had been stripped of flesh, leaving only bone.
“Who is that?” Lachonus asked, drawing his sword.
“That is the assassin come to kill you,” Senia said.
The cavalry responded in unison, the riders yanking on the reins. The horses spun, spears were extended, the weapons pointing toward the solitary figure. Facing a half circle of the best cavalry on Lumineia, Gendor came to a halt. The stillness stretched for several seconds until Rilia growled.
“What’s he waiting for—”
A roar shook the ground and caused horses to whinny in fear. It was not from a dragon or beast, but another warrior, one twelve feet tall and layered in black armor. The warrior advanced into view and spun his giant sword, which emitted a dull whine.
“Oh look!” Light called, pointing. “It looks like Gendor did not come alone . . .”
Chapter 12: Enmity
Light waved to Gendor, but the assassin did not wave back. After Light’s conversation with Rune, he’d assumed the assassin was on his side, but perhaps that was overstating their friendship. Light waved again but Willow caught his hand and pulled it down, and then shook her head.
Senia whirled to Rilia. “You need to retreat, now.”
“Retreat?” Rilia scoffed. “We are the Talinorian cavalry, and five companies are more than a match for these criminals.”
“You don’t understand,” Senia said. “These are not normal soldiers. Serak has empowered them beyond normal means. Gendor and Bartoth are his generals, capable of—”
“All men can be killed,” Rilia said. “Lachonus, order the right flank to advance. These criminals are wanted for execution. Kill them.”
Lachonus scowled but nodded. “As you order, Leftenant.”
He barked orders as he mounted his steed and snapped the reins. Senia released an explosive breath and turned to Willow and Light, who watched Gendor and Bartoth. As Rilia mounted and also departed, the oracle lowered her voice.
“We have to get Lachonus out of here, before this turns into a bloodbath.”
“Too late.” Light pointed to Bartoth.
Bartoth released another roar and began to advance, accelerating into a run. Lachonus shouted an order and a spear was thrown, the weapon bouncing of Bartoth’s armor. Another order, and three more spears were thrown. All clattered off Bartoth’s armor, and the rock troll began to laugh, the sound of anticipation.
“Cut him down!” Rilia shouted.
The cavalry surged into a charge, the spears pointed at the armored rock troll. Horse hooves thundered across the ground, and Light took a step forward, wanting to intervene. Senia caught his arm.
“Light,” she said softly. “You cannot stop what is about to happen.”
“They’re going to die,” he protested.
“I know,” Senia said, her features a grimace. “There is nothing we can do for them. We need to find a way to get Lachonus out. It’s the only way to stop this.”
Bartoth and the cavalry closed the gap and Bartoth raised his sword. With a snarl he slammed into the leading ranks. Horses and men, spears and shields, all bounced off his body, cascading away as his charge carried him deep into their ranks. Men cried out as their bones cracked and horses whinnied as their bodies fell in broken heaps.
Men screamed and orders were shouted as five hundred armored cavalry sought to destroy Serak’s general. But Bartoth was a rock troll with body magic, one empowered so every spell enhanced his flesh, granting him speed and strength far beyond even the mighty trolls. Horses and men died in seconds, their bodies rent and torn, their armor ripped apart like parchment.
Anger pooled in Light’s chest like a fever, until he shrugged out of Senia’s grip and sprinted into the conflict. Willow called his name but he ignored it, his gaze fixed on Bartoth. Then Willow reached him and yanked on his elbow, spinning him around.
“You cannot stop him,” she said. “You are no longer a fragment, remember?”
“I’m still a guardian,” he said. “I can’t stand idle. Do you not hear the dying?”
“Of course I do,” she said.
“I have to try.” He stabbed a finger at the raging battle.
“Were is your rage?” she challenged.
He blinked in surprise, shocked to find that his rage was absent. Anger, yes, but no unbridled rage, the emotion that had granted him power against the strongest of foes. He’d defeated Bartoth before, his rage enhancing his magic. Now he was vulnerable.
He reached out and took Willow’s hands in his. “I am not who I was, but if I do not fight, then what I am to be?”
